*The Prometheus Project
Book One: Without A Trace*
Mistress Ace
January 2004
rosewood@inreach.com

Spoilers: All episodes up to Redux.

Ratings Note: NC-17

Summary: There are consequences to every action.

See additional notes at the end of the story

Book 1
Without A Trace

Some days it was the little things he noticed. The spill of red and violet light across the surface of his desk, the lift-indent-lift of his company's logo on the papers spread in front of him, the clink of ice against his teeth as he took a swallow. Little things - the repeated tone in his ear as he waited for the other end of the line to be picked up, the surge of elation warming his stomach more than the Lagavulin as he contemplated playing hooky.

Not really hooky. Something rarer than that. His first day off in two months. The plant was running smoothly. His father was currently on the other side of the world, intent on conquering yet another country in the name of LuthorCorp, and therefore out of his hair... at least metaphorically.

Lex smiled around his next sip. Life was good.

He was going to spend some time with Clark.

Life was really good.

A quick glance at his watch confirmed the conference call with Los Angeles and San Francisco wasn't for another fifteen minutes. Now if someone would only answer the phone at the Kents'. Two more rings and he'd have to leave a message.

"Hello, Kent Farms."

Good, no message. Not Clark but the next best thing. "Mrs. Kent, how are you this fine afternoon?"

"Hi, Lex. I'm sorry it took so long to get to the phone. I'm in the middle of making dinner." In the background, he could hear a bright sizzling, followed by running water. There was a soft hush of movement across the speaker, not as easily identifiable. Perhaps she'd tucked the phone under her chin in order to free her hands.

Lex closed his eyes, his imagination supplying the smells to go along with the sounds. Martha Kent was a superb cook, easily one of the finest he'd ever encountered. Being a close friend of Clark Kent had many perks - eating at Martha Kent's table was one of them, truly an experience not to be missed.

Dinner invitations had been rare to start with, actually non-existent, given her husband's not-unreasonable concern about Lex's friendship with his son. Lex couldn't blame Jonathan Kent for his reactions to those early overtures; if he had a child being courted by the richest man within four counties, he'd be nervous too. Even if Mr. Kent had no clue that his behavior toward Clark was courting.

And Mr. Kent would never know. Nor would Clark. Infatuation had given way to actual friendship and trust. Lex wasn't about to screw that up.

The invitations actually started after the tornado that cost his father's sight, and Roger Nixon's life. Mr. Kent was the first to extend the white flag by way of a Friday night dinner. That night Lex was introduced to Martha Kent's fried chicken and knew he was in love. If she hadn't been married, twenty years his senior and the mother of his best friend, Lex would have proposed immediately.

His mouth still didn't understand why he hadn't.

His lawyers probably wished he had.

Especially after the fiasco now referred to only in the most oblique of terms, as no one dared mention it to his face... with one notable exception. Namely, that call Lex received after each of his business trips when Clark made certain he hadn't come home with another wife.

Desiree... when he made mistakes, he made them big. The annulment hadn't been so bad; sending back the wedding gifts and the embarrassment of the trial had been much worse. That, combined with the myriad of apologies he had to make to his friends and to his business partners, and the second degree burns on his back, had made for a memorable experience.

The one joy had been Clark describing the look on his mother's face when the flowers arrived. Twenty dozen roses seemed a small gift in comparison to what Mrs. Kent had given him in the front room of the Talon - the knowledge that despite it all, Clark stood by him. Even when he was being a monumental asshole.

In short, acting just like Dad.

The internal monologue along with his consideration of angling for one of those dinner invitations was brought up short by Mrs. Kent's subdued laughter. Apparently he'd made some appreciative noise because she followed the laugh with, "Are you free tonight? I'm making Clark's favorite and we haven't seen you in awhile."

The infamous fried chicken - his mouth watered instantly and asked again about the marriage proposal. He could swing dinner if the conference call didn't go too late. His stomach added its own demands, making the decision for him. "I'll be there. Should I bring anything? A bottle of wine, coffee, something for dessert?"

"Just you will be fine, Lex. Dessert's already taken care of." Lex opened his eyes, gazing up at the ceiling as he prayed for apple pie.

During her brief stint as his father's personal assistant, Lex had become increasingly familiar with her baking skills as well as her other culinary talents. It had played hell on his diet, for Martha Kent never showed up at his home without a treat and a murmur about him being too thin. Her concern about his health wasn't all that surprising given the strapping example of home-grown goodness she had to show for that expertise. What he wouldn't give to sample some of that goodness for himself...

Down, Lex. Friend, remember? Friend only.

Back to safer ground. Martha Kent and the magic she could perform with a spatula and excellent ingredients. Her muffins were wonderful, cakes - superlative, but the pies... the pies were ambrosia, food of the gods. His mother's engagement ring was in the safe - maybe he could take it with him?

"Oh, did you want to talk to Clark? He's on his way in now if you can hang on."

Yes, substitute one bright shiny object for another. After all, he'd called to talk to Clark in the first place. That would keep him from being shot. Not. "I'll be happy to."

"Good." She laughed again, the sound dying away far too soon for his taste. "Hold on, Lex. There's someone at the door. I'll send Clark right in."

"All right," He checked his watch again, the second hand ticking its way across the bridge of Napoleon's nose. There was still plenty of time to exchange some banter with Clark and extend the invitation for a play date tomorrow. They could work on Clark's bank shots - he had the mathematics down, now the only problem was control.

Mrs. Kent must have put the phone down on the counter because he couldn't hear anything, not even her breathing. While he waited, Lex indulged himself with the vision of Clark bent over the pool table, Clark's thick fingers in between his own as he helped Clark line up the shot. That long back inches away from his chest, longer legs close enough to feel the heat.

Perhaps pool wasn't such a good idea.

The first inkling he had that anything was wrong was a sharp, shrill scream. Lex was out of his chair before it ended; absolutely riveted to the phone as that scream was followed by Mrs. Kent's yelling for her husband. And telling Clark to run.

Oh, Jesus.

No.

No.

NO!

His prayer went unanswered as every nightmare he'd ever had unfolded across the open phone line.

Home invasions and even kidnappings were a fact of life for people in his social strata, that's why he had security people around him on a 24/7 basis. Even with those precautions, he'd been subjected to it himself - first by a gang of thieves who could walk through walls, then Amanda's brother, Ryan's stepfather and finally by poor, mad Rachel Dunleavey.

Now it was happening to the people he cared about the most. Jonathan was yelling too - each parent urging their son to run and Lex knew that he wouldn't. Clark didn't back down from dangerous situations. He leapt into the middle of them. The kid was fearless, still caught in that stage of adolescence that believed in one's own invulnerability.

Speed-dial one on the house phone was nine-one-one, courtesy of life in Smallville. Lex hit it as he listened to both of the Kents try to save their only child. The struggle was getting closer, banging sounds and heavy thumps and, oh Christ, Clark crying out in pain. Lex's heart raced, long-buried memories of asthma surged forth as he fought for breath. Clark was hurt and instead of doing something to stop it, Lex was standing there, waiting for someone to answer the phone.

"Nine-one-one, what is the nature of your emergency?" a cool, efficient voice answered and Lex wanted to scream at her like Martha Kent was screaming now.

"Kent Farm. The Kents are in trouble... Jesus." A single gunshot rent the air, its retort ringing through the cell. His grip on that phone hurt, his whole hand cramping as he yelled at the operator. "Get out there now. Now!"

"We're sending a car. Can you describe what's going on?" She was still calm and that helped. But it didn't help enough. He could hear Clark calling out to his dad, fighting whatever was happening and Lex had to get to him. He had to help and to hell with the consequences.

Then Clark whimpered, fucking whimpered, a sound Lex never heard him make. Lex swore and on the heels of that exclamation, his assistant opened the door to his office. Probably coming to remind him about the conference call. For his troubles, he got the house phone handed to him as Lex snarled in parting, "I don't know. There's gunshots and -- Geoff, take this. Call Rhodes when you get done. Get everybody out to the Kents'."

With the second phone out of his hand, Lex concentrated on the first. He spoke clipped words of reassurance into it as he flipped open the box behind his desk. "Clark, help is on the way. Hang on." Behind him, he could hear Geoff handling the police. Identifying himself, the source of the call and instructing the operator to get everyone in the world over to the Kents'.

The Glock was smooth in his palm. His shoes skittered on cold marble as he raced out of his office. The run through the house a blur, a set of keys appeared in his hand upon his reaching the garage. He leapt into the fastest car he had, its powerful engine roaring to life and the only thought in his mind was get there.

Get there now.

Halfway to the Kents', his lifeline was cut. A sharp thunk, followed by a clatter, then no sound remained but a dial tone. Lex tossed the phone aside, his head full of horrific visions as the Spider screamed down the road. The Kents laid out on their kitchen floor, mouths open and eyes staring and holes in their chests... dead center, just like Roger. Blood pooling on wooden floors kept so clean you could eat off them. Clark slumped over his parents, beautiful boy broken...

He pegged the speedometer ten miles away from the turn onto Hickory Lane, the crops on either side of the road in full Doppler shift. Waves of green turning to red, the setting sun slicing across the dash as Lex hit the brake, feathered the clutch and made the turn at a speed his mechanic would never have believed possible. The tires spun for a second, a plume of dirt sprayed out behind them, rear-end fishtailing like mad.

The car obeyed the sharp twist of the wheel, stabilizing as it shot straight up the drive. The cloud followed him, pea gravel pinging on the undercarriage, scattering into the fields beyond when Lex brought the car to a halt. He vaulted over the door, the gun gripped firmly in his hand, cocked and ready to fire.

The Kents' truck was gone, its familiar red bulk nowhere to be seen.

Dear God, please let them have escaped in it.

Martha's car sat in its usual place, sunflowers nodding peacefully above it despite his dramatic entrance. Stupid, showing up before the police did was stupid but Lex didn't care.

Clark wasn't the only one with an invulnerability complex.

Hesitation was for cowards.

Lex wasn't a coward.

He raced across the yard and took the steps two at a time, his feet clattering across the porch's wooden slats. The screen door hung open, a toothless maw beckoning him into his own private hell. Much worse than discovering Julian dead in his crib, worse than standing at his mother's grave - that was his past. This, this was his now.

Lex ran into the house and found... nothing. No blood, no bodies, no hint that anything was wrong. The place was dead quiet. All the windows were open, nothing unusual there, it was early fall and the Kents didn't have air conditioning. A plate of chicken sat on the counter by the stove, the pan still on the burner. And still warm.

"Clark! Mrs. Kent! Mr. Kent!" he called their names as he ran from room to room, the gun held out in front of him. Nothing downstairs. Lex ran up the stairs, frantically searching for his friend, for his family. He charged down the hall only to find the upper rooms just as empty as the rest of the house.

A moment later, he heard something down below, a voice calling for the Kents as well. Lex followed the sound, pocketing the gun when he spotted Ethan Miller at the base of the stairs. How apropos, the same officer who had arrested both Clark and Mr. Kent in the past was the first one on the scene.

His distinctive look was a mixed blessing; while it singled him out for ridicule when he was younger, it also made him instantly recognizable. Lex was never more grateful for that than now as Sheriff Miller lowered his own firearm.

"Mr. Luthor, dispatch said you called in something about an attack out here. Said you heard a gunshot. Are you sure that's what you heard?" When Lex nodded, Ethan peered over his shoulder, squinting as he tried to see past Lex into the dim upper hallway. "Any sign of the Kents up there?"

"None. The house's empty."

"I've got men checking the barn and the outbuildings. What exactly did you hear?" The unit on his shoulder squealed, voices giving status reports as Ethan lifted it to listen. Lex joined him, one ear cocked towards the static-filled flow of information while he studied the empty kitchen.

When the voices faded out, Lex answered the question, "I called to talk to Clark. Mrs. Kent and I spoke for a few minutes, she went to answer the door and I heard her scream. There was at least one shot but I don't see any..."

"Blood. I know, it's the first thing I looked for, too." Ethan placed his hand on the stove, shaking his head. "It's still warm."

Lex nodded in agreement, "She was cooking dinner when I called."

"Their truck's gone. They could've... Hold on a second." Turning his head, Ethan spoke into the microphone on his shoulder. "Bob, call the hospital and see if the Kents are there. Check with Dr. Bryce, she's on duty today. Ask her if she's gotten anybody in with a gunshot wound, then get back to me."

Lex listened, his head cocked to one side as he scanned the kitchen floor again, silently amazed at how calmly he was handling all this. Clark, his best friend, had been attacked, physically assaulted, and from what he'd heard over the phone, Clark had been injured. Now Clark was missing, along with his parents.

They could be out there right now, their bodies dumped in one of their fields, or lying in the back of their missing truck, bleeding to death while he stood there, quietly waiting for Sheriff Miller to rattle off further instructions to his men. Remaining emotionally detached and clinical while he searched for the tiniest indication of what had really happened here.

While he looked for anything that might unravel the mystery that started with a simple phone call.

There were people on the porch and people in the yard, some in uniforms, some not. His own people were mixed in with the police. Rhodes walked alongside a deputy, each of them searching through the front yard for clues, each speaking into their respective mikes. Two men knelt on the porch, examining a broken spindle Lex missed on his way in. That minor point of damage turned out to be the only evidence of the fight he'd heard.

That and the splash of blood Rhodes found on the baseboard by the sink an hour after Lex's arrival at the Kents'. It got missed the first few times; it wasn't until the teams got on their hands and knees before the dull red stain was spotted. Lex heard about it while he stood in the loft, examining Clark's things, staring at the World History book laid out on the trunk with notes scribbled in the margin. There was no question who'd written them, that atrocious scrawl was a dead giveaway. Lex's throat tightened as he read 'ask Lex about Alexander'. Upon receiving the news from one of Ethan's deputies, Lex dashed out of the loft. He took the steps two at a time, heedless of the precarious footing in his haste to see the proof that he hadn't dreamed all of this.

A familiar voice captured Lex's attention as he hurried across the front yard, pulling him away from his mission of observing the bloodstain. While he was startled from his course by hearing her, he wasn't surprised by this trio's appearance on the scene. Chloe Sullivan, Pete Ross and Lana Lang stood just outside the perimeter, held back by yellow tape while Chloe argued with the officer stationed there. When he approached, her diatribe abruptly shifted gears, changing from wheedling to a direct demand to be let in since Lex had been allowed the privilege.

"Chloe." Lex chose a quietly reassuring tone, reaching out to rest one hand on Chloe's arm while Pete glowered at him and Lana sidled closer. Lana was the one that Lex knew the best and he appealed to her with a subtle tilt of his head even as he spoke to Chloe. "Let them do their work. You won't be able to help."

"Why did they let you in then?"

The town bred courage into its citizens. Chloe looked him straight in the eye, defiant and ready to scramble under the line when backs were turned. He admired that quality in her, along with many others. She'd make a fine journalist one day.

Heaven help the world.

"I was the first one here." A man suddenly appearing at his elbow interrupted anything else he would have said. Stanhope, Rhodes' second-in-command, and judging by the look on his face, something else had been found. "Excuse me. Stay here. I'll let you know if anything turns up."

Chloe stayed silent for once, watching as he walked away. Lex could feel her eyes boring a hole into his back, her incessant curiosity a weight between his shoulder blades. He heard Lana speaking to Chloe in a quiet, urgent tone and knew his appeal to Lana's sensibility had not gone unnoticed.

As he mounted the porch steps, Lex discovered something had been found in the bushes by the broken spindle. Something important and when Rhodes laid the bagged item in Lex's hand, he felt his knees waver. Clark's watch. The one he'd given him for his seventeenth birthday, the first gift the Kents had let Clark keep.

Since that day Clark had never taken it off.

Jesus.

There was no place to sit and falling to his knees wasn't acceptable. Not in front of the herd of detectives combing the place for any information that might explain what had happened on the Kent Farm that day. Lex held the watch, forcing himself to remain upright as his fingers tracing the legend around the face. The same jeweler who'd made his watch made this one. The difference was a Greek coin, rather than the Napoleon franc, and the inscription, 'Our friendship will be the stuff of legend' scrolled out under his thumb, each word another squeeze around his heart.

Clark was gone.

Oh God, Clark really was gone.

Here in his hand lay the proof that the empty house and deserted yard failed to provide.

The how or why didn't matter, not now. Those questions would come later, when the numbness and the helplessness faded.

All that mattered was that Clark was gone.

The sun was down when the van full of dogs arrived. Bloodhounds and their trainers poured forth, taking their orders from Rhodes rather than Sheriff Miller. Not that Ethan seemed to mind; to Lex's eye, he appeared grateful for the help. Which made sense - the Smallville police department wasn't set up for this kind of thing. Farmers and their families didn't just disappear without a trace.

Not normally...

The dogs milled around, sniffing the ground as Lex approached with one of Clark's shirts. He'd scooped it up off the bedroom floor, the scent fresh even to his nose. Lex held it out in gloved hands, a last-minute concession to proper procedure, bending his knees so the dogs could get to it. Several wet noses touched his wrist before the dogs cast about in an ever-widening circle.

The first bay came a second later and the chase was on. Men jogged through the grass and then into a field, Lex among them. Burrs hooked the fabric of his pants; he slipped once or twice, catching himself on razor-sharp stalks to keep from falling, the thin layer of latex no protection for his hands. The crop was damaged even before the dogs got there and flashlights revealed the imprint of heels left behind by bodies being dragged along one of the rows.

Three-quarters of a mile from the house, the corn was battered flat in a circle. A very distinctive circle.

Lex's breath haloed his face as he paced the perimeter of the circle. A helicopter had landed here, the force from its rotors flattening the crop which had been further trampled by whoever took the Kents. There had to have been more than one of them because even incapacitated, Clark Kent was no lightweight. It would take at least two full-grown men to manhandle him into a helicopter. And given that his parents had been taken as well...

If there was anything Lex had learned from observing the Kents, it was that they would not give up their son without a tremendous fight. Jonathan Kent, for all the problems Lex had had with him, loved his family fiercely and would defend them to the death. Martha would do the same.

Their disappearance didn't make any sense. How had this come about? The Kents were law-abiding members of a small farming community, with very little to their name beyond their land. There were no hoards of jewels hidden in Martha's flour tins. There were no stacks of bearer's bonds secreted in Jonathan's toolbox. There were no treasures tucked away in their storm cellar.

Why would anyone want to do this?

Lex tucked his hands further into his pockets, his eyes trained on the ground as his mind worked. There was one reason he could think of immediately but it wouldn't necessitate kidnapping the entire family.

Clark was a trusting soul. All it would have taken was someone calling for help and he would be ensnared. Knocked over the head, trussed up and shipped out of the country in the space of a few hours. The 'white slave' trade wasn't dead, no matter what the majority of society thought.

Lex knew better.

He'd run into it in Bangkok, one of his many trips out of the country during his rebellious years prior to coming to Smallville. Lex had been prowling the crowded streets, intent on finding some entertainment for the night when a young man approached him with an intriguing offer. Eager for something different, Lex followed the beckoning figure and eventually found himself in a darkened hallway somewhere deep in the slums.

For years, he'd locked away the memory of what he found beyond that door. Suffice to say, he discovered his sexuality was a fluid thing. When morning came, he paid the fee requested and left that establishment with a 'companion'. One who shared his bed for the remainder of his visit to Thailand.

Lex learned later the boy he'd spent that week with was not only younger than he looked but had been stolen from a well-to-do Russian family. Stolen and sold into a life Lex could only imagine...

God, he hoped that wasn't what had happened here.

It couldn't be. Not with the elder Kents being taken as well.

A shout pulled him away from his thoughts and Lex's head snapped up. He jogged across the expanse of ruined crop to where the dogs were milling around a crumpled object. Their handlers pulled them back as Rhodes knelt and lifted a very familiar tan jacket.

Christ, that was Clark's.

Lex reached for it at the same time Sheriff Miller arrived with a flashlight. Lex clutched the coat, studying it in the beam shining over his shoulder. There were rust-red smears on one arm and as Lex examined them, something fell out of a pocket. It tumbled to the ground, another flashlight tracking its progress. Dull green glinted for a moment, just long enough for Lex to recognize what it was.

A meteorite.

He dug his hand into the jacket pocket, ignoring Ethan's warning about tampering with evidence as he pulled a handful of similar rocks out of its depths. The other pocket was filled in the same fashion.

Lex rubbed the nape of his neck, staring at the rocks as they were bagged and tagged along with Clark's jacket. There was more blood discovered by the dogs but nothing else. Nothing that could help lead them to wherever the Kents had been taken.

Or provide any proof that they were even still alive.

No.

He wasn't going to believe that.

There were no bodies. Yes, there was blood but not enough. If they'd been killed, there should be a lot more blood.

Lex straightened and looked up at the wash of stars overhead. A few feet behind him, Sheriff Miller was giving instructions for the FBI to be contacted - standard procedure in a kidnapping case and Lex nodded in silent agreement with that decision. Until bodies were found, what he'd overheard wasn't a multiple murder. Clark and his parents had been abducted. He had to believe that...

Clark couldn't be dead.

He couldn't...

The investigation went on through the night, with more trained professionals arriving by the hour. By the first hint of dawn on the following day, there was still a crowd of them milling around the Kent Farm, scouring the place for evidence. During those endless hours, Lex listened and argued and directed. Food was delivered, coffee and warm clothing distributed so everyone could keep going. Lex was driven, utterly focused. He wouldn't give up, not even when exhaustion colored his vision and slowed his steps.

The reason was simple. Clark needed him.

To stay sane, Lex had to believe Clark was out there somewhere, alive and waiting for help. And if that was the case, then more than anything else, Clark needed his friend to stay strong. He needed Lex to find him and find his folks.

For once, Clark was the one who needed to be rescued.

Lex sat at the kitchen table while Ethan sent out a bulletin to the wire services with the Kents' information. He drank his fifteenth cup of coffee while reciting the events of the afternoon to a FBI agent who had arrived at midnight. Despite the caffeine and the repetitive questioning, his sang-froid remained intact until he overheard the call made to the local coroner's office. In deference to his presence, Ethan had turned away as he gave the Kents' descriptions, but Lex still heard every word.

The cup he'd been holding shattered with a very satisfying sound when Lex hurled it against the wall. Ignoring Ethan's startled stare, Lex bolted out of his seat and fled the house. He couldn't listen to that. He couldn't hear about the Kents possibly being dead.

He'd already imagined it in Technicolor and full Dolby surround-sound.

Furious at his inability to do anything constructive, Lex stalked across the front yard, intent on retreating into the familiar comfort of Clark's Fortress of Solitude. He was so focused on that goal he didn't hear her calling for him until Chloe Sullivan was right at his side.

Two steps later, Chloe was blocking his path. Rather than bowl her over, Lex came to an abrupt halt and simply stared down at her.

The first light of dawn illuminated her face, outlining the exhaustion he knew mirrored his own. Instead of speaking, she handed him her digital camera. Lex studied it for a moment, finally commenting in a dry tone, "Contrary to popular belief, Ms. Sullivan, I do not read minds. Why are you giving me this?"

She shrugged, taking it back with a quick-fingered movement. "I just wanted to get your attention. I know you can't tell me anything about the investigation. I get that, Lex, okay? I've taken some pictures and I'll give you copies of what I've got. It's not much but anything helps, right?"

He nodded, studying her as the sun rose over the far horizon. Not for the first time, he wondered why Clark chose Lana over this girl. Granted, Lana was lovely but Chloe had spirit. Lana was nothing more than a trophy wife in the making. He suspected she would catch the attention of a man from his social strata once she went off to college. Had it not been for Clark's interest in the girl, Lex would have already been arranging a few casual meetings with members of his old inner circle with the express purpose of setting Lana up.

Chloe, however, was someone Lex truly respected. He read her work, found himself fascinated by her theories about the meteorites and the resulting mutations that plagued Smallville. She was a reliable source of information on all things Smallville-related once you got past her rather... enthusiastic style.

He would never dream of inflicting any of his acquaintances on her.

"Yes, it does help. Thank you, Chloe." She smiled a little when he used her first name and Lex found himself smiling back, despite the dread that was still gnawing a hole in his stomach. "We'll accept anything we can get."

"Lex... I couldn't help but overhear. They... they're gone, aren't they? Really gone?" Yes, fear and despair and everything else came rushing back in when she asked that. Chloe looked up at him, her customary bravery stripped away by the early light, leaving behind a young girl who had just lost one of her best friends.

"They are."

The moment the words were out of his mouth, she launched herself at him. Startled, Lex tried to step back but found himself holding onto the girl, her face tucked inside his open coat. Her tears soaked through his shirt as he awkwardly stroked her hair and murmured reassuring nonsense into her ear.

Crying women were something he had experience with but they were usually more refined about it. Most of the women he knew could cry without disturbing their flawless makeup. This was different. This was no sniffling-into-a-handkerchief-while-trying-to-be-brave bout of tears. This was a heart that was breaking.

Something he understood far too well.

Even though he'd never tell Chloe, Lex had his doubts about the men currently occupying the Kents' kitchen. They were professionals but they weren't emotionally invested in this. To the FBI and the police, the Kents weren't brother, father, mother. Clark, Jonathan and Martha Kent were nothing but names to them, just another case to be solved. Unlike Lex Luthor, the Kents weren't the only friends in the entire world those men could claim.

Their future happiness didn't hinge on the outcome of this situation.

Bearing that in mind, if they couldn't find the Kents, then by God, he would.

Lex held her closer, tucking his chin into the soft crown of her hair as he swore to her, "I'll find them, Chloe. I will find them and I will bring them back."

"Y-you p-romise?"

"I promise. Whatever it takes, I will find them."

He would.

Whatever it took, he would find the Kents and he would bring them home.

Hours later, Lex stood in the room he'd created, the one that might contain the key to the mystery. The plasma screen in front of him held the image of Clark, blown up to twenty times its original size. Since leaving the Kent Farm, he'd reviewed every piece of evidence gathered here, studied everything down to the last detail but hadn't found what he was looking for.

It had to be in here.

It had to be.

The meteorite he held cut into his palm, the sharp crystals leaving deep impressions in his skin as Lex worked his way through the problem at hand. Why had Clark's pockets been filled with these? Both the police and the FBI didn't believe their presence had anything to do with the abduction. The current assumption was Clark had collected them while doing his chores that day, but that didn't make any sense.

Meteorites littered Smallville and its environs. In certain spots within Lowell County, they were as common as dirt, but he knew for a fact the Kent Farm was clear of them. When the Kents' land was tainted due to the chemical spill two years prior, his own survey teams noted the complete lack of meteoric contamination. At the time, it had been merely a point of curiosity for him but what was once a curiosity now solidified into suspicion.

There had to be a connection somewhere between the Kents' abduction and those damn rocks. But what was it?

For that matter, why had Clark been taken in the first place?

Now that the first rush of adrenaline had passed, he could think clearly - he could focus on the situation itself and leave his emotions behind. Being completely detached was paramount in his examination of the facts. The solution of the puzzle depended upon his being level-headed and not indulging in personal flights of fantasy.

His earlier idea that Clark had been stolen to be sold in the flesh markets of the Far East was a romantic one but probably far from the truth. Granted, Clark was appealing, he was very easy to look at, and when he wasn't lying he was incredibly pleasant company. Lex lived for the moments he spent with Clark. He could name a long list of people in his social circles who would happily pay a great deal of money for such a companion.

Clark could be used to distract others with his boyish mannerisms; the ducked head, the semi-innocent peer out from underneath his lashes, the blush that seemed to appear on command. Lex had seen Clark use those affectations on more than one occasion to dodge some pointed questions, many of which Lex himself had raised. With the proper clothes and a little training, Clark could probably charm his way into anything.

But there were other reasons.

Deeper reasons.

For no matter how many times Clark dissembled, side-stepped, dodged and outright lied, the fact remained that he wasn't entirely normal. Which, considering Clark was from Smallville, wasn't that unusual.

Smallville bred more than bravery in its citizens.

It also spewed forth an untold number of mutations.

During his tenure, Lex had come into contact with more than a few of them. The bottle of green ink in the case to his left was a legacy from the thieves who'd walked through the mansion's walls. And then there were the others - Earl Jenkins who had almost shaken Lex into an early grave, the boy Lex found frozen in his duck pond, Jeff Palmer and his disappearing act, Eric Summers who'd actually injured Clark and thereby earned Lex's undying enmity - to name a few.

And there was Lex, himself. A ground zero test case and a mutant no one suspected. His hair was gone as a result of his exposure to intense radiation but beyond the obvious change in his appearance, his asthma disappeared the same day. He never got sick, his white blood cell count was higher than normal and he healed at an amazing rate. Not only did he heal, he carried no scars with except for the one on his chin - an injury that occurred prior to the meteor shower - and the mark on his lip from his father backhanding him during one of their more heated arguments and cutting him with his signet ring.

A ring that contained a single green stone.

Lex found out years later that the stone came from Smallville.

Jesus.

Christ.

He looked down at the meteorite and then back up at the screen.

Why hadn't he connected the dots before?

His father was right.

Emotions, even ones as pleasant and desirable as love, tended to get in his way.

If the only thing in the world that could leave a scar on Lex's body was a meteorite, then they might be useful for other purposes. Such as controlling another mutant, a mutant who was inhumanly strong and therefore both very valuable and very dangerous.

Lex turned to look at the shredded roof of his Porsche, his eyes narrowing. That car's mangled state provided enough hard data to prove to him that Clark was one such mutant. However, its destruction wasn't the only evidence he had that Clark was incredibly strong. During the hostage situation at the plant, Clark pulled both him and Earl Jenkins up from that damaged catwalk, one-handed.

It was a feat no sixteen-year-old boy should have been able to manage, adrenaline or not.

But there was something else about that incident. Something very important.

In the elevator, Clark avoided Earl. Not only that, Clark scooted away from him as quickly as he could once they reached the ground floor. He gave Earl a wide berth, understandable at the time since the man had been holding a gun on Clark and his entire class less than an hour prior but the Kents had stated earlier that Mr. Jenkins was a family friend.

Lex had been too relieved to find himself alive to truly question Clark's behavior until now. Like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, everything was falling into place.

For when the doctors Lex had hired examined him, it turned out that Earl Jenkins had microscopic particles of meteorite material embedded in his skin. It took almost six months for his body to reject the foreign objects and another four months before his nervous system stopped sending out the signals that turned him into a one-man earthquake.

The day at the plant hadn't been the sole incident involving Clark and a meteorite. There was one which occurred much earlier. One that had starred in Lex's nightmares for months afterward.

Clark's crucifixion.

There had been a meteorite necklace fastened around Clark's neck that night. Clark had been barely able to breathe, almost incapable of speech when Lex stumbled across him and yet, once he'd been cut down and the necklace had dropped away Clark was fine. Covered in sweat, obviously embarrassed, but otherwise fully mobile. In fact, Clark ran off into the cornfield, high-tailing it away from the scene of his humiliation.

Now that the puzzle was complete, the evidence was staggering.

Clark really was a mutant. That was why he'd lied so many times. It made so much sense. Nearly every mutant in Smallville protected their secret fiercely. And with good reason: exposure in many cases led to death or imprisonment in a state hospital with twenty-four hour guards.

Clark was smart in remaining silent, in lying whenever he was confronted. It kept him safe and allowed him a chance at a normal life. As far as Lex knew, beyond the Kents themselves, there were only two people who had even an inkling of what Clark was capable of.

One of them, Lex had stopped with a bullet.

The only other person was himself.

So how had this happened?

How had somebody else figured out about Clark?

Lex stared at the screen again, reaching up to touch Clark's mouth. Roger must have leaked something, he must have told somebody and they went after Clark. They took his parents because Jonathan and Martha would never give up on Clark, would search to the ends of the Earth to find him.

The Kents were probably already dead.

There was a dampness on his cheek.

Lex wiped it away.

If the kidnappers intended to use Clark, it would be for something highly illegal. That left him several avenues of investigation. Robbery, burglary, extortion - he would follow up on anything that came in through his sources. He'd keep tabs on the independent labs and the government ones as well, on the off chance Clark had fallen into their hands.

He would look everywhere and examine everything.

He would search to the ends of the Earth.

He would never give up until he got Clark back and if they were still alive, his parents, too.

Nothing on the wire services caught his eye. No unexplained crimes involving superhuman strength, no mysterious blurs on surveillance cameras, no buzz about alien autopsies or super-engineered soldiers on even the most outlandish websites.

Nothing.

That notable lack of activity led Lex back to his original premise that Clark had been abducted for a more prurient reason. Somewhere, Clark was gracing the beds of foreign dignitaries and bored rich kids out looking for something different.

If his parents were still alive, they were probably being used to ensure his good behavior. Even so, taking into consideration his assumptions about Clark's strength and basic invulnerability, Lex knew Clark would do anything within his power to save his parents. Therefore, his captors must be keeping him under control using the one thing he was vulnerable to -- meteorites.

Lex sent his people to the far reaches of the globe, including that district in Bangkok, each of them armed with pictures of the Kents and carte blanche with regard to their expenses. The only thing he asked was they contact him immediately with any possible information that could lead Lex to where the Kents were being held.

Nothing ever came to light.

There was never a ransom note.

No strangers cruised by the farm after the furor died down.

The criminals didn't return to the scene of their crime.

Bodies surfaced occasionally, and as a result Lex became quite familiar with many of the morgues across the country. They all served terrible coffee, with the exception of the one in Seattle, and they all smelled the same. They smelled like desperation.

He looked at far too many shattered bodies - too many boys killed before they could become men. Too many men with no one to claim them, no one to care. Too many women battered beyond recognition, their only link to Martha being faded red hair.

In the three years that had passed since that horrible night in Smallville, Lex spent too much time dwelling in the places of the dead.

Chloe was the only person who believed in him now. Lana and Pete tried, as did the other members of his adopted home but when six months bled into a year and then into two, most of them drifted away, involved in the newer tragedies that life in Smallville brought to their doorsteps. No one seemed concerned with the family that had disappeared from the farm on Hickory Lane except for Lex Luthor and Chloe Sullivan.

He and Chloe still met frequently, comparing notes and new theories over massive amounts of coffee. When everyone else lost interest and even the FBI stopped following up on the meager leads, Chloe's unshakable faith that Clark and his parents would not only be found, but would be found by the two of them became the only thing that kept him going.

In light of her belief, Lex tried to hold on to hope, but in the end he proved to be all too human. One night, right after her graduation from Smallville High, Lex broke down and betrayed both Chloe and her faith in him.

He'd just come from another morgue and the boy there had looked so much like Clark, right down to the mole on his cheek and the shape of his mouth. His heart crashed in his chest as he stared down at that body, convinced he'd found Clark at last until the coroner read off the stats.

Yes, that boy looked like Clark -- but Clark was six foot four when he disappeared and the poor unfortunate he'd been about to prostrate himself over was just under six feet. Discouraged, Lex came back home to Chloe waiting in his study with another hopeless lead and he promptly lost any semblance of control.

The following morning, they couldn't look at each other.

Chloe grabbed her clothes off the floor and fled.

Lex took a shower.

It was a month before they could talk to each other. They never discussed that night; there was little point. Instead, they kept their attention focused on finding the Kents. It was the reason they'd made an alliance in the first place.

Lex kept the farm operational, even though he no longer held out much hope he would find Clark and his parents alive. In the beginning, he did it because he wanted them to come back to a relatively undisturbed life. If the farm was still in existence and a going concern, the Kents would have a home to return to.

Jonathan Kent had devoted his life to keeping that small farm running. The least Lex could do as their son's best friend was to keep it running. After all, he had the resources and there was an ever-increasing interest in organically grown food. Before the abduction, Lex had many guests who'd commented on the quality of the meals he served at the mansion. Once he extolled the benefits of a healthy diet, almost to a one they started ordering produce from the Kents.

Those orders weren't cancelled after the Kents were gone. Lex's people maintained the buildings, the crops and the animals were kept in top condition and Kent Farms still produced some of the best apples in the state. Martha's father, William Clark, arrived in Smallville a few days after the kidnapping and after some tense negotiations, Lex came to an understanding with Clark's last remaining relative.

Lex was allowed to keep the farm going, profits were used to pay off his expenditures and whatever remained was invested in a fund earmarked for Clark's college education. Any large purchases for the business were made only after consultation with Mr. Clark. Lex already owned the mortgage, having procured it from the Savings and Loan the second day after the Kents' disappearance. The Kents' banker had been one of the first people on his doorstep and he'd written that check with an immense amount of satisfaction.

Lex never visited the farm.

He couldn't. It embodied what was missing from his life.

He already had enough of a reminder strapped to his wrist. A month after his world shattered, Lex exchanged his mother's watch for Clark's. It served two purposes: it reminded him of what he'd lost and it reminded him of what he could still lose. Whenever the voice in his head told him to take the easy way, to accept the shady deal, Lex would look at his watch.

His father's voice would be drowned out by Clark's. The warm chiding tones, the remembered quirk of his mouth as he asked 'Lex, what did you do?' gave Lex the conscience he'd been without for the majority of his life. He would never do anything that would make Clark hang his head in shame. That would make Clark not want to call him friend.

That would make Clark not love him.

His father announced his retirement on the 1,066th day.

He arrived in Smallville with Dominic in tow and Lex greeted him on the front lawn, ducking under the turning rotors of the LuthorCorp helicopter with a shouted hello. A hello that died in his throat as he noticed the change in his father since the last time he'd seen him. Shocked, Lex helped him out of the cockpit and held his father's elbow while they made their way into the house.

Lionel looked tired. Lionel never looked tired.

Lex had heard his health was failing but had been too busy with LexCorp and the Kents to spare much thought for his father. Upon observing the extent of Lionel's deterioration, Lex realized he'd been so wrapped up in his own personal tragedy that he'd lost track of other components of his world.

Lionel's sight had returned a few months after Lex lost his surrogate family. When that occurred, Lex assumed his father would have no further need for him so he sank himself into his obsession. Which, it seemed, might have been a mistake.

One last appraising look confirmed it.

Lionel Luthor was dying... by inches.

He might have a few months left, perhaps a year, and the way he studied Lex stirred something deep inside that Lex thought was long gone.

A desire to make his father proud.

Lex took a deep breath, shook his father's hand firmly and under the weight of Dominic Senatori's envious glare, accepted his destiny.

Two weeks later, he was living in the Metropolis penthouse.

Three weeks after that, he took over his father's office and his father's company.

A month to the day after his father's visit, Lex realized something was very, very wrong.

The morning started out normally enough. Lex had woken to an empty bed, the sheets beside him having turned cold long before he rolled over to find himself alone. Which was how he preferred it.

His 'date' last night had gone fairly well. Dinner at La Petite Fleur, followed by a play and then a pleasant walk to her door. He kissed her cheek, ignoring the movement when she turned her head in hopes of a real kiss, and then signaled for his car.

Laura had been good company, her father was a state senator and her mother had gone to school with his. All in all, she was an acceptable person for Lex to be seen with in public.

When he arrived home, his real date had been waiting for him. Stripped, lubed, and lying on his bed with legs spread. Lex wasted no time on the pleasantries. He simply stripped as well and spent the next few hours losing himself in an ocean of sun-bronzed skin.

He particularly enjoyed the bitten lower lip when he slid inside. That, the startled moan, and the tight clasp of flesh around him were quite convincing. Henri had outdone himself in finding this one. Polite, appreciative and with a mouth that defied description. The eyes, though... the eyes had been blue and he'd specified green and the hair was a little too light. He'd been looking for black.

At least, Lex discovered after taking his shower, this one hadn't stolen his Lamborghini like the last one did. Which was a pity, because he really had enjoyed himself with... Charlie, wasn't it? Or maybe Nick? After his sheets grew cold, their names ceased to be a priority.

None of them had been that memorable.

Whatever his name had been, he didn't get far. The automatic security system was triggered the second the Lam crossed the one-mile mark away from his building. It shut down the engine and the police apprehended the thief within a few minutes.

Lex was grateful to get the car back. It was one of the first he'd ever let Clark drive and was therefore a personal favorite. Much like the Modena he'd driven Clark to school in a few times or the Testarossa that he'd actually let Clark borrow. At last count, he had seventeen favorite cars, all of them parked in the underground garage, all of them associated with some memory of Clark.

He flicked through his morning mail and then his e-mail, opening the one from Chloe first. She was doing her summer internship at the Gotham Herald, a move Lex had encouraged. He was tired of watching her waste away, hanging all her hopes on a star that, in Lex's opinion, was about to collapse into a black hole.

They were never going to find Clark.

It was time they both realized the truth and moved on.

Chloe's e-mail was brief. She'd found another lead in Boston. It was slim but she'd track it down and call him if anything panned out. He fired off a quick reply, admonishing her to be careful and asking her to keep in touch, preferably on a daily basis.

Once that was done, Lex called his contact in Gotham and arranged for a discreet tail. He couldn't stop her from investigating but he could provide her with some backup.

An hour later Lex was in his office, reviewing some company records when he opened a file that had been delivered the night before. He skimmed the first document, stopped and then read every single word. The next report received the same treatment and the next and the next until he'd read the entire file.

He grabbed his phone and started making calls, confirming what he'd just absorbed and cursing under his breath as he dug even deeper into the company records. By lunchtime, he had a clearer picture of what had been happening within LuthorCorp and frankly, he was appalled.

LuthorCorp was being bled dry.

There were incidents the press knew nothing about. Incidents that Lex knew nothing about. While it was true that he'd been mired down in a miasma of subdued grief ever since he lost the Kents, there was no excuse for his laxity.

There had been break-ins at over twenty of their facilities. In some cases, the impact had been minor - unimportant files missing, some equipment damaged - nothing serious. In other cases, there had been major fires, each of them inexplicable in origin, and thefts, some of them in the six-figure range. There had been injuries, fewer and less severe than he'd expected given that they occurred at the fire sites, but still...

His company was under attack and his people were getting hurt.

He was going to put a stop to it.

Immediately.

Lex ordered security tapes from each of the targeted facilities. It would take a while to gather them all. The first occurrence dated back more than two full years. He scrutinized all the information he had on hand, flipped open his laptop and went to work on making some sense out of the jumbled reports.

By the end of the week, Lex had a spreadsheet that detailed each break-in, each act of sabotage and corporate espionage neatly laid out at his fingertips. In the interest of due diligence, he'd scoured his sources for similar incidents at LuthorCorp's competitors - looking for the inexplicable, unreported, or obviously spun, and in every case he'd come up empty-handed.

The surveillance tapes began to arrive by special courier, the first one queued up and ready to go. Lex thumbed the play button and settled in for the tedious process of reviewing every frame. There had to be something LuthorCorp security had missed. Something they weren't looking for.

He found it within ten minutes.

And when he did, Lex immediately hit the replay button.

He watched that section of tape over and over, slowing it down and enlarging each frame until there was no doubt what he was seeing.

So many false leads.

So many dead bodies.

So many endless days and nights of not knowing, and there he was.

Clark.

His Clark looking up at the camera. That well-remembered face was shadowed and thinner but Lex would know it anywhere.

Lex reached out and touched the screen, his fingertips leaving faint marks as he traced the line of Clark's mouth, as he followed the curve of his cheek and tapped at the sad smile on the next frame.

Clark was alive.

Clark was alive.

A quick check of the date on the tape and Lex was again riveted to the display. This tape was from an incident that occurred less than six weeks ago. It happened right before he took over LuthorCorp. His father appeared on his doorstep shortly after this tape was recorded. How had his father missed this? Granted, Lionel had only met Clark on a few isolated occasions but his father knew what Lex had been going through, how diligently he'd been searching for any sign that his best friend was still alive.

His father's illness had apparently taken a toll Lex was only now beginning to understand. Under any other circumstances, Lionel would have called him in the instant the trouble started. It was the only conceivable excuse for this kind of sloppiness where Lionel Luthor was concerned.

Lex hit the play button, watching Clark as he approached the main desk. He wasn't alone; there was another man right at his elbow, standing far too close. Clark said something to the guard, voice muffled but Lex knew it better than his own. He listened to it over and over again as he memorized the stranger's face and studied how Clark moved, catching the slight wince when the man with him shifted even closer.

Another tape arrived and Lex slid it into a second VCR. Just as he suspected - hoped - there Clark was again. It was merely a flash of his smile in a crowd of incoming employees that caught Lex's attention. He might not have noticed it at all if Clark hadn't stopped and stared right at the camera for a full second before disappearing into the sea of bodies. A moment later, alarms went off and people were running in every direction.

Lex checked the time and date on that tape. Chicago, eight months ago, half the building had been destroyed by fire. The research he'd already compiled stated that the incident actually aired on the local newscast but his father's PR people killed it before it hit the wire services and went national. Under his breath, he muttered a steady string of imprecations as he rewound the tape and watched Clark walk into the building, jostle his way through the crowd, look up at the camera and then move on.

That's when it hit him.

It was so damn obvious. Clark knew there was a camera recording him. Clark's pause, the split-second hesitation, that look up at the lens and the full shot of his face. Clearly, Clark hoped Lex would somehow see this tape and track him down.

It had to be a cry for help.

As plans went, it wasn't a bad one. Clark had no way of knowing how deep Lex's disaffection with his father and his father's company had run. If Lex had been keeping close tabs on LuthorCorp, he might have been on the trail sooner.

More tapes were delivered over the course of that day and the next and on every single one, Lex found Clark. In some cases, it was only for a fleeting moment but in others, Clark held entire conversations with the security teams and the man who accompanied him. It was always the same guy - blond and bluff and easily as big as Clark. There was something familiar about him, something Lex couldn't put his finger on, yet he was certain he'd seen the man before.

Once he'd confirmed his suspicions that Clark had been present at the affected sites, Lex alerted the entire LuthorCorp security net. He provided every photo he had of Clark from when they knew each other in Smallville as well as excerpts from the tapes he'd reviewed showing both Clark and the stranger from multiple angles. There was no reason to assume the attacks would cease simply because his father was no longer at the helm.

While he knew the next logical step was to contact the FBI, Lex chose to bypass it. After all, they'd had the same amount of time to locate Clark and had come up with nothing. He, at least, had something. And until he understood why LuthorCorp was being targeted specifically, he planned on keeping this to himself.

It took less than half a day to get a response. Someone fitting Clark's description had been seen at Tantalus Labs in Boston that very morning. He had a meeting scheduled for the next day with Dr. Allen Graves, the head of R&D, to discuss the sale of some patents to the lab. The name given was Thomas Griffin but Lex knew he had to be Clark.

Boston, Clark was in Boston. So Chloe's lead wasn't another dead-end.

He'd been so tied up in reviewing the tapes he hadn't thought to call Chloe.

Immediately, Lex punched in her number on his cell. While he waited for her to pick up, he issued orders to the secretary who scuttled into his office at the first sound of the intercom buzzer. By the time he got Chloe's voice-mail, Lex had already arranged for the company jet and a face-to-face meeting with Dr. Graves the minute he landed at Logan International.

Lex turned his back on the woman leaving his office and spoke urgently into the phone. "Chloe, call me as soon as you get this message. You're right, you are onto something and I'll explain when I get there."

Chloe would call. While she was headstrong, what happened to Clark and his family had toned down her incautious streak. In the past, that incautious streak had gotten her far but only because she was lucky. During the course of their friendship, Clark had described some of their misadventures and while Lex chuckled at the situations Chloe would drag Clark and Pete into, he'd also been amazed the three of them hadn't been arrested more often.

Or hospitalized.

Or both.

Just to be certain, Lex called the detective tailing Chloe and told him to rein her in if need be.

The next item on his agenda wasn't a call. It necessitated a visit.

His father's condition had deteriorated even further. He was no longer mobile.

Lex stood at the bedside, his gaze flicking over the equipment being used to keep Lionel Luthor's body functioning. Even though his father was still breathing on his own, his chest barely rose and fell, and a monitor recorded the feeble beating of his heart. It was only when Lex cleared his throat that the old man's eyes opened. Bleary and unfocused, Lionel blinked several times before recognition sank in.

"Lex. It's good to see you, son." His voice raspy and ill-defined, Lionel pressed a button that lifted the head of the bed until he was in a more dignified position. Lex took a seat next to him, watching the familiar mask drop into place as Lionel covered his pain.

Sympathy welled up for a moment, a response Lex forced down with a hard swallow. His father wouldn't appreciate the sentiment. Pity wasn't something Lionel Luthor indulged in and, therefore, neither should his son.

The best thing Lex could do was get straight to the point. "Dad. There's something going on at LuthorCorp."

"I see. That's why you're here." Lionel coughed, covering his mouth with his hand. A grimace followed on the heels of that interruption, disgust clearly evident as he reached for a tissue to blot his palm. Unnoticed, a bright spot of blood remained on his chin. Without a word, Lex leaned over and wiped it away. "What have you uncovered?"

Lex cleaned the blood off his fingertips with his handkerchief. His attention never wavered; his focus remained the observation of his father's reaction as he stated calmly, "Sabotage, espionage, larceny - with us as the target. Sound familiar?"

The old man's eyes sharpened for a second, then slid away. "It sounds like the price of doing business. Why bring this to my attention? Take care of it, Lex."

Interesting.

Lex had never seen his father do that before.

When Lionel Luthor lied, he did it to your face. He never looked away, he never showed anything that might be construed as guilt. There were so much Lex could read into this exchange; he would have to examine every possible permutation to determine what was really going on. "I intend to. The question is: why didn't you take care of it, Dad? It's been going on for over two years."

"Too many other concerns." Another look, another slide away and Lionel was reaching for a cup of water which Lex handed to him. Acting the dutiful son, he waited for his father to drink and hand the cup back before replying.

"Really? I thought the company was everything, Dad." Although the purpose of this visit had been to confront his father with the information about Clark, on the heels of their guarded conversation, Lex held back. It was possible his paranoia was overrunning all other sensibilities, but he had a sinking feeling his father knew a lot more about the Kents' disappearance than Lex himself had ever uncovered.

Until he had Clark safely in his custody, Lex wasn't going to do anything that might tip his hand. There were still too many variables in this equation. And although Lionel was dying, he wasn't dead yet.

In fact, Lionel was laughing, the sound dry and husky and foreign to Lex's ears. It triggered another coughing fit, which led to more blood and Lionel finally smiling at him. "Now you sound like me, son. Good."

As soon as he quit his father's presence, Lex spent the next few minutes in the bathroom... on his knees.

He flushed away the evidence of his weakness, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and stared at the watch on his wrist. "Never. I'll never be like you, Dad."

Lex spent part of the flight to Boston reviewing that conversation with his father. Examining it, taking it apart and studying the hidden meanings, the said versus the unsaid. While he had no proof, Lex was convinced his father had something to do with the Kents' disappearance or knew something crucial about it. Rather than be shocked by this epiphany, Lex was surprised he hadn't thought of it before.

The devastation of losing Clark had clouded his judgment. He'd spent the last three years wallowing in self-pity and ultimately chasing after a false premise. After nothing unusual had turned up that could be linked to Clark's abilities, he'd reverted to his original assumption - that chimera about Clark being snatched because of his looks, because of the body that Lex himself would have paid a great deal of money to touch.

The fact remained that Clark had been taken from his home along with his parents. There would be no reason to take the entire family if the intention had been to sell the boy. But if someone wanted to control Clark, then it made a great deal of sense. This was something he had considered the day after the Kents' disappearance. Clark was devoted to his parents; he would do anything and everything to keep them safe.

Even though he'd toyed with the fantasy that one night Henri would send him a new boy and Lex would come home to Clark in his bed, the reality of Clark being prostituted sickened him.

But as a result of his libidinous leanings, he'd ignored the big picture.

There were holes in his logic. Great, glaring holes.

Lex was grateful that he'd been wrong.

Instead, Clark was being used for corporate crime, an occupation that, while it set off a million other alarms, didn't make Lex's skin crawl. Lex closed his eyes for a moment, saying a prayer of thanks to a God he no longer believed in, then returned to contemplating his father's possible complicity in the abduction.

He wanted to believe in his father's innocence, however, he knew the old man too well. Lionel would give his eyeteeth to have a weapon like Clark, would sell his soul to Satan for it. But if his father had engineered the kidnapping, then why was Clark being used to target LuthorCorp? Why not their competitors? Why hadn't these incidents been occurring at Wayne Technologies or Queen Industries?

His suspicions about his father didn't follow a logical progression. There was cause but the effect was completely off.

Perhaps he was being paranoid.

It wouldn't be the first time.

Dispassionately, Lex set that theory aside for later examination in favor of reviewing the remainder of what he'd discovered in his investigation. There were a few things that fit better now that he knew Clark was involved.

At some of the break-ins there had been holes punched through solid steel. He already knew about Clark's strength; Clark being able to do that didn't surprise him. There were also the fires at the damaged installations, the cause of which had never been determined. Just like the blazes that occurred in Smallville during the Desiree fiasco and Clark had been present for each of those: the schoolroom, the Talon and the jail.

The damage to Desiree's car Lex dismissed - that incident actually involved an accelerant.

By the time he landed, Lex had a fairly good idea of what might be going on. It was mostly speculation on his part but his hunches usually panned out. Clark had been taken for his abilities, the ones he'd always denied having. He was being used by a person or persons unknown to undermine LuthorCorp. Clark might be a willing participant in the destruction of LuthorCorp if Lex's suspicions about his father's involvement in Clark's original abduction were true.

If his father had been responsible for Clark's capture, then Lex would sincerely enjoy watching the old man die. If Clark's parents had been killed during the event or murdered afterward, Lex would make certain his father's pain medication was replaced with a placebo.

Better yet, he would simply turn Lionel over the authorities and let the resulting scandal destroy the only thing his father had left - the Luthor name.

Dr. Graves was in the VIP lounge when Lex arrived at Logan International. The man was twenty years his senior and clearly unhappy at being summoned by the young Luthor heir. Accustomed to that reaction from his father's employees, Lex smoothly extended his hand and his own personal charm. Within moments, he'd mollified Dr. Graves as well as been apprised of the subject for the next day's meeting.

Apparently, Mr. Thomas Griffin and Mr. George Copeland had approached Tantalus with a very interesting treatise on gene therapy. There were hints of true brilliance in the work, enough that Dr. Graves had chosen to inspect the document himself. The two men were offering to share their discoveries and the pending patents under the condition that they be allowed to tour the facility before entering into a mutually beneficial agreement with Tantalus and its parent company, LuthorCorp.

A similar approach had been used at the Edge City installation. The result - a demolished safe, a slew of missing files and a guard currently under psychiatric care for incessantly babbling about seeing a man put his fist through a four-inch thick steel door.

Such blatant use of Clark's strength in front of a witness was clearly a cry for help.

And he would get it.

Starting now.

Chloe was waiting in his hotel suite. He almost asked how she'd gotten in but decided against it. The Boston Harbor staff knew him quite well and as a result, they knew who was and wasn't on his VIP roster. Ms. Chloe Sullivan was definitely at the top of the acceptable list.

She met him at the door, slim and blond and except for the tiniest smudge of what he deemed to be newsprint on one cheek, she looked perfect. It had been two months since he'd seen her last and Lex found himself struggling with the urge to pull her in for a hug.

He wasn't the hugging type.

But Chloe was. Her arms went around his waist, her face pressed into his shirt, no longer crisp due to hours of traveling but at least it was clean. She held on tight for a few seconds, then smiled up at him. "Not that I mind seeing you, Lex, but you owe me an explanation. So dish. What's going on?"

Lex extricated himself from her arms but not without brushing his mouth against her cheek. He could see that she was vibrating with energy, ready to burst apart if he didn't tell her everything he knew in the next five seconds. "It's good to see you too, Chloe. I'll start with the best part. Clark's alive."

It had been a long time since Lex had heard anyone squeal like that. His ears rang with the noise and his suit jacket was not likely to survive the damage Chloe was inflicting on its shoulder seams. Her joy was infectious. When she launched herself at him again, he enfolded her in an embrace. Lex buried his face in her hair, breathing her in until she squirmed and pushed him back.

"How? You've seen him? Lex, please tell me that you've seen him. Where the hell is he?" Chloe glared at him, ducking around Lex and pulling the door open to inspect the hallway beyond. She spun back around, her fists on her hips as she glowered at him for a second before shutting the door.

"I haven't actually seen him in person but he is here in Boston." That was all he managed to get out before Chloe commandeered the conversation again.

"I knew it. I knew Benny hadn't steered me wrong." Her nervous energy spilled over as she ran her hands through her short hair. "He said he spotted a guy that looked like Clark in a convenience store on the south side. We've got to go find him, Lex. We've got to go now!"

"No. What we are going to do is have dinner." Lex undid his tie, sliding it out from underneath his collar and laying it on the back of the couch. He was hungry and while he understood the urgency Chloe was feeling, tomorrow would be soon enough. It would take that long for his people to get the equipment he'd requested.

"Are you crazy? Lex, how can you think about food at a time like this?" She blocked his way to the bedroom, her hand on his chest only a minor deterrent to his forward motion. "We're so close. He's here, Lex. Clark's here and we have to find him."

"Yes, Chloe. Clark is here. But I don't know where his parents are and if we move in too quickly..." He would let her work through it on her own. Lex shifted past her through the bedroom doorway. He wasn't surprised when Chloe followed him into the room, perching herself on the edge of a dresser.

"So, tell me what's going on, Lex." He turned just enough to take in her blush. Lex knew he should allow her to maintain her modesty but a perverse part of him wanted to keep her on her toes. She was the one who followed him into the bedroom in the first place. Still, it was almost comical how careful she was in her effort to not look at the bed.

Rather than respond, Lex opened the closet and perused its contents. Waiting for him was a rack of suits arranged by color, followed by shirts in the exact same order. His shoes were set up in a neat row on the upper shelf and Lex knew his shower robe would be laid out on the counter in the bathroom. Yes, the staff at the Harbor Hotel catered to his preferences admirably.

He shrugged out of his jacket, hung it up and then unbuttoned his shirt. From behind him, he heard Chloe's embarrassed cough and couldn't help but smile to himself. "Chloe, I have had a very long day. I'm going to take a shower. Unless you actually want to see more of me than this, I suggest you wait in the other room."

"Lex, it's not like I haven't seen it before." The response was quick, snapped out before she had time to consider her words. While the Harbor's staff knew his needs well, Lex knew Chloe and her reactions even better.

Very brave, Ms. Sullivan.

How brave are you feeling tonight?

"True," Lex shed his shirt, letting it drop to the floor as he turned to face her and slid down the zipper on his trousers. Her eyes widened and she swallowed heavily. "Chloe, let me be frank about my current emotional state. I am elated. I am in the mood to celebrate. My usual form of celebrating does not include someone as beautiful as you leaving my bedroom untouched. Now unless you intend to spend the rest of the night in my bed..."

"Lex," she pushed off from the dresser, coming to stand in front of him. To his surprise, Chloe insinuated her fingertips into his loosened waistband and lifted her mouth for a kiss - a kiss he chose not to bestow. "I'm a reporter. I'll do just about anything to get a story. Even though seducing the CEO of a multi-national corporation has never been on my list before, for the record, the thought of sleeping with you again isn't a hardship."

They stared at each other for a few moments, each assessing the situation. Lex finally nodded, removed her hands from his hips and zipped his pants back up. "That's good to know. I might take you up on the offer later. For now, let's order dinner and I'll tell you what I've found."

He did take his shower... after he told Chloe what he'd discovered on the security tapes. Lex kept silent about his theories on Clark's mutant status. While he trusted Chloe with almost everything, there were a few secrets he intended to keep for himself - Clark's abilities being one of them.

As Chloe had pointed out, she was a reporter. Somewhere, it had been ingrained in her that there was no such thing as a secret. She felt it was the public's right to know absolutely everything about the world, and as such, it was her civic duty to divulge whatever she discovered. It was an attitude that had gotten her in trouble before and Lex wasn't about to give her the ammunition that would turn Clark's life into a public circus.

Assuming they'd be able to get him back. Or that Clark hadn't pulled a Patty Hearst and joined sides with his kidnappers.

After his shower, they spent a leisurely dinner discussing Lex's plan and working through any possible points of failure. Chloe had a few insights to add that Lex hadn't considered and the time passed quickly. When it neared midnight, Lex rose up from his seat on the couch, escorting Chloe to the second bedroom of the suite.

At that point, Chloe turned to look up at him. Her attention flicked from his face to the other bedroom door, a possible offer on her lips. One that Lex silenced with a kiss, the first kiss he'd given her since that bleak night so long ago. When their mouths parted, he murmured, "Not tonight. Let's see what tomorrow brings."

She nodded before sliding out of his arms and disappearing into the room beyond. The door closed behind her with a quiet little click.

Lex poured himself a scotch, sipping it slowly while he looked out over the harbor. He did want Chloe but not in the way she might want him. She was intelligent, she was funny, she was familiar... but she wasn't Clark.

He'd availed himself of enough warm bodies in the past.

He was not going to do it again.

Lex arrived at Tantalus two hours before the appointed time for the meeting.

There would have been a grand production made of his being there if he came in through the main doors, so instead, Lex used a side entrance with Chloe in tow. It hadn't been his intention to bring her along but her arguments, which started over breakfast and continued all the way down to the parking garage, convinced Lex that he should allow her to come.

Dr. Graves was waiting for him in his office along with Tantalus' head of security, Don Chambers, and the equipment Lex had requested.

On the desk lay two miniscule devices, a microphone and a transceiver. Next to them was a larger object, a tracking device that would be installed on their visitors' vehicle during the meeting. The first two, Lex was going to plant on Clark.

"You've tested all of it?" Lex asked as he palmed the microphone. Less than quarter of an inch in length, it fit easily between his fingers, tiny hooks pricking his skin. Those same hooks would adhere to almost any fabric. With any luck, he'd be able to place it on Clark without being detected.

"Yes, Mr. Luthor. Everything's been tested. It all works." Nodding, Lex inspected the other pieces.

Chloe studied the devices intently, although she didn't touch anything. "Lex, is there any chance you can get me some of this stuff?"

"It depends on what you plan on using it for." Lex replied as he palmed the transceiver as well. With a little juggling, he was able to handle both items at the same time. One in the right hand and one in the left. "If you plan on bugging your professor's office, then the answer is no."

The noise Chloe made was remarkably unladylike and it clearly startled the other two men in the room but Lex laughed. Having Chloe there was keeping his nerves under control. She'd been right to insist on tagging along.

If they'd been alone, he probably would have kissed her.

Thomas Griffin and George Copeland arrived right on time. They were ushered into the main conference room and served coffee, which Mr. Copeland took black while Mr. Griffin quietly asked for cream and two sugars. Chloe and Lex watched the two of them on the security monitor and when that familiar request was made Chloe burst into tears.

Lex handed her his handkerchief, his attention remaining focused on the two men as they sipped their coffee and waited for Dr. Graves to appear. Which he did, right on cue, bustling in with his lab coat slightly askew and his glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose. Both men rose to their feet, their hands outstretched and Dr. Graves shook them in turn.

"Good morning, gentlemen. I'm sorry that I'm late. We have an important guest due any minute." Dr. Graves took his seat and gestured for them to do the same.

"Good morning, sir." Clark sounded tired, even though his smile was bright. He tucked his coat down as he eased into the chair. Mr. Copeland did the same, leaning toward Clark a little.

There was that wince, the one Lex had seen on the other tapes and Clark sidled away as he had before. Copeland had to have a meteorite on his person. They'd been searched at the door and nothing unusual turned up so Lex could only assume it was very well hidden.

Flicking his shirt-cuffs down into place, Lex palmed both the microphone and the transceiver again while Chloe's attention remained riveted on the monitor.

"What do you have for me?" Dr. Graves asked, leaning back in his chair. Copeland opened a briefcase and slid a file across the table's glassy surface.

Dr. Graves picked the folder up, adjusted his glasses and began to read.

That was Lex's signal. Quietly, he opened the office door and strode down the hallway toward the conference room. As agreed, Chloe remained behind to watch everything on the monitor. She had wanted to go in with Lex but after a terse discussion, she agreed there was no way to explain her presence without tipping their hand.

Mr. Chambers met Lex at the door and together, they walked into the meeting.

When Lex stepped into the room, Dr. Graves looked up from the report. Quickly, he closed the file and rose to his feet. "Mr. Luthor, sir, forgive me. I wasn't aware you were on-site. We hadn't expected you this early." He did not hold out his hand and Lex nodded in approval before turning to face the other two.

Any doubt Lex had that Thomas Griffin was Clark Kent dissolved in that moment. Clark stumbled to his feet, wild hope engraved on his tired features and it took every ounce of willpower for Lex not to grab him and hold on for dear life.

It had been three years.

Three years since he'd seen his best friend and Clark looked... terrible.

Clark was no longer golden. His skin was pallid - he looked as if he hadn't seen the sun a single day since his disappearance. The curls Lex used to tease him about were gone, the hair cropped close to his head emphasized the tightness of the skin over his cheekbones, and the dark circles under his eyes spoke of many sleepless nights. A fist tightened in Lex's chest. Righteous anger roared to the fore at the signs of obvious neglect, then banked behind a calm facade as he brought himself under strict control.

The hope in Clark's eyes faded into panic as Lex merely looked at him, carefully hiding every emotion behind the mask his father had trained him to use. If his people were going to find out what had happened to Clark and where his parents were, Lex couldn't show any sign of recognition. As far as Lex Luthor, CEO of LuthorCorp was concerned, he was looking at Mr. Thomas Griffin, a perfect stranger. Not Clark Kent, his best friend who had been forcibly removed from Lex's life... probably by the individual who rose to stand beside him.

"That's quite all right, Dr. Graves. We caught a tailwind on the way in. I didn't want to miss this meeting." Lex held his right hand out to Clark, which Clark accepted after a moment of hesitation. Smiling, Lex shook Clark's hand, gripped Clark's elbow firmly with his left. "Gentlemen, I've read through your prospectus and may I say that we here at LuthorCorp are very interested in what you have to offer."

Clark's smile was tentative but he returned the handshake. "Mr. Luthor, it's a great privilege to meet you."

George Copeland held out his hand, which Lex accepted after brushing his fingertips over Clark's shirt-cuff. The smile Lex received from Copeland was cold, a thin veneer of civilization that did nothing to disguise the malice that lurked underneath. The greeting that followed was as false as his smile. "Good to meet you, sir."

The feeling Lex encountered when he saw this guy on the tapes returned three-fold. He had met this creep before - somewhere, somehow, their paths had crossed. He hadn't liked him then and he certainly didn't like him now. He didn't like the feel of his hand, or the slither of his skin, or the way he moved closer to Clark.

Clark paled, his jaw working and for a moment, Lex thought he was about to collapse. Lex stepped back and when he did, Copeland eased off on Clark. The man was definitely packing. The question was: how to get Clark away from him?

"Let me review what you've brought us," Lex said mildly as he took a seat next to Dr. Graves and directly across from Clark, who was hunched over and staring at the table. They were close enough that Lex could probably touch Clark's foot with his own. He wanted to, he really wanted to, but he had to keep his distance for the plan to succeed.

The information within that slim file was revolutionary. If it worked, it would advance the science of gene therapy by decades. It would definitely put LuthorCorp and Tantalus ahead of their competitors. Lex was admittedly fascinated by what he was skimming but he was also far too aware of Clark's solemn presence.

After five minutes, Lex closed the folder and steepled his hands together. "Very interesting, gentlemen. Do you mind if we look this over in depth? What you're asking for is a great deal of money, and, as I'm sure you're aware, access to Tantalus is severely restricted. I'll need to consult with Finance and Legal before we can make you a solid offer."

"Of course, Mr. Luthor. Take all the time you need." Copeland smiled, his grin broad and ingratiating while Clark seemed to be sinking down further into his chair. Careful not to focus any attention on Clark, Lex rose to his feet and when the visitors followed in kind, he shook their hands again.

Unable to resist, Lex trailed his fingertips over Clark's palm. Clark's throat tightened as he swallowed; hope flared again in his eyes before they dropped away. Lex turned to Copeland, swearing to himself that as soon as Clark, and hopefully his parents, were safe, he was going to rip this man apart with his bare hands.

With that, the meeting concluded. Thomas Griffin and George Copeland were escorted out of the building while Lex made a beeline for the main security office. He was handed a set of headphones as soon as he walked in the room. Lex settled into a chair next to Chloe, both of them listening intently.

The first thing Lex heard was a car engine starting up. Then Copeland spoke, "Looks like you weren't as close to him as you thought, huh, Clark?"

There was no answer, just a soft rustle of cloth which was probably Clark crossing his arms over his chest. Lex hoped the mike wouldn't be blocked by that movement and was relieved when the next derisive comment came through loud and clear. "That's Lex Luthor for you. One minute you're his best friend in the whole world and the next, you don't exist. Pity you didn't figure that out before he nailed you."

Chloe turned toward him, her eyes wide and round, the obvious question unspoken but right there for him to read. Immediately, Lex shook his head. It was true, he'd wanted Clark but he'd never slept with him. He hadn't dared to broach the subject for fear of losing his best friend and once Clark was gone, it became a moot point.

The abuse continued, the vitriol ratcheting higher with every moment that passed. "You're no longer his freak of the week. He's probably been dicking that little blond friend of yours. You know, the reporter? Last I heard, they were a pretty hot item back in good old Smallville."

Guilt roiled up immediately, a feeling that Lex saw mirrored on Chloe's face. They both looked away, unable to meet one another's eyes.

Pulling the headphone away from his ear, Lex signaled Mr. Chambers and quietly issued instructions. "Cut the audio feed to everyone except me and Ms. Sullivan. Keep recording everything. I'll review it later." He glanced at Chloe who was now staring at the opposite wall, a tear tumbling down her cheek as he watched. Lex lowered his voice and turned away from her, speaking softly as not to be overheard. "I may want to cut Ms. Sullivan off, too."

"Yes, sir." Chambers flicked a few switches on the control panel. He fingered one of them long enough for Lex to memorize its position before moving away to the monitor tracking the car's progress through the streets of Boston.

Lex covered his ear with the headphone again and closed his eyes so he could concentrate. If he looked over at Chloe, he would probably lose it. Clark needed him to hold it together. Especially when Copeland fired off the next salvo. "And here you thought he'd cough up a ransom for you and your folks. Face it, Kent, once Luthor popped your cherry you ain't nothing to him. You're just another kid with a tight ass and a killer mouth. Luthor can buy ten just like you. Line 'em up, fuck 'em blind and forget 'em."

Jesus, he was going to be sick. Lex covered his mouth with his hand, his breathing harsh to his own ears. A quick glance over at Chloe revealed the she was doing the same, swallowing heavily and looking at him like he'd betrayed them all.

Lex almost cut the feed to her headset then and there.

If Chloe didn't know him by now, if she didn't know that he would never do that to someone he cared about, then she hadn't been paying attention for the last three years. Irritated at her assumptions, Lex turned away again. He rubbed his hand over his face as he listened to Copeland taunt Clark in a similar vein until the engine noise quit.

Lex shot a look over his shoulder at Chambers who gave him a thumbs-up signal. They had a location.

Good, they were one step closer to recovering Clark and possibly finding his parents as well. Lex prayed silently that Martha and Jonathan were still alive. That they were alive and not being subjected to the torment their son was suffering through right now.

Suffering in silence, never once defending himself. Under his breath, Lex muttered. "Tell him the truth, Clark. I never touched you." I wanted to but I never did. Lex was certain he hadn't said the last portion out loud but feared he might have given how Chloe shifted further away from him.

Lex had heard enough. Or more specifically, Chloe had heard enough. Turning toward her, Lex lifted the headphones off her head and pushed his own back. She was crying, tears streaming down her face, her hand still over her mouth as she stared at Lex. "Chloe, he's lying. He's trying to get a rise out of Clark, that's all."

He clicked off the feed to her headphones as he wiped her tears away. Chloe jerked backward, suspicion written all over her face. The irritation Lex felt earlier flared up again, threatening to overwhelm him. "This is just the beginning. I'm certain it's going to get a lot worse. I'm not trying to protect you, Chloe. I know you can take this but I need to concentrate. We're taping... it might be better if you didn't listen right now."

"Lex," she was about to protest further, but instead Chloe closed her mouth and finally nodded. "I'm going to go check in with Benny, see if he's found out anything more."

"Good. I'll let you know what we discover here." As Lex watched, she nodded again before scrambling out of her chair. Chloe didn't say anything else, she didn't look back. She simply left the room. Lex rubbed at his temples, afraid he'd lost her trust, before he replaced his headset.

And was tremendously grateful Chloe had taken his advice.

Because now that the engine had stopped, Copeland's voice lowered. "In the end, neither one of them wanted you, did they? Poor little queer." That didn't make any sense at all if Chloe was still part of the equation. Lex leaned forward, trying to decipher what the hell that meant when he heard Copeland laugh. "Sucks to love somebody who doesn't give a shit about you, doesn't it?"

"Deck him, Clark. Why aren't you fighting back?" Several people looked over at him but Lex ignored them. His hands clenched into fists as he settled in for the long haul. As he had told Chloe, he had a feeling this was bound to get a whole lot worse.

There were footsteps, two sets, one pair solid in its footfalls and the other an almost painful shuffling. Lex closed his eyes, his imagination providing a visual accompaniment. Copeland striding along a hallway while Clark followed reluctantly, drawing out whatever freedom he had left before being locked behind closed doors once more.

As Lex listened, he heard other faint noises. It took a moment to identify them but when he did, his throat tightened. What he was hearing was a very quiet sniffling, a hand rubbing over a face and a quick indrawn breath. Proof enough for him that Clark was crying.

God, he should've grabbed Clark when he had the chance. Chambers went into the meeting armed, all Lex had to do was give the signal and Copeland would've been facing six inches of cold steel. The only reason this farce had continued was because Lex wanted to snare more than just Clark and his kidnapper.

He wanted Clark's missing parents as well.

Those furtive sounds ceased as a set of keys jangled nearby and a door creaked open. Lex was aware of movement behind him on a peripheral level. There were people rushing back and forth but he ignored everything beyond his slim lifeline into Clark's living hell. After a few moments of silence on the other end of that connection, Lex placed his hand on the control console, every ounce of his considerable attention focused on willing something to happen.

When it did, the sound was so loud that it rocked Lex back in his seat. Those keys he'd heard before crashed onto a table, the door closing almost immediately afterward. His mouth suddenly dry, Lex swallowed and bit down on his lower lip when he heard Copeland speak again. The voice was harsh, each word grating across Lex's nerves as the man said, "Damn, that was good. I feel like celebrating. On your knees, pretty boy. Bring that mouth over here."

"Oh Christ, no..." Lex's hands balled into fists again, muscles and tendons clutching involuntarily, cramping with how tightly he held them.

This couldn't be real.

This couldn't be happening.

This couldn't be happening to Clark.

This happened in Lex's world, not in Clark's. It belonged in the nightmare realm Lex dwelt in since the moment Clark had been snatched. This darkness lived in Lex's head, it couldn't exist anywhere close to Clark Kent and yet it did.

Fuck... somebody make it stop.

Then he heard it. The sound of a zipper being dragged down and Lex stood up, the fact he was tethered in place by the headset negated by his sudden need to move. As he measured the limited space allowed him, Lex's homicidal urges came rushing back and this time they brought friends along. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to murder George Copeland. Lex had killed for Clark before; he'd already shattered that Commandment with a bullet long before Clark was stolen from his side.

That particular moral bridge having been burnt, Lex had absolutely no compunction about committing murder again.

The difference this time?

This time, he would enjoy it.

"I can't stand that sanctimonious little shit but I get why you've got such a crush on him, Kent. What I wouldn't give for ten minutes of your strength... If I had that, I'd fuck that prick right into the ground."

You and what army?

I'd have you begging for mercy in ten seconds flat.

Jesus, he was glad Chloe had left.

Lex checked the control board again, quickly confirming the only live feeds were going to his headset and the tape deck. Clark didn't need to be outed in such a fashion. Clark didn't need to be outed at all.

Fury and nausea battled for dominance as Lex dropped back down into his chair. Someone appeared at his elbow, silently offering him a flask. Lex looked up, catching the sympathetic look on Don Chambers' face before waving the man away. He would get through this without help, alcoholic or otherwise.

The disembodied voice in his ear twisted and Lex's stomach followed right along, doubling over into a knot as the man muttered. "Did you do that, Kent? Did Luthor let you shove your dick in him? Jesus, I'd pay serious money to see that."

That was it.

Lex wanted the entire room cleared and he wanted it cleared now. He turned in his seat, intent on ordering everyone out when he realized it had already been taken care of. The only other person still in the room was Don Chambers, who stood waiting by the door. With a nod from Lex, he left as well, thereby giving Lex the freedom to act as he wished.

Which Lex did.

He snatched a half-empty mug off the console next to him and hurled it at the wall. It shattered, splattering coffee in its wake, as did the next one he threw and the next. Still aware that he was in a room full of delicate equipment, Lex restricted himself to breaking nothing more than the mugs and staining the paint on the far wall. The last one he threw actually left a dent in the plaster as it smashed into pieces.

"Come here."

Copeland, or whoever the hell you are, you are a dead man. I swear to God you will not live another day. Thankfully for the sake of his defense attorneys, Lex was able to keep his mouth shut as he listened. He remembered at least that much.

"No." Quiet and low but that was definitely Clark. Just one word, the only word Lex heard Clark utter since he'd left Tantalus but it was the right one. It was the word Lex had been silently urging him to use.

That was the Clark Kent he remembered. The only thing that Clark had ever been afraid of was asking the girl he liked out on a date. Otherwise, the kid had been damn near bulletproof in his bravery. For all Lex knew, Clark might actually be bulletproof.

Now if Clark would only back it up with his fists. From his seat, Lex threw a punch for him, his own fist cutting through the air as he waited for the impact.

And there was an impact, followed by a sharp cry... Clark's, not Copeland's and as Lex listened, he heard something slap against a floor or possibly a wall. That was the problem with audio alone. Lex's imagination was happily providing a picture to go with the sound but the image was horrific. Especially when it was accompanied by a pained whimper, the exact same sound Lex had heard when Clark's whole family was abducted.

"Suck me, Kent. Or next time I pay a visit to your folks, I'll make your mom do it."

A surge of elation accompanied the sudden rise of Lex's gorge. Copeland's crude threat contained the proof he'd been waiting to hear.

Martha.

If Copeland was telling the truth, the Kents were still alive.

Just as Lex suspected, Clark was being controlled by threats against his parents, or at least against his mother. It was the perfect setup. How else could a normal human contain a super-strong mutant? Find his vulnerable points - and Clark's biggest weakness was his family. Wonderful people, salt of the earth and a huge pair of walking targets for anyone who had the slightest inkling what Clark was capable of.

Copeland was a talker, a very stupid habit but it was a bonus Lex was grateful for at this point. The more he talked, the more could be learned. Plus his voice helped drown out the noises Clark was making, the hitched breath, the moan of pain that jangled in Lex's ears. "I'll bet she's a hot fuck. All that red hair and her mouth's even prettier than yours."

"Keep talking. Dig yourself in deeper." Those words were muttered under his breath, the tone soft and deadly while Lex listened to a man who had already signed his own death warrant. Martha Kent was alive, and Jonathan was as well and he could save all three of them. He leaned back in his chair, waiting to hear more as he considered how he was going to rid the world of this vermin.

Gun or knife? That's the question. A gun will be quick, a judge's more likely to believe self-defense if I use a gun. But a knife, a knife is so much more satisfying, more personal. With a knife I can hear you gasp for breath, Mr. Copeland. Watch you clutch at the blade in your gut when I twist it and shove harder.

I know places where they'll never find your body.

Lex wasn't sure when the soft moans stopped and the act commenced. The change was subtle, the new sounds faint, so faint that he had to strain to hear them and when he did, Lex closed his eyes and covered his face. Existing on the edge of his senses, he caught the hushed noises, their very familiarity awakening something inside himself that Lex hated.

Closing his eyes was not the best idea. Not with his imagination working overtime and providing the sight of Clark. His Clark kneeling, mouth stretched wide, haunted eyes closed, lashes dark against far too pale skin. It was a sight Lex had longed for, dreamt about and now that it was a reality, it fascinated and repelled him at the same time.

Caught on the razor's edge between horror and want, Lex let the sound and the image slice into his very soul. Horror finally won out, the desire he felt for Clark bled its life away while he heard his best friend comply with the order he'd been given.

Lex shifted in his seat, wanting not to listen but he owed it to Clark. This was something Clark lived with every day for three years and Lex was damned if he would turn away from it.

What was that he'd thought about Copeland talking?

That it was a good idea.

That the man was providing the rope to hang himself with.

He'd been wrong.

All Lex wanted that dead man to do right now was shut up.

He didn't need to hear this. Clark didn't need anyone to hear his humiliation. And yet, Lex listened as information devolved into nothing but further obscenity. "Aww, baby. Are those tears for me? You're such a fucking girl, Kent... Suck harder. Yeah... Great mouth. Regular little cocksucker, aren't you? How many times did you do this for Luthor, huh? Is he the reason you're crying or are you missing your mommy?"

The microphone had to be close to Clark's mouth, a fact which lead to even more images Lex tried to block out while he heard Clark struggle for breath. Choking followed on the heels of a harsh grunt and Lex doubled over as he realized that Clark was trying to cough. The cough was stifled almost immediately and the sucking began again, louder this time.

"That's it. Open all the way up, pretty boy." This was the other way that Clark was being controlled. What Copeland was doing to him wasn't about sex. It was about power. Clark was being used in more ways than one.

It was going to take forever to put Clark back together after this.

"Yeah. Yeah." Whatever Copeland intended to say devolved down into wordless grunts. Thankful this abomination was almost over, Lex opened his eyes when he heard the man mutter, "Stay put. Swallow it. All of it."

A thick swallow and then Clark panted, his breath harsh and heavy in Lex's ears. There was another slap, flesh on flesh, followed by a thump and more of that desperate gasping. Lex eyed the trashcan next to him as he heard Clark moan and then retch. That wracked sound continued, muffling the thud of footsteps moving away from the microphone.

It was over.

Thank God, it was over.

He reached out, his fingertips trailing over the monitor in front of him. The tape of their meeting was running. Lex watched Clark stand up as he walked into the room, the bright flare of hope rising in Clark's face and then dying away while he listened to Clark struggle to breathe on the other end of the line.

Breathing was joined by what sounded like a crawl, the movements too pained and scuffling for Clark to be walking. Lex remained silent, willing his friend to reach a resting place. He finally did. Muffled thumps overlaid the sound of Clark heaving himself up onto a bed or possibly a couch. Once Clark was settled, Lex reached for the cutoff switch because he could hear Clark crying. He knew those hitching little breaths; he'd heard them enough during his own childhood.

It was the extending sound of metal-on-metal that stayed Lex's hand. He realized Clark was getting undressed and knew he should allow his friend that privacy. But it had been so long, he'd missed Clark so much and those sounds, muffled though they were, were coming from Clark.

He didn't want to leave Clark alone in that strange place.

When he got Clark back, he'd fix this. He'd hire the best doctors in the world and they would help put Clark back together. Whatever Clark wanted, Lex was going to buy it. If there was something that couldn't be bought, he'd still find a way to get it for him.

He was going to fix this. No matter what.

Clark's breaths were getting faster. If Clark was trying to sleep, they should have been slowing down. Concerned, Lex moved closer to the console, an absurd measure considering that it didn't bring him physically closer to Clark. He did it nonetheless. Mixed in with the quickened breaths was something else, something slick like tears being wiped away but then he heard it again and again and the breaths weren't breaths any more.

They were moans.

Jesus.

Clark was... Clark was and he shouldn't be listening to this. He should give Clark back what little dignity he had left.

Lex reached for the switch again, his hand still in mid-air as he heard it. His name, soft and low and Clark sounded so broken. As broken as he'd been when Lex looked him in the eye and then moved on. Over and over, Clark repeated Lex's name and despite himself, Lex said Clark's in return.

God, he missed Clark.

There had been this hole in his life that no one else could fill.

Thankful that he was alone, Lex closed his eyes and listened to Clark as the moans became whimpers and the slick slide turned into a thrashing. Clark was coming and on the heels of the long drawn-out groan was Lex's name once more.

Shaken to the core, Lex bowed his head. He covered his face with his hands and rocked back and forth while he listened to Clark finish undressing and finally fall asleep. The sound from the microphone faded away and yet, Lex continued to rock.

He would fix this.

He would get Clark back and he would fix this.

The first hit was dull. He struck again, harder and faster this time, the shock of the blow traveling from fist to shoulder. A solid thump accompanied the impact, the bag swinging away from him and then back into place. Again and again and again, each punch harder than the one before it until he was throwing his entire weight behind each vicious jab.

Lex turned his head, wiping the sweat off his chin with his shoulder before he threw another punch. This had been a good idea, it was helping him calm down, helping him focus and plan what needed to be done next. As long as he was hitting something, he could deal with what he'd heard.

All he could do at this point was plan. His people were hard at work, gathering information on where Clark was and trying to get a line on George Copeland. At last check, they had blueprints of the building en route but nothing on the man himself. Lex knew him from somewhere, the missing memory hovered at the edge of his consciousness. He needed to concentrate and when he really needed to concentrate, he did this.

The gym was mostly deserted. There were a few people sparring or using the speed-bags while Lex stuck to the heavy bag. When he'd come in half an hour ago, he'd received several offers to spar but Lex turned them down. In his current mood, he'd hurt somebody and there was only one person he wanted to hurt. So, he stayed with the bag, his fists thudding against its surface.

He'd left Chloe behind at Tantalus. Probably not the best idea, but given his murderous frame of mind, Lex couldn't handle her questions or possible accusations. Fortunately, she'd been still deeply engrossed in a phone call when he'd brought Chambers back into the control room and obtained both the audio tape and the address of where Clark was being held. Curbing his urge to charge over there with a gun, Lex secured transport for Ms. Sullivan back to the hotel and then left.

A quick stop at the hotel had yielded the sweats he was now wearing as well as directions to Gold's. Seven minutes was the listed time from door-to-door. He'd made it in four.

Lex imagined Copeland's bluff, bland face every time he hit the bag. It was easier to deal with than the other thoughts that kept trying to occupy his mind. Copeland using Clark, using him for his abilities and for... Jesus. For sex, using Clark for sex.

He stopped. The bag spun on its chain and Lex caught it mid-turn, leaning his forehead against the slick leather. The faces of the men he'd slept with since Clark's disappearance rose up unbidden. He'd used each of them for sex as well. He hadn't forced any of them but he had paid for them. Never questioned why they were selling themselves or how Henri found them in the first place. He simply agreed to the quoted price, used the body and moved on.

Exactly like Copeland's jarring taunt.

The chain rattled when he hit the bag this time, the whole thing rising up with the force of the blow. Lex tucked his head down and let his fists fly. But no matter how hard he hit, the words kept repeating themselves, Copeland's harsh voice shredding his concentration: Line 'em up, fuck 'em blind and forget 'em.

He didn't hear her approach but it didn't come as much of a surprise, even considering the depth of his focus. The chain rattled again as he finished a combination, and the first indication he was no longer alone was a hand stopping the bag's outward momentum. Lex turned his head again; the quick rub against the damp shoulder of his sweatshirt did nothing more than smear the sweat across his cheek.

His lungs burned as he drew in a staggered breath, watching as Chloe moved out from behind the bag. One look confirmed his estimation of her mood.

She was not happy.

"You know, there's something that I've always been curious about and maybe you can clear it up for me, Lex. Is there something about me that says 'leave her behind'?" Obviously, 'not happy' was too mild a term. Chloe was furious. Every inch of her diminutive frame trembled with the force of her anger even though she was smiling sweetly up at him. "Clark did it to me all the time. I guess I should be used to it by now, but it's still rude."

"My apologies, Chloe." The bag was swinging free again and Lex threw a quick left jab at it. Chloe moved out of the way, her eyebrow rising while she waited for more. "I needed time to think."

"And like most men, you think better when you're hitting something? That makes a lot of sense." The negation was unspoken, left hanging there in the air between them as she crossed her arms and cocked her hip. "Well, while you've been getting in touch with your inner caveman, I've been working. I found our Mr. Copeland."

A series of solid body blows followed, the impact of his gloves against the bag punctuating her words. Sweat stung his eyes. Lex wiped it off with a swipe of his arm over his face before he replied. "Chloe, we already know where he is."

"Yes, but do you know who he is?" Smug usually wasn't a good look on anyone, but on Chloe, Lex had to admit it worked. He refrained from speaking. After several years in her company, Lex knew Chloe would bubble over on her own now that she had some information. Like her smugness, his waiting game worked as well. "His name is Dan Jensen. He's from Smallville."

Intrigued, Lex stopped his assault on the heavy bag. He broke the seal on the first glove with his teeth, peeling it open with a quick jerk. His fingers flexed once they were released from their prison, the protective tape on his knuckles slick with sweat. The next glove was easier to discard. He dropped them beside his gym bag and retrieved a towel to wipe his face and neck while Chloe continued, "He looked familiar so I called Dad and sent him a picture. Lex, the guy used to work at the plant."

A former employee. That certainly fit the mold and explained why Copeland/Jensen felt so familiar to him. Lex prided himself on knowing every single worker at LexCorp Plant Number One. He'd made a point of attending the major social functions over the years, circulating among not only the workers but their families as well. "Gabe recognized him? Remind me to give your father a raise."

"He said you'd say that. Dad knows you too well." Lex smiled grimly, nodding in agreement as he opened a bottle of water and drank. He offered it to Chloe who shook her head. She dug some papers out of her bag, handing them to Lex before she brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "Our Mr. Jensen only worked at the plant for a few months. You fired him, Lex. For incompetence."

Now he remembered him.

Five years had altered Jensen's appearance drastically but Lex clearly recalled the panic in his eyes when he slithered into the office that day. There were excuses by the dozen but the fact remained that Jensen couldn't do the job he'd been hired for. Since Lionel had been breathing down Lex's neck with demands for expenses to be cut during those first few months in Smallville, Lex had offered Jensen and a few other lackluster employees up as ritual sacrifices.

Blood on the Luthorian altar dedicated to Big Business had come back to haunt him.

Thanks, Dad.

Lex flipped through the sheaf of paper she'd given him, very impressed by what Chloe had accomplished after he'd gone off to 'get in touch with his inner caveman.' Not only was there a full background on Jensen with every job he'd held since leaving LuthorCorp, but there was a list of his friends and every job they'd held, and finally every known address including a current one for Jensen in Edge City. When he spotted that, Lex flicked his gaze back up to Chloe who nodded, saying. "I've already got somebody checking it out."

He scanned the employment list again, his throat tightening when one of them jumped out at him. It was the firm he'd used to set up his room, the one with the plasma screens and the mangled Porsche. A quick crosscheck confirmed that one of Jensen's friends had worked at the mansion as a member of his security team. Rounding out Chloe's list were a locksmith, a computer hacker extraordinaire, a former Smallville police officer, and a driver for LuthorCorp.

It made for a very clear picture. One that had Lex dropping down onto the bench and wiping his hand over his face. Chloe was talking but whatever she was saying went unheeded as he followed the trail of breadcrumbs back to his own doorstep.

This was his fault.

These men had gotten the information he'd gathered about Clark and used it.

They'd taken everything he'd painstakingly gleaned, extrapolated the last clue about the meteorites that he'd missed, then proceeded to kidnap his best friend. They'd held Jonathan and Martha Kent in captivity and then used the parents against the son for their own agenda. They'd abused Clark, battered him verbally and raped him for years because Lex Luthor hadn't been able to curb his curiosity.

There were no words for how he felt.

Lex dropped the papers. They fluttered, falling onto the floor as he rose to his feet. Ignoring his gloves, Lex attacked the heavy bag. The first hit stung, his knuckles mashing against the leather until he turned his wrist. The next hit was solid and the next and the next, his fists thudding, his breath catching in his throat as he willed himself not to cry.

Crying wouldn't solve this.

Breaking his hands wouldn't solve it either.

But the pain helped him concentrate.

Chloe was beside him, her voice an annoying buzz in his ear, one he was able to ignore until she kicked him. That sharp sensation staggered his rhythm, throwing Lex off enough that he pulled back from the next strike and whirled on her. His fist snapped up, stopping less than an inch from her chest.

She didn't flinch.

Instead, she moved in closer, covering his fist with her hand and pushing it aside. "Look, I don't know what you heard going on after I left. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't want to know."

"Trust me, Chloe, you don't." She nodded, agreeing with him as she unwound the tape from his right hand. Lex allowed her that liberty, sifting through what he'd learned while listening to Clark's torment. "The Kents are alive and those men have them, somewhere. I can't rescue Clark yet, no matter how much I want to. I can't do anything until we know where they're keeping Jonathan and Martha."

"We will, Lex. But you've got to keep it together. You can't fall apart now." Lex watched as she peeled the last of the tape off his palm and then started on the other hand. "When we get them back, you can go for the full meltdown. Until then, I need you to be Lex. Okay?"

He nodded, flexing his fingers and watching as the scrapes healed themselves, the abraded skin knitting back together while Chloe ripped the remaining tape off. Before she spotted the accelerated healing, Lex retrieved his cell phone. Flipping it open, he punched in Rhodes' number and went back to work.

His demons, along with his inner caveman, could wait.

It took the remainder of that day, that night and the better part of the following day but in the end, he and Chloe had a good picture of what they were up against. The address in Edge City turned out to be a vacant apartment but the landlady was so impressed with the polite inquiries made by Chad, Chloe's source, that she'd given him a forwarding address.

That lead turned out to be a house in the suburbs. The ensuing stakeout yielded photos and solid evidence that several of Jensen's old associates were there. When Lex reviewed those photos, he felt his pulse speed up at the glimpse of a familiar face.

Barely visible in one of the upper windows was Jonathan Kent. Older and looking almost as tired as Clark, but there was no mistaking him.

Chloe's indrawn breath matched his own. Her arm slid around his waist as she hugged him close. They now had photographic proof Clark's father was in Edge City. That picture combined with Jensen's comment about Martha gave Lex the confirmation he'd been hoping for... both of Clark's parents were alive.

It was time for the next stage.

Part of their investigation brought up an interesting fact about Mr. Jensen, one Lex was determined to use against him. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Jensen had a decided taste for young men, the younger the better. While Chloe's eyes widened as she read that report - the implications leading her down a path she'd obviously been avoiding - Lex calmly called Henri.

It was the very last time he would avail himself of Henri's services.

Within the hour a young man, albeit not as young as he looked, was en route to Boston by private jet.

By the time evening turned into night, Dan Jensen was being enticed into a midtown hotel room by that same young man while Lex climbed the stairs leading to Mr. Jensen's current place of residence in Boston. The building was nicer than Lex had imagined, the hallways clean and well tended. Considering how much Jensen and his cohorts had managed to steal from LuthorCorp, they could certainly afford the rent.

The fourth apartment on the sixth floor was Lex's goal. His people had made a sweep of the premises, using both auditory evidence provided by the microphone on Clark's jacket and a visual assessment from a building across the street to establish that Clark was alone. Once that fact was verified, Lex entered the building.

He wasn't concerned about anyone walking in during his visit. Jensen was going to be occupied elsewhere for a very long time while all of Jensen's accomplices were present and accounted for in Edge City. The building was under so much surveillance a mouse couldn't creep in without him being alerted. The only concern Lex had was how much self-control he could exert once he caught sight of Clark.

Earlier that day, while Chloe was occupied with another assignment, Lex had made a private call to Metropolis. Dr. Richards had been very forthcoming with information and suggestions on how to approach the problem at hand. Under no circumstances was Lex to reach for Clark. Bearing in mind what he'd overheard, Lex had to keep his distance and let Clark initiate any physical contact.

Not only that, but he was also under orders to bring Clark in for counseling as soon as possible.

It was the first item on Lex's agenda once the Kents were safe.

The door was in front of him, the hallway itself completely deserted. Willing his racing heart to slow down, Lex rapped twice on the smooth surface and waited, tucking his hands into his pockets. There was a shuffling sound, then the door creaked open.

Clark stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders stooped with a fatigue so deep it was carved into his very bones. A dim green glow emanating from the depths of the shadowed apartment sharpened his pale features as he stared at Lex. Surprise reflected in his bruised gaze, a sudden surge of elation lifting the exhaustion for a moment before panic swept everything else away. Quickly, Clark scanned the hall past Lex, peering at the walls, the ceiling above and then the floor below before his attention settled on Lex again.

Lex tilted his head to one side and smiled. That small gesture was returned by a blinding rendition of the grin he'd known so well. Relief came flooding in on the heels of that smile. Clark was happy to see him. So much for his concerns about Stockholm Syndrome. A greeting hovered on his lips, but was never articulated because as he opened his mouth to speak, Clark's hand covered it.

Speed to match the strength.

Very interesting.

Clark shook his head even as he said loudly, "No, you want the next floor." A quirk of Lex's brow gained him Clark mouthing a single word: 'bugged'.

Yes, that was logical.

Something as precious as Clark would not be left completely unguarded.

Once Clark moved his hand away, Lex mouthed in turn, 'Camera?' There was another head shake as well as more searching glances darted all around them. Almost against his will, Lex wet his lips, tasting Clark there, salt and fear mixed together. 'Let me in,' silent words spoken without breath while Clark hesitated, more fear reflected in his haunted eyes. 'Clark, he won't be back for hours. Trust me.'

The hesitation continued but Clark finally nodded. He swung the door open, allowing Lex to move in close for a moment before he shut it behind them.

The squalor beyond actually fit the picture Lex's imagination had conjured up. Mildew and the stench of stale sweat assaulted his senses. The floor was littered with dirty clothes, miscellaneous trash and when Lex moved further into the room, his foot nudged something that crinkled. A quick glance identified the offending article, a discarded condom wrapper.

God, poor Clark.

There was a couch in the corner, its surface strewn with clothes and a ratty blanket. Lex suspected it was Clark's bed, a suspicion substantiated by the jacket slung over one end. It was the jacket Clark had worn to Tantalus the day before. Next to the couch was a coffee table, its scarred surface occupied by a tattered book, a notepad, a pencil, a half-empty cup and a paper plate that contained an orange rind and a few smears of food.

Looking around him, Lex assessed the remainder of the apartment rapidly. To his left, a half-open door revealed only the shadow of a bed. Next to that room was a closed door, presumably the bathroom. To his right - a kitchenette, the narrow space distinguished by a row of cabinets, a free-standing counter covered with debris, a sink, a stove and a small refrigerator. Clark carefully avoided the counter, a move Lex understood given that the sickly green glow illuminating the room brightened when Clark came within a few feet of it.

Upon closer inspection, Lex spotted the meteorite amid the clutter. It was the size of his fist, the light from it dimming rapidly as Clark shuffled into the living room. Very interesting. Proximity to Clark appeared to increase its phosphorescent quality.

The further Clark got away from the meteorite, the better he looked. Which meant the meager meal Lex was observing the remains of must have been an agony for Clark to prepare.

He had to get Clark out of here as quickly as he could.

After that? Well, killing Jensen was going to be the most satisfying thing he'd ever done.

While Lex catalogued the room and wrestled with his homicidal urges, Clark cleared off the couch. He worked quickly, sweeping everything off onto the floor. The tumbled clothing covered more trash but not before Lex identified a few more telltale wrappers. With a silent shrug, Clark gestured at the couch.

Lex nodded, accepting the invitation. He joined Clark there, ignoring the stained fabric while he restrained himself from wrapping his arms around Clark. Remembering Dr. Richards' warning, Lex waited and watched as Clark picked up the notepad. The pencil scratched on the paper, the letters rushed, all running together while Clark scribbled. Finally, he turned the pad toward Lex and scrawled across its surface was: How did you find me?

Smiling, Lex pointed to the jacket lying atop the tumbled pile of clothes. He took the pad from Clark, neatly writing: I'm good with bugs too. We put a tracker on the car and your coat. It's good to see you again.

Clark's smile was quick, not as blinding as before but it still warmed Lex all the way through. The pad changed hands again and the next message said: I thought you'd forgotten me.

'Never', Lex mouthed, shaking his head at that thought. Nodding, Clark scribbled furiously, then held the pad up again: They've got Mom and Dad. I don't know where they are. Help?

A nod was Lex's answer and there was the suspected speed again because Clark's arms were around him, pulling him in close. Lex stiffened at first, relaxing slowly as Clark didn't let him go. Instead, Clark turned his head and whispered into Lex's ear, "I haven't seen them in so long. I don't even know if they're still alive."

"They are, Clark." The arms around him tightened, cinching in so close that blackness wavered at the edge of Lex's vision. Rather than complain, Lex closed his eyes and continued to whisper, "I know where they are. We're working on a way to get them out."

Clark shuddered, his breath warm against Lex's scalp. His whole body sagged, relief turning his bones to water and cautiously Lex cradled Clark's head. The unfamiliar feel of Clark's closely cropped hair pricked his palms as Lex awkwardly petted him.

Almost immediately, Clark stiffened.

Silently cursing his stupidity, Lex stopped touching and after a breathless moment, Clark relaxed. He hoped Clark would be able to stand the embrace for a bit longer because this was quicker than writing everything out. "I'm sorry, Clark. I looked everywhere for you. I never thought I'd see you again."

Apparently, Clark was in agreement with this form of communication. Instead of moving away, he kept close as he replied, "I... I made sure the cameras saw me."

"That's how I found you. I didn't know anything about this, Clark. I swear."

Clark shuddered again, his skin paling further and growing increasingly clammy, his breathing labored. Damn it, there had to be another rock close by - one Lex had missed during his original survey of the room. When he got his hands on Jensen, he was going to jam every one of those damned things down the bastard's throat. "Dad came to me a month ago and asked me to take over the company. I got the first tape four days ago. Christ, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Lex. Just tell me what you need me to do." That was the Clark he knew. Not the broken man he'd seen in the doorway. Even though Clark was still shaking, Lex felt his own surge of relief. As long as Clark could keep his head about him, Lex's plan would work.

"Trust me." Lex said and Clark's arms tightened around him again.

"Always," was the hushed reply.

Grateful for Clark's faith, Lex simply breathed him in. Underneath the sour tang of sweat was a remnant of the boy he'd known. Sunlight, long dimmed by too much time in the shadows, but still there along with a faint memory of rain. He wanted to pet him again, run his fingers through Clark's hair but knowing what he did, Lex resisted.

Intimacy after years of abuse was not something Clark needed.

He needed time to heal.

He needed his parents to be safe and whole.

But most of all, he needed out of this place.

In the end, Lex didn't lay out his plan in detail because it was still evolving. Having Clark's trust was the most important ingredient and with that secured - everything else would be simple. Once the Kents were freed, Lex would signal Clark and together, they would take it from there.

Lex relayed his over-all strategy quickly, using as few words as possible. At Clark's nod of agreement, Lex's reason for this visit had been fulfilled.

But, reluctant to part, they remained on the couch for the next two hours, tucked in so close together Lex could feel Clark's breath against his skin whenever Clark spoke. Lex didn't dare speak himself unless it was absolutely necessary. He was too unsure of the scope and sensitivity of the bugs Jensen was using to monitor Clark to chance being overheard.

None of the surveillance tapes Chambers had provided to Lex during the course of the past thirty-six hours had included either music or any other sound beyond Jensen taunting Clark. A quick scan of the room confirmed that there was no source of background noise, no stereo or TV that could be cranked up to cover a conversation. Their being discovered at this stage of the game would be disastrous so Lex limited his responses to nods or shakes of his head.

Slowly, Clark told him everything he knew, giving him facts that mirrored what Lex had already learned or guessed on his own. There had been six men on the farm that day, all of them strangers to Clark. He and his dad were on their way in from the barn when they noticed his mom talking to someone on the front porch. Curious as to who was visiting the farm, Clark went to investigate.

Clark hesitated then, pulling away from Lex. There was that look, the one Clark always had in the past when he was dodging one of Lex's more pointed questions. His eyes flicked from Lex's face, glancing over at the counter, obviously debating how much he could or should say. Rather than give Clark the opportunity to lie to him again, Lex touched Clark's wrist, that light brush regaining his attention.

Before Clark could speak, Lex deliberately turned and stared at the faintly glowing rock on the counter. That point being made, his gaze shifted back to Clark's face and he mouthed, 'I know'.

Hesitation gave way to relief as well as something Lex couldn't identify. Not exactly wariness. Clark's breathing faltered, his unnatural pallor increasing rather than diminishing, even though Clark's movement had shifted him further away for the kitchen. Now familiar with the signs of meteorite poisoning, Clark's heightened physical distress was proof enough to Lex that there really was another meteorite nearby.

He scanned the room again and this time he found it. A faint point of green appeared behind them, growing brighter when Clark ran his hand through his hair.

There on the windowsill was another black rock, its embedded crystals pouring forth even more sickly green light the moment Clark's hand came within a few feet. Cursing silently again, Lex snatched the stone out of its hiding place and quickly deposited it on the counter next to its mate. There were probably more of the damn things secreted in the apartment, each one strategically placed so that Clark lived in a perpetually weakened state.

Now that the meteorite was out of immediate range Clark looked better, his deathbed pallor replaced by a faded cousin of the honey-gold tone Lex had envied years ago. When Lex returned to his seat next to Clark, the hands that rested on his shoulders no longer shook and Clark's breath was steady. How Clark managed to live in such agony for so long, Lex would never understand. A lesser man would have broken.

Clark Kent was not a lesser man.

Thank God for that.

The removal of the meteorite had one other benefit - it opened a floodgate of information. Clark pulled Lex back in tight, holding onto him as he poured out a story wracked with quiet desperation and, for Lex, unrelenting guilt. Even though Lex himself hadn't figured out how to weaken Clark, his obsession, that room, had provided Jensen with enough knowledge to find Clark's Achilles heel.

Jensen and his crew had come prepared, loaded down with meteorites, their pockets full of them. As soon as Clark reached his mother's side, he was sick. Weakened and unable to defend himself or follow his mother's urging to run, he barely managed to crawl through the open door into the house.

He could hear his dad fighting, his mom yelling and was crawling toward the phone to call for help when the fight outside became a struggle inside. At that moment in his whispered narrative, Clark halted and pulled back again. His eyes were closed, his forehead resting against Lex's as he fought for composure this time, instead of breath.

Lex waited.

Whispers did not allow much in the way of interpretation but when Clark began again, Lex felt Clark's struggle for detachment, his need to step away from the memory. And yet, Clark continued, quietly relating what had happened next.

The gunshot Lex heard that day was the real thing. They shot Jonathan and while Clark watched, his mother was beaten into unconsciousness when she tried to protect both of them. As Lex listened to Clark's dispassionate retelling of the facts, blind fury rose in an unending wave. The need to lash out was everything, driving sense and caution away with sharp claws and even sharper teeth.

Tethered by the hands on his shoulders, bound in place by the colorless whisper in his ear, Lex remained seated while his mind raced. The instrument he had chosen for Jensen's destruction altered as Clark told him about his pockets being filled with meteorites and how he and his parents were dragged out of the house and across the yard. A knife would be too fast, Jensen's punishment over too soon. A scalpel would be better. He could slice away layer after layer of skin and muscle while Jensen pled for his life and his freedom.

The very same sort of plea Clark must have made as he was torn away from the life he'd known. As his mother's unconscious body was hauled unceremoniously through razor-sharp rows of corn, her battered face cut in a thousand places, rich Kansas soil ground into her fair skin. As his father was thrown into a waiting helicopter, no care given to the wound that left the trail of blood the dogs had followed so easily. The same blood that had stained the jacket discovered in the helicopter's wake, its pockets loaded with poison.

Clark had managed to struggle out of it, intent on fighting his way free and saving his parents. But a gun was put to his mother's head, and finally he had no choice but to obey. He crawled into the belly of the helicopter, dragging his father into his arms and reaching for his mother when they dropped her.

The callous treatment of Clark's injured parents expanded Lex's murderous rage from Jensen to the remainder of his crew. They all deserved to die for this and he was just the person to carry out that sentence.

Lex's attention was drawn back from a detailed vision of eviscerating Jensen and his cohorts by the realization that Clark had just apologized. Puzzled, he pulled back a little to look at Clark who mouthed the words this time. What in the world was Clark apologizing for? There was no reason for Clark to apologize about anything.

If anyone should be apologizing, it should be him.

But Clark was looking into his eyes and mouthing the words yet again. Lex shook his head, driving away his rage in an effort to understand what was going on. The hands that had slipped from his shoulders were back again, drawing him inexorably down to Clark's mouth and Lex went with that silent urging. His own mouth opened, forgetting Dr. Richards's warning, forgetting everything except the need to accept the kiss he knew was coming.

Breath held in anticipation, Lex's eyes shut of their own accord. He shouldn't let this happen, he should push away but Clark was so close and he'd missed Clark so much.

When Clark nudged his temple and breathed another apology into his ear, that simple touch rocked Lex's very foundations, snapping him back from the edge of fantasy and straight into reality's bitter grip. Not a kiss, Clark hadn't been looking for a kiss. Instead, he was confirming one last thing about that dreadful day. Clark had heard him on the phone, he heard Lex telling him help was on the way. Clark was ashamed because he hadn't been strong enough, that he hadn't been able to delay long enough for Lex to get there.

The bastards held a gun to Martha's head and Clark was apologizing because Lex hadn't been able to rescue them.

Somewhere angels were weeping.

And Lucifer was laughing.

Lex considered confessing his part, however involuntary, in the abduction. Confession was supposed to good for the soul, but only when one did not add to the listener's burdens. Clark already had enough to deal with and this was far from over.

Once all of the Kents were safe and back in Smallville, then Lex would come clean. He'd open up that room and let Clark see it all. Everything he had gathered, every inch of the road to destruction Lex had paved with his curiosity. He'd let Clark see it and then he'd let Clark burn it like Clark had already burned down a good portion of LuthorCorp.

After that, he and Clark would talk. Together, they would determine if their paths could converge once more or if it would be best for everyone involved if they never met again.

Until then, he would wait. He would wait and reassure Clark with a shake of his head, with a rare whisper of absolution in his ear. There was no need to apologize. None at all. If there was any need for an apology, then he should be the one making it for breaking only the speed limit, instead of the sound barrier.

That faint joke earned him a silent laugh and Clark's smile was a wonder to behold. His affection and genuine warmth seeped all the way into the cold chambers of Lex's heart. Regret made a fleeting acquaintance with that smile; the same regret Lex knew was reflected in his own.

This brief respite was drawing to a close. While Henri had assured Lex that his friend would be completely enthralled with the companion Lex had arranged for, the amount of time Lex had spent with Clark was already tempting fate. If he spent any longer in Clark's company, Lex would never be able to leave him behind.

It was going to hurt like hell but he had to go.

He was spared the agony of pushing Clark away as Clark moved of his own accord, silently shifting to the other side of the couch. While Lex watched, Clark tore the sheet of paper they'd used out of the notepad and folded it carefully. He handed it to Lex, who in turn reached for the pad. The pressure of the pencil had made impressions on the next few pages; leaving those behind wasn't wise.

Instead of letting Lex tear those pages loose, Clark shook his head and picked up the pencil. A growing sense of astonishment overcame Lex as he watched Clark produce a quick but detailed drawing of the first floor of Tantalus Labs. That drawing was followed by another and another, filling the pages he'd intended on removing with complete schematics of every level of the labs, including the top secret ones that only Lex and a few select others were aware of.

Clark was silently exhibiting another one of his abilities. The only way he could produce drawings of this caliber was to have toured each of those levels, something that Clark hadn't done. Which meant Clark... could see through walls.

Yes, astonishment just about covered it.

Lex studied the first few drawings while Clark continued to work, his eyes narrowing as he caught on to what Clark was doing. There were subtle errors, ones that he suspected were deliberate. Exits shown where there were walls, a stairwell where none existed, some safety measures noted but the most important one - the steel doors that would drop at the triggering of an alarm - was omitted.

Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Not only was Clark hiding their written conversation, he was also giving Jensen just enough information to totally lose himself in the depths of the lab.

There was mischief in the look Clark gave him over the top of the notepad and Lex found himself smiling broadly. Clark wasn't broken, not completely, and he was smarter than his captor gave him credit for. He'd just given Lex a few ideas of how to deal with Jensen. How to trap him long enough to rescue the Kents.

Now all Lex had to do was get his people in place, both at Tantalus and in Edge City.

The second hardest thing Lex ever had to do was move the meteorite back to the windowsill. It was necessary. Clark couldn't move it himself and while it shredded something deep inside for him to put Clark back into that kind of pain, Lex understood why it had to be done.

The hardest thing was leaving Clark behind but that was necessary too.

They had to do it.

They had no choice.

Clark walked Lex to the door, the pallor already returning to his features as well as the slow shuffle to his step. The exhaustion returned too, its weight reflected in his every movement until he slumped against the wall. A steadying hand on his shoulder kept Clark upright and that precious smile returned when Clark reached up and touched Lex's watch. His fingertips grazed the face, sliding across Lex's wrist and under the cuff, leaving a trail of warmth behind as well as a sense of profound panic.

Christ, how could he do this?

How could he leave Clark in hell?

Lex took a step forward but Clark shook his head. He pushed Lex back, pleading without words for understanding as he opened the door. The weight that rested on Clark's shoulders came to roost in Lex's chest as Clark urged him silently out into the hallway. They watched each other from either side of the threshold, Lex's throat closing up as he realized that somehow, Clark was being strong for both of them.

He was the one insisting that they part when all Lex wanted to do was burrow into him and never let go.

Lex hesitated, considering his options, which were... none.

They had to do this.

They had no choice.

Very slowly, Clark nodded in confirmation and then closed the door.

Lex didn't fall apart in the hallway.

He made it out of the building.

Actually, he made it out of the building, down the street and into the car he'd parked a few blocks away. He even started the engine, pulled out from his parking spot and drove for a few minutes before it happened.

There weren't any tears.

He was listening to the radio, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he negotiated a turn and the car... came to a halt at the side of the road, the engine still running perfectly. Lex frowned, uncertain as to what was going on until he realized his feet weren't on the pedals. They were planted firmly on the floor and he was shaking.

His whole body was shaking and it wasn't stopping.

Lex pried his fingers off the steering wheel. He crossed his arms over it, buried his face in the makeshift cradle and just let it happen.

When he made it back to the hotel, Chloe was waiting. She bounded across the room as he opened the door, her enthusiastic greeting and anticipated barrage of questions about Clark dying before the first word made it out of her mouth.

She stood there looking up at him, then reached out one hand to cup his cheek. The other one slid across his shoulders as silently and slowly, Chloe wrapped her arms around him. Eternally grateful for the undeserved comfort, Lex closed his eyes and hid his face in the welcome curve of her shoulder.

The shaking started again.

What woke him was a sense of unfamiliarity. Despite a schedule that demanded constant travel and by extension, his sleeping in strange places, Lex was a creature of habit. There were certain things in his life that were immutable - one of them being his preference for waking up alone.

He was not alone.

There was another person in bed beside him and one moment of insane hope led Lex to roll over, his heart racing with the anticipation of finding a long, lean body tucked in close. But instead of Clark, he discovered Chloe curled up on her side, her face tucked into the curve of her arm, the faint worry lines etched by years of strain now smoothed away by sleep. Disappointed, Lex watched her for a few minutes, utterly silent in his perusal.

Now that the question of who had been answered, Lex was left with another - why?

There was always the obvious. After all, they had shared a bed during a moment of great despair in the past, so why not now? His resolve to not use another person for his own gratification was barely a fledging ambition; there'd been no time to carve it into stone.

Cautiously, Lex lifted the covers, peering beneath the rumpled bedding.

The sight that greeted him was an unexpected relief. With the exception of shoes and jacket, he was still fully dressed, while Chloe wore a pair of his pajamas. Their choice of attire, as well as the pristine condition of the sheets confirmed at least one thing.

Whatever happened last night, it hadn't included sex.

Thank God.

He'd been distraught enough to initiate a carnal encounter, a heedlessly selfish act engendered by his own need for solace. It appeared, thankfully, that a cooler head had prevailed in this situation. Lex vaguely remembered breaking down in Chloe's arms but beyond that his mind was a blank.

Which was a curious state of affairs for him; he rarely suffered memory lapses. The few he'd ever experienced were the result of massive head trauma or the occasional pharmaceutical overindulgence. Concerned, Lex checked the time; it was a little after three in the morning. He'd returned to the hotel a few minutes past midnight, so he'd only lost three hours. Given the brevity of his cognitive gap, Lex felt safe with a base assumption that his emotional breakdown and subsequent lapse into unconsciousness occupied the missing time.

The question now was what to do with himself. He was wide awake, the indelible image of Clark's face as he closed the door between them too fresh and strong for Lex to find his way back to sleep. At the moment, he wanted to talk to Chloe but it was far too early, she'd probably slept as little as he had. He could call Rhodes and Chambers in turn, but he doubted they had any further information of note. If they did, they would have contacted him.

They might've tried, though. His cell had been on silent mode during his visit with Clark and Lex knew he hadn't turned it back on. That oversight was another sign of how deeply the visit to Clark's prison affected his ability to function. If it had been someone's intention to distract Lex from his goals, taking Clark would've done the trick.

Oh fuck.

Why hadn't he thought of that before?

LexCorp had been on the brink of success when Clark was abducted. There were major contracts in the offing, deals that fell by the wayside as Lex put all of his resources into locating Clark and the Kents. His business hadn't failed by any means, but neither had it emerged as a leader in the corporate world.

He had to hand it to Jensen, or whoever had planned this whole thing out. Because from where Lex sat, it appeared Jensen's single strike not only netted him a weapon to use against LuthorCorp, it also served to hobble LexCorp. Father and son injured with one simple blow.

As diabolical plans went, this one had been wildly successful.

It certainly outstripped the usual pattern of the ex-employee showing up at work with a gun.

Yet again, Clark's suffering was being brought home to roost on Lex's doorstep. If he'd never been friends with Clark, none of this would've happened. Clark would've fallen even deeper in love with Lana - an affection Lex now knew had been reciprocated - and would've taken her to the prom, leaving Lex and Chloe to commiserate with one another over cappuccinos served up with a bitter slice of regret. Clark would've graduated with Lana by his side and together they'd be in college now, sharing a life that had been denied them because Lex Luthor had to be friends with Clark Kent.

Because Lex had mistaken lust for destiny.

Because despite that bitter knowledge, despite his knowing Clark wasn't ready for him and probably never would be, that lust still ran bone deep. The need for Clark clawed at him even now, the feel of Clark beside him, the heated rush of breath against his skin, the urgent rise of his own body to meet the unspoken promise given by that mouth as it whispered in his ear...

Chloe was right next to him. It would be so simple - tug down the bottoms, push the top up over her breasts, unzip his pants and slide right into the willing wet. Kiss her if she protested, kiss her even if she didn't protest. Slake his lust long enough to clear his mind, to secure a desperately needed respite from his body's demands so he could plot Clark's and the Kents' safe return.

No.

He wouldn't do that.

His friends had already been fucked over enough.

Rather than reach for Chloe, Lex vacated the bed and sought his discarded jacket. In the breast pocket was his cell, the message light blinking rapidly. He had three missed calls.

Lex took a seat behind the desk and punched in the codes to retrieve the first message. He watched Chloe through the open doorway. She continued to sleep, rolling over into his spot and pulling his pillow up to her face. It was an innocent gesture, something a child would do when seeking comfort.

Clark's innocence was a thing of the past.

Chloe's did not need to be.

He'd made the right decision.

The calls were all from the same source. A source who arrived at Lex's hotel fifteen minutes later.

He was ushered into Lex's suite by the bell captain who was tipped handsomely for the delivery. True to form, there wasn't even a raised eyebrow about the young man now occupying Lex Luthor's living room nor the hour of his arrival. The Harbor Hotel knew Mr. Luthor's wants and needs - they prided themselves on their service and discretion.

It was all business as usual.

Aaron Caldwell was typical of Henri's boys. Tall, slim, young - it was the type that appealed to Metropolis' elite - both men and women alike. Aaron looked younger than the stable normally provided to Lex but Lex was very specific about his requirements. He preferred a particular physical type and a certain level of maturity.

Lex was a lot of things but never a pedophile.

Aaron didn't look old enough to shave, let alone drink, but when he asked for a brandy Lex poured him one. Considering what Aaron had just done for him, there was no question about his deserving any reward he requested. Even so, Lex shied away from the fingertips that trailed along the palm of his hand when he passed the glass to the boy.

A proposition at this moment was not a good idea.

Lex took a seat opposite from Aaron, putting as much distance between them as he could. "What state did you leave him in?" he inquired over the top of his own glass.

"Asleep." Aaron smiled, toying with the crystal stem. "The stuff you gave me knocked him right out."

"Good. How much of it did he take?" Too much wouldn't be fatal although there was the faint possibility of dementia. The drug trials were far from over and the FDA certainly wouldn't approve of the alteration he'd made prior to its delivery. Cutting the compound with MDMA was a necessary modification, the resulting euphoria would mask the side effects long enough for Jensen to chalk his new inability up to overindulgence.

LuthorCorp's pharmaceutical contract with the federal penal system had produced some very useful results. By the time it hit home that he couldn't get his dick up even with the help of a crane, Jensen would have other things to worry about.

Or he would have nothing to worry about.

With everything that he knew now, Lex was leaning toward the 'nothing to worry about' side of the scale.

"Two lines."

Yes, that would buy Clark some peace.

Lex studied Aaron, looking for the fever-bright signs of someone on E. There was nothing discernable beyond a hint of admiration reflected in the boy's eyes. That, combined with the seductive grace which came naturally to anyone in Henri's employ made for a very attractive package. No wonder Jensen had been so easily enticed away from his post.

Still - Henri wouldn't appreciate it if Lex sent Aaron home with a severe case of impotence.

"You didn't take any yourself."

"No, I followed orders. And besides, the minute he started talking I knew I needed to be sharp. He's... not someone I'd turn my back on." Aaron leaned forward, the glass dangling between his knees. The seductive attitude faded, leaving behind something else in its place. "He talked a lot. It's all on tape. I don't believe I'm saying this, but you should turn him over to the cops."

Lex leaned forward as well, focusing on the fear he saw lurking beneath the surface. "Really? Tell me."

"Look, he said some crazy stuff but I think he's going to kill somebody. Not you," Aaron amended quickly, his face paling as Lex set down his glass. Something in his expression must have given him away, so Lex schooled his thoughts, smoothed away any outward sign of his inner turmoil while Aaron continued, "Some guy named Clark. Do you know him?

He'll have to get through me first.

"I do."

If Jensen intended to kill Clark, then Lex needed to step up his schedule. He had to get the Kents out within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. During the next meeting with Jensen and Clark would be ideal because Jensen would be incommunicado and therefore unaware of his co-conspirators' situation.

Once the Kents were safe, Lex could make his own move.

Lex wasn't worried about himself; he had every intention of attending that meeting fully armed. Conversely, with the security measures at Tantalus, Jensen wouldn't be able to sneak in anything larger than a paper clip. Once Clark was out of meteorite range, if Jensen attempted to escape Lex would shoot him like a rabid dog.

"What did he say?"

"Just that he was going to kill him. Cut his throat or something like that. He was pretty involved when he said it but I think he's gonna do it." There was a nervous swallow, then another and Aaron's glass was empty. He set it down on the coffee table next to Lex's.

Strength and speed had been confirmed, he suspected X-ray vision as well but none of those abilities equated to an invulnerable skin. Yes, he had hit Clark with his car but that was blunt trauma, not sharp. There was a possibility Jensen knew something more that Lex did not. He might actually be able to cut Clark's throat.

"Involved in what?"

"Fucking me."

There was no blush to accompany that bald response. No ducked head, no averted eyes, nor any number of coy tactics specifically designed to entice and misdirect. Just clear, cold statement of a fact, one Lex had been certain of, but every detail counted.

Every word counted.

While Lex waited for a further elaboration, Aaron's agitation returned, the false bravado swept away as the boy raked a trembling hand through his hair.

Lex knew desperation when he saw it, could practically taste it in the air as Aaron leaned forward, his voice rising steadily as he pled his case. "Look, I know you've got no reason to believe me but he's going to do this. He's going to kill Clark and he's going to do it in front of Clark's best friend. It's all on the tape, I swear. You've got to call the cops, Mr. Luthor. You've got to help."

This was more than he'd expected to hear, much more. Jensen had just hung himself and on tape no less. If he hadn't already signed his death warrant for touching Clark in the first place...

While Lex appreciated having the information, Aaron had gotten louder by the minute and the last thing Lex needed was for Aaron's confession to wake Chloe. If she heard any of this, the situation would escalate and he'd have two panicked people to deal with instead of one.

It was time for damage control.

To stem the frantic flow of words, Lex held up his hand. Thankfully, Aaron fell silent as Lex reassured him, "Don't worry, Aaron. There's a cell waiting for Mr. Copeland right now. We're just trying to get enough evidence to put him behind bars."

Keeping calm in light of this revelation was one of the few skills Lex could congratulate his father for infusing into his very bones. While it was something Lionel had intended Lex to use in the boardroom, it served him well at this moment.

Especially when that tranquility spread to Aaron. The boy sighed, obviously relieved as he murmured, "Thank God. He's dangerous."

"Yes, he's very dangerous. Thank you for your help. I'll see that you're well rewarded." Lex could hear Chloe stirring in the other room. It was time for Aaron to leave, any further delay would lead to questions Lex had no intention of answering. "The bell captain will call a cab. The jet's waiting to take you back."

Aaron nodded, his gaze flicking from Lex to Lex's bedroom where the stirring sounds were increasing in volume. There was genuine regret as he rose to his feet and shook Lex's offered hand. "If you want to reward me, save Clark, okay?"

When Lex smiled slightly, Aaron stepped in close and ran his hand up the inside of Lex's arm. "Ask Henri for me the next time you call. I've heard about you. I'd like to know if what I've heard is true."

Rather than answer, Lex ushered Aaron to the door where the boy stopped long enough to give him a very heated kiss. Lex did nothing to encourage him but neither did he push him away, even though he knew he should.

"Ask for me." Aaron murmured one last time before he let Lex go and walked away.

Lex stood there in the open doorway, his hands tucked in his pockets, his mouth still tingling from that kiss.

He had no intention of asking for Aaron but he did admire the kid's enterprising nature. Lex knew about his own reputation - he'd done a great deal to cultivate it, after all. He was an excellent client, he never beat or mistreated anyone who shared his bed and other than insisting on waking up alone, he was a considerate partner. No one left his bed unsatisfied and beyond that, he tipped very, very well.

Reason enough for a young hustler to put the moves on him.

He just wasn't interested.

Not any more.

"Well, that explains a lot."

Startled by the bitter tone as well as the voice itself, Lex turned around. Chloe was behind him, her arms crossed over her chest and if looks could kill, he would've been a smoldering heap of ash. The obvious conclusion he could draw from her body language was that she'd seen the final exchange with Aaron.

There were many avenues he could take to defuse this situation but Chloe's misconception might provide the wedge he needed. Chloe was too close to him. Having a friend in the media was desirable but not one who knew everything about him. Chloe knew his every weak point, she could take him apart with a word or a look and Lex couldn't afford that kind of liability.

Besides, once they saved Clark, there would be no reason for her to remain that close. As she planned on being a high-profile journalist, it would be in her best interest if she weren't an intimate friend of Lex Luthor. Not only because of the predictable accusation of her having an inside track but also because Lex knew Chloe would never be able to keep a secret.

He had too many portions of his life that needed to remain concealed. For Chloe to maintain her journalistic integrity, Lex had to break off whatever was going on between them.

It was for the best.

Their relationship was already doomed to failure.

They were in love with the same man.

"I imagine that it does." Lex commented, his own tone deliberately mild. He didn't look down or away. He wasn't ashamed of his orientation; he merely kept it quiet due to his position and social standing.

"I always wondered about the looks you gave him. Even when you had some really gorgeous girl on your arm, you still looked at Clark like you wanted to eat him alive." At least she wasn't crying. Her anger Lex could deal with; he'd dealt with it quite a bit in the past.

Chloe's tears, however, were guaranteed to destroy any backbone he had.

It was better that she believe he'd merely been lusting after Clark, rather than uncover his obsession with the mysteries surrounding his best friend. If Chloe even got a hint Clark was anything but normal, she'd pursue the story relentlessly until she'd exposed it and Clark to the entire world. Clark's life had already been hell enough; he didn't need it turned into a freak show.

"Yes. I wanted Clark."

"Even when you were married, Lex. I was there, remember? You two were standing together. Clark was watching your wife and you were watching him. I thought it was because of everything else that happened with her, that you were jealous, but that wasn't it, was it?" His pajamas were ridiculous on her, the top sliding off one shoulder and her feet buried in the pant cuffs.

She had never looked more adorable.

Why didn't he want her?

He could find her a job in either LuthorCorp or LexCorp, something in the PR department. From what he remembered, she was very responsive to his touch and not repulsed by any of his oddities. But then again, she'd gone to school in Smallville and even dated some of that town's oddest occupants.

A completely bald boyfriend was nothing compared to your average homicidal mutant.

She was apparently waiting for an answer to an obviously rhetorical question. He refrained from pointing that out by choosing to nod instead. Satisfied, Chloe tugged the pajama top down in place, outlining her breasts for a moment and Lex found himself asking his own rhetorical question again.

This time he answered it.

He didn't want Chloe because she wasn't Clark.

Unlike his father, Lex was faithful, a laughable concept considering how many men he'd slept with since Clark's disappearance, but it was true. When he loved, he loved deeply.

He loved well.

And he loved forever.

"You know he's straight, Lex." During her silent study of him, Chloe's anger had waned, the sudden storm dissipated by what Lex suspected was her realization that his love for Clark was as doomed as her own.

There was a fallacy in her assumption about Clark but Lex wasn't going to disabuse her of that notion. Doing so would necessitate her hearing the rest of that tape, something Lex had no intention of allowing. Let her believe what she would.

"I know," he replied, finally closing the door behind him before he walked over to the bar. Lex poured himself a drink, tossed it back, then poured another only to have Chloe grab his hand and stay its travel to his mouth. Curious, Lex looked down at her as Chloe took the drink away from him and sipped at it herself.

"So, save the first dance at his wedding for me, okay?" She was smiling now although tears sparkled on her lashes, then tumbled down.

Lex answered her sad smile with one of his own. "I believe it is customary for the best man to dance with the maid of honor," he murmured, rubbing his knuckles along her damp cheek. There was no need to speculate on who the bride would be. If Clark still wanted her, Lex would make certain that Clark got her. "Just promise me that you won't let her make you wear pink."

"I promise." Chloe kissed his fingers as they brushed over her mouth. "I promise, Lex."

Their peaceful accord lasted for a few hours. While Lex gave Chloe as many details of his visit with Clark that he felt safe in sharing, they ate breakfast. Or more to the point, they drank breakfast. Almost an entire pot of coffee was shared between the two of them, along with a few pieces of toast for Lex and an energy bar for Chloe.

As Chloe spun out several theories about why Clark was being held against his will, Lex used the time to his advantage. He listened with one ear, nodding at the appropriate places while silently examining the problem at hand. After seeing Clark and the conditions he was living in, Lex was even more determined to end Jensen's existence once Clark and his family were safe. His decision was based in part on the abuse that Clark had suffered but there were even deeper reasons.

Jensen knew Clark's secret.

Anyone who knew Clark's secret could exploit him.

Lex felt the urge himself as he sat there listening to Chloe work through another highly improbable theory. Clark was fast and he was strong and he could see through walls. Clark was a weapon waiting for the right person to wield him and all it took to control him was a handful of rocks and his parents. There were so many things he could do with Clark in his back pocket.

Great things...

Terrible things...

A chill shivered its way down his spine as the memory of a dead woman's hand clasped in his own crept in. The vision of his future cost Cassandra Carver her life. She had offered Lex a glimpse into it, hinting that Clark might be there, but when she took his hand and turned her sightless gaze upon him, her mouth dropped open and her heart stopped.

For years Lex wondered what she saw that day, what had been so bad that she preferred to die rather than divulge it. This might have been it. She might have seen what he and Clark had wrought together, locked to one another in an unholy alliance with Clark's parents as the pivotal point in their relationship. A budding megalomaniac with an invincible mutant at his side, held to him by bonds of filial devotion and, if his libido had anything to say about it, by bonds of carnal desire as well.

Together they could rule the world.

Or they could destroy it.

He certainly had enough ambition.

Lex's admiration for the Kents grew as he dissected his own reaction to the truth about Clark. The fact that those two people managed to raise such a special child and not use him to their benefit astounded him. As long as he had known them, the Kents struggled with money. The sheer amount of effort they put into keeping their small farm afloat was staggering. They worked hard to give their child a normal life when all they had to do to assure their financial security was to exploit that child. Instead of turning him into a professional athlete who could earn millions of dollars with his abilities, or working him to death, Jonathan and Martha only asked that Clark pitch in with a few chores.

Beyond that, the Kents had given Clark a great deal of freedom, more than most of the kids in Smallville. Clark didn't have a curfew, he always had time for his friends and for the adventures they led him into. Adventures that had turned him into something of a small-town hero, a fact Lex had teased him about on more than one occasion.

Those adventures took on even more significance in light of what he knew now.

Clark had been using his abilities. That's why Pete and Chloe rarely got into trouble when they were with him. When he realized that, Lex shot a sharp glance at Chloe. No, the theory she was expounding made it clear that she knew nothing about Clark's special gifts.

Pete might know but Lex wasn't in any position to ask him. He and Mr. Ross were at best polite acquaintances, distant ones at that. The sins of the father had kept them from being anything more. That, and the jealousy Pete exhibited when Lex had first become friends with Clark, kept Lex at arm's length once Clark disappeared. One gun waved in his face was enough of a warning for Lex on that front.

Pete might know, but he'd kept his mouth shut so there was no need to silence him.

Chloe obviously didn't know and was therefore safe.

Jensen knew and was going to die. Lex would see to that himself.

That left Jensen's cohorts and while Lex felt they should be eliminated along with their ringleader, in the cold light of day a mass murder didn't sit well with his conscience. He rubbed his thumb over the face of his watch, the gesture comforting him while he laughed and shook his head at Chloe's latest theory. She threw her napkin at him but her smile remained, brightening before she launched herself at another possibility.

If he were a different man, Lex was certain he could kill the rest of them. Arrange an accident, set the house they were in on fire once Jonathan and Martha were safe, detonate a bomb - there were a myriad of ways to terminate their existence and if he were the man his father had tried to create, wiping them out would be easy.

But he wasn't the man his father wanted him to be.

He was the man that he wanted to be.

Which meant there had to be another way to silence them.

There had to be...

Chloe was right on Lex's heels as they approached Tantalus. This morning, Lex chose the front doors as the staff was now used to his being on site. They were waved through main security, the man behind the counter giving Chloe an appreciative glance that Lex found no fault in. Chloe was an attractive young woman, she deserved to be admired.

When he got a moment, he would check out her admirer's background. If he was single and had a good reputation, Lex might nudge Chloe in that direction. One of them should have a life after this was over.

The first indication of trouble was Don Chambers pacing back and forth in front of the office Lex had commandeered for his stay at Tantalus. The second indication was the concerned look on the man's face when he saw them turn the corner. Lex refused to panic. If something had happened to Clark last night, Chambers would have called him immediately.

"Mr. Luthor, we have company." Lex raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry, his attention flicking from Chambers to the closed door of his office and then back. "The FBI is here. They showed up a few minutes ago. I tried calling but your cell..."

"Doesn't pick up if I'm in the basement parking area. There's no signal down there. Very good, Mr. Chambers, I'll deal with them." Outwardly unruffled, Lex marshaled his thoughts before he opened the door. The FBI showing up was a small surprise but the Kent kidnapping was a federal case. If the authorities had gotten wind of his recent discoveries, they were bound to arrive sometime.

But why now?

This was the worst time for them to show up. If he'd had two more days, the Kents would be safe, Jensen would be dead and his cohorts silenced with money, or threats, or both. With the FBI here, Lex's hands were tied. The people he had in place in Edge City would have to back off unless he could get an order to them now. And even if he could get through, the problem remained that he had no solid plan for getting Jonathan and Martha out unharmed.

Damn it.

He wasn't prepared for this.

Whoever tipped off the FBI was in for a world of hurt.

Masking his irritation with a polite smile, Lex opened the door and walked into the lion's den.

Three men turned toward him as Lex stepped in, each expectant face easily recognizable. A polite greeting now accompanied his smile as he held the door open for Chloe to join them. "Gentlemen, welcome to Tantalus. It's been a while."

His salutation, while less than sincere, was a great deal warmer than if they had been strangers.

For not only did he know these men - Lex knew them well.

He'd spent many hours in their company over the course of the past three years, the majority of that time during the months after the Kents' abduction. His investigation of Colin Abrams, David Sykes and Ron Black confirmed what he'd determined through his own observations. They were good men, dedicated to their jobs and very concerned about the Kent case. Had they been otherwise, Lex had a few friends in the Bureau who would've seen to their reassignment.

As they were familiar to him, Lex was able to relax a little and offered both a handshake and coffee to go with his greeting. All three declined the coffee and when Lex took a seat behind the desk, he caught a flash of something odd in Chloe's expression as she settled down onto the couch next to David Sykes.

Lex recognized it immediately.

Guilt.

Interesting.

The social niceties having been dispensed with, it was time to get down to business. "Gentlemen, how can we help you?"

The meeting was actually productive once Lex got past the pointed comments from Abrams about his not calling the FBI in when he first suspected the problems at LuthorCorp were tied to the Kents' kidnapping. After Lex pointed out that at least he had located the Kents, any further recriminations were tabled in favor of laying out a plausible rescue operation.

Lex rolled out a set of blueprints he'd obtained of the house in Edge City. Together, the five of them studied the situation from every angle, every possibility was discussed down to the last detail until they decided on a plan Lex could live with. It was simple but effective and they owed its very simplicity to Chloe and her friend, Chad.

Chad's reports proved invaluable in their discussion. Through his constant observation, the Kents' location had been pinpointed. They were upstairs, toward the back of the house, both of them imprisoned in the same room where Jonathan's blurry image had been captured on film. Most of the Edge City crew remained downstairs, either watching TV or playing cards in the living room. From what Chad had seen, their numbers indicated there usually was only one guard on the Kents.

When this was over, Lex was going to give Chad a job. The kid was good at this.

A few tear gas grenades thrown into the front room would take out the majority of the conspirators, but Lex was adamant in his refusal of the FBI's plan to simply storm the building afterward. Their strategy, simple and to the point, had one major flaw - it left the Kents vulnerable to the man upstairs.

Given what Clark had told him last night and the atrocities Lex knew Clark was being subjected to, Jonathan and Martha's chances of survival in that scenario were minimal. The FBI probably wouldn't even make it through the front door before Clark's parents were executed. Even with the element of surprise on their side - at very best, one man with a gun trapped on the same floor with the Kents was the perfect recipe for a hostage situation.

Unacceptable.

He had promised Clark.

He wasn't going to break that promise.

They were at an impasse until Chloe pointed out one of the other windows on the blueprint. That window opened into the hallway where the guard normally sat. It was an opportunity they had discussed earlier but discarded because he was only partially visible from the available vantage points. A sniper shot to take him out was a possibility, one that had little guarantee of success. But if they fired another grenade through it, the resulting confusion might distract the guard long enough for the Kents to be rescued.

Chloe's suggestion had merit; the hallway was short and presented a confined space where the gas would be quite effective against one person. Lex studied the drawing, nodding in agreement. If the Kents were sharp, they could bar the door to their room and maybe even get out through their own window.

It wasn't the perfect solution but it was the best they had.

Once that was decided, they were left with how to rescue Clark. Everyone was in agreement that it needed to be in done in conjunction with the invasion in Edge City. If Jensen found out the Kents had been freed, he would kill Clark. When Sykes tried to soften the blow in deference to Chloe's presence by adding 'probably' to Lex's bleak statement, Lex corrected him immediately.

There was no 'probably' about this.

Jensen would kill Clark.

Sugarcoating the situation wasn't going to change it. Aaron's report that morning had confirmed Jensen's homicidal intention with regard to Clark. When Chloe nodded in silent agreement, Lex took charge of the remainder of the conversation, wresting control from Abrams with a squaring of his shoulders and a look that Lex had learned at his father's knee. That look froze whatever Abrams was going to say before the words made it past his lips.

Bearing in mind the drawings Clark had made the night before, Lex insisted the meeting with Clark and Jensen happen at Tantalus. A change in venue could tip Jensen off and thereby endanger both Clark and the Kents. None of the FBI agents were comfortable with the meeting being held there, mainly due to the classified work being done in the lower levels of the lab, but in the end, they acquiesced.

The meeting would be held in the top floor conference room, as far away from the lab levels as possible. At fifteen stories, there was little chance of Jensen being able to escape unless he could make it to the roof access and had a helicopter waiting. Both of those prospects were unlikely; the conference room was across the building from the roof exit and Abrams agreed to station a man there to raise an alarm if a helicopter neared.

While Lex won on the location of the meeting, he did not succeed on the timing. He wanted it to happen that afternoon but Abrams insisted that in order to get his team in place in Edge City, Lex would have to wait until tomorrow. Lex's offer of his own people who were already on site was turned down flat. This was now an FBI operation and civilians were not going to be substituted for federal personnel.

They argued in quiet, urgent tones about it. Lex paced, Abrams glowered and finally Lex had to back down. He wanted Clark freed but not at the expense of his parents' safety. The drug Aaron gave to Jensen would keep Clark safe from further depredations for at least another day.

Frustrated but resigned, Lex agreed to the terms. He made the necessary calls and in a few minutes' time, Rhodes had backed his team off, Chad promised to keep a lookout until the FBI arrived, and the fifteenth floor was being cleared so Abrams could get his people in place up there as well.

With Abrams watching him over the top of his desk, Lex made the final call.

It was picked up on the third ring with a gruff, "Hello?"

Forcing the smile into his voice, if not on his face, Lex leaned back in his chair and replied pleasantly, "Good morning, Mr. Copeland."

"Mr. Luthor, thank you for calling." Jensen sounded hung-over, his voice hoarse and scratchy. "I hope you have good news?"

"Yes, I do. Can we meet tomorrow at Tantalus to go over the contracts?"

"Sure. What time?" The scratchiness was fading and in the background, Lex heard Clark say something. It was too faint to make out. No matter, he'd listen to the tape later.

Lex riffled through the blueprints before he answered, "Ten is best for me. I have to catch a flight in the afternoon."

"Ten works. We'll see you there."

"Yes, you will," Lex promised after terminated the call. The smile that had been in his voice appeared on his face, sharp and fierce and anything but happy. He met Abrams's steady gaze across the desk, taking the man's measure. "Satisfied?"

"Yes." Abrams stood, holding out his hand, which Lex shook. "I'll get to work on my end now."

"You do that." The dismissal in Lex's tone was clear and Abrams was smart enough to recognize it.

The three men filed out of Lex's office but before they were gone, Abrams turned back to look at Lex. "Mr. Luthor, I hope you understand that our first priority is saving them."

"I am aware of that, Mr. Abrams. I trust you understand the Kents' safety is my only priority."

"We all do, Mr. Luthor." Abrams hesitated, his hand resting on the doorknob. "There are tapes."

Not a question. Again, interesting. "There are."

"They're evidence."

Of course they are and I assume you want them, don't you?

"I'll see that you get copies." Smoothly spoken, his tone remained even and calm as Lex mentally reviewed the content of the tapes. The majority of them he could turn over without editing. Only the initial tape would need some work. Even though Jensen had continued taunting Clark over the past few days, there had been no further mention of Clark's abilities.

"We need the originals." Well, there was a backbone underneath that suit after all. Abrams straightened, matching Lex's imperious glare with one of his own.

"That will take longer." It would. Most of the tapes were at the hotel, locked in the suite's safe. Especially that one.

"This afternoon, Mr. Luthor." They stared at each other and finally Lex nodded. "Thank you," Abrams said quietly as he closed the door behind him.

Lex studied the closed door while he listened to Chloe fidget with the blueprints. She'd been silent throughout the whole exchange about the tapes and Chloe was rarely silent. The only times she held her tongue was when she'd done something she knew was wrong. And Lex knew exactly what she'd done.

"Chloe, why did you call them?"

To her credit, Chloe didn't jump. She also didn't deny her complicity. Instead, she sat down on the edge of the desk and raised her chin when Lex shifted his gaze from the door to her. "To keep you from doing something stupid."

"Which would be?" Even in the face of her betrayal, Lex didn't raise his voice. If anything, it was smoother than when he'd been talking to Abrams. Anyone who knew him from his wild-child days in Metropolis would have been running the other way by now.

"Murder," Chloe shot back. Ah, her temper was returning. Good.

"Murder? Now why would you think that?" Lex steepled his fingers in front of his face, leaning back in the chair as the memory assaulted him.

The gun bucked in his hand, the smoke from the barrel drifting back even as Nixon fell to the ground in front of him. Nixon's lanky body splayed out at Jonathan Kent's feet even as Jonathan ran to help Clark, that hellish moment leaving Lex with the knowledge that, yes, he could kill when it was necessary.

"Lex, I know you," She said as she moved closer. "You were going to kill Jensen. Don't bother denying it."

Apparently, Chloe did know him. He was slipping; he'd let her get too close. Lex considered his options as he studied her. He could deny it but there was little point. Murder had been his intent where Jensen was concerned but now that the FBI was involved, that objective had been shot down, crippling his ability to protect Clark's secrets from being broadcast to the world.

The kidnappers would use that information as a bargaining chip. Best case scenario - Clark, his family and his entire life would end up splattered across the tabloids. At worst case... Lex refused to think about worst case.

The only way that would happen would be over his own dead body.

Lex understood Chloe had only done what she thought was right. Unfortunately, she had no idea what damage she'd done in her quest to salvage his soul. "So you called in the cavalry to save me from myself?"

Chloe was in front of him now, close enough that he could reach up and shake some sense into her head. His hands itched to do just that so Lex laid them in his lap as Chloe leaned forward. "Yes. Somebody had to, Lex."

The urge to tell her what was on the tapes scratched at the back of his throat but he'd promised himself that she would never know what Clark had endured. His fingers flexed but otherwise Lex remained perfectly still. The sound of Clark choking echoed in the back of his head, the quiet retching and everything he'd heard afterward. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't betray Clark. Not again.

Chloe's voice cut through the memory, "Clark isn't here to do it."

Lex pushed the chair back, slamming it into wall as he rose to his feet. He glared at her and the words were right there. The man deserves to die.

She grabbed his arm and held on even as Lex tried to shake her off. "Clark's not here but I am, Lex. He wouldn't let you do it and I won't either."

"You have no idea what he's done to Clark." Lex hissed, twisting his wrist until she let him go.

"I think I do." She darted in again, her head tucked into his shoulder as she held onto him almost as tightly as Clark had. "Killing him isn't going to undo it, Lex. If you kill him, you'll go to prison. You can't help Clark if you're in prison and Clark's going to need all the help he can get."

Lex stilled while Chloe clung to him. He didn't push her away, nor did he pull her in closer. Comfort wasn't what he required at the moment. What he required was clarity and a new purpose, which Chloe had unwittingly provided because she was right.

Incarceration for murder, or even attempted murder, wasn't an option. If Jensen revealed Clark's secret, then every resource Lex had would be needed to protect Clark. To use them effectively, he had to remain free.

And honestly, protecting Clark was his top priority.

Everything else could wait

Lex did as promised. He delivered the tapes to Abrams that afternoon, but only after he'd excised the small section about Clark's strength. The delivery was accepted with good grace, Abrams pausing to look them over as Black issued terse orders through the phone. When that call was terminated, Abrams slid the first tape into the machine and listened.

Lex remained in the room, intent on monitoring their reactions to its content.

As the rape began, Abrams shot a quick, telling look at Lex but remained silent. The other two agents listened just as diligently and when it was over, Ron Black laid a heavy hand on Lex's shoulder. "We'll get him out of there."

Lex nodded, satisfied that each of them now understood Clark's situation as well as the gravity of Jensen's crimes. He carefully placed his hands flat on the desk and leaned forward. "We will. Now, as to the matter of Ms. Sullivan..."

"You did what? Lex, I don't believe you! I'm not going." Chloe vibrated with anger, her hands clenched into fists.

"Chloe, think for a moment and you'll agree with me." His own hands were tucked in his pockets as Lex leaned in the open doorway. He watched Chloe, ready to move if she rushed him. "Don't you think the Kents would appreciate a familiar face? They've been held captive as long as Clark and while the ability to be at two places at once would be useful, it's not a skill I possess. I need you in Edge City."

His words of wisdom weren't calming her down. If anything, they only served to fan the flames higher. "Lex, Clark is going to need me."

"Yes, he is. And he will have you with him after it's all over."

This was an argument Lex knew he would win no matter what objections Chloe raised. Logic already dictated that Chloe shouldn't be seen by Jensen. He obviously knew about her close friendship with Clark and any chance of her being spotted at Tantalus could blow the entire operation.

Her physical absence from the first meeting had been a very wise decision, especially with Jensen taunting Clark about Chloe's rumored intimacy with Lex. Granted, they only slept with each other once but there was no guarantee the man didn't actually know about that night.

Another full sweep of the mansion's staff would be in order after this. He'd run background as well as credit checks to make sure they weren't spying on him.

Despite his placating tone, Chloe showed no signs of backing down. Obviously, the promise of a reunion wasn't working so he chose a different tack. A sliver of honesty should do the trick. "Chloe, I need you to be somewhere else. If I have to worry about both you and Clark, I might make a mistake. What we're doing here is very delicate."

"Oh. So I can't handle delicate?" Cold sarcasm instead of fury, a clear sign he'd just made a very large error. Lex straightened, watching her as she stalked away from him. "Lex, I can handle myself, okay? I won't let you shuffle me out of the way like I'm some stupid girl."

The fierce look she gave him over her shoulder might have quailed a lesser man but he found it endearing. Lex admired her for standing up to him, but on this point he was adamant. If things went wrong and Clark had to use his abilities to save himself, there would be no stopping the headlines the next day.

Chloe loved Clark but she was, first and foremost, a journalist.

"You aren't stupid." He closed the distance between them and waited until she turned around. Lex's hand skimmed down her cheek and to her credit, Chloe didn't flinch or slap it away. She also didn't turn into the touch like she normally did. "I want someone I can trust with the Kents. You're the only person I trust."

It was a low blow, one his father would be proud of. Lex hated using it but the instant softening of her expression suggested that the ploy had worked. Chloe was still angry but there was a hint of pleasure at his avowal of faith lurking in the upward quirk of her mouth. She wavered for a few more seconds before the tension faded away. "Okay. If you put it that way... but you owe me, Lex."

"Anything you want, you can have." Lex said it without thinking, his knuckles brushing her cheek again. Her capitulation had left him too grateful to exercise caution.

"Anything?" Her eyebrows rose along with the corners of her mouth and Lex realized he was in trouble. Especially when she slipped her hand inside his suit jacket and laid it on his chest. There was a sudden flare of heat, something he wasn't expecting. His resolve where Chloe and sex were concerned crumbled and Lex leaned in, his mouth hovering a few inches above hers.

"Anything," Lex murmured, closing the distance between them.

Kissing Chloe was... pleasant.

Warm and welcoming and without the desolation that had marked their first encounter. He turned his head subtly, coaxing her mouth open further. Lex pressed in close, his hands coming to rest on the curve of her hip and the small of her back. She matched him touch for touch, her mouth meeting his and retreating and meeting it again.

It was pleasant, but nothing more. And judging by the look on Chloe's face when she stepped back, it wasn't what she'd been seeking either. She studied him, silently taking his measure before she nodded. "That was nice. You're really good. But I've done the 'being with someone who wants somebody else' thing. It's not fun."

"No. It's not." Lex agreed.

"Then let's just not, okay?"

Thankfully, her decision came without tears and Lex felt a weight lift from him. Sleeping with Chloe would have been as enjoyable as kissing her but the inevitable fallout from such an indulgence came under the heading of counter-productive. Chloe smiled, a hint of mischief returning when she said, "I will take one of those things you tagged Clark with, though."

He couldn't help it.

Lex laughed.

The next morning found Lex awake long before dawn.

Chloe had left after he promised her not only one of the recorders but also one of the tracking devices. He did make her swear that she wouldn't use them on her professors. All teasing aside, cheating was a very serious offense in academic circles and while Lex doubted Chloe would do so, he insisted on securing her word that she'd never give into the temptation.

She should be in Edge City by now.

Lex checked his watch. If the flight went as planned, Chloe had touched down half an hour ago. A phone call on his part was in order, just to make sure everything was in place and the FBI team would follow their instructions about keeping her out of the thick of things. Abrams assured him that she would only be allowed on site once the operation was complete, but Lex knew Chloe. If there was a way for her to slip the traces and be on the front line, she would find it.

From the frying pan into the fire and he was the one who suggested sending her to Edge City, wasn't he?

Lex reached for his cell and flipped it open but before he could dial, it rang on its own. He breathed a sigh of relief at the caller ID and answered with a succinct, "Chloe."

"Lex."

There was a great deal of wrath imbued in that one syllable, more than he'd ever heard in his life and his father was an expert at turning his name into a weapon. Apparently, Chloe had been apprised of her limitations in the rescue operation. He was going to pay for this later. "Thanks so much for sending me into the care of these jerks. Damn it! Stop protecting me."

"Chloe, it's what I do. I protect my friends." Lex was used to Chloe and her firecracker temper but he had his own to contend with. Her blind fury, coupled with his concerns about the upcoming day, provided enough fuel to reach his boiling point.

He pressed the phone tight against his ear as he remembered racing into the Kents' house that day. The memory of that sinking feeling of failure clawed at him as he snapped, "I couldn't protect Clark. I can protect you."

"I don't need you to protect me, Lex. Five years in Smallville, remember? I learned how to look after myself." Lex heard something in the background. It was another voice and Chloe answered them in a clipped tone although he couldn't make out the words. When she returned her attention to him, Lex received the same terse delivery. "Call the dogs off and make them let me in."

"No."

"God, you're just as bad as..." She cut herself off but Lex knew where she'd been headed. Lex had his own theories about Clark protecting both of them on more than one occasion. When this was all over, he might ask Clark about it and perhaps this time, Clark wouldn't lie. "Look, I love you, Lex, but this has got to stop. I'm a journalist. I'm going to be doing dangerous things. I can't do that with you hovering or sending people to watch me. The guy in New York scared away one of my sources."

Lex stared at his own reflection as the sun rose over the harbor, noting his surprise in the rose-hued glass. He thought they'd settled all of this last night but Chloe's off-hand declaration of love had thrown him. For her sake, he hoped it was platonic. Chloe loving him as anything beyond a friend would only lead her to heartbreak.

As for Chloe being aware of the tails he sent, that came as no surprise. A good journalist should know when they're being followed although the one she'd caught had been one of the less talented individuals he'd employed. When he read that particular report, Lex had fired the man at once.

In order to calm her down, he could concede one point. "All right, you win. No more tails."

Ones that you're able to spot.

"Call off the dogs, Lex."

"I have no power over their actions, Chloe. They're the FBI." The shoe was on the other foot and Lex found himself smiling at Chloe's frustration. Now she knew how he'd felt upon finding three agents in his office yesterday. If she could make a pact with the FBI, then he could do the same.

"Lex. What I said about loving you, strike that."

Lex was only half-listening to Chloe at the moment; his attention was distracted by the beauty of this dawn. His smile broadened, brightening like the sky. This was the day they were going to rescue Clark and his parents. This was the day he'd been waiting for, the day he'd been living for since that desolate October afternoon so long ago.

"I'll get you back for this." Chloe grumbled, the noises in the background growing louder.

"I'm counting on it." Lex laid his hand on the window, the morning's chill sobering him more than Chloe's threat. So many things could go wrong today. He had to stay sharp to make sure that they didn't. "The meeting's at ten, they should be moving on the house then. Call me when it's over."

"I will."

He thought she'd disconnected but then Lex heard her say, "Be careful."

"I'll do my best."

The elation Lex felt at dawn seemed to have transferred itself to Dan Jensen. When Lex walked into the conference room, the man's smile was expansive. He pumped Lex's hand eagerly while Clark held back, haunted eyes locked on Lex's face. Unwilling to give anything away, Lex took Clark's offered hand and shook it firmly but quickly. "Good morning, gentlemen. I see that you have your coffee. Let's get down to business."

Sykes and Black, who had followed Lex into the conference room, took up positions by the door. When Jensen glanced at them, Lex shrugged, waving a dismissive hand in their direction. Opting for charming, Lex laughed under his breath and murmured, "Bodyguards. My father's getting paranoid in his old age."

Jensen laughed as well, his attention shifting back to Lex although Clark studied both of the men, his eyes narrowing for a second or two before he took a seat at the conference table. A telling glance was exchanged between Clark and Jensen, then Clark shook his head and Jensen smiled.

It happened so fast Lex almost missed it.

After a moment, Lex sat down opposite from Clark and Jensen, then slid a thick sheaf of contracts across the table. "Look these over. I think you'll find everything in order. Complete access to all levels of the lab, a generous employment package, full benefits. Dental, health, disability, company car - the usual amenities plus a few extras. We like what you've come up with and look forward to having you here at Tantalus."

Clark paled as Jensen leaned over in front of him to gather up the documents. Pain flitted across his face and Lex cursed silently as one of his worst fears about this operation was confirmed.

His people had searched both men before they came upstairs but again they'd missed where Jensen was hiding the meteorite. Unfortunately, the green crystals that seemed to have the strongest effect on Clark were just that - crystalline in nature. A metal detector was useless in locating them and without a full strip search, Lex doubted that his people would ever find them all.

A search that thorough would definitely set off Jensen's alarm bells and that was the last thing they needed right now. At least Chambers had been able to persuade Jensen to hand over his cell phone, citing that their use wasn't allowed within the inner environs of Tantalus without proper security clearance. From what Lex understood, the phone was given up without argument.

That overconfidence on Jensen's part was going to be the man's downfall.

Jensen flipped through the contracts. "I hope you don't mind if I read some of this."

"Be my guest," Lex replied. The longer Jensen took with the contracts, the more time it bought for the rescue effort in Edge City. He leaned back in his chair, watching Jensen because if he focused on Clark, Lex knew he'd give everything away.

Even with his determination not to look at Clark, Lex found himself stealing the occasional glance. Clark looked tired, no surprise there. The meteorite hidden on Jensen combined with the incident that Lex eavesdropped on the previous evening would leave anyone exhausted.

After Chloe's departure, he received word that Jensen had returned to the apartment. Lex spent the next few hours in Tantalus' security control room, listening and praying Jensen wouldn't mention Clark's abilities. The man attempted one last rape and when his equipment failed him, he flayed Clark with an unending stream of invective. Clark, thankfully, had remained quiet and Jensen eventually stormed out.

Agent Black had shifted uncomfortably in the chair next to Lex, his professional demeanor cracking long enough to call Jensen a bastard under his breath. Lex agreed with a nod of his head, his fingers tapping on the table while he listened to Clark undress and finally fall asleep.

Aaron's delivery had brought Clark some physical peace, if nothing else.

The vibration of his cell phone brought Lex back from his quiet reflection. He pulled it out of his pocket, checking the display and the time before excusing himself. "Gentlemen, I apologize but I have to take this call. I'll be right back."

Sykes followed him out into the hallway and into an office across the hall from the conference room. Once the door closed behind them, Lex hit the receive button. "Give me some good news."

Chloe laughed, high and spirited and the hope Lex had been suppressing since dawn surged forth. She wouldn't be laughing if the operation hadn't been a success. "I'll do better than that. Here..."

There was a shuffling sound and then a crystal clear voice came across the line, one he'd feared he would never hear again. "Lex? Lex, is that you?" Lex felt his knees buckle, his whole body giving out as he dropped into a chair.

He couldn't speak.

He had to clear his throat and blink back a sudden rush of emotion before he managed an answer. "M-Mrs. Kent? Oh, thank God. You're all right?"

Martha was laughing, the sound rich and full and if he'd been a religious man, Lex would've been shouting his joy to heaven at the sound. Martha Kent was on the other end of the phone line and she was laughing. "I'm fine, Lex. Jonathan's safe too. We're okay."

Lex closed his eyes, his long-lost faith resurrecting as he heard someone else take over the conversation. "Lex, is that you? Son, how's Clark?"

Jonathan. The strength he'd always associated with the man came along with his voice. So much strength and certainty and belief in him, in Lex Luthor. How could he tell Jonathan that Clark wasn't out of the woods yet?

Lex swallowed, hating himself for the lie but giving it nonetheless. "He's fine, Mr. Kent. I'm bringing him to you. We're still in Boston but we should be there in a few hours."

"Thank God. He's not... he's not hurt, is he?" Jonathan's voice dropped, the strength fading. He sounded older, tired in ways Lex understood far too well. His guilt disappeared as he listened to Jonathan crumble. It wasn't much of a lie...

Jensen was trapped on the fifteenth floor, there was an army of FBI agents surrounding them, and the building had been evacuated within five minutes of Lex's entry into the conference room. The drawings Clark had produced for Jensen were flawed, the man would never be able to escape. All they needed to do was separate him from Clark, and it would be true. Clark would be safe.

"He's fine. I promise. There are a few things we need to wrap up here." Lex looked over at Sykes who was talking into his own phone. Low and urgent but when he caught Lex's eyes on him, Sykes gave him a quick thumb's-up. "We'll be there as soon as we can."

Jonathan hesitated but when he spoke again, his gratitude was unmistakable. "Lex, I'll never be able to repay you for what you've done for my family."

Don't say that.

I'm the reason why this happened to you.

Lex swallowed his guilt along with his fears and he smiled. "Mr. Kent, it's the least I could do."

Once the call was terminated, Lex strode into the conference room. Jensen was still reviewing the contracts while Clark had managed to edge away from him. Satisfied with what he knew about Clark's speed and strength and riding on the heels of the victory in Edge City, Lex approached the table and leaned across it.

Jensen glanced up from his reading, startled by the look on Lex's face. "Mr. Luthor, is something wrong?"

Lex smiled, sharp and feral as he caught the movement behind him. Martha and Jonathan were safe, Sykes and Black were in their places and he could afford this. He could afford a little payback.

Leaning forward, Lex plucked the first contract out of Jensen's hands. He tore it in half, letting the pieces fall to the table as he drawled, "This isn't worth the paper it's printed on. I hate it when people insult my intelligence, Mr. Jensen."

At the utterance of his real name, Dan Jensen froze in place, caught like a bird in a cobra's stare.. Lex enjoyed that analogy, his smile widening and his gaze flicking to Clark's face. "You didn't do your homework. I would know Clark Kent anywhere. He's my best friend, Mr. Jensen, and I protect my friends."

Clark was smiling, grinning from ear to ear as Lex finally acknowledged him. He started to rise, moving even further away from Jensen but neither he nor Lex counted on how quickly Jensen could react.

In the space between one heartbeat and the next, Jensen had his arm around Clark's throat and Clark was choking. The face of Jensen's watch glowed a brilliant green; the veins in Clark's throat and face pulsed, rising stark and black underneath skin that shifted as he writhed in pain. A knife appeared in Jensen's hand, the blade and handle made of the same green crystal. Where he'd hidden it, Lex didn't know, but his suspicion that a metal detector wouldn't find a weapon forged of that mineral was now confirmed.

Lex looked over his shoulder, noting that Sykes and Black were staring at Clark. Yes, the effect of the meteorite on Clark was startling but it shouldn't prevent them from doing their job. Lex reached for the gun in his own waistband, freeing it as Jensen shouted, "Get away from me. I'll kill him."

"Let him go." The gun was in his hand, Lex raised it but as he did, Jensen pressed the knife harder against Clark's throat and its virulent green dimmed as blood ran down the blade. Clark whimpered, the hands that had been clawing at Jensen's arm ceased their scrabbling. Visibly weakened, the fight drained from Clark as the knife sliced deeper into his skin.

"Get the fuck away from me, Luthor." Other guns were unholstered, the sound of them being cocked rang in Lex's ears as Jensen backed up. The door was behind Lex. Jensen wouldn't be able to make it out that way unless they let him.

But Jensen wasn't trying for the door.

Instead, he was dragging Clark toward the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows.

The knife switched from one hand to the other. When Jensen made that switch, Lex lunged at him, ignoring the cries coming from Sykes and Black. In the back of his mind, Lex knew they were identifying themselves as federal agents and they were telling Jensen to give it up, but the only thing he cared about was getting that knife away from Clark's throat. The same knife that sliced through the air, its stinging kiss cutting across Lex's outstretched hand.

It hurt but it didn't matter.

Clark was choking.

Clark was dying before his eyes and he had to save him.

When the knife cut Lex, pandemonium broke out. The next few seconds played out in slow motion in front of his horrified gaze, ticking off frame by frame. There was a roar behind him, something burned past his left shoulder, tearing at his jacket and Lex saw Clark's body jerk with the impact. Gunpowder filled the air, its acrid stench mixed with blood as another gun went off.

The window behind Jensen shattered.

Another shot and Jensen himself staggered back. There was more blood. Clark's cry of pain was echoed by his captor's and a final shot catapulted Jensen and Clark backward through the jagged windowpane. One moment they were there, hovering on the edge of eternity, and the next they were gone.

Fallen to their deaths.

Leaving behind nothing but smoke and broken glass.

Lex fell to his knees, fine wool and then the palms of his hands shredding on the debris from the ruined window as he stared out at the city of Boston.

Someone, not him, it couldn't be him, he never sounded like that... someone near him was screaming.

The constant screaming hurt his ears but it wasn't stopping. Irritated, Lex began to shout about it when he realized that incessant noise was coming from his own throat. He choked it off, finally putting an end to the banshee wail by clamping his jaw shut.

Once his harsh cries faded, he could hear other voices. Sykes and Black were chattering, presumably into cell phones or whatever other communication devices they were carrying. Dazed, Lex listened to them shout out instructions, warning other members of their team about what had just occurred.

The smell of the ocean wafted in through the destroyed window, isolated shards still breaking off and falling into oblivion. Lex watched each of them go, imagining they were Clark's body, destined to smash against the cold pavement fifteen stories below.

He had failed.

The Kents had been saved but Clark had been lost.

What was he going to tell Jonathan?

His courage, which was as destroyed as Clark's now broken body, deserted him. Lex could not bring himself to look down. All he could do was stare out at the city's skyline and pray that it had been quick. That Clark hadn't felt any more pain than he'd already suffered.

"Mr. Luthor, please move back from the window." Startled by the request, Lex turned his head to look at the speaker. Not Sykes nor Black, nor even Abrams who was commanding the teams on the lower levels. No, it was Dan Chambers who was standing a few feet away, one hand held out cautiously in front of him as if he were talking to a frightened animal or a terrified child.

"Mr. Luthor, please. There's nothing you can do." Softly spoken, but firm in its intent and Lex wondered vaguely why Chambers was being so careful with him.

The remaining chatter stilled, microphones abandoned as the FBI agents turned their attention to Lex himself. Chambers was the only one speaking and he was talking so quietly Lex could hear the sounds of the city so very far below them. He concentrated, waiting to hear the wail of a siren. Two men had just fallen to their deaths, surely there would be emergency crews arriving soon.

Instead he heard a few horns, a bird as it flew past and then a very faint voice calling his name.

Not Chambers at all and it wasn't coming from the other two men currently staring at him. Lex shook his head, concentrating harder on that reed-thin sound. It came again and he turned toward it, looking out the window.

Swallowing hard, Lex prayed that it wasn't his imagination. He crawled closer to the brink, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in his knees as more glass shredded the thin skin, and held his hand up for silence when Chambers tried to coax him back. Lex gripped the outer edge of the shattered window, steeling himself for what he would see and finally looked down.

Into a familiar face.

Features white and strained, on a thin lip of marble that barely qualified as a ledge, Clark was only a few feet below the gaping windowsill. Bloodstained and weary, he was apparently clinging to the outer wall by sheer force of will.

But he was alive.

Not only alive but smiling faintly as he said, "Hey, Lex. I could use some help here."

"Jesus, Clark." Disregarding the broken glass, Lex dropped to the floor and reached as far as he could. Immediately, there were hands on his legs trying to drag him back in and voices were shouting but he ignored them. His left hand caught Clark's as Clark reached up, clasping firmly. "Hang on, Clark. We'll get you out of this."

Someone, probably Chambers, stopped pulling on Lex's legs and leaned over the edge to look. "Holy Mother of... He's alive!" A staticky sound filled the air while Lex looked down at Clark and offered him his other hand. It was grasped, fingers tightening almost painfully as Clark held on.

Orders were being shouted but the only thing Lex could hear clearly was Clark's nervous laughter and shaky voice saying, "Did I ever tell you about my fear of heights?'

"No, Clark. You never did. Can I tell you a secret?" There were more hands on his legs, steadying him and Lex scooted forward another few inches. Clark nodded, looking up at Lex. "They scare the hell out of me too."

The glass around Lex was being brushed quickly away, although there were numerous pieces still underneath him. Lex ignored them in favor of staring at Clark's exhausted smile. Another pair of hands appeared next to him, holding what Lex recognized as a climbing harness. Where the hell they'd gotten it, he didn't know, but the individual responsible had Lex's undying gratitude.

He held onto one of Clark's hands while Clark maneuvered himself into the straps. Besides the dull red streaks drying on Clark's throat, there was a bloodied hole in his suit jacket where a bullet had to have impacted, but Clark was still able to use both arms. Lex hoped he was the only one who noticed that detail. Given that the man who had lowered the harness to Clark was Chambers and not Sykes or Black, there was a good possibility Lex could keep Clark's relative lack of injury quiet.

Once the harness was in place, Lex was pulled back from the edge. He grabbed onto the rope, rising to his knees to help the men behind and around him haul Clark up to safety. The glass embedded in his clothes dropped to the carpet, piece by piece. By the time Clark cleared the lip of the window, the shards were gone and Lex grabbed Clark, reeling him in.

They knelt there, holding onto each other as Chambers unhooked the harness and faceless others scurried all around them. Jubilant voices filled the air, jarring Lex's nerves. He couldn't quite shut them out until Clark pulled back just enough to smile at him and said, "It's okay. You saved me, Lex."

Kissing Clark in that moment probably would've been chalked up to relief and if any of the men observing dared comment, Lex would've taken them off at the knees. Shocking them didn't bother him - their mores were none of his concern. What kept him from leaning in and taking what he wanted was Dr. Richards' advice.

Instead, he returned Clark's smile with one of his own. "It was my turn. Clark... your parents are safe."

The look of gratitude Clark gave him then, Lex would remember for the rest of his life. That, and the glitter of tears, which followed right after. Clark buried his face in Lex's shoulder, hiding from the rush and scramble of people around them as he clung to Lex, his whole body shaking with the force of his silent dissolution.

Author's Notes: This story was triggered by a wonderful story by LaCasta called Ransom, which can be found here: http://smallville.slashdom.com/archive/9/ransom.html. The Prometheus Project consists of three full books, of which Without A Trace is the first. The other two books are currently in final beta and will be posted as they are finished.

Disclaimers after viewing Crisis- The Prometheus Project was started August 2003 as a WIP in my livejournal. The final installment was posted prior to the airing of Shattered and the subsequent events in canon have been very eerie to watch. The parallels between this story and canon constantly surprise me.

Acknowledgements: This story was written by a community. As a result of the comments I received on the WIP, the final outcome was shaped by the readers and I am forever grateful for their help.

Special thanks are due to: Farouche, who had the courage to stand up to me and due to her insight, this story was transformed. Peach1250, my front-line beta - I owe her two stories for getting back to me in record time. Rhiannonhero, my second-line beta, who constantly provides inspiration and kicks me whenever I'm lazy. And finally to Diluvian for holding me down and making me work for this. If you ever want a beta who'll catch every one of your mistakes and even talk you through the final draft, Diluvian is the person to see.

There are no enough praises that I can sing for these ladies' efforts.

Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Covers for Without A Trace can be found at: http://www.livejournal.com/users/lil_lj/38174.html#cutid1 - by Lil_lj and http://www.livejournal.com/users/digitalwave/28160.html#cutid1 - by Digitalwave. Thank you, ladies, for creating such beautiful things.