Certain images had a pull over him. Certain images that reporters never bothered to notice that they perpetuated as much as he did: white, lilies, sunflowers, slick black marble, striking silver gleams, purples so rich and deep that they bordered on black.

LexCorp Purple, LuthorCorp Purple.

No, not LuthorCorp any longer.

Those were just things half-associated with him. No-one understood why they pulled at him, no-one cared to understand that. No, they wanted explanations, they wanted explanations for every thing he'd ever done. One couldn't simply look back and clearly pinpoint what influenced action A, which led to B, which had led to him standing before his father's casket on a murky Saturday morning.

Lex's own memorial ceremony had been held on a clear, cloudless day. His father had waxed poetic about the service, almost damp eyed as he'd retold Lex about the events that had passed while he'd been away.

Lionel had always liked the lilies that Lillian had favored, so his casket had been covered with a cascade of them; the monument Lionel was buried beneath was the same as Lillian's, visible but nothing so extravagant as his own 'monument' had been. That was a bare spot in the grass, a ghost of a reminder despite that Lionel had it taken down.

When a phoenix rose from the ashes, it was understood that the creature was returned to the highest peak of its strength. Lex considered himself a phoenix, burning out sharply and coming back better and keener of mind than ever before.

The board had been assured that his hospital records were understandable. The youthful indiscretions that had had him sent off to Smallville weren't even something for him to explain. And without point A, reporters had trouble going to point B, to point F, to point U. News was a chain, and as much as a reporter would be loathe in admitting it, some people were above the watchdog of the media.

It felt good to be a phoenix, covered in purple lilies.

The memorial service would last long enough and with the pomp and tasteful flair of drama that Lionel would have appreciated. Lex had managed to speak eloquently at the funeral, a traditional catholic mass that no one had dared to intrude on uninvited. The public memorial service was for media, acquaintances. People who really didn't give a fuck about his father. The Catholic mass had included the presence of what little family they had left, respected business friends of theirs, respected criminal friends of theirs.

Sometimes, they were one and the same person.

Managers and acquaintances attended the memorial, people who'd benefited from things Lionel had done. Some familiar faces, sympathetically looking up at him as he spoke.

Where had they been when he could have needed them? The same place that so-called caring people had been all of his life. Elsewhere, doing things that pleased them. When they needed him though, well, no amount of gentle excuses was enough to get them to leave him alone.

How dare they attend.

He had sat at his father's side, watched him struggle with every breath for two slow, teetering weeks. Two slow weeks of watching his father die, watching it happen alone except for brief appearances by people seeking to better themselves in his eyes.

"My father was a great man, who had the pleasure of growing up in this fine city, the pleasure of converting some of the worst parts of the city into areas that now teem with life. I cannot help but feel that if his life had not been claimed in the car accident, he would still have so much more to offer the city. There were plans we'd discussed, new developments -- and unlike the dreams of some people, Lionel Luthor's dreams will not die with him. His hopes for our city were not buried in the earth with him."

It could have, though. They'd been in the same car accident, sitting in the back of their limousine. Just three weeks ago, just three bare weeks ago, they'd been leaving that damned charity auction. A dinner date with his father had garnered a quarter of a million for Metropolis Children's Charities. Last Lex had heard the cheated bidder had paid her quarter of a million to the charity anyway. He'd booked a lunch meeting with her in a week, just to thank her for her conviction in helping charities. Dinner that same evening was to be with an anonymous bidder who'd won him 'for the night'.

That damned auction. If they hadn't gone, Lionel would still be alive. If he'd just worn his seatbelt, if they both hadn't been so relaxed and half drunk that--

"You think of Lionel Luthor, and most of you think of Luthor Corp. That's just a chemical company that my father built up out of nothing but his own iron determination to make life prosperous for himself, and for this city. But he was more than just a businessman. He had a family, hobbies -- the quiet passions that truly define a man. His favorite music was classical, and he played the piano with skill. He excelled in fencing -- my father excelled in everything he undertook. Business, chemicals, expanding the good works systems that existed in our city. And that is how he should be remembered. Not as a businessman, but as a man who has accomplished unthinkable things in his lifetime."

A man who sometimes forgot about his family, a man who'd hurt his son and cheated on his dying wife, but was always there when they needed him. It was more than Lex could say for the rest of humanity. Things had passed between them that made Lex's spine crawl to remember; but in recent years, they'd calmed, they'd worked together, for and with each other.

Lex could still see the look on his father's face when his spine had snapped, the horror and pain that had washed over them both before the crunching metal had swallowed them whole.

The crush of steel when they'd been broadsided had wounded his legs, cost him a hand, and broken his father's spine. The official telling had been that Lionel was kneeling by the wet bar within the limousine. There was nothing to say otherwise in the accident scene; the broken glasses, the break in Lionel's spine. It had been overlooked that Lex's left thighbone had been shattered, that he and Lionel had been entwined in the crash when the rescue squad had arrived. Two lovers caught in tragic coitus?

Of course not. They were father and son. Two rich businessmen, both with a publicly acknowledged taste for fine liquor, crushed together in a cage of crumpled steel.

The media never clutched at those oddities. They grasped at the idea that Lionel had died and Lex had lived, their favorite conspiracy theories. The Limousine driver had died, Lionel had languished unconscious before dying, but Lex had survived. It made for a good story, didn't it?

Lex shifted, leaning heavily on the podium for a silent moment. Both hands clutched at the edge, one crude and covered with a glove. His real right hand had probably been what had kept Lionel from being decapitated. Because it had been entwined in Lionel's hair, curving at the base of his father's neck. Severed so quickly that he hadn't even felt the pain.

"I ... hope to do my father's name a service in carrying on his dreams. This city will not be abandoned to it's own devices." He could feel the memorized speech trailing off within him. He went on, tearless and tired. Like the automaton he felt like he had become as he spoke to those kindly, useless faces. His legs were aching, but he could stand there, and he could walk away when his speech came to a close.

Money bought the best healthcare, the most advanced healthcare that a stubborn businessman could want. Perhaps it made him look suspicious in the eyes of reporters, but it kept LuthorCorp on firm footing. There was no slip in the price stock of the double ls, not with him forcing himself to carry on.

When the service dissolved after a few prayers for Lionel, Lex stood there and accepted condolences. He didn't offer his gloved hand to be shaken. It hurt to carry any weight on the limb, and the surgeries that let him wear it were still recent, so it stayed tucked into his pocket. He could see morbid eyes drop down there momentarily to glance from time to time.

It was almost understandable. There had been murmurs about what sort of injuries he'd suffered, but none of them had made it into the media. Murmurs stayed merely murmurs.

Lex watched until they were disbursing before he turned his back to them. Lillian would have been proud to see that he'd survived once more, that he was still trying to exist and live. His father would've been happy that he'd taken up the Luthor banner and hadn't let it lie sullied in blood for very long.

He bent carefully on the smooth stone before their headstone, reached out to trace their names for a moment.

There was no one left to Alexander J. Luthor. Seven, eight years beforehand he'd felt the painful tugging of loss, betrayal and madness. His sole friendship had done nothing but drain him, his attempts at love had left him mad. Love and friendship were bitter pills; his father had been testing, but when Lex needed him, he was there. A backhanded comfort, perhaps, but it had been a comfort for him.

How his father's face had twisted would always remain burned into his mind.

"God. I miss you both so much..." So many moral and ethical questions that Lex wasn't going to even begin to think about. The only thought worth noting was that he was hurt, and no one had been there to just say 'it's okay, you're on the right track'. Someone other than a doctor, who had merely laid out for him the facts of having his father removed from the respirator.

Just like he'd made the hard choice about surgery on Lionel years before, after the twister. But he knew he'd made the right choice. His father wouldn't have wanted to be a guinea pig for new techniques. His spine could possibly be reconnected with LuthorCorp's new technologies, but it wouldn't make him un-brain-dead.

A footfall behind him, and Lex started to stand; it wasn't any of his people. He'd driven himself there, and he'd drive back home by himself. Someone looking for his attention? Fuck them. They'd get a tight smile and a dismissal, but Lex would not let himself be driven from the family plot.

Two people, side by side -- one woman and one man, or so he could see from the reflection of glossed marble. He stood slowly, balancing his weight just so he didn't have to struggle to stand. His turn was less smooth than he would have liked, but it was certainly smoother than if he'd submitted to the local hospital's care for long.

A pretty woman in a two-piece suit, and a reporters smile; and just behind her... just behind her, just...

"Can I help you?"

"Mr. Luthor, Lois Lane of the Daily Planet." The woman managed to be businesslike, even with an obvious false attempt to be sympathetic. "My condolences on your loss. We were just wondering if you had any statement for the press?"

The man behind her, with curious green eyes framed rather ludicrously behind glasses, now seemed to be watching him intently

One could never call the hounds at the Daily Planet anything other than cunning. Interview the recalcitrant in pairs, so there was twice as much to escape from. Clark was... enough, more than enough to want to try to escape from. But Lex looked coolly back to Lois, and folded his hands behind his back as he looked at her.

"Ms. Lane, I have no statement for the press."

"Mr. Luthor, would it not be politic for you to get your opinions into the press as soon as possible?" Lois pressed, "You must be aware that questions have been raised in certain areas?"

Clark shifted forward a little, looking uncomfortable at that topic shift. "Lois, I think ..."

Lois just shot him a look that was nothing short of scathing. "Mr. Luthor, if I were you I should take the opportunity."

"To what? Deny, once more, the untrue accusation that I killed my father?" Lex lifted his chin, looking back at her with challenge written in his eyes. How dare she, and how dare anyone pry so blatantly -- get his opinions to the press? Why did it matter? People could make assumptions about his injuries, he didn't care. There was no way to guess at the reality of what he and Lionel had been doing when the crash had happened. "It was an accident, a very tragic accident."

"People tend to doubt the veracity of a man who stands to inherit billions and lead the LuthorCorp consortium." Lois pressed again, pushing further, as if sensing some sort of weakness.

"Lois," Clark interrupted, "This really isn't the time."

"Clark, I told you to stay out of it, I'll take the by-line if you won't do your job." It was said as a quiet, barely audible aside as she turned the brittle smile back on Lex.

Lionel had taught him well the proper tactics and techniques to distract a person; and where better to prove that he'd learned the lesson than standing before Lionel's grave. "I've always stood to inherit LuthorCorp, Ms. Lane, and my personal finances are certainly formidable when taken into account without my inheritance." He took a step towards her, slipping his right hand into his pocket casually. "There is no story here, Ms. Lane. That car accident could have killed me as easily as it took Lionel from this world."

"But the point is that it didn't, did it, Mr. Luthor?" Lois seized on that aggressively and that time Clark did move.

"Lois, stop now," he said, with a sharper edge to his voice than he had ever shown her before. "There is a time and a place and this is not it." Lois looked like a pet rabbit had savaged her.

"Get out of my way Clark... there's a story here, I can smell it."

"Then go ask the people who enjoy dishing dirt," Clark said firmly. "I'll speak to... Mr. Luthor."

There was a distinct atmosphere between the two of them and with ill grace Lois backed off. "Go get him farm boy," she said with a slightly mocking tone. "It's only your job on the line."

"There's no need for an un-called for tag-team effort," Lex drawled as he stepped both away from Clark and towards Lois. God knew why Clark was there, but Lex had listened well enough when he'd been told to leave the Kent's alone. He'd held up his part of the demand, and now Clark was there, calm and...

Whole. Fuck them both; sometimes one needed a proper diversion.

"I barely survived the crash, Ms. Lane. Would seeing my injuries convince you of the veracity of my mourning of my father? I've hardly just buried him, I just gave his fucking eulogy, and now you're hounding me. I'm not a murderer!"

"Your words Mr. Luthor," Lois gave a victorious smile.

"Lois!"

Perhaps it was the novelty of the sound of her usually mild mannered colleague actually sounding angry, but she actually did back off. "Fine, fine, I've got all I need here, for now," she said, and then smiled at them both before she stalked off.

Clark glanced after her and then turned back to Lex Luthor. "I'm really sorry about that Le... Mr. Luthor," he said, with what seemed to be genuine sincerity. "That wasn't appropriate."

'Seemed to be' being the main phrase that Lex concentrated on. Clark seemed to be genuine, but it was in all likely-hood a PR motion. Lex knew how that worked, but it didn't make the seeming sincerity hurt any less. He watched Lois as she stalked away, rather than actually looking at Clark yet. "It's a pity that the first amendment 'freedom of press' rights lack a clause requiring some semblance of compassion. Good day to you, Mr. Kent. I have no statement to give."

"Lex, it wasn't about statements," Clark said uncomfortably, "I only wanted to see how you were doing and offer... well, support I guess for what it's worth."

And where had he been when Lionel Luthor had, under heavy media mutterings disguised as coverage, languished towards death for two painful weeks before Lex had made his aching decision? Where had he been when Lex himself had been in pain, when he'd undergone those first lifesaving surgeries? When he'd gone to the funeral home and picked a casket for Lionel, when he'd selected the stone, when he'd put that final cutting end to things?

Nowhere. The only people there had been on his payroll.

"It's been years, Clark. Why now?"

"Because." Clark shrugged a little, a bit helplessly. "Because this is the closest I've been able to get to you in years Lex."

"It was your decision, Clark, not mine," Lex muttered as he turned away slightly, looking over to his inviting Benz. He was letting himself be driven off of his own family plot, yes, but it had to be done for a victory. Before he said something stupid, before he did something that just hurt more. "Reporting suits you well."

Clark looked shocked at his words, enough that he moved to stop Lex. "Are you kidding me? I tried. Look forget that. Lex, I know how important your relationship with your father has been for you. All I wanted to say was to offer my sympathies and to say perhaps... if you need someone to talk to or just be around, I'm offering."

As declaration of a possibility of a rekindling of a friendship, it lacked elegance, which perhaps helped; if it had been a ploy, then it should have been smoother.

Except that something smoother was something that Clark would have known Lex would spot as a ploy. So there was every possibility that it was still a ploy, a keen manipulation of the way Lex's mind had worked in the past. But eight years ago, Lex hadn't learned to keep his eyes on the ball. Madness and pain and isolation had been a sharp price to pay to learn lessons that his stubborn pride had refused to let him learn sooner.

"That's very kind of you." And it was. It tugged at something in his chest, as he looked back towards his parent's graves, the smooth marble memorials to lives ended too soon. "If your paper wants an interview, tell them to schedule an appointment with my secretary."

Clark nodded. "We'll do that. And Lex -- here." He pulled out a small business card, offering it. "If you should change your mind, just call."

Lex reached out, took the card with his right hand, and slipped it into his jacket pocket after a fleeting glance at it. Cell phone and office number, either of which he might or might not ever actually bother dialing. "I will. Goodbye... Clark." He started towards his car without so much as a backwards glance, letting himself limp to compensate for the pain of having stood, so still and so properly, for so long. He'd already disobeyed doctor's orders by standing while delivering the eulogy, and the family plot was vacant save for two sets of reporter's eyes.

Clark watched his move away from him again, seeing more than just the limp, seeing the truth behind the words of Lex's injuries in a way that Lois would never be able to see. He had tried to reach Lex over the years, only to not even get past the door. And to stumble over their own history time after time. His friend had been taken away and then Lex just never came back.

As Lex walked towards his Benz and paused to pull open the door, he had no idea that Clark was looking at him, looking through him. That he could see the experimental metal framework that shored up his shattered femur, the equally experimental prosthetic hand that was covered with expertly crafted silicone; that he could see the bandages, the bruises that were finally fading to pale green and yellow, the padding that protected his mangled genitals while they healed.

Lex merely opened the door, started the car once he'd slipped into the seat, and drove off in his modified vehicle. Ignoring possibilities like that, the possibility that Clark could know, was what made living day to day something Lex could do.

It was hard to be a creature of habit when that habit was still badly disrupted and impossible to ever return to, for all the wishes in the world.

Any time when he wasn't working was a one-sided tango.

Mornings were rough because he'd become accustomed to waking up with Lionel beside him, to kisses and passing easy conversation as they showered and dressed for the day to come. Now it was hollow, without anyone to talk with, without anyone beside him, with that hollow space beside him where Lionel should have been. He could feel the emptiness at the breakfast table in particular, so Lex had started to begin his workday earlier, taking breakfast in the office that had been Lionel's.

Mid-day was rough because there was no one to bounce his ideas off of over lunch and coffee, no quick rough sex in that familiar office. There was just... himself. He started to schedule business meetings over the lunch hour so he didn't have the opportunity to reminisce.

And evenings, the free hours, the weekends -- as few as there had been so far -- were like knife-thrusts to his heart. He could work late, but it didn't fill the routine of going to bed, the comfort of fencing with his father, of sport and relaxation and...

The interviewing reporter would be there any minute now. Lex sipped at his latte, powered down his laptop while he waited for her. After all, once he'd said that Clark would be a 'conflict of interest', there wasn't any question who they'd send up. He was still thinking over that card, letting it burn a hole against his chest from where it was tucked into the pocket of that day's suit; there was no need to mix business with what might become something like pleasure.

The bitch had probably taken a sedative before coming there, Lex noted as he spared an obvious glance to her legs, while he gestured for her to sit down. He didn't stand to greet her, despite that it would have been the most polite thing to do.

"I'm sure. Please sit down, Ms. Lane, and make yourself comfortable. Would you like any coffee?" he asked her graciously.

"That would be very kind of you, yes please," Lois replied, playing the astute game of reporters everywhere. Accepting a drink tended to make the interviewee regard you more as a friend then an enemy, and then they might just reveal that crucial something in a moment of weakness. "I have to admit Mr. Luthor, I was surprised that you might allow me back to speak to you. My methods are direct and I thought I might have alienated you at our last meeting."

"There is a lot to be said for learning some tact, Ms. Lane, but I have to admit that I was under duress yesterday. Since neither of us behaved properly, perhaps we should start over." He reached with his right hand and carefully pressed the intercom button. "Hope, send in a latte for Ms. Lane."

"Yes Mr. Luthor..."

"Unfortunately tact isn't something I've ever been accused of possessing, but likewise, I can roll with the punches that come my way," she said, making small talk to try and relax the man a little. "Shall we begin?"

"Of course. Start wherever you'd like," Lex murmured as he carefully, painstakingly folded his hands in front of him. There was no way she could notice his right hand wasn't real; the texture and tint matched his left perfectly, it moved so well... it just felt clumsy and wrong still. But the doctor said that with time and tuning, with new developments, it would feel like it had never been lost at all.

"Mr. Luthor, you mentioned something yesterday about barely surviving the crash yourself and injuries that you had sustained. Would you care to reassure the public as to the state of your health?" Lois asked in a carefully designed question. If he said he was fine, he would be undermining his claims that he had been harmed.

Catch twenty-two. But Lex could do both. "Peripheral injuries -- as you can see, I'm more than capable of doing my job, and any societal functions, as you saw yesterday. However..." Lex had gestured slightly with his right hand, and moved his left to reach into his sleeve as he talked. A little further than where he'd previously worn his wristwatch, and there was the lip of the silicone covering. He started to very delicately peel it back, going on, "I'm lucky that I have access to the best doctors in the world."

Lois was professional enough not to startle too obviously. Even so, when the fact that Lex had lost a hand was revealed she did appear to do a rapid reassessment of the situation. "Indeed. What can you remember of the accident Mr. Luthor?"

"Very little. I was sitting on the side that was struck, and my father was at the wet-bar pouring drinks. He started towards me, and I reached for my whiskey, and..." He paused, eyes dropping to his hand as he finished peeling the silicone cover off of gleaming metal that was almost aesthetic in nature. "I felt pain in my leg, not my hand. I never felt that go. And my father had the most horrified expression on his face. That's all I remember."

"He was facing you at the time?" Lois probed, "To what do you attribute the fact that even though you were on the side that was struck that you survived and tragically your father did not?"

"He... lunged towards me, and I leaned back at the same time." He could still see it playing in slow motion through his mind, the reality that made his words slow and sound saddened. "He ended up where I would have been; I was leaning forwards before. It could have been my neck that snapped. It was just... chance."

"Obviously a very traumatic experience for you Mr. Luthor. How do you feel about what has happened? Personally?" Lois found the soothing style awkward and not her own, though she made the effort. This was where she missed Clark; there was something about him that seemed to look right into people and get them to unlock their hearts as well as their thoughts. She had to say, that was one area where the 'farm boy' had her beat. And maybe Clark had gotten into Lex's mind and heart -- after all, she'd only been tapped for the interview due to what Luthor himself had called 'a conflict of interest'.

"I..." He hesitated, and took a long sip of his own latte. "I wish it hadn't happened. It was an accident, a sad one, but there are no charges to press. The driver of the other vehicle was drunk when he ran that light, and died on his way to the hospital. My father... was comatose, lost brain activity, and had a severed spine. There wasn't any hope for him. William, our driver, died of blood loss on the scene. It... There isn't much to feel about the accident, other than wishing it hadn't happened."

"How do you feel that you are coping in the aftermath of such a devastating event?" Lois asked, jotting down notes, and was mildly impressed that he knew the name of his driver for a start. She knew a lot of the elite who did not.

"I'm coping well; I've kept the various wings of LuthorCorp on track while undergoing surgeries and making painful decisions about what to do with my father." He twitched the mechanized hand into a lax position, and started to pull the silicone glove back into place over top of it. "It was three weeks yesterday since the accident."

"That is a heavy workload Mr. Luthor, I'm sure no one would think less of you if you took a hiatus to recover?" Lois half stated and half questioned.

"I'm sure they wouldn't, however -- I do enjoy my job," Lex drawled. His words sounded as sincere as they felt; work was filling a hole, albeit badly, that he needed filled. Ms. Lane didn't need to be aware of the details of how much work he was doing.

"What would you say to those people who have made unsubstantiated connections between your survival and your inheritance of LuthorCorp?" Lois said smoothly, as if she wasn't trying to imply that Lex was a murderer.

"There isn't much to say to them. Anyone who knew my father or myself knows that we had a close relationship. It's unthinkable to consider me capable of killing my father and mentor." Once the 'glove' was back in place, Lex picked up his coffee cup carefully with it, and took another sip. "He's been my best friend these past few years. I'm still half-expecting him to come in here and demand to know why I've missed our last few fencing matches."

A nice human touch. Lois nodded. "Are there many who do know you Mr. Luthor? "

"Our business associates, a few old friends... our respective staffs." It was semi-public knowledge that after Lex was released from the institution; he'd been reclusive when compared to the socialite partygoer that he'd been before. "Bruce Wayne and his associates. I'm curious, are you looking for people to vouch for my sincerity, Ms. Lane?"

"Not at all, just to provide their comments and perspectives on the events and how you are dealing with it," Lois replied, unabashed. "There was one time when practically all of Metropolis was lining up to say how well they knew you."

"They would have been lying then, as they'd be lying now," Lex replied smoothly. "Money draws sycophants, and I have no taste for the company of yes men."

"Your reputation proceeds you there." Lois said dryly, "Have you had opportunity to decide what direction you are going to go in from here? You and LuthorCorp?"

"The same direction I've always helped to guide it towards." Lex smiled, a sharp flash of teeth reminding her that the dozing young lion could be just as dangerous as his grizzled father. "Upwards."

"The sky's the limit?" Lois asked, smiling sweetly as she marked that as a quote.

"You could put it that way. But since we've created a satellite for the largest telecom company in Germany, it seems that even space isn't a limit." The smile slipped towards something more self-pleased, and Lex sat backwards in his chair, crossing his legs out of habit. Habit hurt, mentally and particularly physically in that moment, enough to stun him into momentary silence before he uncrossed his legs.

Lois noted the uncomfortable movement. "Mr. Luthor, there is a rumor regarding the circumstances of some of you injuries. I couldn't help but notice some discomfort to your movement there?"

He gave one final shift, legs spread beneath his desk to avoid any further pain -- thankfully not glass-topped, since that was his own preference and not his father's. "My femur was shattered, and there were... some shards of bone and metal," he dismissed. "Once more, it's a personal issue, and not one that affects my ability to work."

"So there is no truth to the rumors that you and your father were rather entangled when you were rescued from the car?" Lois was watching him like a hawk, though her smile remained fixed and pleasant.

He stared at her with shock that could only be perpetuated by the extremely guilty, or the startled innocent. "Excuse me?"

Lois was not the type to get embarrassed, and took a mental note to follow up on that rumor a little more closely. "Oh, just a rumor, probably from the people on scene. I'm sure there's an explanation for how you could have ended up... so crushed together. Force of impact perhaps?"

"I told you what happened -- he lunged at me, pushed me back in the seat." Lex took a slow sip of his coffee, watching her with that startlement still in his eyes. "It saved my life."

"But perhaps caused more injury to you?" Lois smiled again, "I think the fact that you were injured will go along way to addressing the unfounded suspicions of the general public. And of course, with either yourself trying to protect your father or he you by such a close embrace... well, the publicity angle is obvious."

"Is it? I'm afraid I'm not following you," Lex drawled as he set his cup down and leaned back in his desk chair. "It was an accident, and to be honest, I haven't given much thought to the actual step by step events of it. There has been more pressing matters these past few weeks."

"Of course, Mr. Luthor. Maintaining the market's confidence in Luthor Corp and dealing with the consequences of the tragedy," Lois replied, backing off on to a safe subject until she could lunge in again. "How do you feel you and the company are bearing up?"

"As I'd already said, we're doing well. When a founder and CEO dies suddenly, the grand plan is usually lost in the chaos that follows, the scramble to find a successor. However, the successor had already been chosen, and my father kept no company secrets from me. Every plan Lionel had for LuthorCorp and the various branches of it will continue as if nothing had happened." Lex relaxed as he said that -- it was obvious to both himself and Ms. Lane that he dealt better with work than personal matters. He was personally a badly cobbled together mess, but LuthorCorp was the thing he put all of his effort into preserving properly.

"And you yourself Mr. Luthor...what will the death of your father mean to you personally?" Lois said, tilting her head a little as she asked.

He was silent for a moment, lacking a pat answer to that. It meant he was alone again, it meant that there was a hole in his life, that the warmth and comfort was gone, that there was no-one to talk to, that there was no sounding board, that-- "I suppose what it means for all people who find that suddenly their parents are gone. I miss him badly, but I know that it's for the best. The state he was in wasn't anything close to living, and I know my father would not have wanted to be a vegetable on a respirator indefinitely. I'm certain that he's happy... wherever he may be, with my mother again."

Lois nodded knowing a good quote when she heard on, even if it didn't fit with her story profile plan, "What do you feel is the greatest legacy your father has left?" she asked, running through some of the stock questions. She didn't have the evidence to confront Lex with more of the "rumor" but she would go looking. Definitely.

"I personally believe it would have to be his charity work, but the most obvious is LuthorCorp. He started it from nothing but his brilliance and some unlucky money, and built it into what you see now. Metropolis as you see it was his city, something that created him and that he molded in turn."

"Would you say that description applied to you as well?" Lois asked shrewdly

Lex answered shrewdness with a sly smile. "I can only hope to match my father's accomplishments with this city, given time and opportunity."

"With your own stamp of individuality or with the characteristic Luthor flair?" Lois asked, pen poised to take notes, though the interview was being recorded.

"I think you'll find that I'm much less dramatic than my father. If he hadn't had a passion for Chemistry in college, I'm sure his Theatre minor would have been his major." Lex smiled that, a comforting memory for him in so many ways. Lionel had always been a drama queen. He'd always liked the show, the swirl of media, and the attention -- as long as he controlled it. So very photogenic...

Lex's eyes dropped momentarily to the picture of them at the skiing lodge. The Lodge's photographer had snapped it, and they'd cheerfully posed. Moments earlier Lex had hit a rock and gone tumbling ass over teakettle down the last few feet of the slope, so he was red-faced and breathless looking, with snow on his clothes, while Lionel was perfectly collected as always.

Thinking of it, Lionel always seemed perfectly collected even when his hair was sex tousled and his body was sweaty.

Lois gestured to the photo, noticing the drifting attention. "You had a close relationship with your father -- there aren't that many sons who would holiday with their parents past their teens." She flung the statement out there like a net, to trawl for information.

"I wanted nothing to do with him when I was in my teens," Lex told her honestly. "I had a checkered childhood, and I was a... an ungrateful son. Once I'd straightened my life out, I felt I should make up for lost time -- which I don't regret doing."

"It is fortunate that you had the opportunity for reconciliation," Lois agreed pleasantly. "Is there anything that you would have liked to have said to your father that you didn't get a chance to say?"

"I can honestly answer 'no' to that question." Which made him lucky, and made Lionel's death easier to deal with. "My only regret is that he's dead."

Lois smiled, "You hear of so many rich families that are screwed up, it really comes as a novelty to find one that seems so...idyllic. Which makes it all the more tragic of course, what happened. You obviously had a very special relationship."

The empty coffee cup was pushed aside lightly, and Lex crossed his arms over his chest with a slow sigh. "You're insinuating something, Ms. Lane."

"Not at all Mr. Luthor," Lois said smoothly. "Just commenting on the unusual closeness between you and your father. Most of your peers are at odds with their relations. I should know, I interview most of them and they cordially despise each other. Much as you appeared to when you were recalled to Smallville. I was curious to the secret of your success in that regard."

"Stubbornness," Lex laughed, "and a ruthless sense for business. My father wanted me to cut the employees by 20%, but that was only a temporary bandage for the spurting wound that plant #3 was. So I sat down with the plant manager -- Gabe Sullivan, who is still a very good friend. His daughter works for the Inquisitor -- and we went over what the superfluous costs were. We consolidated things, tightened up the way the plant worked, and the rest is history. Plant #3 is still the number one producer in the company. I learned that the people in your company were the important part, and with time my father eventually came to share my views. You can't run a successful corporation without people who are loyal to it, and have reason to be loyal."

Lois knew a well-rehearsed speech when she heard on but it would make for a good article. "Of course. So you clashed over a philosophical point initially?"

Lex, if he had've known, would have been offended to think that his very off the cuff opinions were rehearsed. But he didn't know, and so answered her question in a timely manner. "And over my rather obstinate, idiotic personal choices. I was going full-out with rebellion at the time."

"Which according to my notes came to a rather abrupt halt?" Lois probed.

"I shocked myself back to reality," Lex shrugged. "When a man hits rock bottom, the only direction left is up."

"Very true Mr. Luthor," Lois agreed silkily. "And Smallville is of course, rock bottom in anyone's estimation. There were concerns about your mental health for a while I believe? Hopefully that won't be an issue now will it?"

"Not at all," Lex deflected easily. "After my ex-wife tried to murder me, my mental state was entirely understandable -- the board of directors was advised of my mental health eight years ago when I was released from the hospital."

"And as yet, I believe there has been no trace of your ex-wife." There was an insinuation there somewhere but practically every other word with Lois was an insinuation of some sort.

Lex was growing both tired of it and strangely accustomed to it. "It's a shame. I would have liked to see her serve jail time," Lex smiled at Lois.

"I'm sure you would. Understandable, really considering what she did. I assume that this experience has given a healthy fear of intimate relationships?" Again there was a hint of... something.

"I've been burned a few times -- all of which have been well documented in your own newspaper. I've taken a break from the heiress of the week scene since Helen." He lifted one eyebrow a little, peering at her with a brilliant, sharp smile. "Have you seen my secretaries, Ms. Lane? Hope and Mercy?"

"I have indeed. Very... ah, nice and competent I am sure," Lois replied, wondering at the aside.

Lex threw his red herring at her with a sly smile. "They're gorgeous, Ms. Lane. I'm not the sort of man to have a public relationship and cheat with my secretaries on the side. I just stick with my secretaries."

"Both of them?" Lois practically glowed at the thought of that as an exclusive, for all the fact she didn't believe a word of it.

Lex just shrugged with his eyes, and drawled, "No comment."

Taking a hit with a lie was less painful than taking a hit with the truth. Mercy and Hope were loyal to him, and it wouldn't bother either of them. The safest route with reporters was always the red herring, and a smokescreen of tolerable scandal to hide the real issues. It was a tactic that served him well even as he politely and firmly rounded up the interview and got another reporter out of his life, at least for now.

Clark had been deliberately NOT asking Lois about the interview. The excuse that had taken his name off of the roster had seemed to him just another reinforcement that it had been both Lex and Lionel who had rejected his attempts to contact his one time friend. In a strange way it was like facing that feeling of being rejected all over again, and he was angry with himself for regressing back about eight years when Perry broke the news to him. Of course Lois had been like the cat that got the cream and insisted on dragging him along to do the "follow-up" interviews.

And talking freely about the interview without Clark's prompting.

"I tell you, Smallville, he's swearing he hasn't been affected by what happened, but he let plenty of juicy bits fall."

"Uh-huh," Clark replied not looking at her deliberately. He held out for a credible amount of time before he had to ask, "Like?"

"His sickeningly perfect relationship with his father -- there's something not kosher there, believe you me. And I think he tossed me a red herring about his secretaries when I started to ask why he hadn't made the social pages in years and years. A juicy rumor, but not likely." Lois was chipper as she talked and drove, glancing over occasionally at Clark.

"What do you mean by not kosher?" Clark said, playing on his reputation of naivet. He did know; there was something about being able to see through walls and have superhearing that meant he was more educated in that respect than anyone would credit. But Lois liked to play sophisticate to his farmer type and as yet, she hadn't connected him and Lex at all. That he knew of at least.

"Well, they used to fight like cats and dogs, right? It was pretty well known that Luthor younger hated Luthor elder. Death threats, the whole nine yards, maybe an actual assassination attempt or two. They kept it in the family, and thus very hard to report on. But there were always rumors. Lex gets committed after a countywide manhunt, having apparently been hid by some farmer's kid. Steps out of the mental institution, and he's like peanut butter and jelly with his father, and moves back to Metropolis. Heck, he moved into Luthor Towers. Tell me, Clark, how that's kosher at all."

"It is a ... little screwy," Clark replied, nearly wincing at the mention of 'some farmers kid'. He'd taken the fact that, in his paranoid delusion, Lex had managed to seriously hurt his mother by accidentally pushing her out of the loft, to heart. The back injury had been serious enough that, for a while, no one was sure Martha Kent would walk again. But, his Mom never let anything like that stop her and had gone on to make a full, determined recovery.

And there had been nothing from Lex.

He'd just disappeared and when he came out he went to Metropolis without even showing his face in Smallville again. Considering what he had seen, Clark hadn't known whether to be hurt or relieved.

"Maybe it was the intense therapy," he suggested. "Having to talk out his issues or something."

"Bet he had a lot," Lois smirked. "He's got a pretty recent looking photograph of Lionel and himself at some ski-place, all buddy buddy. Do you take vacations with your parents, Clark?"

"Well no." He didn't take vacations as such. "But that's not really weird is it? Come on Lois, you've obviously got some angle on this. Spill it."

"We're going to visit an EMT who was there when they pried the Luthors out of the wreck," Lois drawled. "Neutral location -- this sort of seedy bar type place. Lex says that just before the crash, or maybe during it, Lionel lunged at him and pushed him backwards, that Lionel Luthor was coming back towards him from the wetbar. This EMT has a different story. I want you to handle him."

"Any particular reason why you don't want this bit of the scoop?" Clark replied, looking at her sharply. It was never a good thing when Lois handed him an interview.

"Because I like the idea of you being employed. Anyway, you're more of a... people person than I am. I need you to tell me if this guy is lying or not," Lois smiled over at Clark. There was a gleam in her eyes to match the gloss on her lips in brightness. "He says that the Luthor's were engaged in sexual relations when the crash happened."

"Lex and... Lionel Luthor? Together? You are kidding me?!" Clark didn't have to feign the shock at that revelation.

Dear god it could be true. He'd seen it, in the hidden injuries.

"According to the EMT, it's the honest to god truth. We'll get his full story soon, but apparently Lionel's head was in Lex's lap, and there were genital injuries. I watched Lex cross his legs today and his eyes nearly fell out of his head for a second." Lois took a right turn onto the parking lot of the bar -- a brilliant neon sign declared it to be the Parliament House -- still grinning to herself.

"You can't put in print a story like that Lois, not if you don't want the Daily Planet to have its ass sued off, unless there is more than a rumor," Clark said cautiously. "This isn't the sort of thing you can just speculate on, couched in reporter-ese."

"Which is why we need an eye witness account," she drawled, while backing into a parking space. Watching Lois park was always a harrowing event for any passenger. "Care to tell me about this 'conflict of interest' that got you excused from interviewing him?"

"Uh, no?" Clark tried following up the rejection with a disarming grin. "Just some old history Lois. He doesn't much like me, that's all."

"Really? I didn't know you'd ever met him." She put the car into part, pulled out her keys, and popped her door. "C'mon, Smallville."

Clark got out of the car slowly. He wasn't looking forward to this but on the other hand, he needed to know what the deal was with Lex. Would that explain why he'd never come back? Or made contact. What had Lionel Luthor done to him? Perhaps he was just hopelessly clutching for the proverbial straw to find an excuse that would let Lex off of the hook. That was much more likely.

They entered the bar and it was typical of its type. The lighting was bad, the music a twitch too loud and all in all, the ideal place to meet someone and not be too noticeable. Lois trailed behind Clark, but waved to a fellow in the darkest corner possible. He waved back, and with that, Lois grasped Clark's arm and started to pull him forwards.

The man had sandy-colored hair, looked to be average height, decent build, and a quick glance over proved that he had no weapons or listening devices on him. One small mercy, at least. Clark allowed himself to be led and then took a seat in the dim light, "Hi... uh, you've spoken to Lois earlier?"

"Yes," he nodded, and inclined his head towards Lois with an easy smile. "So you'd like to hear my story?"

"Any information would be welcome," Clark said nodding, "We would very much appreciate it."

"Right. I guess... where do you want me to start?" he asked, half-watching Clark and Lois settle into the same side of the booth.

"How about from when you took the call?" Clark asked matter of factly. In other words, he wanted it right from the start, so there was a full picture not just misleading snippets that could trip them up later. "Your impressions on reaching the scene if you don't mind?"

"Okay. Jake and I were on our way straight from the hospital when the call came -- we were a fresh shift, so there was no way we were groggy." He shifted his hands on the glass between his fingers. It was just a coke, so the guy was probably sober, too. "The fire truck was already there when we arrived, and they'd cut the door off on the opposite side even while they pulled the car out of the other side with a winch. I climbed in through the opposite side to assess the victims, and... There was blood everywhere, and the younger Luthor was making a god-awful noise. I'd make that noise, too, if someone had chomped down on my bits."

Clark nodded as if he wasn't mentally wincing at the image, "Were they actually... well you know... when you found them? "

"When we removed Lionel Luthor from the scene, I had to lift his head up and off of his son's groin. It looked like they were hit while he was, you know, going down on him. It looked like the only reason why Lionel Luthor wasn't beheaded was because his son's hand was right at the point of impact on his neck. We found Lex Luthor's hand amazingly cleanly severed on the floor."

That bit of news probably should have surprised Clark, but he didn't show it. He was becoming more practiced in hiding his true reactions to strangers. "I'm just playing Devils advocate here... or more like a prosecution lawyer when we get sued for this," he made it a bit of a joke, "But, couldn't it have been a coincidence? Jostled into that position by the car being hit?"

"That what I wanted to think," their informant admitted, "But Lionel Luthor had a cock in his mouth, and the other Luthor's pants were down to his knees. That just doesn't happen normally, does it?"

Clark frowned a little. Not much leeway for interpretation there if the man were willing to swear to it. Fuck. "Was there anyone else aside from yourself who could corroborate this?" he asked carefully.

"Jake, and pretty much everyone who was on that run from the Fire department. They were engine 11. You can ask any of them." He looked back at Clark steadily. "Most are too scared to say anything."

"And you're not?" Clark asked softly, understanding what he was saying. The unwritten rule of Metropolis: annoy the Luthors and don't bother making any long term plans. "What prompted you to come forward with this?"

"Dunno. Civic duty?" He shrugged his shoulders. "It just seemed strange, and it's not the telling of events that's made it into articles so far."

"No, perhaps not. If it goes into print then we will be facing a lawsuit, guaranteed, and that will mean sooner or later you would have to testify to this. And perhaps several others, otherwise it will come down to your word against them." A good lawyer could rip an eyewitness account apart in moments. He'd seen it done and Lex was always going to have the best of the best. And Lex wasn't seeing anyone apart from his own medical doctors so there would be no... physical evidence to back it up, not by the time it got to trial. It seemed solid, but because there was a Luthor involved it was as shaky as hell.

And for once, Clark found a part of him that was glad.

"I'd testify. I'm sure some of the others would, if it were needed."

Lois put a hand on Clark's knee beneath the table, and squeezed a little as if sensing his discomfort.

"Would other medical professional corroborate your assessment do you think?" Clark asked, for once ignoring the fact Lois had touched him without prompting.

"I think... yeah. The nurses who saw them before the Luthor's personal doctors swooped in like some sort of swat team."

Clark nodded again slowly and deliberately. "Thank you for your assistance," he said, his thoughts flying over all the implications of this simple bit of information. "It has been very revealing, certainly puts a different complexion on things."

Lionel was a fucking bastard. With the emphasis on the 'fucking'.

Clark could almost feel the concerned weight of Lois's eyes on his face, then the squeeze of his knee again. "Thanks Ted -- here, if you can just write this down. We promise to do our very best to not reveal you as a source, unless there's a court order."

Their contact nodded and then jotted down some notes quickly on the piece of paper provided, "Here we go. Pretty simple when it comes down to it," he said as he passed it over.

Clark looked at the piece of paper with deep misgivings, with half a mind to fry it there and then. If not for the fact there were people who might possibly regard THAT as a bigger story than The Incest of the Luthor's. And the prime representative of those people had just been squeezing his knee.

Maybe he could convince Lois that there needed to be more meat to the story than just that on sensational fact. A full out expose -- oh god that hurt to think of -- so they wouldn't seem as trashy as, say, the Metropolis Star or the Inquisitor when they printed the 'scoop'. He could convince Perry of that. After their editors own experiences with the Luthors, he would be cautious.

"Okay -- thanks for talking to us. You have my card?" Lois asked as she stood up.

"Yep -- thanks for listening."

Clark nodded and shook the man's hand before he turned away, his unease showing in every step as he preceded Lois out of there, wanting some fresh air badly. It explained too much about his one time friend, which in retrospect he could see clearly and felt the hot sting of associated shame for not recognizing it for what it was and helping him. But was it child abuse or incest? Subtle but profound difference.

When had it started? Was it... no, the man hadn't been lying, it was true as far as that man knew.

"Clark?" Lois didn't walk until they'd left the bar behind them, until they were standing beside her car. "You okay?"

It wasn't like Lois to notice whether he was or not, so from that he concluded that he must be reacting badly. "I... uh," he hesitated, "I really don't know Lois. I don't like this story. We could be heading into a whole heap of trouble. And... I'm not sure how ethical it would be to run it."

"We'll run it past Perry. If something that un-kosher is going on, there might be more. Maybe we can start doing a full story on anything Lionel Luthor might have been up to," she suggested, looking even happier at the thought. "Still, makes me shudder thinking of it."

"But it's not Lionel Luthor who's going to have to face this. Is it? " He went silent a moment. "We'd be treading a fine line of malicious intent Lois."

"Clark, the public has been lied to," Lois soothed as she opened the car door. "About what happened. The ethical choice rests on Perry about what to do with it. Our job is to find out. Investigative journalism remember?"

"I suppose," Clark said disconsolately. "A truth that does no one any good though, is not the sort of truth that needs to be shouted from the rooftops."

Let her think he was scared. He was; not for himself, but for what this might do to Lex. Even after all these years, he still thought there was a chance for reconciliation if nothing else. A distant chance, and in pursuit of his career he was about to ruin everything.

"Which is why we need to find a way to do more investigating on the matter," Lois murmured. "Maybe confront Luthor himself with the facts."

Which was probably sensible, and good reporting procedure; Clark didn't know if he wanted in or out on this one. "We'll see what Perry says," he replied again, with a sigh. Perhaps he wasn't hardball enough for this game after all. Or perhaps it was that he knew Lex and what this could do to him better than anyone.

"Okay, okay." Lois gestured a little vaguely as she started the car, and then pulled out into traffic in a harrowing movement. "I've never seen you so touchy before, Clark."

"Sorry Lois." He apologized automatically. "Just that bit of history I mentioned earlier, okay? Nothing important."

She cleared her throat as she took a right turn onto the main road. "Okay, so... why don't you start explaining this 'bit of history'?"

Clark went silent a moment even as they headed back towards the office. It was relevant and the moment she started digging deeper she'd pick it up anyway. All it would need was for her to archive dip a little deeper and find, well, even the original "billionaire heir saved by Local student" would give it away. He sighed again looking for the way to break this in the least painful fashion.

"Guess who the farmers kid who hid the mentally disturbed Lex Luthor was Lois?" he said eventually.

"Y-oh. You?" She glanced over at him for what had to be far too long to make her a safe driver, before shifting lanes. "You're kidding me."

"No. I'm not." Clark glanced out of the window a moment, the memories of seeing Lex hidden that way, bloodied and hunted still fresh to his perfect recall. "I used to be one of his friends. Well, maybe his best friend in Smallville anyway."

"Thus the 'conflict of interest'? Just how well did you know him?" Okay, her driving was pretty bad, but it got worse when she was looking at him more than the road. Someone honked at her, which resulted in the window being rolled down, icy chill outside or no, and her shoving her finger out at the person.

"Pretty much, since as part of his escape Lex accidentally injured my Mom. Seriously injured her. I thought I knew him pretty well. Afterwards, I wasn't so sure."

"Did it ever seem like he could possibly be sleeping with his father?" Lois snerked.

"He loathed his father when I knew him," Clark replied seriously cutting Lois' attempt at humor dead. "If he was it wasn't willingly. Lionel Luthor was a bastard through and through." That statement was all the more shocking because of the fact that Clark rarely used any swear words at all, at least not where people could hear them

He was... a farm boy. Sweet, mostly innocent, a goofball. Lois stared for a moment, before easing off the gas. "See. That's a story. Damn, I can't let myself get it to print without more information."

"Not everything is a story Lois. There were some truths that came out. I don't think even Lex knows that his psychotic incident had been drug induced. He was being poisoned. Then he was taken away and...." He looked out at the streets of Metropolis. "He returns as Lex Luthor, the dutiful son."

"Sounds like a story to me," Lois prodded a little. "Drug induced, you say? So you were close enough to him to know that?"

"We were friends. I saved his life on his first day in Smallville. I was... fifteen or sixteen and he went off the bridge into town. I dove into the river, dragged him out of the car, gave him CPR and he didn't die. Otherwise I would never have crossed paths with him I guess. With me still at School and all. My mom worked for LuthorCorp for a while as well. Look, it's a complicated thing, but basically for a while I was pretty close to him. A couple of years maybe and then -- and then nothing."

"Huh. And then he came to Metropolis, and... pretty much was always the shadow by his father's side." There were wheels turning in Lois' mind, and Clark wasn't sure he wanted to see them. "Why don't you try calling him up?"

"I tried for years, Lois. Calls, Letters, emails even. Nothing." Clark looked at her, unaware at how many of the years of that continuous rejection were showing in his expression. "The odds of him picking up now after 8 years aren't good."

"Suspicious, suspi~icious. So, retell me this. You saved his life and the two of you're just... what, clicked? Young millionaire and small-town high school kid? Pretty weird."

"Well, he kinda helped me out by cutting me down off of the Scarecrow." Clark smiled a little at that recollection. "I got uh... hazed. Crucified up on a scarecrow pole and left there and he cut me down. Maybe it was the fact we had nothing in common that was the reason why we 'clicked'. I've often wondered. He used to give me advice like an older brother would, you know? You've often gone on about me and not dating Lois; you want to know why? My high school and college years were such an unmitigated disaster that I still get flashbacks."

"That's because you were getting dating advice from a Luthor," Lois winked. "And that particular Luthor was at one time known in the society pages as 'Dating another murdering bitch' Luthor."

"Yeah." Clark gave a half laugh. "I was best man at a couple of those weddings." Meant to be one at another. He'd always wondered if what had happen to Lex had somehow been down to him not being there.

"Best man? Okay, now you have to tell me all about that..."

And the rest of the ride to the office was like being pushed through a sieve for this fountain of information that Lois thought she was hitting. It was only half of the story, though.

She didn't need to know any more than pieces at a time, until she did some real research on her own.

Getting off work at 8pm left Lex with just enough time to return to the penthouse and have an excuse to not start the tiring duty of cleaning the place of his father's things.

There just wasn't time, was there? There was time for him to make himself a light dinner, and have a small drink, put the news on as background noise while he surfed WebPages. Perhaps it was a little egotistical to look for message boards about himself, but it was fun to start flame wars that ended up engulfing the theories that struck too close to home for Lex to leave alone. A little poke there, a reference to fascism here, and the whole page went up in fire.

It still didn't make up for the fact that his routine was missing.

They should have been together, either working or talking. Lionel liked to have him near in the evenings and he liked the familiarity of it all, the security that the routine of living left. There would be a meal, drink and then if his father was in the mood, some sort of entertainment. It didn't seem to matter exactly what it was; it left him with a glow of satisfaction and comfort.

It was... a good life, and it had made him happy. Now he was listless, even though he had the soothing weight of responsibilities to keep up with. Work was all right, work was good, work... was something he could do by himself. Being home didn't work.

There were three stories of silence in which he was living, alone but not alone because his father's things were everywhere. When he went to sleep, his father's dressing gown was still thrown over the back of the chair. When he showered, his father's shampoos were still in the bathroom they had shared. When he ate, there was still the other chair.

It shouldn't have been empty.

"Fuck it," Lex sighed, just to hear a noise other than the muted ramblings of twenty-four hours news.

Everywhere he looked there was a memory. Some were better than others of course. Sometimes there had been things that he hadn't been particularly keen on doing, at least to start with. He could remember saying no, and his father's beard tickling as he leant to whisper in his ear. "Don't you want to be Daddy's good little boy?"

And somehow that no always became a yes.

It wasn't always bad, was it? He loved his father, and Lionel had loved him, and that was all he'd ever wanted. That was what he got, that praise, that teaching and help, and he did things... for Lionel, to Lionel, with Lionel. With people they knew. Friends. With...

He closed his eyes tightly, and searched for a moment over the laptop's keys with his left hand so he could depress the 'sleep' button. Lex had to find something to do to quiet his head.

He could... what? Go out? That filled him with a certain amount of muted fear and revulsion. And what would he do when he was out there? He was too hurt to do anything and too lost not to reach out. He could talk perhaps. Right now he'd even welcome a conversation with that reporter.

He might even welcome a conversation with... anyone.

There was that card Clark had given him. The card that had burned a hole in his jacket all day, right against his chest. Maybe, maybe Clark had given it to him for a reason. Maybe it was time to call. A sign from God or whoever it was up there that was watching the world as it spun day to day.

Lex pushed himself out of his chair, and strode over to the closet, brushing aside his father's coats to grab the suit jacket he'd worn that day. Just inside was... yes, that card.

Even if it was the expected bitter recriminations, even that would be better that silence. He couldn't stand this aimless silence. Before he'd always known what he had to do and he'd had a purpose. There was a lot of security and comfort in having a purpose; worth putting up with the occasional unpleasant requirement. He'd been content. There were a lot of people who couldn't say that.

Could you have too much of the absence of something? The absence of the sound of a life sharing the same space?

He picked up a phone hesitantly as if he expected it to burn his hand. Phone and card juggled in his good hand, Lex made his way over to the sofa and ticked the volume of the TV down a few notches. Dialing was an equally careful thing, one finger of his prosthetic extended to gently tap each number before he held it up to his ear.

Office phone first. Then the cell phone.

The office phone came up with nothing, but the cell was answered promptly with a very familiar voice. "Clark Kent, hi."

A few different tones to it maybe, but without seeing him it wasn't hard to imagine the Clark he'd known. Lex let the awkward silence hold for a moment, before he murmured, "Clark, evening. It's Lex."

"Lex, hey." There was evident surprise in his voice, and Clark obviously had to turn down something in the background. "That's better, I can hear you a better now. It's good to hear from you. How... how are you doing Lex?"

Christ. Why had he called again? There had to be some plausible excuse, but there was nothing coming to Lex's lips. "I'm doing... decently." Horribly. He swallowed, closed his eyes and concentrated on Clark's voice. "I figured since you gave me your card I should call you back."

"Well to be honest I wasn't expecting it" Clark replied cautiously, "Considering."

"I know. I'm sorry about that." It was easier to apologize over the phone than it was in person, easier because he didn't have to see the hatred on Clark's face, or whatever emotions Clark felt towards him. The old big huge smile was easier to remember.

That and the way the car had wrapped around Clark the last time he'd seen him.

There was a slight sigh. "Lex, it's okay, really. I gave you my number in case you need someone to talk to, or help or anything, I'm not going to give you a hard time."

Clark wasn't making it any easier to talk to him. Placating, as if things hadn't ever gone sour. Maybe it was some special Clark ability, to forget past sins with such ease. But he laughed a little, brushing that offer away. "I just thought that... maybe we should get in touch again. Would you like to do dinner sometime? Or maybe coffee?"

"Sure. Any time" Clark was trying not to sound too eager. "You uh, got any time in mind? "

"When are you free?" Lex shifted on the sofa, eyes still closed. If it weren't for the faint static Clark's phone was giving him, he could imagine it was a whisper in his ear, no matter how awkward the words were. "My schedule is fairly open."

"Well, now?" Clark gave a slight laugh. "Or pretty much most nights. I get teased by Lois and the others for my lack of social life."

"I'm sure that with her... ravishing personality, Lois just can't find time to fit in all of her social events," Lex sneered a little. It was good to hear Clark laugh, even a little. "Not right now. I should probably start clearing out this place tonight or soon. But what time do you get off work?"

"I can be out by six thirty," Clark replied with a hint of concern, "Do you need help with that Lex? I can't imagine that's going to be a pleasant task."

No, it wasn't going to be a pleasant task at all. Clark wasn't even going to be a helpful voice of experience on the matter, since Martha was... alive, last Lex knew, and Jonathan, too. Them and their happy fucking little farm, whose deed he'd bought and given to them as a gift. "To be honest, I don't even know where to start. Everywhere I look there's... something of his."

"Maybe by choosing a few items for friends of his, or business acquaintances and give it to them?" Clark suggested ,"Mom did that when her father died. Meant a lot to the people that got the gifts and made them feel better that they just weren't getting rid of things." He had no idea if that were a good idea or not, but it was something to say.

Lex was silent for a moment, but he finally nodded to Clark's words. "That sounds pretty viable to me. Maybe if I start there, it'll seem less overwhelming. You know, when I was in Smallville, I never thought I'd be doing this."

"No?" Clark queried, "Your father had a few close calls there, like you did Lex. There was more than once when you could have lost him then."

"Things were different then." Lex had lived in the mansion, which was his in the entirety, and his father's things were in the penthouse, it would have just taken a browsing through for Lex, taken perhaps a few boxfuls of things with him before he had the rest packed up or sold.

"True, they were," Clark replied soberly, "Make sure you keep the things you really want to, but you might want to think about, I don't know, making it your place? Everyone needs somewhere which is their own."

Lex laughed quietly into the phone, eyes still closed to better listen to Clark's voice. "Clark, the Penthouse is my own. I'm afraid I'm not following you."

"I thought you said everywhere you looked was something of his," Clark replied awkwardly, "I know it's yours Lex, but it might be easier if you don't have the things there to remind you, or if you want to keep the things, redecorate or something. Move stuff around. That sort of thing." Clark offered the advice, while considering the unbidden whispering speculations his day at work brought to him. How willing had he been? He missed his father, that much was obvious.

The Lex of before had once confided that he'd debated about saving Lionel's life in the hurricane. And there had been the time where Lex had been suspected of shooting Lionel. Yet now... "Yeah. I'll think about it." Then Lex fell silent, before murmuring, "So. How has life been treating you, Clark?"

"Not bad. Made it into journalism after all," Clark replied, "Lois thinks I'm too soft for the street journalism, but I think I'm partnered with her to try and pull her back a little. Hope she didn't savage you too much today Lex, she was out of order at the funeral."

"She was," Lex agreed. "Memorial service. The Funeral was a few days earlier than that. And she wasn't so bad in the interview. I was expecting it then."

"She's uh... relentless," Clark replied, "In reporter terms that's a compliment, from your point of view it probably means something you won't like. Most of her interviewee's come out feeling like that." How much of a hint could he drop? A damn big one if this might be his only chance to do so.

"It probably would have been easier for you if I'd been the interviewer."

"Conflict of interest," Lex said easily. "I can't give an interview to an old friend without seeming nepotistic."

"An old friend who you haven't spoken to for 8 years," Clark couldn't help pointing out, spurred on by a twinge of hurt. "That would stretch the definition a little."

It made Lex go quiet. "Well, it isn't as if you tried to contact me at any point in those eight years."

"Are you kidding me? I tried calling, I tried writing. I even sent emails to LuthorCorp's general contact address for your attention. I was very firmly told that you were not available to take my calls. Well that was the polite version, I had much less subtle messages on your behalf. That's why I didn't think you'd call me. Does that mean you didn't get Mom's letter either?"

His mom's letter? As if after what he'd done to her, she'd write him? How could he know if any of that was true? Clark could be lying, lying for the purpose of...

Lex didn't know. "I didn't receive anything." So if things had been sent, attempts made, who had thwarted them?

There was an exhalation. "Well shit. Looks like we have further to go than I thought. I thought that maybe you, uh, well that it was reaction to the last time we saw each other." That he was alien -- did he remember that? That he left him to be taken in to Belle Reeve Institution and the tender mercies of them all.

"We really need to talk about this in more detail Lex. Something's not right here."

"So I gather," Lex murmured dryly, but almost coldly as he listened to Clark's waffling words. "Care to do coffee tomorrow? There's a Starbucks across the street from the Daily Planet." He knew, he could see it from his office window.

"If you want to be so public, sure," Clark replied.

"I'd just like a chance to catch up with you, Clark." Public was fine -- public meant neutral territory and neutral conversation, so Lex could assess if it was going to work, or if he should just give up and abandon hope.

"Okay, you want to give me a call when you're ready to meet or say a time now?" Clark asked

"Seven? I don't usually have my work wrapped up until then."

"Seven I can do," Clark replied, betraying his eagerness with his quick agreement, "No problem."

"Great." Lex drew one leg casually up to his chest, his good leg that had the comfortable range of motion. "I guess I'll see you then." Only he didn't want to hang up the phone; but he couldn't exactly tell Clark about the hollow, echoing silence of the penthouse. After all, being alone had never been a problem in the mansion.

"I'll look forward to it." Clark rounded off and then paused. It was an old skill, one that had been dormant in a long time but it came whispering back to life even after all these years, "Are you sure that you're alright Lex? Really?"

Lex had always given Clark the verbal equivalent of a smile and a nod. But there was silence, then an un-assuring, "Yeah. I'm managing."

"I'm just a phone call away if you need me," Clark replied, pushing again at those defenses in a familiar, painful way.

"I'll keep that in mind. Good evening to you, Clark." Lex hung up quickly, telling himself it wasn't nervousness that had made him do so with such speed.

Though if it wasn't nervousness, he wasn't really sure why his hands were still shaking. Maybe he needed a drink. Fuck the fact he wasn't meant to with all the medications. He was alone again.

Lex abandoned the phone and card on the middle of the sofa, rubbing the palm of his left hand agitatedly against his hip as he walked away. No, he wasn't nervous, but he did need a drink, or maybe... a shower. Or just to sleep. Something simple, because he'd already spent too much time awake for one day.

His father had been right. He was a survivor, but he'd never said anything about how much strength it took just to be normal after such a catastrophe. For a long time, Lionel had been that strength, so how did he go on without it?

Badly, it seemed. Lex decided that he could take small comfort in the artifacts of his father's life when he showered and went to bed, as long as he didn't stray from that routine. It was just like as if Lionel had gone on a business trip.

A very long, permanent business trip. But he had to be strong, because that was what would make his mother and father proud of him. Lex paused just outside of the bathroom, and carefully removed the prosthetic. He could be strong as long as he took things day by day.

The day seemed to crawl in the office of the Daily Planet as Clark looked at the clock for the thousandth time. Not even the occasional averted disaster did any more than divert his attention for mere moments. Would Lex stick to the appointment? Or would he look an idiot sitting in Starbucks just waiting for nothing? It had been a rough day, with Perry grilling him mercilessly about his past with Lex Luthor, getting progressively more thunderous by the moment. Lois, on the other hand, seemed to be assuming the official verdict would be to go for the story and was already digging up information.

Clark had endured her teasing about some of the archive stories and with relief he escaped the office with ten minutes to go, taking his time so he would arrive just before the hour. He looked around even as he entered, prepared to wait if necessary.

It seemed that he wouldn't have to wait at all. Seated in the furthest corner of the comfortable coffee house, Lex had a large cup of coffee clutched in his hands and was effortlessly driving people away from him with the hunch of his shoulders and the ice in his eyes. He didn't even seem to see Clark when he entered the establishment.

Clark got himself something to drink and then headed over, looming suddenly by the table. "Mind if I join you?" he said with a slightly hesitant smile.

Lex glanced slowly up at Clark, and cracked a small smile. "Not at all -- sit down. I arrived a little early."

"Not too early I hope." Clark sat down carefully and looked at the other man. He looked tired and still had that hidden air of pain. "I ducked out before I could be used as a researcher any more."

"Researcher?" Lex twitched one eyebrow as he lifted his venti whatever it was to his mouth and took a slow sip. Still too hot. "For what?"

"Lois. She still treats me like the office junior on occasion." Clark deliberately misinterpreted the question. "How's today been for you?"

Painfully long. Slow, and full of sparks of memory and thought. Morgan Edge had come to talk to him, and while he once would have enjoyed the verbal sparring, it felt... painful and inappropriately aggressive. "Decent. I actually wrapped up my work sooner than I expected."

"Nothing too stressful I hope," Clark replied, "That's the last thing you need right now."

For his kind words, Lex gave Clark a tight, tired smile. "Clark, I appreciate being in communication with you again. But your platitudes wear on me."

"They always did." Clark smiled a little, accepting the push back easily, and replying with a blunt forthright approach. "Sorry. Habit I guess, though the concern is sincere enough. I'll tone down the platitudes, if you tone down the stoic exterior."

The grimace Lex gave wasn't affected. "I'm glad we're starting out on the right foot again, Clark."

"What, the one I usually manage to put in my mouth?" Clark replied, as he studied him carefully. "I don't want to screw this up, but if you want the Clark who said the things that maybe you didn't necessarily want to hear then, you've got him. "

Of course. Of course Clark had changed with time. It was unfair of Lex to expect him to be the same almost innocent farm boy he'd been in Smallville. Unfair of him to expect Clark to play along with his personal games of pretending certain things hadn't worked out the way they had.

"Well, then I guess it depends. If this new Clark Kent as good at lying as the old one?"

Clark looked up from his coffee direct into Lex's eyes. He knew. He definitely knew. He could see the shadow of memory in the blue eyes, flickering darkly.

Fuck.

"Probably better," he said softly, holding true to a terrifying decision he had promised himself if a second chance came his way, "But not to you. If you give both the new and the old a second chance."

"It sounds like it could be an even deal, since I'm not quite the Lex you used to know." Lex held Clark's gaze, a tiny spark of triumph dancing along behind his eyes.

"But it's not something I'll talk about here Lex. " Clark said firmly, "I may be pleased to see you but I'm not stupid. Well... look, don't answer that last bit okay? It's a relative thing." He gave a slight grin, nervous and a little shaky. He knew. Lex knew.

"I'll believe that." Lex gestured with his coffee cup, almost smiled. "Why don't you tell me what you've been up to since we last talked. High school through college."

Clark smiled and took him through the more prosaic parts of his High School and College career. He touched lightly on the fact that his Mom had managed to defy the medical odds and get herself back and walking in those years, that the whole thing with Lana had seemed to spark into flame, and then had gone horribly wrong with the same sort of fascination and compelling drama of a soap opera in the making. How despite all that, he'd done really well at school -- so had Pete and Chloe -- and he and Chloe had ended up going to Met U.

Where she then proceeded to ruthlessly stalk him down and yes, eventually catch him. Which had turned out to be a really bad idea as well. Because it seemed that Chloe was one of those who only wanted things she couldn't have and he had discovered that after 6 months she was sleeping around on him. That she wanted the ideal and the mystery, and the attraction faded when he was hers.

And another ugly scene later, and it was just as well they were interning at different papers as that would have been very awkward. How his interning quietly impressed Perry White, for all of his willingness to repay his favor to the young farm boy who had put him back on the road to success. How it was good to finally be told that actually he did have a talent for something else that was just him. And how a few risks, a few good pieces to prove himself and he landed himself a job offer... which meant he was secure.

All this was told in the classic Clark fashion, slightly self-mocking and endearing in tone, with frequent checks to see if his listener had fallen asleep.

But Lex listened intently. The cock of his head was attentive, the way he slowly drained his coffee down as he watched and listened to Clark.

Clark, despite apparently claiming to be a different Clark entirely, was still... Clark. Maybe less naive, but Lex had always wanted to break Clark of that innocence. It was just a pity that he hadn't done so with his own hand.

"I'd always wondered what Chloe had against the Daily Planet, you know. I'm glad to hear that life's been... good to you, Clark." Good to him with nothing but Clark's own hard work. No shadowy helper working behind him to cast suspicions over what Clark had done with his life, for good or for bad. If he'd stayed friends with Lex, would it have been the same?

"Well, its had its moments," Clark replied a little evasively, "I haven't gone into the boring detail obviously, but it's had ups and downs, and uh, there's probably been more ups on the whole than downs. How about you Lex?"

"I've been vice president of LuthorCorp for a few years now." Before... Before the accident that had changed everything, but Lex had earned that position with hard work. "Lucas died in a motorcycle accident two years ago -- slid under an 18 wheeler. I own my own lab now, separate from LuthorCorp -- S.T.A.R.R Labs. Other than that, I've been studiously maintaining the Status Quo."

"I'm sorry about Lucas, Lex." Clark did sound regretful about that. " But it's good that S.T.A.R.R Labs is your own project. Doing anything interesting in there?"

The merging of the fledgling LexCorp into LuthorCorp had been swift and almost designed to leave no traces of its existence. Clark was starting to suspect in retrospect that something very strange had happened to Lex. But that in a strange way there were parts of him that hadn't been wiped away, that showed there was a part of him that was himself. And that was the confusing thing. If that was the case, had he chosen what had happened between him and Lionel or not?

"Everything and anything that catches my fancy," Lex smiled, a smile that actually touched his eyes. "They've made a few things privately just for me, but... the big one we're going to market is the LeXWing. And it's an actual acronym, not just egotism." He winked then, and seemed twice as much the Smallville Lex as he had just a few minutes before. "Oh, and uh, somewhere between Smallville and here I started to take flying lessons. I'm really a decent pilot."

"You're kidding? What about the whole heights thing?" Clark asked, smiling back immediately. "And what the hell is a LeXWing?"

"After the two plane crashes," Lex drawled, "I figured it was damn well time I learned how to pilot a plane. Some anti anxiety pills, and once I got the hang of the basics, I got over my fear of heights. It's been pretty miraculous." The edges of Lex's mouth quirked. "I'll show you a model of the LeXWing some time, Clark. Have you ever seen a Stealth Jet?"

Clark nodded. "Yes, on occasion." Up close and personal as well, though the military hadn't been pleased to have Superman knocking on the canopy of one of their Stealths and giving the pilot a friendly wave.

But then, when you were a 'Superhero' you had to take your amusement where you could.

"They have nothing on the LeXWing for speed and maneuverability," Lex grinned. "The Government says they'll buy from me after I launch the first solid prototype."

"Close to doing that then?" Clark asked, interested. He grinned back , pleased that they seemed to be slipping inexorably back into their easy talk, "Are fast planes going to become your new obsession?"

"Fast planes and artificial intelligence," Lex told Clark easily. "Obsessions keep a person busy."

"I'm always surprised you have time. I can remember wondering if you ever slept when we are Smallville," Clark recalled.

"I got plenty of sleep, between clashes with the natives, arguments with my father, and dating killers." Lex flashed Clark a smile as he started to stand up. There was a slight unsteadiness to the motion. "I always wondered when you had time to do homework, between your own romantic endeavors, and... clashing with the natives. Hey, I'm going to get another cup of coffee."

"Lex, look, I can do that," Clark said looking at him with concern. "You should be taking it easy."

"I pay my doctors hideous amounts of money for the pleasure of ignoring their advice. Don't tell me I could do just as well ignoring your advice, for free, Clark." Lex smiled almost wickedly, then turned to walk away and back towards the short line to order another coffee.

Well he should have known that wouldn't work. And it hadn't even been a platitude. Still.

"Lex? Get me one too?" he called out, glancing around the place automatically as he did so.

Lex gave him an easy thumbs up, and Clark had a few minutes of time to himself before the other man came back with two cups of coffee. One seemed to be gripped a little too tightly, and there was a delay in letting go of it once Lex set it on the table. He pushed it towards Clark with the back of that hand, his right hand, while taking a sip from his own. "There. I got you a mocha -- hopefully you still have the same drink tastes that you used to."

"Still like mocha," Clark admitted looking at the hand. "How's the hand doing?" he asked a bit bluntly, but Lex wanted honesty, so he got it

Lex glanced down at it, and spread the fingers in a relatively natural gesture. "Better than I expected. It still needs a lot of tuning, and I need to get used to it." The answer was working on the assumption that Clark knew, that Clark knew already that he'd lost his hand, when the only person he'd ever told about it was Lois. For an article that hadn't hit print yet.

Curiosity got the better of him and Clark reach to touch the prosthetic, fascinated with the complex electronics and functions he could 'see', and completely oblivious to how intimate the move would look. "You get sensory information from it?"

Cool blue eyes watched Clark as he stroked and touched the prosthetic. "Not a damn thing. A little pressure, but past that... It's a miracle that I can even gauge pressure. It's wired quite well."

"Yeah, I would expect nothing less. There are some things that allow nerve conduction, I've read. I did an article on a guy who was experimenting in the dynamic translation of electronic signals to nerve impulses, using a sort of bio-cybernetic interface. " Clark replied looking up at him a moment, "He's not well known. It was one of those quirky human interest pieces that Perry asked me to do, but looking at it, he had something going on there."

"He does have something going on," Lex agreed. "Professor Emil Hamilton, isn't it? He's always looking for funding that allows him to do the things that make him happiest. S.T.A.R.R Labs gives him some funding in exchange for..." Lex curled his fingers up beneath Clark's hand, almost a clasping motion. "A few things."

"That's the guy." Clark nodded, "And there was my not so helpful tip."

"I know Metropolis inside and out," was the drawling reply. Lex shifted his fingers again, stretching them out. The silicone glove felt like real skin, textured and painted exquisitely -- except that it was cool to the touch. "I used to think I did before, but now... I truly know it inside and out."

Clark raised an eyebrow at him. "That sounds like it has a few stories attached to it," he commented eventually lifting his hand away from Lex's. "I could remind you that I'm not uh... 16 any more if that helps?"

"Are you trying to imply my remark was censored for your ears?" Lex raised an eyebrow slightly, but his mouth was still curling. "It's just that I've learned how to really work the social circles, and how to pry brilliant hermit-scientists out of their lairs. It's sort of like the trick where you tie a 100 to a string and pull it along."

"You enjoy that?" Clark asked curiously, "It's just that you haven't been really socializing for a while. Well, not obviously."

The edge of Lex's mouth tugged down for a flicker of a second -- so Clark had been trying to contact him, and watching him? It didn't seem... good just then. And Clark had never been easy to throw off the trail of something. "Not the big events, no. They've never really interested me."

"You used to hate them." Clark observed even as he sipped his coffee. "With a passion."

"When you're trying to make a new business contact, you'll do just about anything," Lex drawled, "Including going to a social event, hate or no. I used to hate heights, too, but I got over it."

"Yeah, me too," Clark replied absently. "So am I safe then, Lex? You've been giving me that assessing look."

"Have I?" Lex half-saluted Clark with his coffee cup before he took another slow, slight sip of it. "I suppose that I have. It's been years, Clark. I'm amazed to see what has and hasn't changed. You're smarter than you ever let on in Smallville."

"I was distracted, not stupid Lex. So what has changed? And is it for the better or worse?"

"For the better, I think. You're not... distracted. You've certainly matured." Lex's mouth quirked upwards. "I don't have to remind myself any more that you're just a teenager."

"I think you probably wanted to put in the word 'naive' in there Lex," Clark replied amused. "College years were an eye opener. You can hear city life described all you want but until you get here.." He shrugged, "Steep learning curve."

"I'd warned you about that, didn't I?" Lex sat back in the chair, relaxing finally. "You didn't fuck up the way I did, did you?"

"And screw up the scholarship and Mom and Dad's investment?" Clark shook his head. "Alcohol does nothing for me really, or drugs and Chloe was all the trouble I could handle on that front. Well, aside from a bit of reactionary uh.. flings after it messed up. "

His experimentation phase, if only a light dabbling on the wild side of things. Interesting, but he'd never found anything 'genuine' in the experiences. "Came out with good results and a job offer."

More than just 'good results', but he hadn't quite lost his inherent self-effacement.

"Working for one of the most 'reformed' editors in the city, in the most prestigious paper," Lex agreed. "How is Perry White?"

"Still obsessed with Elvis," Clark replied smiling. "I call him 'Chief'- - I think he likes it. Got a few others doing it now too." His smile wavered a little, as he recalled their conversation of the afternoon. He could end up being thrown off of the story completely or enmeshed in the heart of it. He hated that sort of dilemma.

"That's good to hear." Despite that Lex had almost choked Perry to death in the mansion when they'd clashed, despite that Lex had loathed the man in Smallville. "Does he still have it out for the Luthor name? No, don't answer that -- conflict of interest. I'd rather be ignorant."

Clark shifted uncomfortably, his expression still sometimes painfully easy to read as he wrestled with an internal decision. "I... may fall foul of that conflict of interest thing myself," he said slowly, glancing up at Lex guiltily.

"Fall foul of it?" Lex cocked his head, eyes suddenly sharply focused on Clark. Did he know?

"Yeah. Uh, shit. Maybe this isn't the place to talk about this," Clark said, rubbing the back of his neck, their comfortable atmosphere dispelled in a moment by that incautious phrase.

"Maybe not," Lex agreed. "Why don't we go someplace more private? We could go to a restaurant I own, or the Penthouse, or my office, or..."

"The Penthouse maybe?" Clark suggested. It was the most private place out of the entire selection. "If that's okay. "

"Sure. It's not far. Do you have a car, or would you rather walk?" Lex acquiesced easily, just as easily as he would have taken the suggestion of going back to the mansion in Smallville.

"Walking will be fine," Clark replied, not liking to admit he didn't bother with cars in Metropolis. "It's not that far - shall we go?"

Lex took his coffee cup with him when he stood, apparently not finished. Then he set it down on the table, and took a moment to button his short coat up with some effort. "You're going to have to pardon the transitory state the place is in."

"I'll cope," Clark replied with a faint smile, but the worry still marked him. "My place is no palace."

"Just where are you living?" Lex finished up with his coat, and picked up the coffee again. His right hand was tucked away into his pocket, and with the 3/4 length coat it was hard to even see that he was limping somewhat, that his gait was of.

"Run down apartment building. Nice big place. I've been doing it up," Clark replied as he kept pace, and made sure he opened the door for Lex as they stepped outside into the night. He hadn't realized they had been talking that long.

It hadn't felt that long, which was a good sign for them both. Lex let Clark open the door, expression gracious for a fleeting moment. "Doing it up as what?"

"Somewhere livable?" Clark smiled slightly, "Without leaks or collapsing joists or floors."

"You weren't kidding when you called it run-down," Lex chuckled. "Reporter's salary that good to you?"

"Living the high life Lex," Clark replied dryly, "Reporters who aren't big names don't get big wages. And I'm not a big name -- yet. Lois is further up the ladder than I am."

"She's been at it longer," Lex pointed out as they paused, waiting to cross the street towards the daily planet. Then a left towards the LuthorCorp building, and Luthor towers were just one more block down. "My father called her bloodthirsty."

"Vampires would probably second the motion," Clark replied, with a sort of affection and hint of horrified respect people in his line of work adopted when talking about Lois Lane, "She's very good at what she does and has had to fight hard all the way. There are times when her eagerness to get a story is terrifying."

"As her partner, I'm sure you're well aware of that." Lex wasn't looking at Clark as they crossed the street, but instead looking at the timer that was beside the walk signal.

"Mmm hmm. I'm the anchor to slow her down some," Clark answered even as the light changed.

"Has it worked any?"

"Sometimes," Clark replied, smiling. "It's partly related to what I need to talk to you about."

"So I guessed," Lex said without smiling at all. "I don't even want to know how she plans to justify any article about me..." They took the turn towards LuthorCorp then, Lex's gait turning more unsteady but also more determined. It would be something they could deal with openly once they got to the penthouse.

Clark was about to help him, and then stopped realizing how patronizing that might seem. "It's not too bad on your leg is it?" he asked belatedly.

"It's holding up fine." Lex finished off his coffee, and paused only once they'd crossed the street to discard the cup in a trash can. "And it's not much farther."

"Uh huh. Good." Clark paced along side him, noticing the looks of people around them on the street. Lex was a recognizable figure after all.

Famous, or possibly infamous. Lex slipped his other hand into his pocket, and his gait noticeably pulled back together as he concentrated on it. It hurt like a knife to not limp, but the feeling of eyes on his back was palpable. "Do you remember the penthouse?"

"It was a long time ago," Clark answered. "You've probably changed it since then."

"Not me." Lex shrugged his shoulders as they neared the tall glass and metal doors of the Luthor Towers. "There are some newer things. I'll have to see if you still have security clearance." Probably not.

"Uh, I doubt it Lex," Clark said, thinking of all the times his attempts at contact had been rebuffed "Considering."

A grimace flashed over Lex's face. "I know. Given circumstances, probably not."

"Don't worry about it Lex. We'll deal with it," Clark replied as it was Lex this time that dealt with the doors.

He swiped a key card first, then headed towards an elevator towards the back of the lobby. "Stay close," Lex admonished, "Or you'll set off an alarm."

"I'm close, I'm close." Clark grinned and he was close enough to feel the warmth of his body. "I don't want to cause a ruckus."

Lex didn't react badly to that, but then again, he'd always allowed Clark into his bubble of personal space. "Mercy and Hope could very well snap your neck," was the mused answer, "So it wouldn't be much of a ruckus at all. They live one floor below the penthouse. It's always good to keep your security close."

"Gee, thanks for making me feel at home," Clark replied smiling, but also reassessing what Lex might know. He had to be careful here. Either there was something different about Mercy and Hope, or Lex hadn't made the connection between him and Superman.

"It's a fair warning. I don't want you... overestimating yourself should something happen," Lex drawled as he paused in front of the elevator, and tapped a sequence into a keypad. That didn't open the doors, though, no -- a hole opened, and like something out of the movies Lex had always had a soft spot for, a retinal scan started.

"Do we get to raid the vault as well?" Clark joked a little, though he understood the reasons why Lex had this here.

"Wrong building," Lex drawled, only half a joke. The doors opened, and Lex straightened up to step into the elevator. "But you knew that, right?"

"Ahhhh yes." Clark smiled, stepping in with him as they were smoothly whisked upwards. "That's in the offices."

"Edge told me about your breaking in skills," Lex murmured as he leaned back against the elevator wall. "Back during your 'wild' days."

Clark winced a little at that. "Oh yeah? And what else did he tell you?"

"Roughly everything he knew about you." Lex shrugged his shoulders again. "I dislike the man, but he was my father's closest friend." A closest friend whom he argued with often, and had occasionally tried to kill. This was deemed something like familial affection in the Luthor world view. It had almost made the man an honorary uncle.

"I can't say I'm overly fond of him myself," Clark replied. Lex couldn't know that it had been Edge that had drugging him. Surely he'd feel more than dislike if he did, or they would have found Morgan Edge floating in the Metropolis docks. "What did he know?"

"The properties of your blood." Lex paused when the elevator doors stopped, and stepped outside of them and into a rather decorative hallway. It seemed very... Lex, actually. Dark wood and a historical feel. "Other things."

It definitely made Clark uncomfortable, much like one of those anxiety dreams where you suddenly realize you are walking around naked. "Don't torture me Lex, please... just tell me what you know. Please?"

"I know you're Superman," Lex said easily. "I know what can hurt you." But he hadn't, and he was sure Lionel hadn't either because it benefited the city. It was for the best. "Edge never figured that part out."

Clark hadn't realized how tense he had been holding himself until that moment and the way he exhaled. "You know, I thought that was part of the reason you never spoke to me after that last time.

"Where the car bent around you? It was fascinating," Lex told him as he walked through the hallway, starting to unbutton his coat as he walked. "No, I didn't contact you again because... I crippled your mother. And what you told me when it happened..."

Clark shook his head, having never considered that as a factor, "Wait, what did I tell you?" He was wracking his brains for the answer, looking through his memories. He had been upset it was true, but they hadn't known then if she was even going to survive to start with. The fact he hadn't lashed out physically spoke volumes for his connection with Lex, but he had verbally. "I... remember being a bit upset."

"With reason," Lex murmured as he paused at what looked like a normal front door. He pulled the pass card out again, and keys. Very safety conscious, the Luthors. "You told me... a lot of truths that I didn't want to hear. And you also told me to go away and leave your family alone. I went. And then when I was heading towards Edge's, looking for him, and that car tried to run me down, I thought it was happenstance that you stopped it. I thought you only did it because you wanted revenge yourself."

Clark grimaced a little. Stupid, it was difficult to see how others perceived past actions. Good intentions didn't always appear that way to others. They appeared cloaked by the fears of others.

"I'm sorry Lex, I... was a scared stupid kid. I panicked over Mom and then when that crisis was over I panicked over you. I was already there, confronting him, but he beat the crap out of me and left to go after you and I managed to pull myself together in time. He had a rosary of kryptonite beads and... look, there's no good way to tell you this, seeming as you still know him. Uh, what do you recall about why you had the mental disturbance?"

"I recall... being very paranoid. Psychotically paranoid." Lex finished opening the door, and let himself and Clark in to the entryway. "Here, let me take your coat."

For a place in a 'transitory state', the Penthouse seemed quite settled, quite lived in. Perhaps more lived in than Clark could remember it having been when he'd visited with Lex for a weekend that one summer. Everything looked more used, from the sofas to the tables, to the door handles. Lex opened the closet door to hang up his coat, and there were six other coats, four of them clearly a different size, made for a taller man with a different build.

"What if I told you that you had reason to feel that way?" Clark replied cautiously.

Lex put both coats away, and then closed the closet door. "It's been eight years, Clark."

"This is important Lex. It's where it went wrong." Clark insisted, "I panicked about you, because... because we discovered that you were being drugged. The whole thing happened because you were being drugged. By Morgan Edge. That's why I was there. That's why I managed to push you out of the way of the car. He said something about you... knowing too much, I don't know what, but something important. You had something on him but I wasn't really thinking about anything aside from the moment then."

No, there was no way that Edge could have done anything to him without Lionel's consent, and that... that was just impossible to consider. Lex's jaw tightened as he looked at Clark, watching his expression. "I think I convinced you of my delusions, Clark. There's no way that he'd do anything to me without Lionel having known, and there is simply -- it's unthinkable for me."

Clark just looked at him, hating himself for doing this but not able to keep his promise to be truthful without it. "Your bodyguard told me, and Edge told me as well," he said simply. "He said something about your father not wanting you killed but he had no such qualms over it. I should have known you didn't remember that. "

Arguing, denying what Clark was saying was so much easier than actually thinking about it. "No," Lex bit out as he brushed past Clark, away from the wall that he'd half been using as support. "No, you're lying -- That's not true! I should have known you'd only contact me if you wanted to stir up trouble! Fuck. I've left you and your family and friends alone, haven't I? Hasn't that been enough for you?!"

"Lex, Lex, please stop, you don't want to hurt yourself," Clark said anxiously, worried that the truth had been too much, too painful to absorb. "I promised I wouldn't lie, I'm sorry, but it's the truth. I don't want to hurt you... but something happened to you then. Maybe I'm selfish, because not all my friends were left alone then. I lost you and I didn't know why!"

"You didn't know why?" Lex didn't turn back to look at Clark, just headed out of the room and away from Clark. His study, he'd be fine in the study, and there was a bar in the study, which was an added benefit. "You 'lost' me because you didn't come to see me in the fucking nuthouse," Lex called over his shoulder as he stormed off. "And by the time I got out there was nothing left for me in Smallville!"

"And I couldn't get there to see you because I was fucking sixteen, my mother was semi-paralyzed, my father tore strips out of me when I did try, and every time I disobeyed and went there I was told you were in isolation and then all of a sudden you just weren't there any more!" Clark responded with some heat. "I tried Lex. Short of breaking in and tearing you out of there, which believe me, I nearly did, I didn't know what else to do!"

"You broke Ryan out." Lex was hunched over the bar by the time Clark caught up with him, fumbling open a decanter of vodka. Fuck the nice stuff, he didn't need nice stuff, medications or no, even as his emotion twisted from anger into self-recrimination. "But I know. It's my fault, I... I was sick, I hurt your mother, I've suffered the consequences, I'm sorry."

"Ryan I could find. You were so buried in there." Clark swallowed, seeking desperately for a way to breech that defensive taking of responsibility. "Lex, listen to me, I never wanted revenge, I never wanted to make you suffer, neither did my Mom! If you'd received her letter, you'd know that. It wasn't your fault, she knew that; I knew that. I was out of line to say otherwise but, hell, I felt guilty enough about it myself. You were drugged Lex, Mom's accident was just that... an accident, okay? I was stupid and idiotic and I lashed out when I should have held on to my anger at myself. I'm sorry, really sorry."

Lex took a sharp swig as he suddenly straightened up. It burned his mouth and made him want to choke, but he took a few swallows before setting the decanter back down. "I'm sorry, too. It doesn't change anything. I... I've been happy. I was happy before the accident, everything was fine..."

"Was it Lex?" Clark challenged, watching him carefully. "Really?"

"I know what you're thinking," Lex declared shakily, still not... quite looking at Clark. He didn't have to look at him to know what his facial expression was, to see the careful judging eyes. "Well, you should know what I'm thinking. Who the hell are you to show up out of the blue and question the way I've been living?! At least it was something, which is more than the whole god-forsaken town of Smallville ever gave me!"

"Lex..." Clark swallowed a moment, astonished by the flood of guilt and shame he felt for himself in that moment, not against Lex. Guilt for letting Lex vanish from his life when he could have put aside his own hurt and forced his way into his life again. He could have done it, but he'd allowed the rejection to cripple him. "I hoped it wasn't true, for your sake. But I'll tell you who I am -- I'm your friend. And that sometimes means being the one to tell you things you don't want to hear. I have no reason to lie to you, no matter what you think. "

"You're a reporter," Lex bit out as he finally turned to look at Clark. He could only hope he didn't look as hurt as he felt. It was as if Clark had found his one weak point, then slid a butcher knife into it, and was currently jiggling it around for shits and giggles. "This is for your story, isn't it? For Lois' story. My 'unusually' close relationship with my father -- great topic, isn't it? You don't want to hear about the sex, Clark. You're still to young to hear about that."

"Will you just stop a moment?" Clark begged, stepping closer, taking the hits and anger, "Why do you think I asked to come here to talk in private? I'm risking my fucking job to WARN you Lex. Yes, there is a story, and despite my best efforts, it looks like they have enough to run with it! I've never backed away from the truth in a story before, but though I still believe it should come out, I don't think it should be to the public. I can't... I don't want you hurt like that! That's all I wanted, to drop you a hint, a warning word to tell you that the Planet will be moving in on this story no matter WHAT I come up with. I don't want it!"

It pushed Lex into shaky silence as he leaned back against the Bar, almost resting there. "Well. Fuck." So many things had been 'dropped' by Clark. The idea that Lionel and Edge had worked together to get him to that... point, to where he was just then. That he had tried to contact him, and now...

Lex swallowed, straightened himself up and tried to pull together. "Would you like a drink?"

"For all the good it will do, I think yes," Clark replied, equally worn around the edges from the unexpected emotional purging. "Shit. This wasn't my idea of how to broach the subject. I think I've regressed about a decade in tact."

"We both have." Lex twisted, picked up two glasses with his right hand, and lined them up side by side before he splashed a healthy amount of brandy into both with the bottle he grabbed in his left. "Well, it was nice having a career while it lasted. Long live freedom of the press, hmn?"

"It's not like you to give up on something," Clark replied looking more worried now than he ever had before. "Lex?"

The older man twisted, and offered Clark his glass with his right hand. "In the past two, almost three weeks, I have lost my mentor, lover and father in a gruesome accident, my right hand, and the ability to walk properly. I don't consider what went on behind closed doors to be anyone's business, but I'm sure once that simple revelation is made, the other pieces about... things I've done will fall into place. Oh, and you arrive back in my life out of the blue to tell me that I didn't really go crazy, I was manipulated there by the person I've trusted the most for almost a decade now."

He kicked the drink back the moment Clark took the glass from his right hand. "I'm not giving up. I'm in shock."

"I know. I'm sorry. Really." Clark felt terrible about being the one to break all those sets of news in such quick succession. He was terrified he might have accomplished what he had set out to stop. He might have shattered Lex to pieces with the truth, and the least of it was HIS secret, in a rather bitter irony after all these years. "Sit down Lex, and lets try and think of a way around this."

Despite his earlier snarl about Clark telling him what to do, Lex listened, and moved to sit down in one of the engulfing study chairs. They were very much like the ones that had been in the mansion's library, and Lex slumped in contemplation of his glass. "The Daily Planet will print it. Even if I can find a way to discredit whoever the source is, there..."

"They won't print it unless there is physical evidence to back up their word, not matter what Lois wants. We're not the Inquirer," Clark said with a hint of pride.

"That would require me complying to some sort of physical examination. Which I wouldn't do even if I were innocent," Lex bit out.

"But if they had one of their reporters words for it..," Clark said slowly, a rather radical idea prickling in his thoughts.

"Edge could come out." Lex didn't seem to catch Clark's implication, or if he did he didn't' want too. He looked worn and ragged, staring into his glass so intently.

"Then there needs to be no evidence. If you knew what it was that you got him with before you could stop him," Clark replied. Morgan Edge was a complication he did not want to deal with.

"Clark. I've... done things for my father. Things that kept covered by mere threat of his existence."

There was a long pause of silence, the words holding the weight of a confession that encompassed a crime that would horrify and ostracize. A curl of dread and tension stretched outwards from Lex to Clark, daring him to try and accept this part of him as well.

"Tell me?" Clark asked softly even as he gulped back the alcohol himself, and took hold of that thread of the connection between them.

Lex toyed with his empty glass, twisted it in his fingers as he let his eyes close. "It's been a day of revelations, hasn't it? Might as well finish it all off. I... did things when he asked me to. To, with other people. Friends of his, businessmen he wanted swayed. He was always there, whispering, goading me on..."

The tragedy was that Clark should have been shocked by this revelation, but he wasn't. It was all too Lionel a thing to do. All the revelation brought was no amazement, or shock but just a deep and overwhelming sorrow. "He used you Lex. I'm sure he loved you in his... own way, but he used you." Clark murmured almost sadly. "He did something to you when you were locked away. You hated him before then, right up to that moment I saw you and then when you came out you were everything he wanted you to be. Can you see that? Knowing that you wanted me to be there, knowing that I tried and failed and was lead to believe that it was your choice that I was being pushed away... someone didn't want your old life interfering." There was no judgment for what he had done in Clark's voice, just a thread of that painful sorrow that it had happened at all.

Lex rubbed at his temple, leaving the glass tottering on the chair's arm. "Christ. I... I need to think on this. It's too much."

"I'd leave you to think but, I don't think we have enough time." Clark pointed out.

"So... lie. Go back to your office and say I'm fine, say whatever you think would work." He kept his eyes closed, trying to think of how to head off the OTHER avenues. The businessmen would be silent, since it would hurt them as much as him. But Edge...

"I can't lie," Clark replied shaking his head, "You may recall how bad I am at it. Lex, do you trust me?"

The silence that followed that question wasn't a good answer. Finally Lex shifted up from the depths of the pillowy chair, and heaved a sigh. "I might as well."

Clark supposed he deserved that. It hurt, but he deserved it. He could have saved him back then and he hadn't, so what right did he have to expect trust? Even a grudging trust was a gift he didn't feel he deserved. "You're right, I owe you a lot to pay back for what I said and not being around. No matter the reasons, facts are facts. " He swallowed against emotion. "Lex, even Superman has secrets. I could get you healed so there is no trace of injury. "

"I... is that even possible?" Clark hadn't seen the injury; hell, Lex didn't even like to look at it, because that would involve inflicting more pain on himself than the ever present dull ache.

Clark nodded. There had been occasion to test it, and he knew what he could see with x-ray vision could be fixed with comparative ease. "You might as well know all my secrets. I could heal that injury, it's up to you about the others right now, but I'm pretty sure it maybe be able to grow back the hand, though I don't know how long that will take. Then it won't be a lie. I'll just have to say that I saw you naked to Perry and there wasn't a mark on your genitals." He gave a hesitant smile.

"A veritable fountain of youth," Lex murmured. "Unfortunately, how would I explain my hand? Your partner knows about it, and to be truthful, it absolves me of... suspicion of murder."

"Then we leave the hand," Clark replied shrugging, "For now. Would that work?"

"I believe so." Lex levered himself out of the chair, slowly. "How should we do this?"

"Well, lets just say, I'm glad you've gotten over your fear of flying," Clark said with smile, relieved at the agreement. "You might like to put on something warm, though I understand that it stays warm close to me. I'm not sure why. We're going to take a quick trip."

"Will I be blindfolded?" Lex asked seriously, as he moved to the edge of the library. It was clear that it wasn't just Lex who had been living there. There was a pair of reading glasses lying on the shelf nearest to Clark, narrow and gold-rimmed.

"No, but I doubt you'll see much of the journey," Clark replied, noting that and other details. "We'll be moving fast, okay? Won't take long, I promise."

Lex wanted, momentarily, to ask how fast, and where, but... he was going to a Fortress. The Quintessential Superhero Lair. So he shook his head a little to himself as he moved to the closet again, to dig his coat up once more, and Clark's as an afterthought. "All right."

"I think I'll dispense with the costume performance for once," Clark said, taking the coat, "Unless you really want it." He looked around to the balcony. This was not what he intended, but he owed Lex. In his own mind, he failed him then and 8 years of guilt was a hell of a debt to pay off.

"You'll have to pardon me if I want to pass," Lex murmured as he pulled his coat on. "There's a balcony off of the bedroom."

"Okay." Clark was trying to sound calm but he wasn't really. The Fortress was somewhere where he could let go, and was intensely private to him. But then, in their mutual blurting out of secrets which seemed to have been abscessing all that time apart, and then disgorged in a mess of festering emotions, there was no one else who knew the secrets in the same way as they now did about each other. Perhaps Lex would hate him, but if there was something Clark was determined to see happen, it was the chance for Lex to be his own man and make his own choices, free of anyone's hold.

It was down the long hall and at the end, so Clark had quite a walk before he actually reached it, and Lex... was taking his time. Nervousness probably.

The bedroom itself was something that would have fit in at the mansion, perhaps a touch more modern in nature. The bed had been hastily made; Lex's pajama's were folded neatly atop one pillow, a dressing robe hung off the back of the far door, beside yet another robe. Lionel's things were easy to spot: a hairbrush on the dresser-top, a few different kinds of cologne, a shirt over the back of one chair, an abandoned pc laptop on the corner desk, a notebook and landline phone beside it.

It wasn't as if he hadn't known that Lex would, could and did sleep with men. For all his apparent innocence he hadn't been completely clueless. Occasionally jealous, but not clueless.

But his father....

'Love is love' his mom had said after he spoke to her during his college years about his own experimentations. And perhaps he could have accepted what happened between Lex and Lionel if he was sure the whole thing had been about love. But he was afraid, afraid for Lex's sake that it hadn't been. Not really. It was hard to believe it could have been; particularly after Lex's halting, sighed admittance to 'doing things' for his father, with other people, with Lionel goading him on. The vague description couldn't possibly give credit to whatever the reality of it was, and Clark wasn't sure he'd want to know the gory details.

"I haven't gotten around to cleaning," Lex murmured as he strode into the room. "If you move the curtains there, the balcony is pretty simple to unlock."

Clark nodded and did so, fiddling with the lock a moment until the French window doors swung open, and the chill of the night air swept in to disturb the air in the room. It was beautiful out there. The lights glittered like stars skimming over surfaces of metal and glass all around them as the city hummed with life. "You ready?"

Lex finished buttoning up his coat, and stepped up beside Clark with tenseness in his back. "I'm ready, Clark."

Clark stood and rather self-consciously opened his arms. "You're going to have to, uh hold on. Well, I'll be holding you, actually."

Lex's mouth twitched a little as he stepped closer to Clark. "You say that as if I'll have a problem with it."

"Well." Clark flushed a little at that. "I... uh..." Great. There went that 8 years experience again.

A moment's more pause, before Lex stepped up against Clark and slid arms around his neck. "Let's leave?"

Clark nodded just a little, not trusting himself to speak just then. That was the real reason for not going as Superman. He could hide nothing in that costume. Just then he certainly had something to hide. He wrapped his arms around Lex carefully, as if he was fragile and willed them right up into the sky, punching up through the cloud cover and pausing a moment to orientate himself. The scene was of unearthly beauty, a fantasy made real in sculptures of clouds, diamond dust stars sparkling on a velvet night and the moon sharp and clear. "You okay?" he asked softly.

"Can't... hard to... breathe," Lex admitted after a moment, as he looked out at the scene. Extremely hard to breathe, as if he'd stepped out of an airplane at 20000 feet. Chokingly thin air, but what a price to pay for such a beautiful sight.

"We won't be up here long. Brace yourself," Clark replied looking at the stars for his bearing. "Here we go." And it was a blur. He'd never tried the limits of his speed. There was a point where it got difficult and he'd never breeched that barrier. For all he knew it could be like someone getting into his stride but he wasn't going to risk Lex with experimentation.

The boom behind them as they passed the speed of sound was always satisfying and he was glad that whatever it was about him that seemed to protect him from the g-forces extended to people or things he held close.

They accelerated, a streak of motion unseen in the night, the dim shape of land vanishing away from them and ocean spreading out even as he pulled Lex closer unconsciously, as his thought considered the crashes he had endured into deep water.

Flickers of white appeared beneath them, solidifying into the vast expanse of ice and snow that was Antarctica. He dropped low then, beneath any possible scanning equipment and swerved and careered through the crevasses, around glaciers, the call of the Fortress starting to pulse in his awareness.

There.

A structure of ice and glittering crystal within ice. His sanctuary, his equivalent of the only place where he could be his own true self, no masks, nothing but who he really was.

He landed and the Fortress opened to him and his passenger.

Within was as impressive as without, a combination of smooth crystal and ice, high vaulted ceilings and metal structures holding it together.

Lex stared as he took it all in.

Clark released his hold on him. "Welcome to my Fortress of Solitude," he said with the slightly self-depreciating smile he had when he used to try and play something down. "Needed something bigger than the loft at home. Ran out of bookshelves."

"You certainly went all out," Lex murmured as he took a step away from Clark, walking away and deeper into the first of what had to be many rooms. "So this is what the technology of Krypton could do.

"And a whole lot more," Clark replied with a hint of surprise, "It just sort of happened. Whatever else their technology could do, matter manipulation and transformation seems to be right up there with one of their favorites."

"As we saw in Smallville." Lex's hands were slid into his coat pockets. "I've love to explore this place, but I don't think you'd let me. It has to break some superhero code of ethics."

"Just bringing you here does that," Clark half joked. "This place sort of reacts to me though. I couldn't guarantee you'd be seeing the same thing each time. In a strange way it is like someone exploring a part of myself. It's weird." He shrugged and then added quietly even as he walked down a slope. "But you are welcome to do so."

Lex merely stayed close to Clark, following him down the slope. "I believe it could wait, couldn't it? I'd like to see this... technology that would repair me."

"Over here." Clark gestured to a seemingly pure crystal wall, which on closer inspection could be seen to be engraved with glyphs. Some of them seemed like sharper, clear versions of markings in the Caves near Smallville and Clark just placed his hand on the wall and it became a crystalline spiral swirling away, leaving it open. Inside, there was a gentle warm light emanating from the walls, devices, things that looked actually like tables or chairs of a sort and a voice, soft and definitely female spoke to them.

"Welcome back Kal-El, you have brought company I see."

Clark nodded. "Yes, this is my friend Lex."

"The Lex you have spoken of?" There was a sense of attention upon Lex even as Clark nodded. "I welcome you Lex to Kal-El's Fortress of Solitude."

"Astonishing," Lex murmured as he looked up to the ceiling, eyes a little wide and very searching. The warmth was appreciated for his reddened and cold face and head. "I should have expected this place to have some sort of artificial intelligence."

There was actually a mild laugh from the area around them. "I would not regard my intelligence as artificial. I am a construct formed from the fusion of a Kryptonian personality infusion of Kal-El's biological mother Lara, and the pinnacle of what you would call quantum computing. I am more her offspring than Lara herself, but it pleases Kal-El to called me by that name."

Lex continued to look around him, then shook his head slightly as he edged closer to Clark and what looked like a tanning bed. A very deep, yellow tinted tanning bed. "Amazing. I can see why you hid your fortress so out of the way."

"It would have been a bit obvious in Metropolis," Clark replied with a hint of irony. "Lara, Lex has been injured and we need to do some quite specific treatment for him. Could you prepare the healing centre please?"

Lex prided himself in not startling when the 'tanning bed' thing started to hum and the tint turned a glow. "Healing matrix activated, Kal-El. Which of Lex-Luthor's injuries are to be treated?"

"Well Lex? That's up to you." Clark looked at him "You said not the hand as yet, but.. The leg maybe as well as your uh... groin."

And maybe other things. Like hair? No. Lex smiled a little at Clark, and murmured, "Maybe a touch of work on the leg. There's a series of metal implants in it right now to shore up the bone that isn't there. And of course the, uh... 'groin' area."

"Okay, well if you just lie down Lara will sort if out for you," Clark replied, nodding to the 'healing matrix', "I should warn you, it's a bit like being in a capsule once it activates. Can be a bit surprising."

"Should I..." Lex gestured to his coat and clothes in general. "Undress?"

"It is preferred that you should Lex-Luthor," the voice of Lara the A.I issued from the walls.

"Would you like me to leave?" Clark offered.

"No. You might as well stay here. It's your fortress after all." Lex started to unbutton his coat, slipped it off and after a pause just laid it on the floor. Then he started on his shirt buttons, lifting his chin calmly as he did so. "I had probably best