Lex had given up on having a lot of things in his life, not that he'd ever admit to it.

Love, happiness, trust, forgiveness, matrimony, friendship, respect. The Luthor part of him cheered it, patted him on the shoulder for realizing that these were useless concepts that catered to the weak-willed and weak-minded, and that fear was the best he could hope for.

The part of him that felt at home in the barren fields and half-broken down barn wept inwardly at the disrepair and fallow lands that surrounded him, very much a reflection of his inner landscape at the moment.

"I should have known it was you," came the all-too-familiar accusatory voice behind him. "Should have realized that only you had the money to buy out a farm as deep in as ours was."

Lex sighed as he looked down at the deed. It was still in Jonathan Kent's name, just as it had been twenty years ago when Lex had given it to the man, in the hopes of finally being accepted. It had never happened, and it was a raw wound to this day that Jonathan's death had ripped the scab off of. Jonathan had only outlived his wife by a few short years, the heart he'd already had surgery on once gave out on him before the hospital could work their magic and revive him a second time.

Lex hadn't gone to either funeral, but he had bought Kent Farm as soon as it went up for auction, and paid off all the outstanding debts against Jonathan and Martha's names because he couldn't stand the thought of either of them leaving such huge unfinished debts behind.

"Hello, Clark," he said calmly, folding the deed back up and putting it in his pocket.

"The bank told me the buyer was visiting the property today; I'd hoped to talk whomever it was out of bulldozing everything and selling it to LexCorp as a housing project, but I guess that's not going to happen now," Clark answered, coming up to stand beside Lex, looking at the dilapidated barn.

"I have no intention of turning this into a housing project," Lex said quietly after a long moment, not sure why he felt the need to explain himself to Clark. "The only plans I have for it is to renovate the inside, replace the fixtures, and possibly add more bedrooms, depending on how busy it gets."

"Busy?" Clark asked suspiciously.

"Smallville needs a runaway shelter, Clark. More kids from Metropolis are running here, and there's nowhere for them to go unless they've got family in the area, so they camp out in the ruins of the meteor shower. What's left of Old Smallville, the foundry, places like that which are condemned and unsafe. I'd rather turn this house into a safe house where they can be safe, rather than let it turn ramshackle and let it die."

"Right. And what do you get out of it?" Clark asked, scowling at his one-time friend.

"Is this on or off the record?" Lex asked calmly, raising his eyes to the square hayloft window. Many had been the time he and Clark had stood side by side at the window, looking down at the brightly painted farmhouse as they smelled Martha's fresh baking wafting across the yard on the breeze, and for a brief moment, Lex thought he might have smelled chocolate-chip cookies.

"Off," Clark answered. "At least that way I won't get whatever bullshit you're going to hand out as your official story."

As inflammatory as the comment was, it was also accurate. Lex did have a nice little speech ready for the press, and he was tempted to give it to Clark anyway. As it always did, though, his habit of not lying to Clark pulled the truth out of him. "I didn't want to see this place in the hands of someone who had no idea what it had meant to the family raised there," he finally confessed. "I might not be family, Clark, but I know what this farm meant to you, and to your parents, and I didn't want it in the hands of someone who didn't understand that. It's been a family home for generations, and your mother had no qualms about taking in strangers, whether it was adopting you, giving Ryan a home for a few days, or letting a temporarily-displaced Luthor sleep in the guest room," he continued. "If nothing else, I can keep her memory alive by doing what she would have done if she were here."

"I can understand why you never came to my father's funeral, Lex, but if this is the way you feel, then I can't understand why you never came to my mother's. I sent you an invitation myself, twice, just to make sure that they got there," Clark said, after digesting what Lex had told him.

Lex gave a dry laugh. "I didn't exactly feel welcome, Clark. We hadn't spoken to one another in fifteen years, and I knew that you had only sent me the invitation out of courtesy."

"No, Lex," Clark said softly. "Mom wanted you there. When she... when the doctors told her the cancer in her ovaries was untreatable, she started making arrangements then, and made Dad and I promise that we would invite you. She had you down as a pallbearer."

Lex swallowed hard at that. "You never told me that, Clark."

"You didn't care enough to return the invitation; why would I go out of my way to tell you anything else?" Clark countered. "I asked Whitney to fill in for you, and he agreed."

"I'm sorry that I wasn't there," Lex ventured. "I didn't realize the importance." He didn't mention that he paid Martha's grave weekly visits in the Metropolis cemetery she'd been buried in, with the rest of her family.

"Water under the bridge," Clark shrugged. There wasn't much else to be done at that point.

"I won't deny you access to the property, Clark. You can come in and take anything you like--furniture, keepsakes, anything like that. In fact, I'd rather you did, so that the heirlooms and antiques are safe, and in the hands they're supposed to be."

"I'll be by with a van on Saturday," Clark answered. "I'll make sure everything's out of the house, and I've fixed what I can."

Lex just nodded in helpless frustration as Clark walked away.

Friday's business page headline was rather a large surprise to Lex.

Changing His Spots: Local Billionaire Underwrites Children's Home.

The byline was Clark's, and it intrigued Lex enough to read the short, half-page article.

Metropolis businessman Lex Luthor is best known for his revitalization of the ailing LuthorCorp conglomerate, which he has helmed for the last ten years. Under Mr. Luthor's careful leadership, LexCorp has grown into a multi-billion dollar enterprise. Until now, however, philanthropy had taken a back seat to the nurturing of the company's future.

That's all to change in spring of next year, reports LexCorp publicist Peter Ross. A press packet obtained from Mr. Ross details a plan to renovate a property obtained in Smallville into a home for runaway and foster children in the area. "Mr. Luthor has been wanting to take on a project like this for some time now," adds Mr. Ross. "The timing, and the property, simply hadn't been available. But this property has sentimental value to Mr. Luthor, and he feels that this would be the best use of it, rather than turning it into another housing development or office park."

The rest of the article mentioned zoning hearings, contracting talks, and possible dates of completion, and Lex scanned it all over.

That had to have been the nicest article Clark had written about him in his entire journalistic career.

Lex delayed calling the Daily Planet, instead flipping through the rest of the newspaper to give himself time to digest the article and formulate his reply.

The classified ads were on the back of the newspaper, and Lex folded them back as he sat the paper down on his desk, clasping his hands and staring at his blotter, desk calendar, and telephone as his brain worked.

One of the ads caught his eye.

To an old friend--are you still driving too fast? Of course you are. Meet me at our place? I'm sorry for everything.

A blink. There were no names, no addresses, nothing to signify who the ad was meant for, or who it was from.

You might consider rounding those curves at a speed that won't actually break the sound barrier.

Where's the fun in that?

Seriously. You could get hurt.

Life's a journey, Clark. I don't want to go through it following a road map.

It still wouldn't kill you to drive more slowly.

Lex heard the dialogue in his head as though he and Clark had just had the conversation that morning. He could still taste the bubbly Ty Nant, could hear the quiet ticks of the grandfather clock as he stared at Clark, who had his eyes downcast at the carpet, peeking up through his lashes.

He reached out and picked up the phone. "Phillip? It's Mr. Luthor. Bring the Ferrari to the office, and leave it in the executive lot. I'm going to drive to Smallville tonight. And no, I won't need your services. Thank you."

Lex wasn't sure what to expect when he pulled into the old driveway at Kent Farm that evening, but finding the place empty wasn't it. He got out of the car anyway, going into the barn and looking around. The dead strand of Christmas lights were still hung on the wall, the mildewed couch had been long-ago removed, but Clark's old desk was still there, along with a battered transistor radio and several other knick-knacks that had been stored there over the years.

But no Clark.

Annoyed, Lex got into the car, and adjusted his rearview mirror. He slid the sunroof back to take advantage of the cool breeze in the air, and as soon as the roof rolled back, Lex called himself fifteen kinds of idiot, and spun gravel on his way out.

Clark's lean against the bridge railing somehow made the dark navy suit seem like grubby jeans and worn flannel. Lex was astounded by it, and pulled off carefully to the side of the road before joining Clark on the bridge, looking down over the spot where he'd careened off so many years ago. "I could have sworn I hit you," he said softly, echoing the words he'd spoken when Clark fished him out.

"You did," Clark answered, still looking down at the water as he dropped gravel into it from the roadside. Ripples spread out, until the either faded, or crashed gently against the banks. "But you knew that already."

"Yeah," Lex said softly. "That was the vaguest possible message you could have put in the newspaper. You could have put in an alphanumeric code and I'd have been less mystified."

Clark still didn't look at Lex, though he tucked his glasses in his pocket. "You figured it out."

Lex studied Clark's profile. "You don't seem to be upset that I've penetrated your big blue disguise."

"I've had ten years to get used to the fact that you know, and I think the fact that I'm still standing here in one piece speaks for a lot," Clark answered back, dragging his hands through his hair. "You live for the opportune moment, Lex. God knows you've had them. And you've never used it. Kind of leads me to believe you never will. Hence, me not being upset."

Lex nodded at that, and kicked a pebble into the water himself, merging and breaking with Clark's ripples. "I read your article."

"When you told me what you wanted to do with the farm, I went to your PR department and picked up the information myself. I kept what you told me off the record, but I went on record with what I could. Lois wasn't too thrilled. She accused me of switching sides during a war." He finally turned to look at Lex. "I told her I'd been on the wrong side all along, and just too proud to admit I'd been stupid."

Lex just nodded to show that he'd heard, but he didn't try to speak. His throat was tight, and he was swallowing hard, trying to open it back up.

Clark swallowed too, and kept talking. "After you told me about the plans... I called Lana, in Paris. We talked... for hours, really, about you. She told me that even when I was younger, still in high school, I wasn't treating you right. I defended you to everyone else, but I never believed in you myself." His hands tightened a little on the railing. "She made me see how much I must have hurt you, Lex. How responsible I am for this person you've become." A deep sigh. "I know there's no way I can apologize enough for the last two decades, but if you've got it anywhere inside you... I'd like to try being your friend again. A real friend." He held out his hand. "If you can accept that."

"There were years, Clark, that I waited to hear this from you," Lex said honestly. "Instead, all I got was bitterness, mistrust, and a refusal to understand me. No--listen," he continued, putting his hand firmly on Clark's shoulder and keeping him from leaving. "Even after I'd given up on it, I held out a secret hope that you would realize that we'd both made mistakes, you and I both, and that we needed to talk things through and start over. But that never happened either, and I have made my peace with that."

Clark nodded, disappointed though he tried not to show it. "I understand that, Lex. I understand that it's too late. I just... wanted to apologize to you. Even if it was too late to make a difference, you deserve it. It's the least I can give you."

Lex's hand stayed on Clark's shoulder. "I didn't say it was too late, Clark. I said I forgive you for taking so long," he clarified. The smirk that normally would have accompanied that didn't, the situation too serious for frivolity of any kind. "I've accepted that's who you are, Clark. The person you were and the person you've become needed that time to realize... whatever it is you've realized that made you reach out to me," he continued. "If you can accept that I'm not the man I was when you knew me here in Smallville, then yes, I accept that neither are you." He took the hand that Clark had held out to him, and shook it.

"Clark Kent," he said, with a shake of his hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"Lex Luthor," he replied. "The pleasure is--"

A shrill blast from a truck horn cut through Lex's words as he looked up with wide eyes.

A black dog was standing in the middle of the road, looking at the oncoming tractor trailer and wagging its tail, despite the horn honking.

The big truck swerved to miss the dog, and it was finally the screech of the brakes that sent the dog running. As the driver righted the big rig, the trailer he was hauling nicked the side of the bridge, causing the welded rails to crack like glass, and Lex's arms windmilled as he went down.

A fast, cold plummet, wind screaming by him as he splashed into the water. Freezing cold that numbed his limbs, but before it could freeze him too far, he felt a hot hand clamping onto his arm and hauling him out. His head broke the surface and he was gasping for air, every muscle and bone aching from the impact of his body against the water.

Clark was stroking them steadily towards the riverbank, and he hoisted Lex up onto the warm dirt first, and then followed, head resting between his knees as he panted.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Lex deadpanned.

Clark cracked up, trying to glare at Lex as he fell back, laughing helplessly. "You're still a dork," Clark said, shaking his head towards Lex and showering him with droplets of water that soaked his already-sodden clothes.

Lex smiled, surprised at how easy the banter was to fall back into with Clark, how easy it was to smile at him again and make him laugh with just a few well-chosen words. "At least this time I didn't total my car," Lex said, looking up at the silver Ferrari still sitting unharmed on the shoulder of the highway.

"Yeah, just your suit," Clark snickered, running his fingers through his hair again.

Lex just let himself slide down on the grassy bank beside Clark, figuring that his suit was already ruined and a few extra grass stains weren't going to matter. "This... is nice," he said, looking at his sodden socks bunching in his shoes.

"Which part? You plummeting off the bridge, or taking a swim in freezing water?" Clark asked, brow raised.

"This," Lex corrected, waving his hand around to indicate the two of them. "Talking. Without a knife or sharp word in sight. Just us."

Clark was quiet for a long moment as he looked up at the starry sky. "I missed you, Lex," he finally said. "Even though I lied to you, you always accepted me for me. And I took advantage of it, so much so that I didn't realize how much I liked it until you were gone."

Lex shifted his leg, just a little, so that his knee was pressed against Clark's. "I missed you too, Clark, but I had given up hope of ever being your friend again," he admitted. "Seeing the ad in the newspaper was a bit of a shock, but I couldn't pass it up."

"Well... taking another swan dive off Loeb Bridge isn't exactly how I envisioned the evening going, but I can't complain with the end result," Clark admitted in return, and he rubbed his knee against Lex's. "I was just... hoping it wasn't too late to reconcile, somehow."

Lex rubbed back gently, and turned to look at Clark. "It's never too late, Clark."