Three Strikes (and you're out)

When Clark died for the first time, Lex had been quietly devastated.

He hadn't expected the feeling--not then, not when they were in the midst of their hatred and wounded pride. He had been too angry to truly think about the consequences, too wrapped up in the beautiful fantasy of a world without Superman. He had never thought about what that same world would be like without Clark Kent in it.

All those second chances--gone in an instant. He hadn't realized that he'd wanted such a thing, hadn't realized that amendments and forgiveness were on his agenda. Only when those things had gone forever did Lex understand: their "grand estrangement" was merely a child's temporary tantrum, an infantile spat. Something to be remedied with wry smiles and succulent sweets, to be fixed by a simple I miss you and I'm sorry. Even if they had continued fighting, it would have made a difference, that understanding between them. Instead, Lex had attended Superman's funeral, castigating himself for thinking that they had forever. That they had forever to get things right.

When Clark came back a few months later, defying both Doomsday and the four imposters who had taken his name, Lex felt relief--and a very real sense of fear. He locked the fear in a box, ignored it and refused to grant it acknowledgement, but it crept up on him from time to time. It was his adolescent self, a younger Lex who whispered that he was unlovable and forgiveness was impossible, that friendship was a fairy tale and Clark would turn his back. Still, second chances were not to be wasted, and since Lex had been raised to seize opportunities by the throat, he drove to Clark's apartment and offered his own. 'Tear me, spill my blood,' he tempted, but Clark had smiled and taken his hand, and everything was easier than he had expected anything could be.

"I'm happy for you," Lex told Clark the next month, watching his friend shine as he married Lois Lane. Lex stood proudly beside him when he took his vows. They had both moved on, after all, found different lives and loves, and though Lex felt slightly disappointed, he wasn't truly upset. Clark was back in his life, and that was enough. They had reached an understanding.

The second time Clark died, Lex told himself that he was only vaguely annoyed. It had happened before, after all, and the event was a cheap and badly done reinvention, a theme that had outlived its popularity. Lex used the time to turn the Daily Planet into LexCom, upset its staff, and have Clark fired. They were petulant actions, he knew, and he fully intended to give everything back--but he had to keep busy so he wouldn't think, so he wouldn't worry. In any case, teasing Clark had become second nature, and Clark's disappearance had pissed him off. Lex decided that his friend needed an incentive to stop vanishing.

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore. Clark still hadn't returned--drastic measures had to be taken. To distract himself from the irreparable problem, Lex threw himself into his work as he hadn't done in years; he got his hands dirty. His plans became bigger and bigger, until Lex finally released thousands of nanonites into the various headquarters of every competitor company, giving LexCorp an advantage he decided it desperately needed. It was a long-term project: Lex designed the nanonites himself, plotted drop-off points, and sighted targets. He stole information on every contractual agreement and manufacturing technique. He told himself that it was to make Clark reappear--he knew that if anything could make Clark return, it was the hero's need to correct Lex's moral infractions.

"It was necessity that drove me," Lex soothed Superman when he finally arrived, "and you don't think that I deserve to fail, did you?"

And...

"Necessity verses morality," he lectured, "the thief would steal the bread each time."

But Clark didn't quite see it that way.

Eventually both of them lost their tempers, and they spent the next two days fighting one another, spitting bitterness, and throwing curses. Clark destroyed a building; Lex dosed him with meteor rocks. After the battle they ignored each other and sulked for half a week.

They both laughed about it later, when Lex finally came to visit. Lois found them on the floor of Clark's apartment, found them wrestling and playful, full of joy and drunkenness. She tended to call them vicious names after that--even threatened to sell their story to a society columnist. And so things between the three of them were confusing for a while.

That was quite all right in Lex's book, because Clark was back and Clark was with him. Lex never did admit aloud that he had worried, but he guessed that Clark knew it anyway.

Lex was with Clark when he died for a third time. His best friend was weakened and pale; Clark trembled when Lex held him. Fate had tricked the both of them: they had begun to believe that death was never final, and when that suddenly changed for Clark, Lex didn't know what to do.

At first, Lex blamed himself for not being prepared, for not finding Clark a cure in time to save him. It was a moronic conclusion, and Lex knew it for an irrational one years later, but at the time he could only watch with a frustrated fury as the Kryptonite-induced tumor spread itself throughout his lover's body. Clark watched him with sad eyes, full of pity, and Lex thought about his mother--she had looked the same before she died. During those times, he wanted to throw himself into business and research--to flee and preserve his sanity--but he hadn't been there for his mother when she had passed away, and he determined that he would be there for Clark.

'Superman' never went down passively--Clark did not let go with ease. When the end came, he clung to Lex and dragged him close; he told him staunchly, "Don't you dare give up on me."

Lex nodded because he couldn't bear to speak.

"Good," Clark said then, "Now listen closely. There's something I need you to do."

There were no I love yous when Clark died the final time--no promises of forever, nor of triumph, nor eternity. There was only desperation. Others might have been devestated at a lover's last words being Earth needs a protector, but Lex already knew that Clark loved him, and those words meant more to him than words of affection ever did. Earth needs a protector meant I trust you with my home and it was this that Lex remembered as the years past by.

Eight seasons later, he fulfilled his promise. The Oval Office surrounded him with prestige and power--from this vantage he could do all and more than Clark had ever wished for him. Sometimes, he was tempted to slip a little, to fall into old habits of self-preservation and -aggrandizement, but in those moments he would imagine the times in their old home, when he would look up from his desk and see Clark and his sweet smile shining in the doorway.

Lex never thought that it would happen like this, that this was how he would become a good man. Lex didn't dwell upon it. Instead, he did his job--and at times, he dreamed of a Clark that was immortal.

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