Notes: I've decided to see Smallville as unrelated to DC and whatever undoubtedly-soon-to-be-changed comic book canon exists for Superman and his fellow superheroes. After all, Superman isn't a teenager in 2002. That he is in the show, is not going to de-age the rest of the DC superheroes or eliminate them in my version of Smallville. If nothing else, I figure a world accustomed to Batman and Robin (Dick Grayson version, accept no substitute), the Flash, Wonder Woman, etc. will be a little more likely to ignore the weirdness going on in Smallville.

IOW, this story is setting up an alternative universe where Lex will be Clark's companion through life, never his arch-nemesis. However, I have not labeled this particular piece AU as it does not contradict anything aired on the show. It does, however, contradict a few of the future plans mentioned in various articles, so apply your definition of AU as needed.

He'd killed her. Lex Luthor approached his Ferrari and had good reason to be grateful for the keyless entry system -- his hand was shaking so much, hitting the unlock button proved a major challenge. No way in hell could he have managed getting a key into the lock.

Once safe inside the luxury of his car, he sat staring without seeing while trying to calm down enough to drive. He'd killed her. A part of his brain screamed, no, he hadn't. She'd been old, obviously frail. He'd merely fallen victim to an unfortunate coincidence, and what she'd seen in his future had had nothing to do with her sudden death.

Lex's shoulders lifted in a shuddering sigh, and he wished he were gullible enough to allow himself to squirm through a bad-timing loophole. Trouble was, he was a Luthor. Who better than him to know the depths to which he could sink? Even if he didn't, the answer was obviously low enough for even a glimpse of it to stop an old woman's heart. And damn it all, he'd liked her. Right up until the moment she'd died, she hadn't been in awe or afraid of him. Perversely, it was the one thing guaranteed to endear a person to Lex. Pity. If he'd taken offense at her frankness the day before and never darkened her doorway again, she wouldn't have died.

Another sigh and he leaned forward to rest his head on his steering wheel. He'd told her, 'I don't want to do good things; I want to do great things.' Were the two mutually exclusive or was his soul so black it would taint anything he chose to do?

A tapping sound slowly penetrated his troubled thoughts. Wearily he lifted his head to tell who ever it was he was fine. Instead he found himself looking into two green pools of concern. "Clark."

The door opened – he hadn't remembered to lock it – and Clark's large hand touched his arm. "Are you all right, Lex?"

He opened his mouth intent on uttering the usual social lie. Instead, he said, "No." The slightest of self-mocking smiles tugged at the corners of his lips. "Care to be my savior again and drive me home?"

The flame to his moth nodded. Or was it the other way around? "Sure."

Dangerous. He felt … needful. Not the best time to have Clark near. "Maybe that's not a good idea," he muttered and straightened up. At least his hands had stopped shaking enough he could get the key in the ignition. "I'll see you around, Clark," he said, taking none of his usual pleasure in feeling the powerful engine come to life.

Clark gave him a long look, then nodded. "Right."

Relief tinged with disappointment curled through Lex's stomach. For the best, but he dreaded being alone. He looked up to give the boy a reassuring smile, but Clark was gone.

Where? The passenger door opening answered his question before he could find the energy to give it voice. "Clark. …"

The aggravating teenager – which might have been the most redundant thing Lex had ever thought -- didn't get in, but he bent down to look at Lex. "I can drive or I can ride, but I'm going with you."

He used the same 'and that's final' tone Lex often heard in Jonathan Kent's voice. He'd never won the battle yet when a conversation with a Kent came down to that. He got out of the car with yet another sigh.

A smart man would have walked away, but he really did not want to be alone. "Then I guess you might as well drive." He went around the back of the car, Clark the front. They met up in the front seat. A heavy silence settled on them so quickly, Lex almost jumped at the thunder of their seatbelts engaging.

They didn't talk. Didn't look at each other. Clark drove. He sat. Nothing more. When they arrived at the ludicrous castle Lex was forced to call home, he got out of the car. Manners dictated he should offer a gracious thank you and an invitation to come inside for a while, but the silence had restored some of his common sense. No invitation into this spider's parlor, not today. If he had the strength, never again. "See you around," he repeated his earlier goodbye and headed inside.

Clark followed, of course. What was it with him? When Lex was friendly or tried to help, Clark disappeared in the wake of some muttered excuse, but when he wanted Clark to go away, he stuck like glue.

A drink. Lex decided he definitely needed a drink. He'd done his best to make his study into a comfortable refuge from the medieval nightmare surrounding it, but the only creature comfort he cared about for the moment was the crystal decanter of scotch waiting for him. He noted his hands didn't shake when he poured himself a glass, but the eyes boring holes into his back ensured he got no satisfaction out of the minor triumph.

He had to free his home of those eyes before he had more to regret than Cassandra. Brief consideration of the problem told him some selective truths would rid him of one concerned farm boy. "I killed her, Clark."

"Huh?"

"I asked her to tell me my future." He might have decided against tainting the beauty that was Clark Kent, but he couldn't bring himself to look at him while he made certain it would never happen. Feeling like a coward, he wandered over to the nearest window and pretended to be fascinated by the view. "You have to appreciate the irony of it – the sight of my future killed hers." He shook his head. "Guess your father was right about me all along." To think Lex had really dared believe Jonathan Kent had misjudged him. "Sins of the father etcetera, etcetera. Except, despite a long list of less than caring decisions, I don't think my father has ever done anything so horrible for a mere glimpse of it to cause a heart attack." He glanced at Clark long enough to give him what Lex was certain was a horrible smile. "Maybe I should be proud. What son doesn't long to surpass his father?"

"Lex-"

"Get out of here, Clark." He resisted the urge for a second glance, but he wasn't certain if it were to prevent himself from seeing the hurt on Clark's face or to avoid finding out Clark didn't care enough about him for Lex's words to wound. "Get out and don't come back."

"No!" Clark protested. "Lex, we're friends."

"Friends?" If he hadn't felt so cold inside, he might have laughed. Almost as if to mock Clark, instinct told Lex now was the time to get what he wanted. A few carefully chosen words and Clark would do anything to prove he was indeed Lex's friend. He opted to be blunt instead. "I'm bisexual, Clark. It was never your friendship I wanted."

He heard a soft cry, then a surprisingly strong rush of air told him Clark had run from the room. A moment later he saw a streak of color flash across the grounds toward the front gate. 'Speed as well as strength.' Lex filed it away in his mind, finished his drink and settled in for a long night of turning self-hatred into an art form.

Clark reached his loft mere seconds after he'd run from Lex's study. Not for the first time, he wanted to keep on going. Run until he could run no more. The only problem was distance couldn't separate him from the trials of being Clark Kent. Everyone might think of him as a dumb, naοve teenager, but he was smart enough to know running from his problems would never be more than a temporary fix.

He flopped down on the floor to sit with his back against a wall and did his best not to stare at his telescope. Seeing through something wouldn't do anything but underscore how miserable he was. All his life he'd had one wish above all others – to be normal. He'd wished it with every birthday candle he'd blown out, on every penny he'd dropped into a fountain and, ironically, on every fallen star he'd seen. Wishing didn't make it so.

He was a freak. The last few months had shown him he could use his curse to help others, but it didn't make him like everyone else. Of course, Lex didn't want everyone else.

Clark frowned. Often when he moaned about not being normal, his parents would point out there was no such thing. Especially in Smallville. Maybe they had a point, but he'd just bet he'd get a speech about it not being normal for a guy to want a guy if he were to mention this to them. And given that his fondest dream was to be the elusive 'normal,' he probably shouldn't be pleased Lex wanted him at all.

Of course, Lex wanting him made Lex abnormal, not him. Didn't it? Maybe he was open-minded enough to simply find it flattering a rich and powerful man like Lex would give him a second glance. After all, Clark was in love with Lana. Wasn't he?

He frowned again. Every time he thought about Lana and how much he loved her, he remembered a story he'd overheard his mom telling one of her friends. It seemed his mom had been really attracted to some guy who wore this fancy cologne she'd adored. Funny thing was when he'd stopped wearing it because his girlfriend didn't like it, she'd lost interest in anything deeper than friendship. At first she'd thought it was a combination of falling for Jonathan and knowing the other guy was off limits because of the girlfriend, but eventually she'd figured out she'd liked the guy, but she'd had the hots for the cologne.

When he'd heard the story, Clark had been grossed out to think his mom had the hots for anyone, let alone someone who wasn't his dad, but recently he'd been thinking there might have been a moral to it despite the two women's laughter.

Lana made him light-headed, feverish, weak – everything books and movies made sound like the stuff of love. Except those things also described what the green fragments of meteor did to him. Take away her meteor necklace and how did he feel about Lana? Was she the woman of his dreams or was the necklace his freaky version of his mom's cologne fixation? He liked Lana. A lot. But did he love her? It was hard to know when his whole definition of love had hung on what a glowing rock had made him feel.

'He's always there when I need him. He makes me feel safe.' Lana's own definition of love didn't help much either. It described his parents, not Lex. Lana. He had to have meant Lana. Or was he sitting on the floor of his fortress of solitude trying to figure out if he loved Lex?

Oh, man. Is that why he liked being around Lex, yet felt as confused as hell all at the same time? No, it couldn't be. He didn't want to be a homosexual on top of everything else. He didn't!

That urge to run and never stop swept through him again. How the hell could he know what was normal for him? Strange creature from another planet that he was, he might be from a world where two guys falling in love was perfectly normal. Which would solve all his problems if he were there. But he was here. And so was Lex.

Lex who wanted him, who mystified him, who drew him, who made him want to run until he left this whole confusing world behind. 'I don't want to be alone.' What he'd told his parents a few days ago rose up in his memory to call him a liar. That and another conversation he'd had with Pete and Chloe. 'Everyone's looking for their soul mate.'

The more he thought about it, the more certain he became Lana wasn't his soul mate. Could it be Lex? Much as he might like to hide under his bed and whimper for a year or six, his parents had taught him to face his problems. After an hour or so of raging denial and brooding in the best teenaged style, he decided they might have a point and began to consider the possibility.

What would it be like to be with Lex? Giving him mouth-to-mouth had given Clark surprisingly few clues. Cold lips tasting of river water and Clark's own fear weren't the stuff of … true love's kiss. He smirked at the workings of his own mind, then considered how little he knew about … stuff.

He knew the theory on the boy-meets-girl side of things, but he didn't even know that much when boy-meets-'rich, handsome, bald' guy. What did two guys do together? Sounded like a job for the Internet. But he'd have to be careful, because if his parents found out, indestructible or not, they'd kill him.

Lex sat behind the desk in his study and stared at the ceiling. Afraid of what his dreams might make of this mess, he'd spent most of the night trying to figure out the answer to the question Clark had asked him. Where *did* he go from here?

If only his answer that particular day hadn't been to find out what Cassandra Carver could tell him. … Great things. Clark at his side. His destiny had seemed so clear until he'd taken the old woman's hand. Now he felt paralyzed.

He did not want the future she'd seen, but he had no idea what it was. Didn't know what decisions he was fated to make to lead to it. "Damn you, woman," he whispered. "Why couldn't you have lived at least long enough to tell me that much?"

Should he stay in Smallville? Should he beg his father for forgiveness and the right to come home to Metropolis? Or should he find some way to get 'Caesar' to send his heir even further away from the heart of the empire? If there was any place further away.

Forgiveness would be ridiculously easy to obtain. All he had to do was agree to marry the woman of his father's choice and breed. He could see it all now, 'You were right, Dad. The other men were just a phase I was going through. I'm over it now and ready to do my duty to ensure there will be Luthors to plague mankind for generations to come.'

Further banishment would be a simple matter of another trip to Club Zero. Of course, it could also lead to being disinherited. While his father had expressed no desire to remarry or give fate another chance of visiting him with an unworthy offspring, if Lex pushed hard enough, his father could disown and replace him in the blink of an eye. Which might be for the best.

Maybe the future would be safe from him if he were some loser washing dishes in a diner off a highway to nowhere. Despite his mood, he had to smirk at the ridiculous fantasy. Yes, his father might disown him and breed a more suitable heir to the Luthor dynasty, but Lex would still be rich beyond most people's dreams. His maternal grandmother had left him her considerable fortune. While it alone would not keep him in the same category as Lionel Luthor, the need to make a living would never be an issue.

'Could always go the vapid playboy route,' his thoughts flashed to one of his father's younger associates. It worked for Bruce Wayne, so why not for him? After his father was through with him, Lex wouldn't even have the burden of playing figurehead for the family business dealings. That left him with almost as much money and more freedom than the crown prince of Gotham City. Too bad he lacked Wayne's hair and broad shoulders.

Damn. Almost black hair, strikingly handsome, broad shoulders – Wayne's description was all too similar to Clark's. Made it damned difficult to get the child out of his mind. A child. 'Ah, therein lies the rub.'

If only he could convince himself Clark was a child. Lex had no interest whatsoever in children. Trouble was, Clark had the body of an adult, even if it was technically only 15 years old. Every time he tried to dismiss Clark as a dumb kid, his mind shot right back with, 'If fifteen year olds had looked that way when I was fifteen, I'd still be finding ways to stay in high school.'

He'd tried telling himself it had something to do with fresh air and clean living. Sure it did. Just like the speed and strength could be chalked up to home-grown goodness. Not a chance. He'd told Clark about the engineers he'd had go over the car. He'd left out the detail about them finding fibers on the front grill. Memory said the few threads were the same color as the jacket Clark had been wearing that day. It hadn't been a hallucination brought on by a brief case of being dead – he *had* hit Clark at 60 miles per hour.

'I pulled you out.' Lex shook his head at Clark's innocent act. Clark had pulled him out of the car all right, but first he'd pulled the roof off the car. No other explanation for those fingertip-sized dents in the metal. Clark was just lucky Lex had put Smallville strangeness together with the threads and his hazy memory of hitting Clark and stopped the investigation before someone had thought to test those dents for actual fingerprints.

Lex sighed, seeing the handwriting on the wall. His instincts told him to get out of Smallville, but he couldn't. Someone had to protect Clark from the fallout of his noble nature. Lex had even gone so far as to force a loathsome toad of a tabloid journalist to investigate Smallville with the idea of paying off anyone who got too close to figuring out Clark was more than lucky when things got dangerous.

A frisson of fear shot through him. Was that what the old woman had seen? Would he fail Clark? She'd obviously liked Clark. Could the sight of him strapped to some lab table in a secret government facility have caused her heart attack? Or had she merely seen his desire for Clark and suffered a fatal case of moral indignation?

The irony of that would have been the stuff of a dark comedy. Unless he came up with an answer to the sex problem, Clark would never be in his or anyone else's bed. Lex glanced with longing at the half-empty decanter of Scotch. It had been full when Clark had brought him home. At the rate he was drinking it, it would be gone by morning. Not a good idea. Not even a Luthor could drink the equivalent of an entire bottle of scotch and evade the consequences. He might do something stupid. Like tell Clark he wanted him.

Opting for restraint, he powered up his laptop. He had to concentrate for several minutes before his thoughts could sneak through the alcohol haze, then he began the equations. He had them memorized by now, but working through them always helped to cool his adore for Clark. For a time.

Two hours later he admitted defeat, cleared the screen, then picked up the decanter of very expensive booze. Hell, with a little luck, he might die of alcohol poisoning and save the world from his failures. Or his successes.

Clark moaned softly into the shower spray as his body shuddered with release. For a moment he stood there struggling to catch his breath while hot water beat down on his back. With luck it would take some of the stiffness out of his muscles before he had to resort to turning it off to allow the cold to wake him up.

He'd spent most of the night reading. In turns he'd been grossed out, amazed, then turned on more than any vague fantasy of Lana had ever inspired. When he'd tried to get some sleep, images of Lex touching him had invaded his thoughts, then his dreams. He'd have to make a point of laundering his own sheets. His mom's knowing smile would be embarrassing, but not as bad as if she were to see the excess a night haunted by Lex had caused. He guessed that made him gay. At least where Lex was concerned.

Lingering regret at surrendering yet another thread of what he'd always thought of as normal curled through him, but the cold water banished it along with some of his sluggishness. At least there was no school on Saturday. He didn't think he could cope with exhaustion, figuring out he was in love with a man and algebra in the same day. All he had to do today was stay awake long enough to help his parents set up their booth at the farmers' market, then he could come back here to crash. Or maybe not.

Lex knocked back the last of his drink and reached for a refill. In support of his plan for death via 30-year-old Scotch, dawn had brought the stirrings of minions willing to bring him a new bottle to replace his woefully empty decanter.

He'd decided to see this event as divine approval of his scheme and poured himself a drink. Then another. Then another. Then whatever. He was deep into pink-elephant land when an all too familiar blur of color flashed by his picture window.

"Damnit!" he sort of slurred, sort of shouted. Just what did he have to do to rid himself of super-powered, corn-fed boy scouts? Maybe if he went and hid in his bedroom the bane of his existence would take the hint. A plan in mind, he set about trying to get out of his chair.

Clark slipped through the back door when Lex's butler walked out. Luck seemed to be on Clark's side as the guy was headed for the garage. Must be off to do errands for Lex. Good, the more privacy they had, the better.

Using his see-through-things vision, he located each member of Lex's staff and nodded his satisfaction. No one in the main part of the castle. Good again. Now where was Lex? Ah, the study as usual.

Clark frowned watching Lex as he started to stand up, then fell back into his chair. An instant later Clark was beside him. "Are you-?" Concern vanished and his nose wrinkled at the strong sent of scotch. "Lex, are you drunk?" It didn't seem possible. The level of liquor wasn't much lower than when he'd left yesterday.

Lex glared up at him with bleary eyes. "And here I thought you were just some dumb hick."

Having guessed Lex would try to get rid of him, Clark opted not to take offense. For the moment he was more concerned with what he'd read about too much alcohol and performance problems. Wasn't that just his luck? He'd worked up the courage to come here and ask to be ravished, please, and Lex had managed to get smashed on a couple of glasses of scotch. He glared back. "How drunk are you?"

"Not nearly enough." He sighed. Lex seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. "Knew I should have been drinking faster."

"And not savor the taste of fine whiskey?" Clark asked, amused in spite of himself by Lex's pouting.

"What do you know about booze?"

"Nothing, but I figured if it's under your roof. …"

"Good point. Now, if you'll remove yourself, I have a locksmith to call."

No pauses, no slurred words. Sure didn't sound drunk. Might be a good sign. Hope surged, then it occurred to Clark sex might have more in common with standing up than speaking correctly. "Changing the locks won't keep me out, Lex. Nothing will. I can-"

"Stop!" Lex snapped. "Don't you have more sense than to tell an amoral bastard your secrets?"

Did Lex know? Sure sounded like he might. Yet Lex wanted him. It was all Clark could do to keep from shouting for joy. "Yes," Clark said, kneeling in front of him. "But an amoral bastard wouldn't stop me from telling them."

Lex blinked. "Momentary weakness. Get out."

"No."

Confusion twisted across Lex's face. 'No' must not be a word he heard very often. "No?"

"No," Clark confirmed, leaning up and forward to bring his lips within inches of Lex's. Even pickled, Lex should be able to manage to kiss him. "I don't want to."

Lex shifted toward him. "What do you want?"

His bravado failed him at the last moment, and he blushed instead of closing the gap between them. "Um."

A chuckle, then soft, warm lips pressed to his. Clark groaned, his mouth opening to admit a probing tongue. He felt hot and dizzy all at once. Could a guy get drunk from kissing a drunk? He was far gone enough he didn't laugh when Lex pretty much fell out of his chair and into his arms. Clark drew back to look down the length of Lex's body, then smiled. Drunk, but not too drunk to wreck Clark's plans. "Lex, take me to bed," he whispered in the nearest ear.

Lex stiffened, might even have pulled away if Clark hadn't had such a firm grip on him. "Clark-"

Oh, no. He was going to get all noble on him and refuse. "Lex, if you say no, I'll- I'll … be in therapy for the next fifty years!"

Lex sighed again, but Clark heard defeat in it. Not wanting to give Lex a chance to change his mind, he snatched him up and bolted out of the room. Not knowing where to go, he had to stop at the top of the stairs. "Which room's yours?"

Fingers clamped down on his shoulders. Probably hard enough to bruise if it weren't for the indestructible thing. "Kent, you do that again and you'll have an upfront encounter with how much I've had to drink."

"Sorry," he muttered. "Which door?"

Lex rolled his eyes. "You'll take it slow?"

"Promise."

"End of the hall."

Clark kissed him again, letting himself get caught up in savoring Lex's mouth to quell his need to be in the bedroom five seconds ago. Once he reached it, nothing could keep him from stripping them both at lightening speed. To go any slower might have meant losing his nerve again.

The sight of the strong, pale body beneath his hands took his breath away. Hairless but for his eyebrows and eyelashes, Lex looked nothing like the pictures Clark had seen on the Web. He found he liked the differences. "Beautiful," he whispered, reaching out, but not daring to touch the column of hard flesh jutting up toward him.

"Yes, you are," Lex murmured, obviously pleased by what he saw.

Clark blushed, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"Oh, now he goes all shy on me. Come here."

A hand interrupted his view of the luxurious carpet, and he took it. Lex gently reeled him in, pulling Clark down onto the bed with him. They kissed falling back against the mattress, then Lex stiffened in his arms.

"Lex?"

"Moving isn't working well for me right now," was muttered through clenched teeth.

Clark might have protested, but his would-be lover looked very green all of a sudden and the encouraging hardness pressing against his thigh had vanished.

"Oh, God," Lex muttered and made a move for the bathroom. In the blink of an eye, Clark got him to the toilet, saving the expensive carpeting and himself a nasty clean-up job. Although he suspected the journey made Lex heave all the harder.

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, but figuring love had something to do with sticking it out through times like this, he began gently rubbing Lex's back. Proof positive he'd lost all claims to sanity, Clark found himself enjoying the feel of smooth skin and the muscles straining beneath it. And straining. And straining. "God, Lex, how much did you drink?"

The only answer he got was another heave. Frowning, he used his weird vision to check out the study. No clue there beyond the mostly full decanter. Turning his attention to the kitchen, his frowned deepened. A bottle of Scotch was sitting at the top of the recycling container. The water drops inside indicated it had been rinsed out in the last hour or so. A second, completely dry bottle was another few feet down in the bin. "A whole bottle?" Clark shook his head. No wonder he was sick. Alarm began to replace concern. How much could someone drink and be okay?

Before panic could set in, Lex stopped vomiting. Clark flushed the toilet, closed the lid and helped him sit down. Once he was certain Lex wouldn't topple over, he wet a washcloth and cleaned Lex's face. Figuring the man wouldn't be able to handle a toothbrush, he poured some mouthwash into a cup, then helped him rinse out his mouth.

"Thanks," Lex muttered once he'd spit the mouthwash into the sink.

"I'm going to take you back to bed now," Clark said, lifting him up. "Slowly."

Lex grunted, a sound Clark took as an okay.

Alert for any sign he needed to get his passenger back to the bathroom, Clark carried him to the bed, then got him under the covers. He stroked Lex's cheek and admitted, "I'm not sure what to do."

Lex stared at him, but Clark didn't have any sense he was really seeing him, and Lex's skin felt cold and clammy. He had to call someone. His dad was his first thought, but he knew he couldn't do that. Along with sex tips, the Internet had also given him information on the law. He was considered too young to give his consent and his father hated Lex. If his dad figured out why Clark had come here. … At best he'd be forbidden to ever see Lex again and he didn't want that to happen, didn't want to have to defy his father. And he knew he would.

He picked up the phone and did what any fifteen-year-old in over his head and unable to call his parents did. He called a friend.

The frown hadn't faded from Lex's face over an hour after his follow-up visit with the doctor. High white blood cell count. Despite Dr. Vargas' assurances, he couldn't help be unnerved. He remembered the whispers he'd overheard about his mother's illness. The high count had been one of the first signs.

Cancer. A host of other things equally unpleasant. But business as usual in Smallville? Lex hadn't been unaware of the strange things going on since he'd arrived in town, even figured Clark was one of them, but it seemed incredible it could be so wide-spread.

He'd need to do some checking around. If nothing else it would take his mind off the white blood cells and Clark. There was a large gap in the last four days, and indications were Clark had been part of it. Lex remembered sitting in his study drinking. Next thing he knew, he was waking up in a clinic, certain his hair had grown back, because it hurt.

The IV in his arm and the bed he'd been lying on belonged to the doctor hovering over him. It had taken Lex awhile to absorb what the man had said. Alcohol poisoning, cousin of Chloe Sullivan, phone call and a plea for discretion. His head had almost exploded as he put it together. He'd drank himself into near oblivion, and somehow the doctor's cousin had made a phone call that had gotten him help.

He knew the name. Daughter of his plant manager. Clark had mentioned her as well. Clark must have called her, but what had he been doing back at the castle? One thing Lex could remember clearly was telling the boy how he felt and sending him running for the hills. Why would he have come back?

The easiest thing would have been to go ask him, but between the sending him running and knowing he must have seen Lex completely out of control, he'd not been able to bring himself to seek Clark out. Fine state of affairs he'd gotten himself into – afraid to face a teenager.

Ah, but he ached to see him. Clark was a bright spot in a tedious situation. 'Sort of like the kid brother I never had.' Sounded good, and life would have been a lot simpler if it were true, but he'd done his best to make certain Clark had believed it. Until Cassandra Carver had died. Damn, the woman. She'd cost him Clark and his belief he might be a better person than his father.

He got into his car. Research. Focus on the research. In a day, maybe two, he'd break down and find Clark. With luck he could find some way to convince him he'd been lying when he'd told the truth. He didn't have a lot of confidence in his ability to pull it off. Those beautiful green eyes begged the truth, and then there was the missing time. He'd give his entire fortune to remember what had happened. Instead, he was going to have to do it the hard way. He was going to have to ask. But not today.

Lana. Lana. Lana. Clark repeated her name over and over in his mind. He had to keep focused on her, had to convince himself she was who he wanted. It was working to some extent. After all, he had managed to get her to agree to another non-date date. Too bad neither of them seemed happier about it.

He knew Lana would rather have Whitney at her side during her party. Fair enough, because he wanted Lex. But he'd thought things through since Lex's bout with the bottle had deep-sixed Clark's plans. Now, more than ever he knew he was in love with Lex and doubted he would ever be happy without him. But he also knew he couldn't deal with more secrets. Not being able to call his parents when he'd needed them had really rattled him.

It didn't take much imagination to picture the reaction to his telling them he wanted to be with Lex.. And he hadn't missed their pleasure at watching him slowly work his way into Lana's heart. Clark loved his parents and craved their approval as much as any son or daughter did, but he also knew he owed them far beyond what a child owed a parent. They'd taken him in and loved him when most people would have handed him over to the government. He couldn't repay that with years of lying about where he was or who he was with. But it hurt so much inside to think of not being with Lex. He hadn't seen him in almost a week, and he felt like he was dying.

Not fair. Lana could sit on her aunt's front porch and throw her arms around Whitney to show how thrilled she was with his birthday gift, but he couldn't even spend a few minutes talking with Lex without earning a scowl from his father. Couldn't see that changing. No matter how old he got. Lex would always be Lex. The man Clark Kent loved and Jonathan Kent hated. Not fair at all.

"Earth to Clark."

He blinked, Chloe's demand for his attention finally penetrating his brooding. "Yeah?"

"Ah, he lives," she said, making a point of looking across the cafeteria to where Lana sat with Whitney. Her silent way of saying she knew he was eating his heart out with unrequited love and thought it was pretty stupid. While he appreciated that she'd not read more into what had happened with Lex than the story he'd given her about delivering produce to the house and finding him unconscious, Clark couldn't help but wonder what she'd say if she knew the truth. Would she throw the same fit his dad would? Tear up with the sorrow his mother would display? Or would she smirk and say, 'go get him, Clark'?

He gave her a faint smile, figuring she'd ask him and Lex to pose for a picture so she could add it to her Wall of Weird. "What?"

She opened her mouth to answer him, but the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and cutting her off. She rolled her eyes and picked up her tray. "Can you stop by the Torch later this afternoon? I want to kick around a few theories."

Theories? Oh, yeah, the deer killed by the fat-sucking vampire. Chloe had her sights set on yet another weird happening. Maybe it would help keep him distracted. "Sure."

Damn Clark Kent and his beautiful eyes. Lex mentally stormed out of the high school while he did his usual job of looking like he hadn't a care in the world beyond where to spend his money next. He'd acquired the skill years ago when he'd discovered real storming around made tabloid headlines, but he was sorely tempted to risk it today.

He'd done his best to make nice and congratulate Clark on getting on with his nice heterosexual life and what did he get? Quick assurances of 'just friends' status. How was he supposed to get things into perspective when Clark wouldn't meet him halfway?

"Lex, wait up?"

Oh, perfect. Getting in his car and driving off sounded like an excellent idea, then he remembered Clark could probably outrun the car. Wouldn't that make a wonderful addition to Ms. Sullivan's wall. With a sigh, he resisted the temptation to escape into his car and settled on leaning back against it in his best nonchalant manner. "You wanted something, Clark?"

Clark stopped a few feet away and looked at him with eyes full of hurt. It was all Lex could do not to reach for him. "Lex? Please, I didn't want to leave, but. …"

He felt the specter of those missing hours loom up. He lifted his hand in a request for silence. "I'm sorry," he began, then faltered. Sorry about what? 'Let me count the ways.' Given the pain radiating from Clark, Lex could guess there had been some unfortunate declarations during his blackout, but without knowing what they were, bluffing his way through this would lead to nothing but trouble. When lying wouldn't work. … If he kept this truth thing up he'd lose all his credibility as a Luthor. "I don't remember anything beyond brooding and drinking for an hour or so after you left."

Dismay entered those expressive eyes, but after a moment, Clark moved closer. "I said … I wanted us to still be friends." His gaze dropped as he spoke.

'Now this is a day to remember. A Luthor tells the truth and a Kent lies.' The ridiculousness of it all made it easy for Lex to smile. "We are, Clark. I only tell the story about the meteor to people I trust."

Clark started to smile, then faltered. "I-"

"I've got to get going. More party details to see to." Another ridiculous situation – holding a party for the niece of one of his father's lovers and his own rival for Clark's affections. Although he had the feeling the latter had changed while his brain had been marinated.

"Oh, sure. See you Saturday."

Lex nodded, then escaped into the solitude of his car.

Clark walked Lana home. She seemed happy, and he was glad he'd been able to end what she'd obviously seen as a dismal birthday on a good note. But he made no attempt to press his case as her suitor when they reached her front door. Instead he smiled, told her happy birthday, then stepped back to watch until she was safely inside.

His emotions were on a roller coaster ride threatening to drive him insane. He'd thought he was in love with Lana, then Lex had literally crashed into his life. He'd tried giving into what he felt for Lex, but bad timing and common sense had stopped him. He'd tried turning back to Lana, but it wasn't working. He liked her. A lot. And that's all he would ever feel for her. Tonight he'd cemented their friendship with a gift Lex had helped him get. It almost made him feel guilty knowing he'd considered it the perfect gift because it had given him an excuse to call Lex.

Seeing him at school had rattled his resolve to keep Lex firmly in the friends category, calling him had destroyed it. But it hadn't changed anything. Except he knew he didn't want Lana. Didn't want anyone but Lex. He couldn't pretend otherwise. Wasn't fair to confuse her, to make her feel on any level it was him or Whitney.

"Clark?"

He blinked, surprised to find she hadn't gone inside, but was standing on the porch steps looking at him. "Sorry, what?"

She gave him the gentle smile he liked so much. "I'm glad we're friends, Clark."

He smiled back. "Me, too."

Her smile deepened, then faded. "It would be so easy to feel more for you, but Whitney. …"

"Puts you first." It was the one thing Clark knew he could never do, and their two failed non-dates would have made it clear to her, too.

She nodded. "It sounds so selfish, but, yes."

Fifteen. It was supposed to be a selfish time in a person's life. Not of this world, not really fifteen, he could only envy her. "It sounds wonderful," he told her and smiled to let her know it was all right. He had no doubt that if Cassandra were alive and could take Lana's hand, she'd see Lana and Whitney happily married for the rest of their lives. Lana wasn't part of his destiny.

"Good night, Lana."

She smiled and went inside.

His parents were asleep when he got home, but they were eating breakfast when he came downstairs the next morning. "You're up early," his mother said, pouring another round of pancakes on the griddle.

"Thought you'd use your late night as an excuse to sleep until mid-afternoon," his father teased.

Clark managed a slight smile. "Didn't sleep much," he admitted, easing toward the front door. Right now he needed to be alone and his fortress beckoned.

His parents exchanged a glance, but his father was the one who spoke, "I take it things didn't go well last night."

"It was great," Clark tried to reassure them, but he was so tired. It almost felt like he'd never be otherwise again. "Lana was happy."

"But?"

He wanted to escape, but maybe it was best to get this over with. "I realized something. I like her and all, but," he shrugged, "she's Whitney's girl and I don't want to change that. I'm not in love with her like I thought I was." He gave them a faint, but hopefully reassuring smile. "I'm not in love with anyone."

A mistake. He'd denied something they hadn't asked. And his words had come out flat, squashed beneath the weight of the lie. He blushed and bolted out the door, pretending he didn't hear them calling after him.

He was halfway to the castle before it penetrated his panic where he was going -- the one place he needed to be; the one place he could never go. He forced himself to stop, then slipped into the nearest field. The cornstalks hiding him, he sat down and cried.

Lex had retreated into his study the moment the party had ended and the clean up had begun. He'd had enough nervous energy to be tempted to join in, but had figured it would unnerve his staff and the caterers if he did. So he'd gone into hiding instead.

Sleep had been out of the question. He'd not really had anything resembling a night's sleep since he'd over-indulged with the scotch. A damned shame his personal code ruled out resorting to such an option twice in one month.

He knew he was standing at a crossroads in his life. But which direction led to disaster? It kept coming back to that. He didn't know what made her deadly vision inevitable and what turned it into the stuff of roads not taken. He knew he had to move on. But how?

After a few hours of ignoring the decanter in favor of mineral water and indulging in yet another long wallow in 'one of the damned' thoughts, he opened his laptop, then began making lists.

First came the pre-Cassandra list – everything he'd had in mind for his future before he'd walked into her room. Next, he mapped out how each one of those goals could lead to disaster. The results were impressive and left him in a cold sweat as dawn broke. Money and power. Everyone seemed to want them, but there was definite truth in the old saying about power and corruption.

His morbid imagination burned the hottest over his political ambitions, so he crossed it off the list. No seeking office for him. Best to avoid any situation leading to power behind the proverbial throne as well. What next? CEO of LuthorCorp. Short of provoking his disinheritance, it was inevitable. It was also dangerous as hell. The person running LuthorCorp all but owned Metropolis. And thank God and his great, great, great grandfather that someone had the sense to not name it Lutheropolis. The very thought made him shudder, then again it had diverted his attention for a few seconds.

His new favorite past-time of sighing reared its head again. All right, assuming the inevitable was indeed inevitable, one day he would be one of the most influential people in the country and one of the richest in the world. How did he prevent those two very desirable descriptors from becoming a death vision?

'I don't want to do good things; I want to do great things.' Hmm. Alone in his thoughts his words seemed pretty damned egotistical. What was wrong with good? He could think of many great men throughout history, but most of them did not qualify for the description of 'good.'

He thought of earnest green eyes looking at him as if he were someone worth knowing, liking, maybe even loving, and he suddenly ached to be a good man. So how did he get from who he was to who he wanted to be?

The closest he'd ever come was when he'd managed to avoid firing 20 percent of his work force as his father had demanded. Trouble was he hadn't done it because it was the right thing to do or even the smartest. No, he'd done it to prove his father wrong. He looked again at his list of goals and asked himself how many of them translated as a way to screw over Lionel Luthor.

A softness brushed against Clark and penetrated his misery. He looked down and found himself in the company of a small gray- and black-striped kitten. Soft fur begged his touch and he complied. A loud rumbling purr rewarded him.

Golden eyes offered no wisdom, the purr no sage advice, but somehow, he felt better. Then reality set in. This being Smallville, Clark couldn't help wonder what sort of ravenous mutated beast this kitten would be the next time they met. Without coming to any conscious decision to do so, he found himself picking up the kitten and getting to his feet. He started walking, and not in the direction of home.

He didn't let himself think. If he did, he might have to notice he was headed for the castle. The place where Lex lived. The place where he wasn't supposed to go ever again. But he was tired and lonely, and he needed Lex, so he didn't let himself think. He just walked. Up the road, to the right for a few miles, through the gate and to the front door. If he were bothering to think, it would have occurred to him he might not be welcome so he should ring the bell and give Lex the chance to refuse to see him. But he wasn't, so he didn't.

Opened the door, up a few stairs and into the study. He didn't need his freak-eyes to know that's where Lex would be. He frowned, recognizing a thought had slipped into his 'I wasn't thinking at all' defense. Fortunately, before he could actively come to his senses, he was inside the study, and Lex was looking up from his desk to see him standing there all teary-eyed with a kitten in his arms.

"God, Clark." Lex was on his feet, then hurrying over to him.

'Love him. Can't live without him. Can't say any of it.' He held up the kitten. "I brought you this."

Lex looked at him, then called for his butler. When the man appeared, Lex took the kitten from Clark and handed it to him. "Food, litter box, whatever."

The butler didn't react beyond taking the small animal with the same care another man might have given fine crystal, then he disappeared into the bowls of the castle.

Lex guided Clark over to the nearest chair, pushed him gently into it, then knelt in front of him. "Tell me what's wrong."

Dismay swept through him. How could Lex not know? The tears started up again, and he was out of the chair, in Lex's arms, an expensive sweater absorbing the wetness streaming from his eyes.

Lex held him, rocked him while murmuring soothing sounds in his ear. It made Clark feel safe, loved and it all came spilling out. His arrival on Earth, his guilt about having caused so much pain, what a big freak he was, how much he loved Lex and the weight of hiding so much of who he was making him sick to his soul -- by the time his sobs had worked themselves down to hiccups, he didn't have a single secret left.

Through it all a part of him had waited for Lex to push him away, to recoil in horror or disgust. But Lex never faltered. The only person to know every single thing he knew about himself, held him close and whispered over and over again, "It's okay. I love you. It's okay."

He lifted his head enough to look into Lex's eyes. "You love me?"

Lex smiled. "Very much."

Clark closed his eyes and tilted his head back offering his mouth. Lex took the hint and kissed him. No taste of scotch or river water. All Lex. It made his head spin. When it cleared, he was beside Lex's bed with its owner held firmly in his arms.

"Clark, you put a whole new spin on the phrase 'fast worker.'" Lex said, when he caught his breath.

"Sorry," Clark muttered, lowering Lex onto the bed. "Are you going to threaten to throw up on me again?"

Lex laughed. "That would be a tragic waste of a great moment." Making a fast move of his own, Lex snagged a handful of Clark's shirt and jerked him down to join him.

Another melting kiss, then Clark groaned in protest as hands began turning him on to his side so he was facing away from Lex. "Trust me," Lex whispered in his ear, spooning up snuggly behind Clark. "I'm not going to give you any bull about being too young and vulnerable to have sex." Lex nipped Clark's ear while his hands unfastened his jeans, then eased them and his shorts down to his knees. "But you aren't ready for anything elaborate."

He would have argued, but Lex's hand chose that moment to find Clark's erection. He groaned loudly and thrust into the grip, while warm lips devoured the back of his neck. Sound of a zipper opening, then a similar hardness pressed in between his clenched thighs. Lex stroked and thrust with a matching rhythm which left Clark helpless to do anything but feel. Invincible. Strong enough to do anything. Horrifyingly vulnerable. "Lex," he gasped, groping for the hand caressing beneath his shirt.

Their fingers interlaced and Clark held on tight. "I'm here," Lex whispered. "You're not alone."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

The words sent Clark over the edge and his seed spilled out onto the mattress.

"So beautiful," Lex groaned and a warm wetness caressed the back of Clark's balls.

Lex turned him over, then kissed him. "You okay?" Lex asked, using the corner of the sheet to wipe them both off.

"Mmm. Lot like floating. Only better," he answered and gave Lex what he was certain was the world's goofiest grin.

Lex rewarded him with a devastating smile. "Can't speak to the floating, but I'll give you better than a fast car."

Clark grinned, knowing Lex was exaggerating, but ridiculously happy all the same. "We'll do this again, then? And more?"

"Definitely again and more." Lex kissed him, then sat up in the bed. "But right now, it's getting late and something tells me your parents might be worried about you."

His parents. Clark's happiness burst like a bubble. Another secret. How many could his head hold before it, too, burst?

Lex's hand caressed his face. "Tell them you were here and we talked. When they're ready to know more, they'll ask."

"They could have you arrested."

"Ah, yes, there is that. Internet, right?"

Clark nodded.

"I'll look forward to finding out what else you learned," he said and smiled when Clark blushed. "No proof, no arrest. Parents like to pretend their kids are virgins until they get married. Doing your best to maintain that illusion simply puts you in the same boat as every other single person with a parent. It's normal, Clark."

Pretty words to make him feel better, but there was some truth in them, too. "Heck of a way to finally be normal," he said, then smiled. "But it's worth it." He didn't like it, but it really was.

Lex watched Clark walk toward the front gate until he disappeared from view. The urge to laugh hysterically twisted inside him, but he knew he'd never stop if he started. All his careful calculations, all his lists, all his plans – all of it was nonsense. He was especially proud of the ludicrous equations detailing why no one could ever survive having sex with Clark Kent.

They were incredibly detailed, flawless in the way only a genius with a vested interest in the problem could make them. An all too fragile human would die a very gruesome death in the arms of a super-strong, indestructible rutting male. He'd done them over and over again. Seeking some loophole, some way to overcome the inevitable. And it was all rubbish.

He'd made one assumption. One crucial, but safe assumption – that Clark was a human male. A giggle-like burst of sound erupted from his throat as he thought of how proud his father would have been had he seen how calmly Lex had taken the news Clark was the Kansas version of E.T. Hell, it might even be a way around his father's edict about no more homosexual affairs. 'He's not a man, Dad. He's an alien.'

God. He'd held a sobbing being from another world in his arms and reassured him everything was all right when Lex was shattering inside. The good news was Clark wasn't a clueless wonder who couldn't seem to figure out his sexual responses would have the same destructive effects on a person as his mattress. Yes, the good news was they could have sex. Lex had confirmed it with the most cautious coupling he could think of. The bad news was he'd learned the folly of assumptions. Even the safest ones.

He stared at the words filling the screen of his laptop. Hours worth of attempts to save his own soul. He didn't have the heart left to sit down and figure out what other assumptions he'd made along the way. Instead he erased the file wishing he'd used paper he could toss into the fireplace.

Watching paper blacken, then turn to ash would fit his mood far better than hitting a couple of keys. "Clark," he whispered. He wanted to fall apart, but he couldn't. He'd debauched the virgin. Had to stick around to make certain what they'd done didn't destroy Clark along with him.

Shouldn't take long. Two weeks ago Clark had been hopelessly in love with Lana Lang. This week it was him. Another few weeks and it would be someone else. When Clark was two or three true loves away from him, Lex could decide if he wanted to use something more effective than scotch or let the world suffer the ravages of his continued existence.

Lost in despair, he was almost glad when his father called. Almost.

Clark wanted to howl in frustration. Except the time he'd tired it with Lana hadn't made him feel any better. Maybe because he'd done it with the wrong person. Trouble was the right person seemed to be doing his best to keep him at arm's length. A good trick since they were also having sex every chance they got. Given Clark's abilities made sneaking out at night and getting back home long before anyone got up, 'every chance' had been at least once every day.

For two weeks Lex had treated him to mind-blowing sex. Clark had thought he was going to die from it when Lex had taken him into his mouth for the first time. But he wouldn't let Clark reciprocate. And Lex refused to take him no matter how much Clark pleaded. Lex happily snuggled afterwards, so it wasn't that Clark was feeling used. It was more like he felt he was the one doing the using.

Lex refused to talk about the future. Even if the future was the next night. He passed it off as unnecessary since Clark could come and go as he pleased, but it made him feel uneasy. Like Lex was waiting for the night Clark would decide not to come. Like he didn't want to give Clark a list of things to regret.

Which was crap. Clark had this feeling inside of him that said he'd found his soul mate. It didn't even feel like the same part of him that had been obsessed with Lana. It was new, different and permanent.

Which hadn't made him the most reasonable person in the world when Lex had told him Lionel Luthor had insisted Lex escort the daughter of a business associate around Metropolis. Lex had told him it was a bi-annual obligation to meet the latest woman his father had deemed a 'suitable' wife.

Clark had made a fast exit after a few sharp words about non-dates and Lex not believing him when he'd described occasions with Lana that way so why should he believe Lex? By the time he'd cooled off, Lex had left for a week in Metropolis. Two hours later Clark had found out his parents were also headed there for a few nights to celebrate their anniversary.

He blamed the party on his head being caught up in the irony of Lex disappearing on him the first time they could have spent some time alone without fear of discovery. He was almost certain having Chloe and Pete over for pizza wouldn't have turned into the free-for-all currently demolishing his home if he weren't so distracted by planning ways to kill his boyfriend. It soon became obvious, he should start worrying about his parents killing him.

Well into his nervous breakdown, he considered passing out when the fireworks started. Certain he must have kicked some angel during one of his high-speed runs, Clark headed out to make outraged noises until the police showed up. Dead man. He was an absolute dead man, but he was taking the person responsible with him.

He made it outside, sputtering at Pete, who denied all responsibility. Then an all too familiar voice announced, "It was mine." How romantic. He was going to die with the rotten love of his life. "Call it a party gift. I hope you like it."

Party gift. Right. It was a 'see, we can still be friends' gift. "It's great," he answered, reaching the limits of his ability to be coherent when restraining himself from strangling Lex in front of so many witnesses. "I mean … just. …"

"Don't worry about the police. It's covered. I know this kind of party can make or break a reputation. I wanted to make sure yours was a hit."

The 'suitable bride candidate' opted to arrive and drape herself over Lex at that moment. Clark decided killing Lex would be letting him off easy. No, he had to do something much more effective. Like turn his precious cars into scrap metal.

Lex sent the latest in a long line of potential brides back to Metropolis in the limo. His father would be far from pleased, but seeing Clark surrounded by his friends had depressed Lex too much to even pretend he gave a damned about a single word she had to say.

He was busy rethinking his current aversion to scotch when the door chime sounded. He glanced at the clock. Two a.m. Had to be Clark. No worse than that, it had to be Clark making a point of announcing his arrival when he normally came right in. Party must have ended early. Which meant the boy would have enough energy for round 2,001 in the 'why are you keeping me at a distance?' war. Great.

"Lex."

He looked up and found a teary-eyed teenager darkening his threshold. Not good. Already well trained, Lex held open his arms, then closed them a second later around Clark. Although the tears never fell, Clark's voice was tight with them as he told Lex all about the handyman-turned-homicidal maniac.

Lex cursed himself, knowing he never should have left the party. He should have stayed there and pretended to be a responsible adult in case of the inevitable crisis. Hell, this was Smallville. Clark was damned lucky Godzilla hadn't decided to crash the party.

"He makes me sick, Lex."

"What?"

"Like the meteor rocks. When I get near him I feel sick. It's never happened with a person before." Clark looked up at him with those big eyes beseeching him to make it all better. "Lex, I'm scared."

Shit. Imaginary Japanese monsters were starting to look very good. Where the hell were the Kents with some parental wisdom when Lex needed them? "It's okay, Clark. We'll figure it out." Lex didn't have the faintest idea how, but it sounded good.

Good enough that Clark managed a brave smile.

"Let's get some sleep," Lex said, guiding Clark toward the stairs.

Clark didn't resist, but when the bedroom door closed behind them, he said, "I don't want to sleep."

Which translated as 'I want to talk again.' Shit, shit, shit! Lex was batting zero when it came to resisting Clark in a vulnerable state. "Clark," he tried for a firm 'and that's final' tone of his own, "it's late, and you have a field trip in the morning." How anyone could see a Saturday tour of a crap factory as a reward for passing an elective class in business, Lex didn't know, but some brain trust at the high school did. Thus teenagers of various sizes and ages would be descending on his factory in less than eight hours. Perhaps it was meant to be an object lesson. Something along the lines of 'study hard and get far away from Smallville as soon as you graduate or you, too, could end up with crap in your future.'

Those big eyes zeroed in on his soul again. "Every time I think I'm not going to get any weirder, something happens."

"Clark-"

"Every morning I wake up afraid of what's going to happen to me next. That's why I kept going to Cassandra – the future terrifies me."

Lex caressed Clark's face to sooth him. "You'll be fine, Clark. I know you will."

Clark's eyes grew bright with pain. "You keep doing that."

"Doing what?" What in the world was he doing wrong?

"Sounding like you won't be there to find out for yourself. Don't you want to be with me?"

"Very much," Lex answered. It was the most honest thing he'd ever said.

"Then why do you keep acting like you don't?"

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

Clark nodded, and Lex could easily see how it would look that way.

It was times like this that made Lex regret his lack of hair. A nervous hand passed over a bald scalp didn't have the same distraction value. He settled on closing his eyes against his own pain. He wasn't ready to lose Clark yet, but then again, he knew he never would be. "Your father's right about me," he whispered.

"No, Lex, he-"

Lex forced his eyes open and shook his head sadly. Then he started to talk about his own secrets – Club Zero, the contents of his juvenile record, the things the authorities missed, even his speculations about what he might or might not have done during time lost to too much booze or drugs. He didn't spare Clark a single detail or allow himself the luxury of looking away from him.

He had to give Clark credit; the boy had a better neutral mask than Lex would have thought possible. Disgust, shock and anger were quick flashes in his eyes, a slight quirk of his lips, but they faded quickly. God, was the boy so infatuated with him as to have lost all sense? Finally, there wasn't anything left to throw in his face but fear. "Don't you get it, Clark?" he demanded, almost angry Clark hadn't fled in horror. "I'm going to end up with more power and money than most people can imagine. I … won't use it well."

Clark smiled and caressed Lex's face. "This is about Cassandra."

"Yes," he admitted. During his own 'confession' Clark had told him what the woman had seen of Clark's future, but no one seemed to have put it all together. "You're going to end up a superhero, Clark. I'm going the other direction."

"The Joker to my Batman?"

He nodded. "You'll have to destroy me one day."

Clark shook his head. "My parents were right about her Lex. No one can see the future."

"But-"

A kiss stopped his protest. "I've done some reading on divination," he said when their lips parted. "There is no 'the' about what's going to happen. It's full of choices. She saw me save Zoey, and I did, but only because I chose to do it."

Lex could see the point, but Clark's choice had been a given. It was his nature to do good things. It was in Lex's to chose the paths of power and damned the consequences. "Clark-"

"No, Lex. You said it yourself. If you go down the wrong path, I'll have to destroy you, but I think you might love me too much to do that to me."

Which led them back to why he'd reduced their sexual encounters to little more than getting Clark off. "There's a fine line between love and hate." A clichι, but an accurate one. He had to keep some distance, some perspective or his warped psyche would twist everything he felt for Clark into a loathing of staggering depth. "You're fifteen. Love is fleeting at fifteen."

"Maybe," Clark answered, although his eyes flashed with unmistakable denial. "But is it always forever at twenty-one?"

Lex started to say it was for him, but managed to stop himself. If he claimed to be an exception, so could Clark. If he agreed, Clark could demand they enjoy things while they lasted. "Nicely done."

Clark kissed him again, then whispered in his ear, "Make love to me, Lex. Please?"

Oh, hell, he was never going to win. And maybe the kid was right. Just because Lex had never been in love before, hadn't even thought he could fall in love, didn't mean he couldn't do it again with someone else. Right. The ridiculous rationalization allowed him to say, "Get in bed, Clark. I need to get something."

"Lex?"

He kissed the soft lips. "Trust me?"

"Always."

"Then do as I say."

Clark nodded, and Lex went into the bathroom.

Needing a moment to collect himself, he shut the door behind him, then leaned back against it. He wouldn't survive this. Oh, he'd get through the night, the next day, the next week, but when Clark wised up, Lex would be alone as he'd never been alone before.

Paradise always came with a heavy price.

Clark slipped out of his clothes and climbed into the bed. Had he won? Was Lex finally going to let Clark give something back? Or would Lex bring his stubborn detachment into mutual intimacy and ruin everything?

He stared up at the ceiling and wondered would this night be the night he learned what it felt like to be loved? Or used?

The bathroom door opened, drawing his attention, and he forgot to worry. Lex had shed his own clothing in the bathroom, and as always the sight of him robbed Clark of the ability to think. He gasped, his erection painful in its suddenness.

Lex walked over to the bed and set a plastic bottle on the bedside stand as he sat on the edge of the bed. "You're so beautiful," he said, his hand stroking Clark's chest almost reverently.

"Lex," he all but whimpered, the horrible aching need growing. "Please."

His begging earned him a kiss, then Lex's tongue was in his mouth. Clark moaned softly, tumbling into the sweet hell Lex had made of their encounters. He was kissed, caressed, cherished, but each time he moved to touch or taste in return, a soft hiss from Lex told him not to.

Tears welled in his eyes and the soft lips kissing them away gave him no more comfort than the hand stroking him to an empty release. A sob tore at his throat as he came, his pleasure heavily laced with desolation.

Spent, miserable, he used what little strength he had left to roll over and put his back to Lex. How could Lex do this to them?

"Shhh, it's all right, Clark," Lex's words came in a soft breath against his ear. "Shift your leg up."

He obeyed more at the urging of the hand pushing his leg into place than in response to the words. He heard the scrape of plastic on wood, then the soft pop of something opening.

"This is going to feel strange, but try to stay relaxed." A finger slick with something, circled his anus while teeth and lips gently worried his earlobe. The finger pushed gently against his opening and slipped inside easily. To his surprise, Lex quickly jerked it out.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, turning Clark over onto his back, then looked down at him with concern radiating in his incredible eyes.

Clark almost said yes. The finger's absence made him hurt in a way he never knew was possible. He needed. Oh, how he needed. "Lex, take me," he whispered, tugging his lover on top of him.

"I will," Lex assured him, kissed him. "I just need to get you ready."

Clark shook his head, even though he'd read all about what had to be done to loosen the anal muscle. "No, need you … now," he gasped, the pain growing inside him. "Hurts, oh, God, it hurts."

Lex stared at him for a moment, then cursing, he grabbed the bottle. "Lift your legs up," he ordered, smearing lube onto his cock.

He could hardly breath, but he managed to lift them. Strong hands grabbed his calves, then helped position his legs over Lex's shoulders. A shift of Lex's weight, then Clark took his hard shaft inside without the slightest resistance.

The pain vanished and he sagged with relief.

"Clark? Damnit, Clark, look at me!"

Clark obeyed, then smiled at the sight of all the grim, pale concern above him. "You feel so … perfect."

An eyebrow arched, but some of the color returned to Lex's face. "Sorry," he murmured as he leaned down to nuzzled Clark's ear. "Guess your body doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Not for you." Clark wiggled happily, and Lex rewarded him with a low purr of approval.

Lex began to thrust with a slow, deep movement as their hands and lips danced over each other's bodies.

It was wonderful for a few moments, then the pleasure and joy bubbling through Clark went beyond any words he knew to describe it. The world around them narrowed, then vanished. A part of him was frightened. He couldn't see, hear, taste or feel anything but Lex. Helpless, utterly, completely helpless.

"Lex," he whimpered and firm lips settled on his own to reassure him. Helpless, but somehow safer than he'd ever been before.

Lex went very still, then he glanced over Clark's shoulder. "We're floating," he said in a matter-of-fact sort of tone. Even that didn't disrupt the void surrounding them.

"Can't help it," Clark answered, clutching him close with all his strength. "So happy. So good."

Lex shook his head slightly, then went back to feasting on Clark's mouth.

It went on forever. It lasted only seconds. Time had no meaning. Nothing had meaning but Lex. His beautiful Lex. His senses full of him, his body claimed by him, Clark came with a soft cry of his lover's name.

Lex followed him over the edge, then relaxed in his arms.

With a jarring abruptness the world returned to his awareness, but mercifully the first thing Clark felt was the growing pressure of the mattress against his back as they settled gently back onto the bed. No crash landings. Not with Lex.

"I love you," he whispered into Lex's ear, his voice trembling under the weight of what he felt. And he knew he could make another promise. One he would keep forever. "Never going to leave you. Never."

Lex shifted up enough to look at him. Clark knew everything he felt was in his eyes and could only pray it wouldn't alarm a man who had been determined to keep him at arm's length before they'd fallen into bed.

Lex smiled. "I love you, too." A kiss. "Now, go to sleep."

With a contented smile, Clark did what he was told.

Lex waited until he was certain Clark had fallen into a deep sleep, then he slipped out of the bed and made his way down to his study. His hands shaking as they hadn't since Cassandra's death, he poured himself a generous scotch and downed it in a few deep gulps.

"Oh, God," he groaned, sitting the glass down. What did he do now? His terror of a future without Clark had been swept away by an even greater fear.

He loved Clark with all his heart and soul, but it was his soul, and Luthors weren't known for having good ones. What had he done?

He'd wanted to make love to Clark, wanted to reassure him Lex wanted a future together even if he'd thought Clark would come to his senses and move on to less sociopathic pastures. How could he have possibly been so wrong?

Clark wasn't human. Lex had a nasty habit of forgetting that when his libido got involved. His body didn't crave precisely the same things or react in the same way. Lex hadn't been oblivious to the arms holding him tightly. The mind boggled at the number of ways he should have died, but somehow, Clark's body had adjusted to the limitations of his partner.

Lex's best guess was whoever had sent Clark here had done something to the boy's physiology to ensure Clark wouldn't have to live a life without intimacy on a world populated by 'fragile' beings. Yeah, it made sense, but had the 'insurance' stopped there? Or was something left unaltered that should have been?

Clark loved him. Lex hadn't just seen it in his eyes, he'd somehow sensed it as they'd made love. Clark loved him. Absolutely. Completely.

Another scotch sounded like a great idea, but he sank down into the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands instead. God. He loved Clark with everything he was, but he was a Luthor. He'd fail him, destroy him.

Oh, he'd been so clever getting to this point. He'd told Clark a high school boyfriend wasn't a husband, he was an obstacle. What he hadn't told him about was a bigger obstacle – an unrequited love. He'd known he could easily overcome the obstacle of Clark's girlfriend. The object of worship Clark had made Lana into was another matter. So he'd helped Clark win Lana. The plan had two benefits. First, it got Lana off the pedestal and down on the ground with the rest of the mortals. Second, it gave Clark time to get another year older and out of the 'jailbait' category.

The plan had worked too well. Lana had tumbled off the pedestal and out of the picture far more quickly than his most optimistic estimate had predicted. Worse, innocent or not, Clark knew what he wanted, and he'd gone after Lex with the determined focus of … well, a Luthor.

Somewhere in there, Lex had figured out he had his sites set on more than a pretty farm boy, and it had all been a terrible downhill fiasco from there to here. Damnit! How did he fix this? If he threw enough money at enough scientists could they find a way to make some pill that would unbond Clark from him and save Clark from Lex's inevitable slide into slime?

"Whatever it takes, Clark," he whispered. "I'll do it."

Clark woke up in Lex's arms, but the sun was up. and Lex insisted there wasn’t time to make love again. Clark settled for kissing each other senseless, then ran home with a huge smile on his face.

His party-wrecked home put an end to his euphoria. He was such a dead man.

Lex had gotten dressed to put in a token appearance for Clark and his classmates at the end of the tour, then sat down at his computer to do some research on involuntary emotional responses.

He'd not found much or anything particularly encouraging when the phone call came. Clark's class had been taken hostage at the plant. By the guy who made Clark sick.

Lex broke every speed record he'd ever set getting there. He was trying to make sense of things, to figure out what to do while doing his best to seem calm in front of the Kents when his father showed up.

Great. Just great. Lionel Luthor was the last person anyone needed when lives were at stake. The human factor never seemed to come out on top when his father was involved.

Lex wanted those kids out alive. And he especially wanted Clark as far away from Earl as possible. Instead, it all got worse. Earl had some sort of fit and broke a valve which released methane into the factory. So much for SWAT being able to do anything. Or his father.

"Somebody's got to do something," Jonathan Kent echoed his thoughts.

How did the saying go? 'If you want something done right, do it yourself.' Suddenly Lex knew exactly what to do. He just didn't know how to survive it. All he could do was pray whatever had passed between him and Clark hadn't had time to cement itself. He didn't want Clark to be alone for the rest of his life, but he couldn't see any other choice. "You're right," he said, "I'm going in."

Hurt. Oh, God, it hurt. Every molecule in Clark's body seemed to scream in pain as his hand grasped Earl's. Dying. He knew he was dying, but it wasn't in him to let Earl fall to his death. Even if it were, Lex was clinging to Earl's legs, and nothing in the world would get Clark to let go with Lex's life at stake.

He wanted to pass out. Instead he began to pull. The pain increased as the mass of Earl's body rose up onto the catwalk. His head swam, nausea cramped his stomach and his grip almost faltered, but Earl had made it up and Lex was hanging onto metal, not a man.

A sob tore at his throat, but he had to take a few precious seconds to wait for Earl to move away before he could reach for Lex. Together they made it to safety before the catwalk completely collapsed, but safety was an elevator and Earl was inches away.

"Clark, how did you pull us up?" Lex asked, tearing his gaze away from the twisted metal littering the floor far below to look at him.

"I dunno." He should have been too weak to do it. Maybe even should have died. "Adrenaline, I guess." If he had such a thing. He grimaced in pain, trying to shift away from Earl.

Lex moved around Earl, gently, but firmly pushing the man to the far side of the elevator, then hitting the button to take them back upstairs. He kept his body between Clark and Earl, not that it did any good since Lex wasn't made of lead, but the gesture made Clark smile as he shivered in Lex's arms.

The doors opened and Lex pulled him out of the elevator, then kept pulling him down the hall until Clark said, "I'm all right."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Lex gave him a quick kiss. "The gas?"

"I turned it off."

Alarm, not relief swept across Lex's face. "With your hand?"

Clark nodded.

"Shit. Clark, find a wrench, a big one, and get it to the control room."

Oh. Right. He nodded, kissed Lex on the cheek and sped off to provide a reasonable explanation for the near impossible.

Luthors do not cry. Lex repeated the mantra throughout his father's carefully staged show of affection. A touching PR moment for the press, all while the real thing was going on a few feet away.

Clark in the loving arms of his family. Lex in an embrace notable only for its stiffness. If that didn't sum up the differences between himself and Clark, he didn't know what could. It was why Clark was destined for greatness, while he was bound for the opposite path. He closed his eyes, unable to look at the Kents any longer.

'That's right, Dad. Hold me. Show the world how much you love your son. No reason for anyone watching this tender scene to suspect you rate keeping your secrets as more important than my life.' Luthors don't cry.

The words were almost peaceful or at least something to cling to until the press turned its attention to someone else and the police said he was free to go.

Still in PR mode, his father kept an arm around Lex's shoulders as they headed for Lionel's helicopter. All Lex had to do was hold things together long enough to see the old man off, then he could break down in the comfort of his Ferrari. He would have killed for an aspirin and a place to lay down.

"Bye, Dad. Drop in again some time," he said, not even trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Don't take that tone with me, Lex."

"What fucking tone should I take, Dad? You let me walk in there knowing I was going to try to convince a desperate man what he knew wasn't true. I wonder how that would look on the front page? Shall we find out?" He turned, wanting to escape.

"Lex!" His father snapped, grabbing his arm and jerking him around.

"Let go of me, you son-of-a-bitch!" he shouted, pulling himself free.

The blow came out of nowhere. An open-handed slap as insulting as it was vicious. It knocked him off his feet and his head struck the concrete helipad.

"You're hysterical, Lex," his father's voice penetrated the new explosion of pain in his already throbbing skull. "I suggest you calm down and think things through rationally."

The next morning the papers would feature a picture of a loving father holding his wounded son. A pretty fiction for the masses. The reality was the father flying away while his son lay sprawled on the ground.

Think rationally. Never his style. He was an emotional man and always would be. He was also a dangerous man with enough money to make his merest whim come to pass. And for the first time his hatred of his father was stronger than his desire to make the man see his son as someone worth loving. He never wanted to see the man again, but with Lionel Luthor's habit of barging into Lex's life, there was only one way to keep him away. Lex would have to have him killed. All it would take was a phone call.

He picked himself up and made his way back to his car. He could taste blood in his mouth, but didn't bother to wipe it away. It was the taste of humiliation. Of pain. Of revenge. Of his future. His future.

The path Cassandra saw. All the questions he'd had came down to this one moment. He got into his car, turned the engine over and started to drive. Home. Aspirin, his bed and a secure phone to call someone who would call someone who would call someone. By the end of the week, he would go from Caesar's exiled heir to Caesar himself. So simple. All the power. All the wealth. And no more pain.

He pulled into the drive and stopped near the front door. He got out and found the effort had used the last of his strength. "Clark!" he shouted, wincing at the desperation in his voice.

An instant later, strong arms closed around him, pulling him into the loving embrace he'd ached for. "Clark," he sighed. His love. His life. His salvation.

Clark lifted him up and carried him into the Kent farmhouse while calling for his parents. A sofa more comfortable than anything in his godforsaken castle could ever hope to be took his weight. This was a home. Not a place to plan murders. Safe from himself, he opened his eyes and looked up at Martha and Jonathan Kent.

"What happened?" Jonathan demanded as Martha sat down on the sofa beside him and began pressing a cool wet towel against his lip.

The blood. He'd forgotten the blood. "My father wasn't pleased with my performance today."

Clark had sat down on the floor, one hand still holding Lex's. "But you're a hero."

His mystification struck Lex as charming. Such a relief being with someone who didn't begin to understand the ruthlessness of the Luthor mind. "I lost my temper," he admitted. "Threatened to expose his precious Level 3 secret."

"Will you?" Jonathan asked.

His eyes locked with the elder Kent's. "I could, but I sustained a head injury and there isn't any proof Level 3 ever existed." He smiled ruefully. "By the time my father's spin doctors would finish with me, I'd end up in some private hospital under observation." Or worse. He wasn't the only one in the family who knew how to make a phone call to eliminate a problem permanently.

To his surprise Jonathan nodded his agreement, but then again, his distaste for Lex came from practical experience in the matter of how Luthors handled things.

No lectures, no disapproving looks. They gave him aspirin, an ice pack for his head, a cup of excellent herbal tea and everyone pretended not to notice Clark was holding his hand. Of course, the pretending was painfully obvious. Lex's head hurt too much to care. He'd deal with it later. Much later.

Clark sighed when Lex finally drifted off, leaving him alone to face his parents. "Are you guys gonna freak?" he asked, keeping his voice low despite his desire for moral support.

"Any particular reason we shouldn't?" his father asked, although Clark did consider it a good sign he hadn't challenged Lex to a duel or something.

Telling them he didn't think he could love anyone else crossed his mind, but he wasn't certain if that would help or hurt his case. It might very well be, he mated for the life of his mate, not for life. And he knew his father would be sorely tempted to find out.

He gave Lex's hand a final squeeze, then stood up. "We should probably talk in the kitchen." He studied his father's face, then amended that to, "Um, in the barn." He didn't want his dad to start yelling and wake up Lex.

Figuring they'd follow, he started walking and didn't stop until he'd reached his fortress of solitude. When he turned around to face his parents, he found his father's expression suggestive of a man considering getting out the shotgun. His mom just looked worried. "I need you to rank it for me, Dad."

"Rank it?"

"I'm 15; he's 21. He's a guy. He's Lex. Which one pisses you off the most?"

His dad blinked, then looked at a loss for words. Not good given he'd managed to figure out something to say even when Clark had told him about the floating thing.

"Sweetheart," his mom stepped into the silence. Clark was almost relieved. He knew the age gap would be what bothered her the most.

"I love him, Mom," he told her. He wanted to laugh when he heard himself. How could such an over-used word convey how much he felt for Lex? "He's … everything."

He saw the flash of hurt in her eyes. Oh. If Lex was everything, then everyone else, including his parents, was something less. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

She managed a smile and her hand came to rest on his arm. "Clark, you're so young."

"Am I?" he asked. "I mean, didn't you guys just decide I was three when you found me?"

"It was the doctor's best guess."

"Okay, but he was using Earth years. For all we know, I was three days or three hundred years old."

She nodded. "It's true, Clark, we don't know your true age. You're probably even full grown. But that's not the point."

He frowned. "It isn't?"

She caressed his face. "You were raised to be fifteen now. However old your body is, you're a teenager in all the ways that count."

His dad nodded. "That's right, Clark," he said, his hand coming to rest on Clark's shoulder. "You know how confused and afraid you've been."

Relief at his father being willing to touch him warred with anger over the suggestion he was too vulnerable to know what was good for him. He opened his mouth to deny it, but reconsidered. He was confused and afraid most of the time. He'd openly admitted it to them more than once, but he didn't think it kept him from knowing who he loved. He pushed back the urge to throw a … teenaged fit and tried to reason through this. "Yeah, I know, but, doesn't that prove I'm not fifteen?"

"I'm not following you, son," Jonathan said.

"Everyone else going through this weird stuff has freaked out and started hurting other people," he reminded them. "Even Tina and she'd been dealing with it as long as I have." Or close enough. "I mean a lot of it's got to do with you guys being my parents and how you raised me, but some of it has to be something inside of me, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but, a few weeks ago-" "I had a crush on Lana. So I know what that feels like and it isn't the same with Lex." Please, let them understand. Please. "Dad, I love him."

To his dad's credit, he didn't flinch. Much. "He'll hurt you, Clark."

Clark shrugged. "Maybe, but I have you guys to turn to if things go wrong. He doesn't have anyone. I mean, God, his father hit him, Dad."

For some reason the hand on his shoulder turned into a strong embrace. Clark found himself clinging to his father. "Please, Dad, I can't lose him, but I don't want to lose you either."

"Never," the words were an appalled hiss as if his dad couldn't believe Clark would ever worry about such a thing.

His mom's arms slid around him, too. "We love you, Clark," she assured him. "And we always will."

Tears stung at his eyes. He'd been so scared they'd reject him over this, he didn't quite know how to let go of the fear. "Even if I'm with Lex?"

"Even if you go around calling yourself Mrs. Luthor," his dad assured him, his arms tightening around Clark.

He sniffed and pressed his face against the warm flannel covering his father's shoulder. They loved him more than they hated this mess. It was going to be okay.

Lex slipped out of the barn and got as far as his car before his legs decided he needed to stop. Luthors don't cry. Part of him wanted to get inside the Ferrari and get as far away from here as possible, but the green-eyed boy crying in his parents' arms had a stronger hold on him than any need to run away.

Luthors don't cry. He sank down to the ground and sat with his back against the cool metal. He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead against them. Oh, God. He couldn't believe this.

Clark had told his parents he was in love with a man they distrusted to breathe without ulterior motives, and they'd all ended up in a group hug. Lex could understand what happened at the plant. Clark could have been hurt or killed. It was natural enough for parents to want to hold a child after that for his own father to pretend he could stand to touch his son. But this?

Being gay had led to Lex's banishment. Or more precisely his acting out over the edict that he had to pretend to not be gay had landed him here. Even his own cynical mind shied away from his fate should his father learn he loved an underaged 'commoner.' But Jonathan Kent was holding his son, soothing him, promising he still loved him and everything would be all right.

Luthors didn't cry. They didn't. Not even in the face of evidence of how completely they were unloved. They did not. The dampness on his face had to be sweat. From shock. His brain was probably bleeding. Would explain the blurred vision as well. No way in hell he was crying because his father didn't love him enough to accept him. It wasn't done. It was not.

Strong arms slid around him, pulling him against a chest he knew so well. Ah, well, fair was fair. He'd let Clark cry on his shoulder. No reason not to … be in shock on Clark's. The warmth against his back -- the size of a woman's hands rubbing -- undid him. The silent tears gave way to sobs. He disgusted his own father, but his lover's mother could comfort him.

Neither Kent left his side as he cried out his broken-heart. Tears he'd not allowed himself to shed since he'd lost his hair and with it any tenuous hold on his father's affection rolled down his cheeks soaking through the layers Clark always wore. Finally it stopped.

Jonathan Kent's hand gripped his shoulder, drawing his face away from its soggy haven. He was squatting in front of Lex, studying him.

He sniffed and felt very young. "My father hates me," he whispered too exhausted to avoid the obvious or the pathetic.

Jonathan's lips pursed, then he sighed. "We -- I don't."

He felt very young, like a child hungry for approval. "I … I could still end up like him."

"No."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Paternal instinct."

Lex managed a weak smile. "Luthors don't cry," was all he could think to say.

"Guess that makes you better than the rest of them." Jonathan stood up. "Part of being a parent is knowing when not to notice certain things. Make certain you never give me reason to do otherwise."

Lex looked up at the closest thing he'd ever have to a father-in-law and nodded.

"Clark, maybe you should take Lex upstairs. Let him get some sleep while you do your chores."

"Okay, Dad," came the answer rumbling through the chest his head was pillowed on, then he was lifted up.

"I'll let you know when it's time to wash up for dinner," Martha told him, her hand brushing his forehead as if she were gently pushing non-existent bangs out of his eyes.

He didn't take the affection personally. They were parents and good people. He was someone in obvious pain. But it was a beginning, so he smiled at her. "Thank you."

She smiled back. "You saved my son's life."

He looked at Clark, let the warmth of the boy's gaze spread through him with the same power of the arms which held him. Once everything wasn't so raw, he'd repay them all. He'd sit down with Jonathan and they'd figure out how to save all the local farms. Then they'd tackle the problem of getting rid of every last fragment of those damned meteors. He'd make the world safe for his lover so Clark could make the world safer for everyone else. He'd give the boy holding him as if he were the most precious thing in the universe every reason to be proud of him. Along the way, Lex might even find a way to be a good man.

"No," he corrected her, not even trying to keep how much he loved Clark from showing on his face. "I didn't save him. He saved me."

Part II

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