Title: Road to Sanare

Author:  Jinx

Pairing: CLex baby!  Duh!

Rating: R for language and snuggling

Summary: After over a year of not being appreciated, Lex may get a thank-you after all.

Category: Angst, angst and more angst, first-time, a bit of drama, a bit of humor…

Disclaimer: *snort* If they were actually mine, I sure as hell wouldn’t be writing about them!

Feedback: jinx37kat@aol.com

Challenge:  For the CLFF third challenge.

Betaed: Yep.  Thanks MG!  You are the bestest.

Notes: Italics = thoughts. 

Warning: Keep out of reach of children.

Road to Sanare

By Jinx

Lex sat slumped in the leather love seat next to the fireplace in his office, nursing a rather large glass of brandy, brooding.

What the hell is it about this town and the words Thank and You?  Specifically if you put said words together in an appreciative manner, he thought grumpily.  It was the question of the hour, day, week, month, ye—Stop it!  And he had spent the majority of said d—time brooding in his office sipping brandy and feeling sorry for himself.

He didn’t indulge in that activity very often, but when he did, he did it like he did everything else: spectacularly.  There was no half way for Lex Luthor.  Hell, the last name alone made sure of that.

But, today was the day for contemplation, specifically contemplating this fucking town and its aversion to the words ‘thank’ and ‘you’ when put together in a gratifying or appreciative manner.

Lex sighed and took another sip.

All right, it wasn’t like those particular words were a word in the Luthor vocabulary.  Luthors don’t know the meaning of the word, unless it is directed at them by some overly grateful suck-up <insert father’s drones here, Lex thought pissily>. 

However, the lack of appreciation from this hick town, particularly his so-called ‘best friend,’ Clark Kent was grating on his nerves.  It was definitely something that should not be tying him in knots.  The fact that he was thinking about it at all stood testament to its affect on him.  So…

Why the hell am I obsessing about this anyway? Lex took yet another sip and stared hard at the table between the two couches.  After a few moments, Lex snorted to himself… as if the answers to his questions were written in the wood.  The answers for his particular questions could only come from a certain Smallville teenager and it would be a cold day in hell when that happened.

Lex wasn’t holding his breath.

He’d actually gotten quite used to the lying.  He could handle that.  Well, except for the part that made him either look or feel stupid.  Stupid he definitely wasn’t and the fact that Clark would blatantly lie to his face even after all the empirical data told Lex otherwise…  That’s what pissed him off.  Plus, it didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have.  He was actually used to being lied to.  His father being so incredibly good at it. 

So, it wasn’t the lying…

It was being taken for granted.  And truthfully, that shouldn’t have bothered him either.  In fact, that should have bothered him less than the lying.  But at least he was used to being taken for granted about as much as he was used to the lying.  Probably more so.  Everyone did it to him.  Everyone including his own father.  It was a Luthor-given.  Never tell a Luthor the truth and never show appreciation for anything a Luthor does.  They’ll only try to use that weakness against you.  So, why then, was this bothering him so much?

Lex took a longer gulp of the amber liquid.

Maybe because Clark was the closest thing to a friend he had… ever.  Lex knew the basics of friendship.  He wasn’t stupid.  He just didn’t think part of friendship included visiting said friend only when you needed something.

And lately, that was the only time Lex ever saw Clark… when Clark needed Lex for something.  And not just normal ‘somethings’.  Clark came to Lex when he needed Lex to do things slightly, if not completely, illegal.  Case in point: harboring an injured fugitive who just escaped from jail.  Lex remembered Clark bringing Kyle Tippet to his home after the recluse escaped from jail and had been shot by a police officer. 

Oh, Lex snorted to himself.  Of course I would take him in no questions asked because I am a Luthor after all, not to mention I have a very shady past.  I would have no problem harboring a fugitive, Lex mocked.  He decided he sounded a lot like Jonathan Kent.  Grimacing at the thought, he took a rather large gulp of his brandy.  Platitude spouting bastard.

Lex contemplated his drink and thought over the past several months…

It had been about six months since he’d killed Nixon and while he hadn’t turned into a recluse, he’d not been out of the mansion much since either.  It wasn’t so much that he was hiding, but more like he needed time to think.  Plus there was that whole running-your-own-company thing he had going.  But that was something else entirely.

Lex had been spending that time contemplating his life.  Something he’d been known to do on quite a few occasions.  It was the ‘emotional’ part of him, the part that his father despised.  He smiled softly to himself.  Just knowing that it annoyed his father lightened his mood if only for a moment.  However, this time it was personal.  Considering how much had happened in his life since being exiled to Smallville, Lex decided that he deserved a much needed and much deserved sulk; and what better time than now, especially after everything that had happened.

Especially after everything that had happened.

He began with thoughts of Nixon and the tragedy of that scum reporter’s untimely death.  Okay, so maybe it wasn’t that tragic or too untimely, Lex mused.

But, it wasn’t every day that you took someone’s life.  Even if said ‘someone’ wasn’t worth the air he breathed in the first place.

Nixon was the worst kind of scum:  in life for the almighty dollar and nothing else.  He had gotten his friends and family involved in his game, and he really didn’t care about the outcome as long as he got what he wanted.

Hmm, sounded an awful lot like dear old dad, Lex thought.

But Nixon had known better, damn it.  The first time he had tried to cross Lex, he learned right away what Lex was capable of… erasing that creep reporter’s life with just one well-placed phone call.  But did Nixon learn from his mistake?  It appeared not.  Lex had specifically told him not to bother the Kents and what did he do?  Bothered the Kents.

Some people were so stupid that they didn’t deserve to walk the earth, but that didn’t mean that Lex needed to be the one to remove life’s idiots.  He may be a Luthor, but that didn’t mean that taking a life was something that would be easy to do.  Hell, it wasn’t as if he’d done it before.  Though, if you asked anyone around here, most of the citizens of Smallville would probably have told you that he did it on a regular basis.  No, removing a problem was more his dad’s style.  Though, on second thought… his dad wouldn’t have done it himself, he would have hired someone to do it for him.

Besides, that wasn’t as if that were an option in this case.  It was either Nixon or Jonathan Kent.  Lex snorted.  Obviously a case of the lesser of two evils.

Lex stared into the fire, watching the sparks dance up from the smoldering logs.  Lex could still see the hole the bullet created in Nixon’s back after he’d pulled the trigger.  And Nixon froze like a statue standing in front of Mr. Kent before falling to the ground.  Most likely dead long before fully completing his fall. 

Even after all these months, just thinking about it caused Lex’s chest to tighten as though his asthma had returned and made his blood run thick and cold through his veins.

He’d taken another life, another human being.

He had convinced himself it was for the greater good.  Nixon had been scum.  There was no question.  Plus, no matter what secrets Nixon had uncovered about Clark, Lex would never have been able to face his friend again if he hadn’t had done something to protect Mr. Kent.  Besides, Clark’s secrets were more important for Lex to protect even without the knowledge of what they were.  So, he did what he had to and killed another human being, saving the life of his friend’s father.

But at what price?

Apparently his soul.  It was obvious that he had still not recovered from it if he was sitting in his castle, alone, guzzling one hundred year old brandy like it was one of his bottles of Ty-Nant.

It was last spring, Lex, get over it!, he berated himself. 

He could still remember walking up to Nixon’s lifeless body and staring down, unable to believe he’d just committed murder.  A separate part of himself thought it ironic that while he stood shocked and devastated over the corpse, Clark and his father were taking that moment to have yet another bonding experience over everything that had happened.

Lex pulled his head back in surprise and blinked several times.  Seeing the events again in his mind, he was taken aback that once again he had been left alone with the tragedy of the day.  It didn’t seem to matter that he had saved the life of another person by taking another life.  He was left standing alone while the Kents expounded their relief of being all right once again.

It kind of reminded him of the incident at the plant the year before when Earl took Clark and his high school class hostage, demanding to see Level Three.  Lex had attempted to defuse the situation and got nothing out of it but a pathetic PR hug from his father.

That time, saving the high school students didn’t even earn him a ‘thank you’.  This time…  Well, this time really wasn’t that much better.

Jonathan’s words floated in his mind causing him to take a rather large gulp from his snifter: I’d like to thank you for saving my life…

Lex squeezed his eyes shut at the memory.  No one’s stopping you, Lex thought to himself for the thousandth time since the shooting.  He’d like to thank me, Lex fumed to himself.  He’d like to…  What the fuck was that about?  He’d like to thank me, but he can’t because I’m a Luthor?  He’d like to thank me, but the moon is in the House of Jupiter and the stars aren’t aligned properly?  What the fuck was so hard about saying, oh I don’t know: Thank you, Lex.  Oooo, yeah, that was really hard.  Bastard!  Lex took another drink of the amber liquid and sighed as it burned down his throat.

Jonathan Kent was the epitome of the town’s thoughts and feelings of all things anti-Luthor wrapped up in one person.

Lex sighed.  There was nothing he would ever be able to do to make that man change his mind.  If killing someone to save his life couldn’t do it, nothing would.

Plus, as far as Clark was concerned, Lex supposed it would take a while to get used to the fact that your best friend killed someone in cold blood.  Even if Lex took a life to save a life.  Even if the life saved was a family member.  But the fact that Clark hadn’t bothered to visit for several weeks after the shooting was further proof that Clark was uncomfortable around him.  Clark pretty much stayed away aside from the weekly produce deliveries, and even then, it was a quick in-and-out.  “Here’s your produce, Lex.  Gotta go.  More deliveries to make.”  And Lex was left alone.

After the third week of Clark’s I’ve-got-no-time-for-you produce deliveries, Lex stopped hanging out in the kitchen and waiting for his ‘friend’.  He stayed in his office and worked.  No reason to stop if Clark was barely going to say hello.

It really wasn’t until the end of summer that things kind of went back to normal.  Clark started hanging out more and Lex stopped by the Talon more.  By some unspoken agreement, what happened after the spring tornado was never mentioned.  Lex didn’t mind too much.  It wasn’t as if he wanted to talk about the shooting.  He was still trying to get over it himself.  But, it hurt to know that your friend couldn’t even bring himself to thank you for saving his father’s life.  Or at the very least acknowledge what Lex had done good or bad.

Lex glanced down at his glass and realized it was empty.  His eyes widened.  What he put in his snifter should have lasted him well into the night.  He was obviously thinking far more than he should if he could go through a few hours’ worth of drink in less than an hour.

Not really caring at the moment, he shrugged his shoulders and stood up, making his way to the crystal decanter behind the pool table.  After liberally pouring himself another generous glass of his father’s one hundred year old brandy (take that, dad), Lex wandered to the bookcase on the other side of the room and randomly began looking at the spines of the books on the shelf.

His eyes landed on ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and his thought slammed right back toward Mr. Kent.  And that caused Lex to take another large drink of brandy.

Jonathan Kent was the poster boy for prideful folly.  If Kent wasn’t careful, and Lex knew that Mr. Kent wasn’t, he was going to lose a lot more than his farm with that pride of his.  Case in point: the most recent problem at the Kent farm with Clark’s mysterious grandfather coming to town.

It was sad that Clark had never even met his grandfather.  Whatever the reason, Lex was sure that Mr. Kent was behind it.  Most likely because Mr. Clark was fairly wealthy in his own right.  Lex snorted.  What was it with Jonathan Kent and money anyway?

Heaven forbid that man take any help when it comes to his farm.  And it wasn’t as if the times Lex had tried to help had been any form of charity.  If anything, Lex had proposed a partnership with the Kent Farm as well as trying to pay them back for the dead cows and loss of farmland his illustrious past managed to kill off.  But, it seemed that even compensation from a Luthor wasn’t worth the paper the check was printed on.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true… now.  After a year of offers of help from Lex, the Kents pretty much slapped Lex in the face when Mrs. Kent took a job with his own father.

That hurt. 

A lot.

Especially since the day Lex arrived in Smallville, Clark’s father loudly made it known to the known solar system that the Luthors were nothing but money grubbing, not-to-be-trust scum of the earth.  And what does Martha do not more than a year later?  Turn around and starts working for his father.  Within one day, his dad achieved something that Lex couldn’t manage in over a year.

Fuck!  If his father knew, he’d be gloating in the streets, full parade with banners over the streets of Smallville with: I TOLD YOU SO, LEX plastered all over town.  God, he could just hear that bastard now: “Money is power, Lex.  People don’t want charity or friendship.  Haven’t you learned anything of what I taught you?  The Romans…”  Lex squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to expel his father’s voice.  Fuck the Romans, dad!  Get out of my head!

Lex took another drink, nearly choking on the golden liquid.  Once he was able to breathe again, Lex’s mind thoughtfully returned to its former diatribe with unerring accuracy: the fucking over of Lex from Lionel…

That was not only ego deflating, but quite hurtful.  Though he was sure that Jonathan didn’t think that Lex Luthor was capable of having feelings.  As far as Lex was concerned, the Kents just proved to him that he was worse than his father.  Worse than his father, for god’s sake!  And he had done nothing to the Kents to even remotely make them think that way.  Hell, he’d killed for that family and he didn’t even get a thank you for it.  “I’d like to thank you for saving my life” including the biggest disclaimer of a “but” hanging from the end of that sentence does NOT qualify as a ‘thank you’.  It is more like a ‘I should thank you, but you’re a Luthor and not worthy of a Kent’s thanks.’ 

Lex had tried his damnedest to help with the Kent Farms finances and had been turned down at every attempt.

Though, Lex suddenly remembered, he was also in the same boat as Clark’s grandfather.  He snorted softly to himself.  Hell, if that were the case, he was practically family!  So it really wasn’t that personal.  Was it?

Okay, so it was personal as far as Jonathan Kent was concerned, but Clark’s father wouldn’t accept help from his own wife’s father, so Lex wasn’t entirely alone.  Seems like Lex and Grandpa Clark had a lot in common.  That was something to ease Lex’s mind.  It wasn’t just him… It couldn’t be.  Not if Grandpa Clark was treated just as “warmly”.

Lex coughed. 

Perhaps he should look up Mr. Clark the next time he was in Metropolis.  Maybe have drinks.  Talk about that bastard Jonathan Kent over a glass of scotch and cigars at some rich-ass Metropolis Men’s Club.  Somewhere Jonathan Kent would be outraged at the decadence and pomp and ostentatiousness of it all.   Somewhere Jonathan Kent would not be welcomed and he and Mr. Clark could commiserate.

Lex smiled.  Something to seriously think about.

He wandered from the bookcase back to the lounge and sat, propping his feet up on the small table between the two couches.  He stretched his right arm out over the back of the couch and rested his left arm on the armrest, hand lightly holding his brandy.

The light feelings quickly retreated, however, as the weight of his complicated life once again settled over the room. 

The most recent incident made him shudder.  The whole fiasco with Rachel Dunlevy and the question of Clark’s parentage took everyone by surprise.  For a while there, it looked like Clark might be his brother.  Lex didn’t like the idea on so many different levels, but it was Clark’s outward expression of dislike for that idea that made the warm part of Lex’s heart begin to freeze up again.  Clark couldn’t have been plainer in his disgust if he’d come right out and said; “There’s no way in hell that I would want to be related to you, Lex.”

But, in reality, it wasn’t Clark’s part of the incident that had Lex shaking; it was the realization that his father had left him to die… for a second time.  What made things worse in this instance was that his father was willing to let him die this time to protect the Kents’! 

Oh yes, after Rachel Dunlevy was safely locked away, Lex did a little investigating and found that his own father assisted the Kents in adopting Clark.  Lex couldn’t find any more information regarding the adoption other than the papers that Lionel had drawn up.  But, the fact that his own father was willing to let Lex die to keep the Kents’ secret.  Maybe Clark really was Dad’s son.  No, Lex shook his head, he didn’t believe that for a second.  What was really bothering Lex was that his own dad had been willing to let his legitimate son die to protect the Kents—a family who clearly hated all things Luthor. 

Go figure.

But then again, Lex was constantly trying to help the Kents in one way or another despite the fact that the elder Mr. Kent hated his guts.  What the fuck was it about the Kents that made Luthors try to help.  Fuck!

Would he ever get a break from either his father or the Kents?  It appeared not.  He meant nothing to his father.  That much was true… had been true practically since Lex was born.  And now, knowing that he really didn’t mean anything to the one person in Smallville whom he considered ‘friend’… Lex didn’t know what to do, how to feel.  Hell, Lex even wondered if Clark knew about the mutual secret between his parents and Lex’s dad.  Probably.  It was just another secret that Lex wasn’t good enough to be privy to.

He wondered why he even bothered to try.

Lex tried to command his mind to rest from all its thinking and redirect his thought elsewhere.  Instead, his mind wandered to Clark’s high school friends and all the times he’d done things for said friends simply because he, too, was Clark’s friend.  It was almost as though he was required to help just because of his relationship with the younger man.

It was becoming something of a given that if you asked Clark, even knowing he didn’t have the resources or money to help out, Clark would simply go to Lex and it would be done.  It was a way to get a Luthors help without having to ask directly.  He was finding that out more and more.  Especially with Lana.  Fucking princess! Lex sneered. 

It was taken for granted that since Lex was Clark’s friend that he would (should?) do anything for any of Clark’s friends without thought.  Foolishly enough, Lex actually would do it.  Each and every fucking time.  If for no one else other than Clark.  But, it still never garnered him a ‘thank you’ or ‘I appreciate it’.  Heaven forbid you thank a Luthor. 

Lex sighed to himself.  He was not letting this thank-you thing go.  It wasn’t as if he really wanted gratitude for the things he did, but it would be nice to be acknowledged once in a while.

Lex remembered the day Lana came to him, whining and moaning about saving the Talon: parents this and parents that.  When she finally did come up with a plausible reason to keep it from becoming a parking lot, Lex went along with it more for Clark than anything she had to say.  But, did he receive a thank you from either of them?  Why of course not.  Apparently, one does not thank one’s friends in Smallville. 

And when it came to the Talon, Lana was as nice as a fairy princess when she wanted something out of Lex for the coffee shop, but god forbid something go wrong like the Talon not making money or something not going as Princess Lana planned.  Suddenly it was, ‘People told me not to trust Lex.  I should have listened to them.’  And Lana could flip her opinions of Lex in the space of less than an hour.  One moment he was her ‘silent partner’, the next, ‘I knew I shouldn’t have trusted Lex.’

Maybe he should seriously think of that much needed extra parking space in town after all.

Lex shook his head.  He would never get it.  He would do something nice and the people of this small hick town could still find a way to crap all over him.  Lex raised his glass in a salute.  “Thanks dad.”  He took a small sip and savored the burn sliding down his throat.

“Lex?”

Lex was startled out of his self-imposed pity party by the deep timbre of his friend’s voice.  Lex raised his head and saw Clark standing in the doorway of his office looking a bit unsure.

“Clark.”  Lex’s tone was bland, overtly casual.  Clark hesitated, looking suddenly unsure of his welcome.  He continued to stand in the doorway, watching Lex.

“Mrs. Calder said you were here.”

Lex raised his glass.  “That I am.”

“Oh,” Clark said, shifting from one foot to the other.

Taking pity on his young friend, Lex shoved his conflicting feelings aside and softened his gaze, asking, “What brings you here at,” looking at his watch, Lex scowled.  “Five thirty?  Hmm, I thought it was later than that.  I hate time change.”

This earned Lex a small smile from Clark and the younger man stepped further into the room.

“Shouldn’t you be posting holes in the back forty or something?” Lex asked.  The sarcasm in his tone stopped Clark dead center in the room.

“I finished my chores,” Clark answered tentatively, not moving from his spot.

“Already?  Hmm.”  Lex wanted to remind Clark that Time seemed to be the biggest excuse he had used all summer for leaving early or not stopping by at all.  But, he didn’t.  Pettiness would get him nowhere and he was not about to stoop as low as his or Clark’s father.

Well, maybe a little.

Instead, Lex asked, “What can I do for you?”

Clark grinned.  “Can’t I just come by to visit my friend?  You don’t always have to be doing stuff for me, ya know, Lex.”

“Why else would you come?” Lex asked.

Clark frowned at Lex.  He looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn’t know where to begin.  I know where you can start, Clark, Lex suggested silently.  Try telling me why you’ve been avoiding me all summer.  Hell, most of the past year!  He would never say anything, though.  Luthors didn’t do that.  They weren’t supposed to care.

“Lex?  You okay?”

Lex smiled, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes.  “Of course, Clark.  Why wouldn’t I be?”

Clark hesitantly made his way towards his friend and sat down on the edge of the small couch opposite Lex.  “I don’t know.  You seem… different.”

Lex shrugged one shoulder and shook his head.  “No.  Everything’s fine.  I’ve got my own company, a good friend,” Lex gestured his glass towards Clark.  “Money, power… what more could a twenty two year old want?”  Lex’s voice was tinged with so much sarcasm he even made himself wince.  But he didn’t care.  It was his pity party and he could whine if he wanted. 

Lex rolled his eyes at the horrible song reference.

“I’m just worried about you,” Clark elaborated, clinching his hands in his lap.  “I haven’t seen you around town lately and I just… I don’t know.  Was worried.”

Lex stood up unable to take the gentle green-eyed regard and turned to his desk by the stained glass windows.  He stared up at the patterns of colored glass, remembering the wind-torn, shattered hole there, which seemed like a lifetime ago.  “There’s nothing to be worried about, Clark.  Everything’s the same as always.  You know: reporters to kill, psycho wives to dodge, friend’s fathers with shotguns to hide from, friend’s friends to do things for, same old Luthor shit, Clark.”

The silence that followed Lex’s rant was thick enough to cut with the proverbial knife.  Lex spared a thought that Clark might have left and decided that he really didn’t couldn’t find it in him to care.  He was tired.  Tired of trying.  Tired of trying to prove himself over and over for nothing.  Not even Clark was what Lex continuously tried to make him out to be.  He was, to Lex’s dismay, like everyone else.  Using him for whatever they could get out of him. 

Ah, the joys of Luthor-hood.

For Clark, Lex assumed, he was being used in Clark’s teenaged rebellion: the one thing that Clark could do that wasn’t perfectly Clark-like.  Most teenagers drank or smoked or did a hundred other things to rebel against their parents and the world.  Clark?  He had Lex Luthor as a friend.  In a town that was so obvious anti-Luthor, Clark had a very public friendship with Lex.  But apparently that friendship came with a price.  It shouldn’t have surprised Lex, but he had truly believed that Clark was different.

And he was.  Different, that is.  Clark was just much, much better at taking advantage of Lex than Lex wanted to give him credit for.  Probably because Lex made the critical error of believing in Clark.  Believing in their “friendship.”

What a fool he was.  What a fool he still was apparently, because with all the evidence right there in front of him in plain sight, he was still willing to believe Clark, believe in Clark.  Someone shoot him now and put him out of his misery.  Lex shook his head, jostling the depressing thoughts around.

“I’m sorry, Lex.”  The words were whispered and much closer than Lex expected.  He hadn’t realized that Clark had followed him to the window until he heard the soft-spoken words directly behind him.

Shaking off his morose thoughts, Lex turned around and asked stupidly, “For what?”

“For making you think I’m like everyone else.”

“What makes you think I think that, Clark?” Lex asked pretending he wasn’t having those exactly same thoughts Clark was talking about.  Ignorance was supposed to be bliss.  At least that’s what the books said.

Clark gave Lex a half-smile and said, “Because you just said so.”

The books were wrong.

Lex snorted softly and closed his eyes.  Fuck!  Keep you thoughts in your brain, you asshole, and out of your mouth! Lex scolded himself.

“Clark…” Lex began warningly, opening his eyes and looking Clark in the eye.

“You’re right, you know.”

The knot in Lex’s stomach grew and he tensed.  “Am I?” Lex asked, not wanting to hear what he had been dreading all along.  Play dumb, Lex, he told himself.  And just maybe you might be able to salvage a semblance of a friendship.

“I have been acting like everyone else.”

Lex pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes again, turning his back on the younger man.  He really didn’t want to hear this.  Sure, he knew it and sure he’d been thinking about it for the past several months, but he sure as hell didn’t want it confirmed in the cold, hard, light of… okay, the cold, hard, dark of a November evening.  It was just too painful.

“Clark, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  Lex moved away from the window and away from Clark, who had been standing much too close for comfort.  He wandered over to where the brandy was and topped off his glass… again.  It was definitely not the way to drink one hundred year old brandy, but… fuck it!

Lex was raising his glass to his lips when a warm hand softly wrapped around his own and gently tugged downward. 

“Clark…” Lex began with resignation.

“Lex,” Clark interrupted, turning Lex around to face him and removing the glass from Lex’s hand.  “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately.  I’ve been doing some thinking and needed to sort some stuff out in my head.”

Join the club.  Lex nodded, completely understanding, considering his day’s activity prior to Clark’s arrival.  Out loud he said, “That’s okay, Clark.  I’ve been busy myself.”  Lex made to move but Clark gently clasped his wrist, soft fingers circling the fine bones.

“Please, Lex.  I really need to talk.  I think we both do.”

Sighing internally, Lex pasted a smile on his face and gestured to the two small couches next to the fireplace they had previously been using.

And so it begins, Lex thought to himself as he watched Clark walk across the room.

Clark moved to one of the seats and Lex followed after retrieving his drink from the bar.  If nothing else, he would need all the Dutch courage he could get if this conversation was going to be everything he feared.  Lex made himself take up a rather graceful sprawl on the opposite couch, crossing his legs as he sat and silently waited for Clark to begin.

The two young men sat staring at each other for a few long moments.  Lex watched as Clark seemed to be struggling with his words.  The teenager would open his mouth to start and then clamp it shut, sighing loudly and looking everywhere but at Lex.

Taking pity on his friend and briefly wondering how much longer he would be allowed to call the young man sitting across from him ‘friend’, Lex said, “Look, Clark.  You really don’t have to say anything.”

“I wanted to come over after what happened after the tornado, but dad said that you probably had other things to worry about and that I shouldn’t bother you,” Clark blurted out in one long breath.

What a surprise, Lex thought, just managing not to roll his eyes.

Instead, Lex nodded his head in understanding, though if he were honest with himself, he far from understood.  It was just another slap in the face from his good friend, Jonathan Kent.  He allowed a small smile on his carefully schooled features and raised his eyes to Clark.  “It’s not a problem, Clark.  I understand.”

Lex expected Clark to jump in with more excuses or platitudes, but the young man across from him was unusually quiet, studying him as though trying to read his mind.  Normally it wouldn’t have bothered Lex, but the silence continued and he was beginning to feel like he did when his father stared at him.  The bug under the microscope feeling wasn’t pleasant.

“It is a problem, Lex,” Clark finally whispered.  “I was worried about you.”

Lex smiled, though it did not reach his eyes.  “There’s no need.  I’m not worth worrying about, Clark,” Lex said self-deprecatingly. 

Clark frowned.  “Lex…”

“Come on, Clark.  It’s true.  Just ask anyone in this town.”  Just ask your father.  Hell, ask yourself if you want to be honest, Lex wanted to say, but kept that to himself.

“It’s not.”

Lex sighed.  While he appreciated Clark defending his so-called honor, when all was said and done, the truth was the truth whether you wanted to believe it or not.  Lex had spent his entire life fighting the belief that he wasn’t worth it.  His father was a master at emotional flogging.  But when he came to Smallville, a small part of him had wanted this place to be a new start for him.  He had believed that it was going to be a new start for him, especially after he had died that day at the river. 

He remembered telling Clark, the following day when Clark returned the thank-you-truck, that in those two minutes when he had been dead, he had flown over Smallville and saw a new beginning for himself.  A beginning free from his father’s tyranny.  A new life for himself free from his destiny.  He was going to forge a new destiny for himself and it would begin in Smallville.  At the time, he had honestly believed it.  Believed it like nothing else in his life. 

Believed it until this year. 

His one-year anniversary in Bumfuck, Kansas and he was more ostracized than when he had first arrived!  He never would have dreamed in a million years that that could have been possible… but it was.  It seemed whatever he did or even tried to do would only make people that much more suspicious.  Hell!  He bought the plant from his father and saved twenty five hundred people their jobs and what did he get out of it?  Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. 

Because while he had just saved jobs for the good people of Smallville, he had also created his own company, which, of course, caused people to suspect that he was up to something no good… Now that Lex had his own company, would he become like his father?  Would he be worse?  Those and many other questions lurked in the minds of the citizens of Smallville not once taking into account that he had just saved thousands of jobs and the only satisfaction he got out of it was a personal one of screwing over his father.

In with the new and out with the old.  But was the new going to be worse than the old?  It didn’t matter that people still had their jobs… they were still suspicious.  Besides, a Luthor was a Luthor whether it was the father or the son.

Nothing changed.

Lex was shaken from his reverie when Clark stated:

“It’s not true,” Clark denied again, sounding as though he were willing Lex to believe on just his say so.

“Clark…” Lex sharply interrupted, effectively snapping Clark’s mouth shut.  Taking a deep breath, Lex softened his voice, saying, “Clark.  I appreciate your worry, but, seriously, everything is fine.”

Clark looked Lex in the eye.  “Liar.”

Lex raised his sandy brows, shocked at the blatant declaration coming from this normally mind-mannered young man.  “Pardon me?”

Clark shifted in his seat, momentarily nervous, before straightening.  “You heard me.  You’re lying.  Everything is not fine.  If it were, you wouldn’t be holed up,” Clark gestured around the room, “in this mausoleum.”

Hackles rising at being caught in his lie, Lex narrowed his eyes.  “This ‘mausoleum’ is my home, Clark.”  Lex got up and moved back to the window.  “Forgive me for having a business to run.  I have been kind of busy.”

“Not in the beginning.”

“Excuse me?”

“In the beginning,” Clark began, “you met me in the kitchen during delivery days and went to the Talon as much as you used to even with your new business.  You’re using that as an excuse because you don’t want to hurt my feelings.”

Lex turned and arched an eyebrow.  “All right.”

When nothing more was forthcoming, Clark asked, “That’s it?”

“What else do you want from me, Clark?” Lex sighed.  He was in no mood to coddle Clark’s teenaged angst-filled emotions right now, especially since his own were so close to the surface.

“I want to know how you’re doing, Lex.  We really haven’t seen that much of each other since…” Clark shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.  “…since the tornado.”

Nerves frayed beyond their limits, Lex bit his tongue to keep from saying what he really wanted to.  Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to keep it all inside.  “Too little too late, Clark,” Lex muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  Hurt clear in the younger man’s voice.

Damn it.  Well, might as well get this all out now.  Better to end a friendship sooner rather than later.  Gives me more time to figure out if I’ll be able to come out of this whole, Lex thought to himself.

Taking a deep breath, Lex turned and looked over at Clark.  “It means, Clark, that it has been six months since the…” Lex paused, seemingly just as uncomfortable as Clark in mentioning the shooting.  Squaring his shoulders and lifting his head, standing stiffly, he continued, “Since I killed Nixon and suddenly, six months later, now you want to see if I’m okay?  Don’t you think it’s a little too late?”

Clark looked down, guilt emblazoned on his face.  “I’m sorry, Lex.”

“About what?  Me killing someone or you waiting so long?”

Clark looked up at Lex through the fringe over his forehead.  “Both.”

Lex truly didn’t know what to say to that, so he remained quiet.  He took another drink of his brandy and leaned against the table under the window, looking at Clark, trying his damnedest to look, for all the world, as nonchalant as possible. 

Apparently, Clark wasn’t buying it.  Lex’s hidden nerves seemed to have transferred themselves to Clark, who abruptly jumped up and began moving around the room.  Lex followed the younger man’s movements with his eyes, secretly happy that Clark was as upset as he was.  Hell!  He shouldn’t be the only one upset right now.  The more the merrier, isn’t that what they say?  Lex raised the glass in a mock-salute and took another rather large drink.

Lex decided he must be at least a little bit drunk because before the glass touched Lex’s lips, Clark appeared at his side and practically ripped the glass out of Lex’s hand.

Lex raised a questioning brow at his friend.  The other eyebrow quickly joined its twin when Clark threw the glass across the room, anger pouring out of the younger man.

“Will you at least get mad or something?” Clark yelled, turning back to Lex after hurling the glass.  “Instead of sitting here like you don’t have a care in the world?”

“What do you want me to do, Clark?  It’s rather a moot point now, isn’t it?  ‘Too little, too late,’ and all that.”

“No!  It’s not!”  Clark began pacing again.  “If it were, then you wouldn’t be sitting in here all alone.  You wouldn’t have been avoiding me.  You wouldn’t—”

“Avoiding you?!” Lex interrupted, appalled that Clark had the audacity to talk to him about avoidance.  “I wasn’t the one avoiding anyone, Clark.  If I recall… And.  I.  Do.  I called your house several times after the… tornado… and was unceremoniously told on each and every occasion that you were unavailable.  Plus, there was all those, ‘I’m too busy to stay and visit, Lex’ on your produce delivery days.  Oh!  And let’s not forget—”

Lex was cut off by a shocked looking Clark, whose face blanched.  “What did you say?”

Lex rolled his eyes, “I said…”

“When did you call?”  Clark had stopped pacing and was now practically frozen in the middle of the room.

Lex blinked.  “Every day for almost a week afterwards.”

Clark’s face fell and he looked away.  “They didn’t tell me,” he whispered.  He was looking like a kid whose parents died – or worse… had just betrayed him. 

They had.

Clark looked up at Lex with wet eyes, though no tears fell.  “I didn’t know.”  Clark’s voice was quiet as he looked at Lex pleadingly, silently begging for Lex to believe him.

Lex expelled a breath and closed his eyes.  He couldn’t hold back a quiet self-deprecating snort while he shook his head.  Should have known.

“Lex?”

His eyes remained closed and he shook his head, not wanting to say anything.  Or, not knowing what to say.  Though, most likely, he knew exactly what to say and how to say it, but didn’t want to make matters worse.

“Lex, please, you have to believe me.” Clark took a step forward, hand out as thought begging.  “I didn’t know you called.  Honest.”

Lex sighed, tension still causing his muscles to shake minutely, but resignation clear in his reopened eyes.  “I believe you, Clark.”

But Clark continued as though he hadn’t heard.  “When I asked if I could come see you, Dad said that you probably had other things on your mind and that I should give you some time.  I…” He stopped when he realized what Lex had said.  “You do?”

“Yes, Clark, I do.”  Lex wished he didn’t understand, it would make it that much easier to be angry at Clark, but he found himself truly believing the younger man.

Lex mentally shook his head.  He really ought to think about some serious counseling because he was one fucked up twenty-something.  Counseling or drugs.  Hmm…

“’Cause I really did want to come see you, Lex, but Dad said…”

“I can just imagine what your father said, Clark,” Lex stated sardonically.  He really wasn’t up to hearing the lies Clark’s father told his son.  He got enough of that from his own father.

Clark furrowed his brows and frowned at Lex.  “Lex?”

Lex sighed.  He was doing a lot of that lately; if his father could hear him, Lex would be getting a lecture on emotions and weakness.  “Clark, it’s no secret how your father feels about me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Lex.  You saved his life!”

Lex tried very hard not to snort at Clark’s statement.  He truly did.  But unfortunately he was unsuccessful.  “He doesn’t see it that way.  I may have saved his life, Clark, but I took a life, too.  In his eyes that makes me to be nothing but a murderer.  Nothing more.”

“That’s not true,” Clark defended.

“Isn’t it?  Then why did he tell me you were busy every time I called to talk to you?  The only way to make your statement true is if you really, truly didn’t want to talk to me.  Is that what you’re telling me, Clark?  Because you can’t have it both ways.” 

“I –” Clark broke off, not knowing what to say.

There was a war going on behind Clark’s eyes and Lex wanted nothing more than to erase the younger man’s confusion.  He caused it, yes, but he needed Clark to realize that his parents weren’t the saints he believed them to be.  Children ultimately realize that at some time or another in their lives.  It was past time Clark figured that out.

“I…” Clark looked over at Lex, teeth grasping the side of his lower lip firmly, and knawing thoughtfully.  “I’m sorry?”  He didn’t sound too sure.

Lex’s face softened.  He couldn’t stay mad at Clark no matter how much he wanted to sometimes.  And he did… sometimes.  Between Clark’s constant lying to him regarding his “abilities” and his general teenage-angsting, Lex sometimes wanted to shake Clark.  Or maybe kiss him? The back of Lex’s mind supplied unhelpfully.  Lex narrowed his eyes at his traitorous thoughts and willed them to shut up.

Trying to smile, Lex said, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Clark.  You didn’t know.  It’s not your fault.”

“But I should have come over anyway.”

“Not if you believed what your father was saying.  You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have, though,” Clark remarked bitterly. 

Knowing that there was no use trying to coax Clark out of his self-induced guilt-trip and not being able to ever stay mad at Clark for any amount of time, Lex stood up and looked around the room, trying to think of what he could do to ease the tension.  Smiling, he moved to the pool table.  As he passed Clark, he slid a hand down the younger man’s arm, patting a wrist.  “Come on, now.  Let’s shoot some pool.”  Lex had hoped the change in subject would ease them back into their normal comfortable camaraderie.

Lex removed his favorite pool cue from the wall and chalked it up, moving around to the end of the table.  He was preparing to break when Clark walked up next to him and placed a hand on the cue.  “Lex.”

Bent over the table, Lex allowed his body to sag over the felt and he closed his eyes, resting his forehead next to his cue on the soft red fuzz.  “Clark do we have to do this now?”  He knew he sounded like a petulant child, but couldn’t help it under the circumstances.  He had spent the last several hours in a self-induced pity party, drinking heavily, and now Clark wanted him to bring it all out in the open and talk. 

There was a reason for dealing with stuff like this alone.  One: there wasn’t an opportunity to hurt anyone’s feelings, and he really didn’t want to hurt Clark’s feeling despite the fact that Clark seemed to be at the heart of a few said problems.  Two: he was used to fixing problems himself.  He didn’t need anyone when he was a child and he certainly didn’t need anyone now.  Besides, he was a master at the alone thing.  Three: Was there even a three?  Because Lex suddenly realized that he was feeling quite comfortable half lying on the pool table and wondered if he’d had too much to drink after all.

No, it wasn’t the alcohol.  He’d put much more away in a night of clubbing than what he had consumed tonight.  No, it was much, much more than alcohol.  It was something that alcohol merely emphasized when taken in large enough quantities… weariness.  A bone deep weariness that seeped slowly down through the skin and tissues to wedge itself in the marrow of one’s body.  Something alcohol could never do no matter how much you drank.  And Lex should know.  He was a master of drinking himself into a stupor.  But, he also knew the frigid chill of hopelessness and despair.  And where you found those two you could no doubt find weariness underneath it all, sapping your strength, exhausting you until you were found lying on your pool table with your best friend standing close, whispering worriedly into your ear.

The ‘close’ part was actually kind of nice though.

“Lex?”  Clark’s voice breathed into Lex’s ear and he peeled open an eye he hadn’t realized he had closed.  Clark had laid his head along side Lex’s on the pool table, the pool cue between them.  “You going to sleep here?”  There was amusement in that voice and a softness in the green eyes that Lex suddenly decided he liked.  He wanted to keep the softness there all the time and not hear any unhappiness come out of that mouth… ever.

There was too much negativity going around anyway.

Lex remained where he was, one eye peering at Clark.  “Yes?” He mumbled, smiling when he saw Clark grin.

“That’ll be kind of uncomfortable if you stay here all night, dontcha think?”

Lex shrugged as best as his position would allow, still smiling softly at Clark.

“You should, maybe, get up and go to bed?” Clark suggested.

“’M not tired,” Lex stated as he closed his eye.

“Sure you’re not,” Lex heard Clark say.  Lex felt the pool stick being removed from his lax fingers and the close warmth of Clark’s body faded as the other man moved away.

Sighing, Lex slowly raised himself from the table and attempted another smile, watching Clark replace the cue on the wall.

Clark turned around and smiled, seeing Lex stand.

The two men stared at each other a moment longer before Clark’s smile faded a bit as he said, “Maybe we should wait to continue this tomorrow.  You’re tired.”

Lex shook his head and sighed.  “No, better to get this over with, I guess.”  He turned and grabbed two water bottles from the small refrigerator next to the pool table.  Moving over towards Clark, he handed the younger man a bottle and continued over to the couch by the fireplace.

Clark followed.  “You sound like that’s a bad thing.”

Not wanting to look at Clark, Lex’s eyes wandered to the fireplace, watching the flames lick the wood logs.  “It might be,” he said quietly.

Clark sat opposite of Lex and twisted the cap off the water bottle, turning to stare into the fireplace as well.  “It doesn’t have to be.”

Lex’s lips twitched.  “Nothing ever ends well for a Luthor, Clark.”

“There’s a first time for everything, Lex.” Clark’s attempt at levity fell flat.

“Not this time.”  Lex sighed and took a large drink of his water.

“Why?” Clark asked, turning to look at Lex.  “Because you don’t want it to?”  There was a tinge of anger in his voice that slightly took Lex aback.

“No, because I don’t have that kind of luck.”

“Things change, Lex.  Maybe your luck will too.”

Lex had nothing to say to that and decided not to even try.

Lex watched the flames dance over the logs, feeling their heat on his face and wishing they could somehow warm him inside, too.

Silence descended on the two young men, each lost in their own thoughts and both not knowing where and how to begin.

Lex secretly watched Clark from the corner of his eye.  He was slightly amused to note that Clark was fidgeting, alternately twisting the bottle in his hands and moving the bottle from one knee to the arm of the couch. 

Unable to allow his friend to quietly torture himself, Lex smiled and turned to Clark.  “Clark, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

Clark whipped his head up from staring at his bottled water like it was his last hope and gaped at Lex with wide eyes.  “What makes you think I don’t want to stay?”

“Um, your unusual silence?  Your inability to look me in the eye.  You’re fidgeting.  Stop me if I get cold.”

Clark smiled at that and for the first time that night, seemed to relax completely, melting back in this seat in his normal loose sprawl; the death gripe on the water momentarily gone.  “I’m sorry, Lex, it’s just that… well, for the first time since we met I kinda feel like we don’t… I don’t know, like we don’t know each other very well.”

Lex had a hundred and one snarky comments for that statement, but wisely decided to keep them all to himself.  It wouldn’t do for him to alienate his already alienated-feeling best friend. 

Unfortunately, though, while his higher brain functions wanted to keep those thoughts to himself, an extremely perverse side of his brain, which tended to get its way more often than not, chose that moment to speak up.  “We don’t know each other very well, Clark.”

The thirty seconds of relaxed atmosphere quickly disappeared in a cloud of vapor and Lex watched Clark tense even more than he’d been before.  Damn it! 

Lex sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, before rubbing at his tired eyes.

“Lex?”  The uncertainty in Clark’s voice cut Lex to the core, but he was not about to let that get to him.  He had said the words; he was going to have to stand by them and make Clark understand.  Besides, it wasn’t fair to leave Clark hanging given the other man’s guilt-complex.

“Clark, look.  It’s true, we don’t.  There is so much in my past that you don’t know about.  Though I’m sure your father has enlightened you to the tabloid version.”  The last was mumbled softly and under his breath. 

The soft snort from Clark told Lex that not only did Clark hear his muttered faux pas, but also Jonathan Kent obviously wasn’t one to keep his opinions to himself even out of earshot of a Luthor.  Oh, to be a fly on the Kent wall. 

On second thought, perhaps not.  Lex would probably be the only fly in the Kent home to be swatted dead on first sight.

The two men shared a small smile before Lex became serious again.  “Okay, I’m sure you’ve heard stories about my past?”

Clark nodded.

Lex nodded back.  “Aren’t you curious as to what is true and what isn’t?”

Clark shook his head.  “No.  I don’t really care.”

That took Lex aback and his eyes widened at his friend.  “You’re not even curious?  Even a little?”  Lex taunted, smiling.

Still serious, Clark shook his head again.  “Why should I be?  Most of them probably aren’t true.”

Lex closed his eyes, stunned. 

No one.  Not one person that Lex ever knew in his limited life on earth had ever had this much faith in him.  Ever.  Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  His mother had.  And Pam.  But those were maternal examples of utter faith in a small boy who had held so much promise in the eyes of a loving mother.

Th