Author: Lil
Title: With or Without You
Rating: PG-13 with some discussion of attempted rape, non-graphic.
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Disclaimer: They're the property of DC Comics, and Millar & Gough, the WB--basically, not me.
Feedback: lilacm67@yahoo.com 
Note: part of the ClexFest at: http://www.kardasi.com/Lexclusive/ClexFest 
Summary: A horrible weekend tears Lex and Clark apart. Can they come back together?
Challenge: 5000 words/10 pages in 10 days (5130 words)
Beta: LRJ, a great friend who crossed fandoms and did an amazingly fast job. Blame stubborn me for all errors.

With or Without You
By Lil

Year: 2009

Lex Luthor stood in shock, heard the catch of clothing stuttering on sweaty skin. Heard the whispered, embarrassed apologies, odd, surreal harbingers of the end of his world.

Reeling, he could barely comprehend as a young man brushed past him, blond head ducked low and hands in half-buttoned jeans. The other, dark-haired one hesitated, took one look at his face and simply repeated the apology and left. He was now alone in the messy dorm room.

His thoughts ran around in circles, a mix of denial, and, as the red-cold rage cleared, a clawing desperation to somehow go back in time and erase the past 48 hours.

But he couldn't.

And the wall of hurt and loss threatened to shatter him.

****

Present day: 2011

Lex Luthor wore his scars on the inside, had since that day over 20 years ago when meteors crashed down around him like his own personal apocalypse.

He thought he'd learned all there was to know about Hell then. As if life was determined to prove him wrong, he'd then lived through his mother's illness and subsequent death, Pamela's seeming desertion, and endless 'lessons' at the hand of a man who still didn't know what it meant to be a father.

Hell, to be human, most of the time.

The shortcomings of his life had been vividly demonstrated to him in an unending loop during that long, brutal, and world-changing first year in Smallville.

He hadn't set foot there in over two years. Couldn't. Still.

His father would consider it a disappointment, a weakness Lex had succumbed to despite Lionel's own best efforts. Lex just figured even Luthors were allowed time to recover from near-fatal wounds, even self-inflicted.

The ding from the private elevator broke his thoughts. Snorting at his own melodrama, Lex entered his penthouse atop LexCorp Tower I and went directly to the bar. Poured himself a scotch, neat.

The evening had been a total waste. Lena was all right, more understanding of the limits of what he was prepared to offer than most, but it was probably time to let her go. She'd been useless tonight, he couldn't even summon up the energy to fuck her.

This time of year always... well, 'always' was a relative term.

It had once been a joyful time. Carefully planned surprises. Gifts that he'd really worked at. Laughter that he didn't.

Smiles and warmth that followed him anywhere he went. Silken skin, wet, full lips, hair so soft he'd yet to find anything that equaled it in two years of fairly determined searching.

((Why is it I can still remember how you taste?))

Lex hated feeling this way. Hated the fact it all still... hurt... so much. Hated that he'd brought it on himself and most of all he hated Clark for not--what?

Being everything Lex Luthor needed him to be?

For growing up?

For moving on?

For leaving and coming back.

For the hope that Lex still had that he would come back once again. He'd never wanted to believe. He'd never had faith. Luthors didn't. Which had been part of the problem, he could acknowledge now.

But Luthors just... didn't.

Didn't believe. Don't hope. Hope is for people who are powerless and that was one point on which he and his father completely agreed--Luthors just don't do powerless. And he never had, except with Clark.

Clark had taught him to hope, if nothing else. Too late to matter, maybe, and that Lex really did hate him for.

No one would come back, not after--

But Clark had done it once. He hadn't really said good-bye.

So Lex was left with his learned hope that he would do it again.

Just one more time.

*****

2009

Lex opened bleary eyes, brain still moving through molasses as he struggled back towards some semblance of human function. What had it been last night? E? Acid? Or was that two or three nights ago? There was too much alcohol, too many pills to really remember.

Wouldn't last, though. It never did and it was never, ever enough to blot it out. To erase this hole from his life, his soul. His heart.

A hand wavered into focus. "Drink this."

Oh yes, water. Good idea.

The voice was familiar but he could only do one thing at a time. Hold glass. Tip glass--oops--hand is back. Steady glass. Good glass. Heavenly water.

"Enough." He knocked the hand and the glass aside. True, there might be a more polite way to go about it, but frankly, Lex couldn't give a fuck. The glass went away, that was all that mattered to him. He took another moment or two, then tried opening his eyes and actually seeing the room. He was lying on something soft, so odds were good either he collapsed on the couch, or, miracle of miracles, he had actually managed to find his bed this time.

First thing he saw was that hand again, set off against a background of navy blue. Both familiar. Familiar blue, oh-so familiar hand. Hand he knew like, well, his own. Long, square fingers. Sensitive. Strong. Inhumanly so and it couldn't be and he was afraid to look away because they might vanish or morph into ordinary human fingers, fingers that weren't *his* but if he didn't blink, just kept his eyes on them maybe they wouldn't go away, and he could stay in this dream.

Because that's what this had to be. A dream.

Because that was the only way those hands and the arms attached to them and the body and the soul and the *Clark* could be--

His eyes were burning but he didn't care because this dream was tormenting him with Clark's hands, Clark's body, Clark's face, Clark's voice. Clark. He could live with torment. He was Lionel Luthor's son after all.

"Blink, Lex." Clark's voice again. Soft, gentle. Like it was... before.

"I can't. If I do, you'll disappear." Dream logic.

"I won't disappear."

"Promise?" More naked begging in there than he ordinarily allowed but this was different. It was a dream and it didn't count.

Slight hesitation from his apparition, then a nod. "Promise."

He blinked. Dream-Clark stayed. "Thank you."

A flash of pain in those sea-green eyes. It was so wrong. So very, very wrong.

"What have you been doing to yourself, Lex?" Low, aching with concern. Worry, for him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong but the closest thing to warm he'd felt in weeks. Months.

"Nothing."

"Liar." Something close to affectionate. "C'mon. You need a bath."

It was surreal how normal and not normal this was. Light, gentle teasing. Caring arms helping him rise slowly, pausing when the world spun and his stomach protested.

The caring was--had been normal. The situation was not. Lex was abruptly ashamed that even Dream-Clark was seeing him in this condition. He'd given up this type of behavior before he ever met Clark and the worst the younger man had seen was a borderline drunk episode after they celebrated LexCorp's entry into the Fortune 500.

They had made it to the bathroom now. Clark was taking off what was left of his clothes and turning on the water, as he'd done hundreds, thousands of times. This was the most life-like dream Lex had ever had. Down to the feel of the water running over his skin.

Which had never happened before. But the alternative was...

"Clark?"

"Hmm?"

"Clark!"

"You ok? Do you need help standing up?"

"What? No. But--you--you're here."

"Yeah."

Lex wanted to touch him, hold him, ask him why, but his few functional brain cells decided it was better not to. Clark was here--Clark was *here*--and Lex did not want to do anything that might make him go away.

He finished the shower mechanically, unable to think beyond: Clark is here. And quite literally, too, he was right outside the stall door.

Lex looked down at himself, seeing his body as Clark had seen it. More pale than usual. Far thinner than either of them remembered. Gaunt. His hands shook holding the soap. He knew his eyes were bloodshot, likely bruised-looking, too. Memory supplied the image clearly thought it had been 10 years since he'd seen it in the mirror.

For the first time in weeks he spared a thought to his company. The last thing he clearly recalled was telling Gabe to run things while he took a "break."

At least he'd done that much. The guilt pricked him, goaded both by responsibility and his own forgotten pride. But it wasn't strong enough to linger, not in the face of Clark's reappearance.

Except... Clark would never approve of what he'd been doing. The sheer irresponsibility of it. The cesspool of alcohol, drugs and sex--oh god, no, fuck, who the hell had he been with?

It mattered now. It would matter to Clark if--

He didn't have to know. It was instinctive, that thought. Lies of omission were bread and butter to him. For Clark, too, in fact.

But more of his brain cells were waking up and he knew with utmost certainty that it was too late for that. Clark had seen, Clark was here--someone had to call him, to tell him. And they had to go out of their way to do it, too. Last he'd really understood, Clark was somewhere in Africa in some miserable bureau post that barely heard of landlines never mind cellular connections.

It smacked of Bruce. But why he'd bother was a mystery to Lex. They'd never gotten along. And Bruce had never been in favor of Clark's relationship with him. Corrupting influence, Clark had once told him, laughing. Back when they laughed.

He shut off the water. "Why are you here?" He didn't want to ask. Didn't want to know the answer.

"Do you have to ask?"

Lex waited.

"Because."

It wasn't an answer, but it was all he was going to get. He knew Clark well enough to tell that.

"Will you stay?" He wished he could take the words back as soon as he said them. He really, really didn't want to know the answer to this one.

"For a while."

Painfully honest answer. Lex wanted the dream back.

****

2011

The worst part, the very very worst part was that Lex couldn't offload the blame. Maybe that's what kept him from moving on.

Oh, outwardly he had. He was nowhere near the physical or emotion wreck he'd been when Clark had last seen him. He'd returned to his company, clean and sober. Worked 20 hour days to make up for what he had missed. Fucked discreetly, and dated discriminatingly. Generally rebuilt the Lex Luthor the world expected to see.

He'd never felt more hollow.

It was Clark's birthday next week. Arbitrary date his parents had picked, what with the not knowing when he was actually born since the ship didn't come with a birth certificate. But it had fit--June 21st, the longest day of the year. Clark was meant for sunlight, it was only right that they acknowledge that fact and celebrate him at the culmination of spring, the birth of summer.

If he wanted to truly drown in his misery ((saving that for the actual selected birth day)), he would image what they'd be doing right now if things were... different. The way they should be if he wasn't a bastard who readily believed the worst about his lover of seven years. Who had compounded that mistake in the traditional Luthor fashion: hurt back, and hurt hard. Total warfare of the most intimate kind, guaranteed by the glowing meteorite.

The only thing he could be thankful for was that he had, in fact, stopped before... before--technically--completing the rape. It was a technicality, however. Clark had been beneath him, writhing in pain, shirt torn open, skin mottled green. Tears running down his face, a depth of betrayal in his expression that haunted him day and night.

He still wasn't sure why he'd stopped in the middle of ripping open the jeans. He'd like to think that he came to his senses. He was very much afraid that it was merely a momentary squeamishness at seeing and feeling the meteorite's physical effects on Clark.

The only thing he knew for sure was that he had stopped, had pulled back. It gave Clark enough leverage even in his weakened condition to knock him away, and roll far enough from the rock to stagger out of the room.

Lex had let him go then, that was true. Fueled by rage and frustrated revenge, however, in his mind had been plans to punish further, to do more. And better, with no chance of escape.

((What kind of monster am I?))

The only good thing to come out of the whole ugly episode was that recognition of his own potential for cruelty. For evil, if you will.

The shattered innocence in green-blue eyes made sure he never forgot.

And God, did he need another drink. Would sip it slowly this time with all of the rigid discipline he'd developed over the years. He no longer allowed himself the refuge of drugged forgetting.

A faint rustling sound distracted him as he paused by the bar. The fluttering of curtains in the wind. But there should be no wind, not now. The balcony had been closed when he left and the staff had Saturday night off.

****

2009

"You're leaving." His flattest tone of voice.

Clark wouldn't meet his eyes, didn't answer. But the packed bags were answer enough. He had been there for nearly two weeks, had done everything in his power to put Lex back together with a kind of patience and caring that had astonished him even as it frightened him. Because in them he had seen this moment.

"Why did you come back?" 'Because' wasn't good enough any longer.

"I never stopped caring about you. When Dick told me... I had to come."

So he had Dick Grayson to thank for this. Wonderful. He wondered if Bruce would actually murder him in return if he had Dick killed. For a moment, he was tempted.

"I never knew you were this cruel, Clark. Me, yes. You, no."

Quick glance at him, then down again. Bad sign. Lex could feel the still-shaky foundations of his world tremble again. Clark was going to leave and there was nothing he could do about it.

"I have to go, Lex. I have a job. Obligations. So do you. I know you think I'm trying to punish you or something but... You know, believe it or not, this has nothing to do with you."

And that hurt more than Lex had ever dreamed possible. Anger and denial to the rescue. "You shouldn't have come. If you couldn't forgive me, you shouldn't have come."

Anyone else would have thrown that back in his face. After all, why *should* Clark forgive him? But when had Clark ever been like anyone else?

"I do forgive you. I told you before. I wouldn't be here now if I didn't."

"You're leaving."

"I have to! God, Lex, you're impossible. What the hell do you expect from me? Aside from the worst, of course." Clark should never sound that bitter.

"You don't forgive me."

Clark closed his eyes, opened them slowly, "I do. I didn't lie about that. But I... I can't get past it. Not yet. I mean, I kind of know why--but I told you about Alex, I told you he used my single--"

"I know."

But memory had only come when he'd walked into the dorm room a second time that weekend and seen two heads on the pillows, neither of which he recognized. A name had followed as the dark-haired boy, Alex, who lived in Clark's dorm but had a roommate, had started apologizing.

Lex hadn't remembered when it counted. Not when he had gone to surprise Clark at his dorm in April, less than two months shy of graduation, and ironically enough in an attempt to make up with him after a fight they'd had the previous weekend. He'd unlocked the door with the key he'd been given but had used only once before--Clark usually came to him, not the other way around. It was meant to be a gesture, an apology.

When he'd walked in, the smell of sex hit him hard. The bed was a wreck. An unfamiliar backpack sat in a corner. And unfamiliar blond hair mixed with dark on the pillows.

Lex had stood there, staring, for nearly ten minutes. Then rage had taken over, and madness followed, leading them to this.

"If I could take it back. Clark..." His voice broke on the name.

"I know."

Lex heard: Not good enough.

"You don't have to leave the country," he heard himself say. Not that it would be better if Clark were nearer, but it somehow was worse that Clark felt he had to go to another continent to get away from him.

"Lex..."

The sorrow and the weariness and the pain in that one word was enough to break him, his defenses were nowhere near up to this. "Clark, please, don't go, tell me what I can do, what it would take to get us back, I'll do anything, *anything*..."

"God, Lex..."

He could hear the tears in Clark's voice, saw them spilling down his cheeks. "Please."

"I *can't*. Don't you understand I *can't*. You--Lex, that night... I-- God help me, I love you but I can't stay here. And it's not just about that. It was, at first. It hurt so much, I couldn't-- But it has gotten better. I don't hate you. I never did. I couldn't, even when I wanted to." Bitter, rueful smile. "But I can't stay. I need to-to heal. So do you. I don't think we can do it together, not this time." The tears were drying now, he was steadier, though his eyes were still glassy. "And I need to grow up. I need to understand... so many things I just don't."

"Don't expect me to wait." Ah, pride kicking in at last. With lies.

"I don't."

"That's it, then."

Clark looked down, grabbed his bag. Lex watched him walk to the balcony, knew he would be gone in an instant.

"Clark!"

He stopped. Amazingly, he stopped. "Lex, please. Let me go."

Clark was shaking. For the first time, Lex stopped to wonder what coming here had cost Clark. What leaving might be costing him. And knew he had no right to do this. "Go."

Clark hesitated.

"Go!"

Clark disappeared in a rush of wind. A hint of 'I love you' left behind but so faint, Lex wasn't sure if he imagined it.

****

2011

He hardly ever went to the balcony. Too many memories. Those memories mingled with reality, threatened to mask it, made him doubt. It couldn't be. "... Clark?"

The other man turned, straightened. Lex took him in by bits. He seemed... taller, maybe. Broader. The dark hair was longer, it curled over his collar and the breeze tousled it, blew it across his face. The skin was more tan, though perhaps that was merely the light. His bearing was looser, he seemed at home in his own body, truly at home in a way he'd never been before. And his expression... calmer than he had last seen it. But there was pain there, too. Not fresh pain, nothing like their last meeting. This was something else, something made up of knowledge and experience and acceptance.

And it hurt to see in a way Lex hadn't been prepared for.

"Hi, Lex."

"What are you doing here?" It came out more accusing than he wanted, but Clark, here, tonight of all nights... Some things don't change. When vulnerable--attack.

"The 'Planet liked my series on Zurinda. They offered me a job, the final interview is Monday."

Lex blinked several times. He'd read that series in the original French when it had run in Le Monde. The clipping service he employed was quite thorough. Very powerful, personal writing. The kind that grabs you and doesn't let go, that challenges all your assumptions. No wonder it had caught the attention of Perry White, the Daily Planet's editor-in-chief. He should have expected it, really. "Are you going to take it?"

"That depends on you."

"Me? You haven't spoken or written a word to me in two years." And yes, that was anger. Deeper than he'd acknowledged and far easier to express than guilt. Or need. Or love.

"I know. I don't expect you to understand that--"

"And I won't if you don't even try to explain," he snapped.

Clark sighed. "I didn't come here to argue with you."

"Why did you come here? You don't need my permission to take a job."

"I know. I just wanted to see..." Clark paused, "I didn't want it to be... awkward. Being in the same city again. Your city."

"I don't own the city--"

"Yet," Clark put in, grinning.

"Yet," Lex agreed. It was so easy to tease. It shouldn't be. Still, he was unwilling to let it go. "It's... big enough for the both of us."

"So you really wouldn't...mind? Me being here, I mean."

Of course he would. They'd inevitably run into each other. Little slivers of hell. "No."

"Good. So." Clark stared at the apparently fascinating railing on the balcony. "How, uhm, how have you been?"

Pleasantries. With Clark. It hurt. But he'd been well trained, the words simply flowed out, "Can't complain. LexCorp just got another government contract, and we have three genetic therapies four days away from FDA approval." A half grin he was far from feeling, "Off the record."

"Congratulations." Clark looked like he was casting about for something else to say. Lex wondered why. "I've read about you and Lena --I've heard she's, uh, nice--"

"Lena is history." Lex didn't know what prompted him to say that and he half-regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth, though they was true enough.

Sideways look. Two blinks. "I see."

"And you? How are... things?" He wanted to end this conversation but he didn't. It was sort of like watching a train wreck. Or desperation. Was Clark feeling it, too?

"Oh, you know. New job." Quick grin.

"No one left behind?"

"No." Soft, steady.

"I see."

"Clark, why did you come here?" The third time he'd asked that question, perhaps this time he'd get a real answer.

"I wanted... I wanted to see you."

"Why? You've done without me for over two years, why now?" He tried not to make it accusatory. He just wanted to know. Needed to.

"Just because I didn't write doesn't mean I didn't think about you."

"Could've fooled me." More bitter than he would have liked, but true.

"Did you really think it was that easy for me? To walk away from you not once, but twice? Lex... you were my world for, like, seven years."

"You left." Tight with two years' worth of loneliness and an ache that would not go away no matter what his brain might understand about Clark's reasons.

"I had to. I told you that. I needed the time away. To grow up. In a strange way..." strangled laugh, "I almost have to thank you for... I don't think I would've had the strength to go otherwise. It was too easy to stay, to let you, and Mom and Dad take care of me. I was never on my own. Even at U of G... Dick was there, and Alfred, even Bruce. I spent more weekends with you than I ever did on campus."

"I--we wanted to protect you."

"I know. It was just too easy to let you." Clark meet his gaze, his own level, "It was too tempting to keep on letting you, to run back here, especially when it got really bad." There were ghosts in his voice.

Lex swallowed heavily, memories of a boy clashing with the reality of the man who stood before him.

"I missed you so much."

Not what he expected to hear and the words shook him to the core. Only Clark had ever had the power to so completely unmake and remake him like this. Compared to him, Lionel's efforts were... amateurish.

"I missed you, too." Hardly louder than a whisper, but Clark could hear it.

"I never stopped thinking about you. Never stopped caring."

"We can't go back, can we?" Vaguely lost, bewildered to find himself here. They really couldn't go back. It had taken two years and Clark's return for it to finally sink in.

"Do you want to?"

"Yes," he answered slowly. "And no."

Clark didn't reply, merely waited.

"I... never stopped... caring, either." It was more than he was comfortable saying flat out, but this was important. "That part of me wished we could erase the last few years and just pick up where we left off."

"It doesn't work that way."

"No. We've both changed, haven't we?" Clark clearly had, and Lex himself had, more than he'd given himself credit for earlier. "The person I was... is not someone I want to be anymore."

Lex studied the stars above them, immutable in a way few things were. Were he and Clark one of those things? He knew he had felt incomplete without Clark. Knew they shared a connection. It had been severely strained in the past few years, but had not truly broken. Maybe it never could be. He was scared, though. As far as he was concerned, fear of the unknown had absolutely nothing on the fear of the known and he now knew intimately what it would be like if Clark left him again.

"We can't go back. But... I think I'd like to try going forward." Nothing ventured, nothing gained. He knew intimately what he had to gain, too. He looked at Clark, tried on a smile, "I like history, but I don't want to live there."

"I'd like that," Clark whispered. He glanced down, "Lex, these past few years... they've been... there's so much I want to tell you... so much I--" Clark broke off, the pain that Lex had noted earlier rising up for a moment. Some of those ghosts were undoubtedly from his time covering Zurinda's bloody civil war; Lex sincerely hoped he'd get the chance to learn about the rest of them. Maybe even help, if he could.

For now, he ventured a touch to Clark's arm. "We have time. I want to hear whatever you want to tell me. I have a few things to tell you, too."

Clark nodded, took a deep breath and the pain receded. It saddened Lex to see that, to know that somewhere along the line Clark had learned--had had to learn--to do that. Perhaps he couldn't take away that pain, but there was something else that was long overdue he could do something about. "I owe you an apology."

A puzzled frown crossed Clark's face. "For what? I mean you already, for what--"

"Not that. Well, always that," he amended. "For expecting the worst." This next part was going to be difficult. Lex Luthor did not say things like this out loud. Still, he'd already broken so many rules for Clark, one more made no difference. "I... your graduation... it--scared me."

"What? Why?" Honest bewilderment.

"Clark, you... you were growing up. I always knew you would--you would have found a way without my... interference. I know that, even if you don't believe it. I thought... " C'mon, Lex, they're just words. You can say them. "I thought you wouldn't need me anymore." Voice so low, it barely qualified as a whisper. "I thought-- You are amazing, Clark. And you were always meant for greater things--"

"So are you."

"Perhaps," he shrugged. "But destiny of a different kind." It was Lex's turn to study the railing. Yes. Still black, still steel. "It's the only thing I've ever wanted to emulate in your father. He overcame his fear of letting you go, he could trust that you'd come back. Maybe it's part of being a parent--I wouldn't know." Flash of a self-deprecating smile. "I... I couldn't do the same thing. I expected you to do something--"

"You were primed." Clark nodded, a distant look on his face. "I noticed you'd been more tense, and the women--" Clark shot him a glare.

Lex nodded. "The women." The women they had argued over, time and again. Camouflage, Lex had said. For now, he'd said, we'll come out when you graduate.

"Protection."

Another nod. "Protection."

Clark stared holes through to the ground below, perhaps literally. "Relationships can't exist without trust." He looked up, straight at Lex. "You and Lana helped me to understand that. My parents live it. If we're going to try--"

"I know." It was getting easier to say these things. Lex chose to see that as a good sign. "There are some lessons that take a long time for me to learn. This one..." a wry smile, colored by two years spent in a new corner of hell, "I've learned. I don't make the same mistake twice, Clark."

Clark searched his face, studying him for long minutes before, "The last Harry Potter movie's opening Friday. Want to go?"

Relief made him giddy. It was a wholly new feeling, and one he suspected he could come to like. "Mr. Kent, are you asking me out on a date?"

"I think my question could be interpreted that way, yes."

"Your treat?"

"My treat."

"I'd love to." Sincere, in a way he hadn't been in a long time.

"Dinner first, or after?"

"After." It was strange, they'd been lovers for nearly 7 years, but they'd never really dated. Not openly.

"What?" Clark had clearly caught something in his expression. The perils and the profits of being well known.

"Just pondering the intricacies of modern gay courtship rituals."

He smiled. "Ah. A topic both near and dear to my heart." A hint of mischief entered his face. "When we're ready, I'll take you to meet the folks. Key part of the ritual."

"Your parents? I've already..." Lex trailed off as Clark's smile turned into a grin. "Birth parents?"

The grin widened, nearly as bright as he remembered.

"Fuck. me." Heartfelt and not a little overwhelmed. Clark's birth parents. Clark's ALIEN birth parents. How? When? Where?

"Ask me again. A few courtship stops down the line."

Lex frowned at this apparent non sequitor, at least as far as his thoughts were concerned. Then reviewed what he'd said and smiled. "Count on it."

The End