Crossroads

by a campbell

Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, R

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Chapter 1

Clark collapsed on the mansion steps, clutching his middle, fighting off the waves of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. He hadn’t been sick so far, but suddenly it was as though realization of every problem he was trying to deny had hit him with one sucker-punch to the gut.

No mistake: he was going to hurl.

Thank God neither of them had seen him, was the one thought he held on to as he struggled in the grip of dry heaves worse than the throes of the most powerful kryptonite attack.

It was bad enough being an alien, having to hide secrets from everyone he loved. Those secrets had already driven an inexorable rift between Lex and him, a rift that would never be repaired. He’d tried to escape and solace himself with Lana for awhile, but now he’d driven her away, too—and straight into Lex’s arms. It sucked, seeing both your exes go at each other like that, as though they were trying to swallow each other’s tongues. With you just standing unnoticed, watching, hurting and alone.

He stood up and grasped the porch pillar, tried to drive the image from his mind, to keep his stomach from contracting again, but he couldn’t do it. He fell to his knees on the ground and gasped, choking, wrenching handfuls of grass in his agony.

He was almost glad his dad was dead, because if he was still alive, Jonathan would kill him, superpowers or not. And then kill Lex. Mom wouldn’t hate him for what had happened, but he knew she’d be shocked and horrified. If anyone even believed him. But they’d have to, in time. He couldn’t hide it forever. Already, he could barely zip his jeans, and he’d had to stop trying to fasten the top button two weeks ago.

Lex had always been there to help in the past, but he couldn’t help him now, even if they were still friends. Which they weren't.

Now that Lex and Lana were together, how was he going to tell Lex that he was pregnant with his kid?

**

By the time Clark rose to his feet, the sun was sinking in the west and the grass was wet with dew. He wiped bitter fluid from his mouth with the side of his palm and spat into the grass. Even though he didn’t usually get cold, he shivered and zipped his denim jacket up to his chin. Still too queasy for superspeed, he scuffed out of the gate in the springtime dusk and down paved Beresford Lane to the country road that led to his place, shoving balled fists into his jacket pockets as he walked.

Finding out at the beginning of freshman year that he was an alien was a cakewalk compared to this. He’d x-rayed himself and there was no mistake. Horrified, he’d seen the embryo nestled under his ribs, so small he’d needed telescopic vision to detect it. There was no way to stop it growing, getting bigger. It was there.

How it was all going to unfold, he had no clue. He did know he was scared silly.

There were no books he could check out from the library on how to have a baby if you were from an alien planet. He wouldn’t be able to have caesarean operation because his skin was invulnerable. He certainly wasn’t built for giving birth in the normal way.
He was male, or at least closer to a male than a female human. There was no one from his planet to tell him if this was normal on Krypton—maybe Dr. Swann might have been able to, but he was dead.

He was trapped. The baby would grow and grow, and when it was time for it to be born, it wouldn’t be able to get out. It would die, or he would die, or they’d both die.

He was scared, so scared. And he just wanted Lex’s arms around him, Lex to say, in the warm, soothing voice he hadn’t heard in so long, “Hey, Clark, it’ll be all right.”

He winced at the keen stab of pain that struck somewhere around his heart, and turned to look back over the darkening fields to where the manor lay. He wouldn’t let himself think about whether Lex and Lana might still be there, what they might be doing.

Damn it, Lex, I miss you so much.

It was nearly dark when he reached home. He turned in at the drive and peered at the house. The windows were dark. At one time Mom would have had dinner ready for him when he got home, but now she was too busy with her new duties. Probably wasn’t even back from Metropolis. Just as well: he wasn’t hungry, anyway. He still felt sick.

Mom couldn’t help him. No one could help him. He’d never felt so alone.

He was crying by the time he reached the front porch.

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Chapter 2

After a sleepless night, Clark dragged himself out of bed and peered out his bedroom window and down at the yard . Cold spring rain drizzled from a sky unrelentingly gray. Though he knew Mom’s kitchen garden needed it, it didn’t do much for his mood.

He stumbled down the hall to the bathroom, turned on the tap, splashed cold water on his face and, gasping, toweled it dry. Pale and bleary-eyes, he stared at himself in the mirror, awash with new, strange sensations, reminiscent of the way he’d felt that winter morning nearly three years ago after losing his virginity in the back seat of Lex’s most expensive car.

With a sigh, he trudged downstairs to the kitchen, smiling at the package of powdered-sugared doughnuts Mom had left on the dining table for him. Along with a note: Have a good day, Sweetie. Don’t forget the tractor. See you tonight.”

Clark reached for the box, then paused as visions of an uneasy future flashed through his tired mind. Mom and him here, alone, raising a baby. His. Would he have to go into hiding? Would they both? Would Mom have to give up her duties as senator? Would they have to pretend to the town, to the world, that the child was Martha’s, a parting legacy from Jonathan before death had claimed him so early? In the unlikely event it was even born, and healthy. In the unlikely event that both of them survived.

Would that be his life?

Just bizarre, all of it.

Clark’s stomach churned uneasily again, in dim and wretched echo from the evening before. He bit his lower lip and scowled, resolute. He would not be sick again.

He decided against the donuts and settled for a glass of apple juice from the refrigerator. Gulped, swallowed, sighed in satisfaction as the cold, sweet liquid soothed his riled stomach.

A quick swipe of his mouth with his sleeve as he set the glass down and squared his shoulders. Today, he had to muster what little energy he had and figure out what to do.

**

Four lonely hours of sitting Indian-style on the loft floor bouncing a tennis ball off the wall found Clark no closer to a solution.

He’d considered and discarded option after option during the solitary morning hours. None of his family or friends could help him in the slightest. What could Mom do? Give him a hug, maybe, but as far as a practical solution? As a senator, she might make a speech in Washington or vote on a bill, but she couldn’t begin to help her son figure out how to have a baby. Chloe knew about his powers and was more resourceful than just about anyone, but Clark knew this would be uncharted territory for her, too. Besides, Chloe was definitely not a kid person. Who else could he confide in? Lois? The very thought made him cringe.

Lex was the only one who might have a solution or the money to carry it out.

Clark reminded himself that he and Lex hadn’t been friends for quite a while. A couple of years.

And maybe it was a side effect of his present condition, but he didn’t feel as angry with Lex as he had over the past year or so. He often found himself dwelling on memories of their good times together. Maybe because the things they kept fighting about didn’t matter that much. Maybe because Lex was the father of the...thing...inside him and his programming and makeup dictated that hating the father would be biologically destructive. Oh, hell, he didn’t know.

All he did know was: he longed to see Lex’s eyes kindle with warmth and interest the way they used to whenever Clark stepped into the study, whenever they ran into each other on the street or in the Talon. Clark yearned for those glances that were like caresses, those charged, sleek whispers and shrugs. He ached to have Lex move in so close he could feel the warmth of his body, scan him up and down, just before...

He missed Lex way more than he hated him, now.

Not to mention that Lex had a right to know he was going to be a father.

Clark sighed, swore, and scrambled to his feet, determined to ignore the lightness in his head and the faint queasiness in his stomach.

He couldn’t put it off. Couldn’t keep chickening out. He had to summon what courage he had and quit obsessing over the stuff he couldn’t control.

He had to tell Lex.

**

Still not up to superspeed, Clark ambled across sodden fields instead of taking the road. The distance was less.

The bleak, dismal day wasn’t much like the sunny autumn afternoon he and Lex first met, collided, went spinning down the road to destiny that would end in each other’s arms. Heady excitement, bonding, friendship so much more lofty and intense than anything he’d known with Pete or anyone else. Even before the sex.

It had all been so great, before things had gone so finally, irrevocably bad.

Clark felt his cheeks redden with shamed fascination as he walked. Because even this last year or so, with the two of them pretty much declared enemies, they still couldn’t keep apart. They’d fight, and fuck, and make uneasy amends, then fight again, sometimes physically. All winter, it was as though something more powerful than he could control kept driving him back to Lex, even while he himself was still with Lana. For more quarrels, more lies, more sex. Sometimes, it was even better than back when they were friends, and lovers without the hate.

I guess someone, something, somewhere, really must have wanted this baby to be, he thought, incredulous, clenching his hands into fists and shoving them as far into his jacket pockets as they would go. Must be fate.

Kryptonian fate, though Jor-el had never said anything about Kal-el having to get pregnant to be a part of the grand scheme.

Earth fate. His fate.

Lex’s fate. There had to be a reason Lex was chosen as well.

Rain water dripped from Clark’s bangs into his eyes. He blinked them away and picked up his pace, panting with nervousness.

He thought of that terrible afternoon last fall when his Mom and Dad were missing and he’d tensed, grinned, and lied to Lex once too often. When things went really downhill. Even when he finally hooked up with Lana., he would have given the world to mend things with Lex. He kept hoping, futilely, for a miracle, even as Lana kept demanding love and devotion he just couldn’t give, even as he spent way too much time wrestling with his own pride and fear. Even though he’d resolved not to weaken, he was mortified to recall his eagerness the other day to believe that Lex, not Graham, had been the one to gift him with the expensive plasma system. To believe the past wasn’t dead and that maybe there was still a chance to salvage their damaged friendship. And love: strong, powerful, miraculous enough to create a child where life was technically impossible.

He’d seen how wrong he was when he’d arrived at Lex’s and found Lex and Lana together.

The only thing left to do was level with him. Tell him everything. What did he have to lose? Besides, Lex had a right to know. He had a stake in this...pregnancy...as much as Clark did.

Clark swallowed hard, again resisting the recurring flicker of fear.

He was going to do it today. He wouldn’t spend another night like last night, even to have the planet Krypton back again and at his command. Having Lex know couldn’t be as bad as being in this alone. Maybe Lex was chosen because he could save Clark’s life. He was a scientific genius. Even if he didn’t know immediately how to handle this mess, he’d at least know where to start. He always found answers.

He was going to do it.

Even if it meant missing Graham’s stupid party.

**

Instead of bursting in hollering this time, he rang. He checked in with security and had himself announced, not letting himself worry about the possibility that Lex might refuse to see him. Lex had never barred him before, no matter how bad things were between them. He always let him in, accompanied or alone, listened calmly to whatever diatribe Clark had for him that day. If Clark was the sole visitor, after the insults, the accusations, the arrogance on both their parts, sometimes even blows, it would end with sex. In Lex’s bed, on the floor, wherever.

Clark waited in the library for five minutes, ten, dripping water on the waxed floor, forcing himself to stay calm. If Lex wanted to try to get the upper hand this way—let him. Clark tried not to notice the small, telltale signs that Lex was no longer living alone: empty Chinese food containers, too many for Lex’s light appetite. Lana’s beloved irises in vases around the room. A pair of Lana’s sandals slid half-under the sofa. Other little touches, here and there, that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Touches that told him she must have moved in.

He fingered one of the iris stems briefly and paced to the window, where he waited, looking out at the dead, early spring garden.

“Well, well.” Lex must have come up behind him, quite close, undetected despite super-hearing. Clark turned with a start.

Lex was wearing dark slacks and the burgundy shirt Clark had always loved to unbutton slowly and slide caressing hands under to stroke Lex’s smooth skin. Just before leaning in for a kiss. He tried to smile. “Lex,” he began.

Lex’s voice dropped to mock-serious, almost a whisper. He moved closer to Clark than a casual acquaintance would. “The ‘special boy,” himself. What brings you here today, Clark? You’re soaked.” Lex stepped over to the bar and, picking up a towel, sent it Clark’s way with a careless toss. Clark mopped his face and brow obediently, glad of the few seconds’ delay.

“After our adventure of the other night, I didn’t expect to see you for awhile. At least until you or Chloe needed strings pulled again. How’s Martha after her ordeal?”

Clark flinched and swallowed hard. “She’s fine. A few bruises. Lex.” His hand seemed to reach out toward Lex all by itself, almost close enough to touch the dark-red fabric of his sleeve.

Lex glanced down at the hand, then back up, leveling a flat, cold gaze at its owner. He stepped out of reach, then strolled to his desk and reached for the decanter of brandy. “You did leave the Luthorcorp building kind of abruptly the other night, you know. But then again, you’ve been a stranger to pleasantries for awhile, now, haven’t you?”

“Stop it, Lex,” Clark snapped, more curtly than he intended. “We need to talk.”

This was starting out all wrong. Stay calm, he admonished himself.

Lex sipped and considered, not looking at Clark, clearly in no hurry to respond. “We’ve talked so much. It always ends badly. What more could we possibly have to say to each other?”

There must be something, Clark thought with a sharp pang of desolation. Lex used to share so much with him, treated him as though he were as mature and important as his business associates from overseas. Lex was never at a loss in those days for an anecdote or a piece of advice. Now, every word was guarded.

But, yeah, there was definitely something they had to discuss today. “Lex, I haven’t been honest with you. Ever.” Not the best beginning, he thought, but certainly the truth.

“News flash,” was Lex’s dry comment.

Clark swallowed again and beat down a tremor of fear. No way was this going to be easy. Lex had given him lots of chances, but he’d pushed it pretty far.

He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Lex waited a moment and then set down his glass. “Well, not to be inhospitable, but I do have an appointment in Metropolis—“

Clark stepped closer. “Please,” he begged. “Reschedule it. If you ever cared about our friendship, Lex, just hear me out.”

Lex didn’t order him to leave. Instead, Clark detected a quiet gleam of interest in his gaze. He refilled his glass, then took a seat on the couch. Clark remained standing.

Lex folded his hands. And waited.

**

There was no point in further delay. Clark summoned his courage and began.

“Lex, things haven’t been great between us for awhile. In fact, they’ve been pretty bad.”

After a long moment, Lex shrugged. “Nothing like opening by stating the obvious.”

Clark took a quick breath and held Lex’s gaze with his own. “Then let me start by saying: I know about you and Lana.”

A quick, barely-detectable instant of surprise before the mask was back in place. Clark tried vainly to decipher whether the twitch of Lex’s lips betrayed anger or amusement. He’d never known quite how to read Lex, and he was even more clueless, now.

“And I suppose that means you’re here to throw me across the room. Maybe I should call my security team.” Lex made as if to rise to his feet.

“No,” said Clark quickly, moving closer. “Don’t call anyone. Lex, this isn’t about you and Lana. It’s about you and me. “I’m not trying to break you guys up, but there are some things you need to know.

Lex’s brows lifted. Clark reflected with grim amusement that Lex never could bear not knowing everything he possibly could.

Lex settled back in his seat and looked up at him, forehead furrowing. “Well, you have my attention.”

“First off, I know you know I’m not like most of the people around here. The normal Smallville people, I mean. You’ve known it for a long time, and you know I know you know. We’ve been dancing around it for more than four years.”

Lex said nothing. Clark, confident that he now had him fully engaged, licked his lips and spoke again.

“You’ve seen a lot of the meteor mutants around here, and so you know that there’s some weird stuff going on. Well, I’m part of that, too. I’m affected. But then, you’ve probably known that for a long time.”

“I’ve had my suspicions,” said Lex finally, rising to his feet and moving closer. He peered at Clark as though he were a coveted, long-sought specimen in that secret lab of his.

Clark was sensible of his heart thudding in his chest. Not giving himself time to fear, he kept talking. “Well, I’m more than just strong, and fast. I’m really different. Lex, I’m not just a meteor freak.” He thinned his lips. “I’m from another planet.”

Some people might have guffawed in his face at that one. Not Lex. It cemented his attention, though. He took a small step back, not taking his gaze from Clark’s face.

Clark hesitated, then continued. “The planet was destroyed when I was a baby. Those green meteor rocks that are all around are parts of the planet from when it exploded. Before it did, my parents sent me here. In a little rocket ship all the way through space.” He knew he was babbling, talking too fast, but he was so nervous he couldn’t slow down. “I landed the day of the first meteor shower back in ’89.”

Lex was gazing at him with focused intensity. His lips twitched, and for a minute, he looked as though he wanted to laugh, but then he sobered. Sure, thought Clark. The sensible part of Lex wanted to scoff and tell Clark he was crazy, but Clark knew him well enough to know that the other part, the part that was always examining, weighing, on missions of discovery, was intrigued enough to want to hear more.

“Where is the ship now?” Lex’s voice was low, almost casual. But Clark knew him well enough to peg this as an attempt to mask his keen interest.

“Gone. I destroyed it.”

Lex just stared at him as though he’d grown a second head, and Clark remembered Lex’s fondness for displays, artifacts, shrines. Lex was a collector, a billionaire packrat. He probably couldn’t imagine ever wanting to destroy a space ship if he had one. Or needing to.

Clark took a deep breath, and went on. “Mom and Dad—my adopted mom and dad-- always told me to keep my abilities secret, and warned me that if people found out, they’d throw me in a lab and do all sorts of experiments on me. Or at least that I’d live life under a microscope and never be normal. I really wanted to tell you a long time ago. I’m not proud of the fact that I didn’t. But they just kept saying I couldn’t let anyone find out. And I was too scared, anyway.”

“Afraid of me?” Lex was close to him now, so Clark could almost feel the warm of breath on his skin. Clark leaned a bit closer in spite of his unease, near-mesmerized. Lex thinned his lips, dropped his gaze and looked away with the slight flinch that Clark knew signaled a bruise of his usually well-masked feelings.

“You, and your father. Mostly him. Do you think we could ever have stopped him once he knew? But, you too. You’ve always scared me, Lex, even back when we were first friends. Even when you cared about me without hating me, too, you always had this need to know—everything—no matter who might get hurt if you pressed too hard. And you weren’t always honest, either. So maybe we’re not exactly even, but it’s not as if it’s all my fault.”

Lex stepped back and walked slowly to the window. He was pale, and gnawed his lower lip as he stared out at the rain-soaked garden and Clark waited for him to speak. When he did, his voice was cool and clipped. “So how long has my father known?” He said my father as though it were some particularly grotesque variety of bug. Lex grasped the drape as he spoke, knuckles whitening.

Clark looked down at the floor. “A few months. Not that long.”

A small shrug, and slight crick of the neck that plunged Clark back to dismal memories of long ago, of other times when he hadn’t been honest with Lex and lived to regret it.

“But he knows now.” Lex turned around and leveled a piercing stare, so intense that Clark’s heart clutched in his chest. “Can you tell me why he knew before I did?”

Clark words came out in a stammer. “I--I didn’t tell him. You’ve got to believe that. He found out on his own. And there’s more. He’s possessed.” Clark hesitated, because Lex was looking at him now as though he thought Clark had lost every last marble he had. But he kept talking; he couldn’t do anything else. “By the spirit of my biological father.”

Lex let that sink in. In a moment, and finally began to chuckle. He kept on, his laughter getting gradually louder until tears gathered in his eyes and coursed down his cheeks. He swiped them away with the side of his palm.

Clark took a step towards him in alarm, reached out a hand, then stopped. “You don’t believe me,” he said dully.

Lex shook his head as his laughter subsided. He sobered so suddenly Clark was startled.

“Clark, the time for honesty is past. All those times I asked you for answers and you lied to my face. I’d have done anything for you, but you always made it sound as though I was the villain for wanting to know.”

Wasn’t as though you didn’t lie, too, Clark couldn’t help thinking. All those questions answered with questions. Hot words threatened to burst from his lips, but he held them back. Anger was a luxury he couldn’t afford right now.

Lex was just staring at him, and Lex didn’t look incredulous very often, but he did, now. Clark flashed back to that awful day when he blocked Morgan Edge’s runaway car from striking Lex and Lex saw him do it. He had the exact same expression on his face then. “You’ve been working with my father, confiding in him. He’s been confiding in you. Despite the legion of lies, my father thinks of you as his son,” The light faded from Lex's eyes as he turned away. “The son of whom he could be proud.”

He’s angry and hurt, Clark thought in desperation. And jealous--of me. He still wants Lionel to love him, in spite of everything. “I’ll never be his son,” Clark insisted. “My father is dead. Both my fathers are dead.”

“No, you’ve escaped that fate. It’s left to me to deal with mine.” Lex took a deep breath. Clark waited.

“And the most incredible thing is: until now, despite all the lies, the deception, the anger, the accusations, the blows--I still thought of you as my friend. Until today.” He exhaled a short, sharp breath. “God, I must be crazy.”

Clark wanted desperately to argue, to say I am your friend. Even if you kick me out of here today and never speak to me again. I’ll always be your friend. No matter what.

“Get out, Clark. Go home. We have nothing left to say to each other.”

“Lex, come on, please—“

“It’s too late.”

“But, Lex—“

“Go!” Lex shouted. He turned back to the bar and slammed his glass on the counter, sloshing amber liquid over the side. His shoulders trembled under the burgundy fabric as Clark took a couple of steps toward him, then turned away in anguish.

**

Clark stood dazed in the mansion drive, not quite knowing how he got there. He turned back to the mansion and x-rayed through the stone walls into the library. To see Lex knocking books from the walls, breaking glass and art objects, smashing yet another expensive computer. Superhearing detected the muttered, then barked, curses and near-sobs that caught in Lex’s throat as he raged.

Oh, no, no, thought Clark in anguish, yearning desperately to halt the rampage yet powerless to do so. He knew going back inside wouldn’t help; he had to leave Lex alone for now, to come down from this on his own. Trying to stop him would only make things worse. He watched, grieved, as Lex hurled himself on the sofa, glass in hand, to drown his rage in the oblivion of alcohol once again.

Lex hadn’t really said a thing about him being from another galaxy. About being an alien. But he remembered the lies.

The lies were all that mattered.

Clark shivered, heedless of the rain beating down again on his already-sodden clothes once again as he headed toward home, wracked with ten times more guilt and worry than before.

What was he going to do now?

_________________

Chapter 3

Clark climbed the stairs to the loft on his return, bypassing the house. Mom would be home soon and would want to fix supper, but he still wasn’t hungry, and he couldn’t bear her questions right now, no matter how sincere and well-intentioned. His stomach was in knots, and he just wanted to nurse his wounds in private. He scuffed across the wood floor and flung himself on the worn sofa, squeezing eyelids shut to stave off the flow of tears that threatened to erupt.

This was very nearly the worst afternoon and evening of his life. The visit to Lex went about as badly as it possibly could have. A fiasco. Lex would probably never speak to him again, and, however desperate, Clark was too proud to go back there. So, that was that. It was over.

Clark let his palm glide down his chest over his stomach, probed at the small swell with questing fingers, almost fearfully. Tears burned the back of his throat when he thought: he’d let the baby down big time this afternoon. Lex wouldn’t help them; he’d never help them. Maybe never even know that he was a father.

He still had no solutions. Maybe, when the time came, he could at least do a caesarean with his heat vision. Of course, no one would be able to sew him up afterward. But even if it killed him, at least the baby might live. He’d leave Lex a long letter explaining everything, and begging that he’d take good care of their child after he was gone.

Maybe Lex would be sorry when he was dead. Wish he’d forgotten more readily all the grievances he had against Clark and just forgiven him for every lie, every deception, every blow, every wrong thing Clark had done to him, for every damn time Clark had let him down.

He didn’t want to think about it any more. Didn’t want to think at all. He was so tired…

Clark curled up in a tearful ball on the threadbare cushions and lost himself in sleep.

**

He awoke at dusk to find Lex standing at the foot of the couch, looking down at him. Clark squinted. I must still be asleep, he thought, rubbing his eyes. He wondered if he could cling to blessed oblivion and prolong the illusion for just a bit longer. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, hardly daring to breathe.

The vision was still there, standing there in the black wool coat, same troubled, thoughtful expression.

“Hi,” Clark mumbled, voice thick with sleep. He waited for Lex to vanish into the air at the sound of words in the cool, dark air of the loft.

Lex didn’t disappear. He didn’t answer, either, but sank slowly down at the foot of the couch. He looked off toward the stairs and into the darkness, not meeting Clark’s eyes, cryptic as the Egyptian Sphinx.

Was he still angry? Clark couldn’t tell. He struggled to sit up on his elbows and moistened dry lips with his tongue. “You’re the last person I expected to see tonight.”

Lex still didn’t look his way. “I imagine so.”

Clark thinned his lips and waited, one hand smoothing the afghan that covered his body to the waist.

Lex glanced over at him with a heavy sigh. “Clark, I was out of line before at the mansion, and I apologize.”

Clark could almost feel his eyes widen. Lex Luthor rarely apologized to anyone, for anything. A faint flicker of hope stirred in his chest.

“Doesn’t matter. Not like I haven’t been out of line more than once.” His lips curved in an anxious smile. “You owed me.”

“Yes, but I pride myself on my self-control. If you don’t know that by now, you should.”

“Lex, you can’t say you’ve always shown extreme self-control around me.”

Lex ducked his head with a quick grin that appeared and disappeared so fast Clark almost thought he had imagined it. He could feel the heat spark, kindle in the air between them.

A quick swipe of palm over mouth and a grimace of frustration from Lex.

“So, it’s all true?”

Clark laid his hand on Lex’s arm. “All of it. Lex, I’m through lying to you. For good. Promise. I’m just sorry it took so long for me to come clean.”

“Funny: I believe you.” Lex turned to Clark then and smiled, his beautiful, sleek smile, eyes going sleepy and seductive. “I’ll believe anything you say. Just try me.”

Clark choked on tears. "I’m missed you so much. Please, Lex—"

Lex leaned over and reached to frame Clark’s face with his hands. Clark moaned, let his eyes drop shut, and pulled Lex close for a kiss: hot, wet, desperate and grateful. He fell back on the couch.

**

Clark wasn’t sure how long they’d lain huddled under the afghan after the best sex ever, even though neither of them had taken the time to remove more than a piece or two of clothing. The hunger, desire had been too intense to deny.

Clark plucked at Lex’s sleeve and cuddled in closer with a sigh. Maybe they should get out of this habit of having sex in place of talking things out. It had certainly caused its share of problems, one of which was nestled under Clark’s ribs right now. But it was such a great habit...He smiled as he felt Lex stroke his hair.

“So,” began Lex in that silk-sleek voice that always sent a tremble down Clark’s spine and thighs. “Why today, of all days?”

“Full moon?” Clark deadpanned, then chuckled. “Except that I’ve wanted to tell you for ages, there’s a big reason right now.” Getting bigger by the minute, too, he thought with bleak humor.

“I’m not proud of the way things have gone between us, either. I’m glad finally to know for sure and to have heard it from you. But I still want to know why you decided to come clean today, after years of secrecy.”

“There’s something else I have to tell you that’s even more important—something you have a right to know, and I’m really scared, so just bear with me.” But he wasn’t as afraid as he’d been earlier today, buoyed up by the realization that Lex had heard his secret, and had come to him tonight. He knew, and still came, and things weren’t that different. Yet.

“More important?” The old look was back on Lex’s face, appreciation, warmth, interest. Avid curiosity. God, how he’d missed that expression over the past couple of years.

Clark took the deepest breath his lungs would hold. “That you’re going to be a father.”

The silence seemed to last eons. Clark summoned all his strenth to hold Lex’s gaze and try not to tremble as he watched the color drain from Lex’s cheekbones.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Voice low, flat and matter of fact, Lex hesitated for a mere beat before continuing. “If that’s a joke, it’s hardly funny.”

“It’s no joke,” Clark mumbled bleakly. He could see Lex flipping mentally through the catalog of all possible female candidates for the mother of his child, a scan that took near a minute before the light bulb came on.

“Clark, you don’t expect me to believe that Lana would confide in you? You’re not exactly her favorite person right now. It’s not possible, at any rate. Only fools don’t use protection. And I know you think I’m a fool, Clark--”

Clark shook his head. “You’re not a fool, Lex.”

“Then where did you come up with this crazy notion?” With an uneasy thinning of his lips, he turned a dark, worried gaze back to Clark, as though trying to read his inmost secrets once again.

“Lex, it isn’t Lana who’s pregnant. It’s me.”

Lex looked at him, blank for a moment, then incredulous, and Clark would have laughed himself and wished for a camera if this hadn’t been so serious. Lex made a scoffing sound, almost a snort, and laughed. “Good joke, Clark.

“No, it’s really true. Please,” Clark shifted closer to Lex on the sofa, and Lex looked almost frightened as he drew back. Clark fumbled for Lex’s hand and pushed up his flannel shirt with the other. Lex tried to tug his hand back, but Clark held tight. He pressed Lex’s cool, reluctant fingers on the warm flesh that covered and protected the embryo and looked up at Lex’s dazed face.

“Feel that,” he commanded in a whisper so unexpectedly forceful he surprised even himself.

Lex eyes grew large and dark; he swore under his breath, then flinched and drew back his hand when Clark loosened his grip. “Clark, you have a tumor. You need to see a doctor right away. I’ll get you the best specialist--”

“Lex, it’s no tumor. Remember: powers? I can see inside myself. It’s a baby. Really small at this point, but there’s no doubt. A baby: yours and mine.”

“No,” Lex insisted. “That’s not possible.”

“I wouldn’t have thought it was, either, but it’s happened. Somehow.”

As close to frantic as Clark had ever seen him, Lex was shaking his head, dazed and looking as though he wished he were anywhere else. “No, Clark, this is impossible.”

Clark made a deliberate effort to stay calm and hold Lex’s gaze with his own. “What about what I told you this afternoon? Wouldn’t you have said that’s impossible, too? I’m not crazy. I’m just—different. Really different.”

Lex was really quiet for a long moment. He stood, strode over to the window, and looked out into the damp darkness, biting his lip. Clark rose to his feet, too, and stepped over near him, but not too close.

“And I thought you made that clear enough this afternoon. God, Clark. What is this: alien biology?”

“I guess it must be.” Clark, suddenly needy, opened his arms again.

“It’s crazy, insane.” And despite his words, Lex approached.

“Tell me about it,” said Clark with a glum roll of his eyes. He leaned in close again, as Lex tensed, then relaxed in Clark’s welcoming embrace. Clark teased Lex’s lips open with his tongue for a kiss, warm, long, sweet.

“How long have you known about this?” Lex asked when he’d caught his breath again.

“A couple of months.” Clark brushed half-open lips over Lex’s scalp, loosened his grasp with reluctance.

Lex considered Clark’s words for a moment or two. “How do you know it’s mine?”

Clark’s heart gave an unpleasant jolt. “How do you think?” How didn’t mean to snap, but Lex’s question really hurt. “Like I’ve slept with anyone else that could get me pregnant? There hasn’t been anyone but you for months.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Lex hastened to assure him. “I just thought, maybe your species reproduces itself. How do you know for sure?”

“I just know,” Clark grumbled. “It’s yours: trust me.”

“I didn’t mean...of course, I believe you, Clark.”

They stood for a few more minutes in silence, looking out over the sodden fields. Eventually, Clark turned to find Lex gazing fixedly at him. He waited.

Lex leaned in, peered close, with a gentle touch to his cheek. “Are you all right?”

Clark smiled, throat tight at the softness and concern in Lex’s voice. He nodded. “I am, now that you’re here. And now that you know. I know you’ll help me figure out what to do.”

Lex exhaled. “We’ll come up with an answer, Clark. Somehow. But now, I have to go.”

Clark fought the impulse to protest. He offered another weak grin. “Lana’s waiting, huh?”

Lex didn’t answer. As he stepped toward the stairs, he weaved a little.

Clark, concerned, followed, grasping his elbow to steady him. “Lex, you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah,” said Lex. “Just a little taken aback. I need some time to wrap my mind around this one. But I will, trust me.”

As they headed for the stairs together, Clark stumbled. Lex caught him by the arm this time to keep him from falling.

“What’s up?” asked Lex in alarm.

“Just a little dizzy. Guess I haven’t eaten much today.”

“God, well, eat. I’ll get you whatever you want. Just name it.”

“Strawberry shortcake with jalapenos. I’m kidding,” Clark insisted, amused at the way Lex’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Never mind. Mom will fix supper for me if I go over to the house. I haven’t even seen her for a couple of days.”

“Okay, well, then...till later. Just make sure you eat.”

“I will. Till later.” Clark reached out to grasp Lex’s hand one last time and was relieved at the answering clasp he received in response.

**

Clark’s cell rang about seven minutes later as he finished trudging down the loft stairs. Lex’s name and number displayed on the screen. He picked up without saying anything. Lex couldn’t be home yet, even at the speeds he drove.

“Clark?”

“Yeah?” He slowed to a stop on the ground floor.

“Just checking to make sure I didn’t dream that conversation we just had.”

“What a nightmare, huh?” Clark choked back a grim chuckle. “Nope, it was no dream. It was real.”

There was a brief silence, then a heavy sigh. Clark waited.

Lex’s quiet voice held a tinge of wonder. “I’m going to be a father.”

“If everything goes okay,” Clark hastened to reply.

“It will,” said Lex. “It must.” And when Lex sounded that confident of things, Clark couldn’t help feeling hopeful, too.

“And you’re going to be what: a mother?” Lex broke into a rare hearty laugh as Clark felt the blush mount into his cheeks.

I’m not a girl, Lex, he wanted to say. He settled for: “I guess we’ll both be dads.”

Clark waited for Lex’s next comment. When it didn’t come, he spoke again. “What will happen, Lex?”

“Wait and see. But everything’s going to be okay. Are you eating?”

“I will be. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t forget! Have you told your mom?”

“Not yet. I know I have to.”

“Well, we’ll tell her tomorrow. Together. I’ll be over at 9.”

“Okay.” Clark was willing to accept any direction offered. “’Night.”

He snapped the phone shut. Lex hadn’t said he loved him, or offered any specifics about the future.

But that was okay, he told himself. Clark chastised himself mentally for his doubts and fought to be patient. Even geniuses need time to think things through.

The first welcome rumblings of hunger stirred in his stomach as he strode across the yard past Martha’s parked car and on through the evening mist to the brightly-lit farmhouse.

_________________

Chapter 4

Lex, breath frosty in the cold morning air, extended his hand. “Senator Kent.”

Clark, tagging close behind his mother as she opened the door, noted with startled admiration how sleek and handsome his friend looked in his black suit. So trim, and how great of Lex to dress up for the conversation. He himself--well, he couldn’t wear t-shirts at all any more, and he’d had to slip out and buy the next size up of jeans at Fordmans this morning. At least he could get them zipped.

He couldn’t deny being nervous about this morning’s talk. But not that scared, because, whatever happened from here on out, he and Lex were back together, and that’s how they’d face this: together. His mouth curved into a genuine smile of relief and happiness as their gazes met over Martha’s shoulder and the air sparked between them.

Martha hesitated only a moment before reaching out to clasp Lex’s outstretched hand. “Hello, Lex. Clark mentioned you’d be by this morning. We haven’t seen you for quite awhile.” She was right, Clark admitted to himself. Months had passed since Lex had been over to the farm. They all knew why. Jonathan’s habitual hostility, business at Luthorcorp, the widening gulf. He and Clark had moved in different worlds since the beginning, and the gulf between those worlds had gradually increased to a chasm over the past year or so.

But we can turn things around, Clark thought. We have to.

Lex entered the house along with a fresh gust of cold spring air. Finally decent weather today, after all the rain. Clark glanced outdoors at budding shrubs and blue sky, his spirits lifting as Martha closed the door. Good weather. Had to be a good omen.

“How about breakfast, Lex?” Martha gestured toward the kitchen. “There are some scrambled eggs left on the stove, and I’ll make more toast. I have homemade cherry jam--.”

Lex gave her a faint smile as they all walked toward the dining table, but shook his head. “No thanks, Mrs. Kent.”

“Are you sure? I’m afraid I’m still not used to cooking less-- I always make too much. I wanted Clark to finish the eggs, but—Sweetie, is your stomach still upset? She turned to Clark with a look of concern. “You’re never sick, Honey, but--” Martha pulled the table bench out for her son and reached up to lay a palm on his brow.

Clark caught the knowing flash that appeared and disappeared quickly on Lex’s face and flushed. He took his mother’s hand and placed it back at her side, tempering his action with a weak grin as he sat down and motioned for Lex to take a seat beside him. “I’m fine, Mom. Just a little queasy.”

"I don’t know," Martha stepped over to the counter and reached for the coffee carafe. She held it up, raising her eyebrows, and Clark shook his head as his stomach gave a small lurch. Coffee was about the last thing he wanted right now.

"Honey, I’m concerned about you," Martha continued. "I’ve been so busy and away so much that I don’t think you’re eating well. I don’t think either of you boys eat properly, for that matter." and Lex smiled at her words and looked down at the table and then off across the kitchen. “But enough of that.” She set a full mug of black coffee on the table before Lex, sat down across from them and smiled brightly. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Lex folded his hands with a nod in Clark’s direction. “I’ll let Clark do the talking for once.”

Clark flashed him an uneasy grin. But Lex was right: Martha was his mom, he should be managing this. He tried not to be afraid. Mom was so pretty, fresh, freckled complexion, red hair, a trim, comforting figure in pink cashmere sweater and jeans. Mom meant safety and security, support and understanding. She’d always taken care of him and wouldn’t abandon him now, no matter how unexpected and unwelcome his news might be.

She waited, an innocent, curious smile on her face. He faced her soberly, with a deep breath to summon his courage.

“Mom. I know you and Dad have put up with a ton, ever since you adopted me. These last few years definitely haven’t been easy. And it’s not over yet. I have to ask you to be understanding one more time. Understanding--and strong.”

Martha glanced from Clark to Lex and back again, brows lifting, lips pursing into an expression of concern. “Something’s wrong. Tell me.”

Clark swallowed. Here goes, he told himself. Holding his mother’s gaze, he fumbled for Lex’s hand. Martha’s eyes grew slowly wide as she looked at Lex, then at Clark, then down again at their clasped hands.

“Mom, Lex and I…we’re in a relationship. Have been, for quite awhile.”

He stole a quick, nervous glance at Lex, who sat calmly beside him, corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly in an encouraging smile, and looking a bit as though he’d received an unexpected gift. The smile strengthened him, even as Lex broke eye contact and leaned over to pet Shelby, who was snorting and snuffling beside him, her snout leaving wet spots on his designer trousers.

“It’s true, Mrs. Kent.” Lex spoke quietly, palm ruffling Shelby’s russet fur with regular, even strokes.

Martha was just staring when Clark turned back to face her. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it without saying anything, and dropped her eyes to gaze intently at the oak surface before her. Clark braced himself, because when Mom was quiet, well...things could get scary. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the grandfather clock by the stairs. He glanced at Lex, who wore the same determined, focused expression with which he faced down challenging foreign business representatives.

"Mrs. Kent—" he began, but Martha motioned him to be silent.

"I...know you boys have been close friends, but I thought...I had no idea.” She exhaled on a shuddering breath, and Clark’s heart contracted in dismay as she bowed her head and covered her face with her hands.

"Oh, Mom..." Clark trailed off in an agonized whisper. "Please. Please don’t." Lex looked away, muttering something inaudible.

"You’re going to have to give me some time to process this. There have been so many...changes this past year." Martha’s voice quavered as she uncovered her face and turned to grope for the box of tissues behind her on the counter.

Clark shifted uncomfortably on the bench. There were few things he hated more than seeing his mother cry. “I know, Mom. And I’m sorry to complicate things even more.”

Martha narrowed tear-filled eyes in Lex’s direction. “And you, Lex. How long has this been going on? Do you really think it’s the decent thing to do: seducing a minor?”

“For a couple of years,” Clark answered quickly before Lex could. "And, Mom, please don’t blame Lex. I wanted it as much as he did. I would have seduced him if he hadn’t--"

Lex looked down, thinning his lips, and Martha actually cupped her hands over her ears. "I don’t want to hear it, Clark! Sweetheart, I try to be open-minded, and--I never thought I’d say this, but thank heaven your father isn’t here!"

Clark tried not to notice his heart’s slow plummet to the pit of his stomach. He’d known Mom would need time to wrap her mind around the idea, even if he had hoped.... Be patient he told himself. And stay calm. But it was so hard. Lex opened his mouth to speak, but Clark cut him off.

“Mom, please. I love you, but there are some things I just can’t control, even for you and Dad.” He turned to Lex with a proud smile.

Martha sighed again. “Well, it is the millennium, and this sort of thing is becoming the norm, so, I won’t be the one to argue about it now.”

“You’re still mad,” Clark commented with a glum shrug.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘mad,’ exactly,” said Martha slowly. “It’s just a challenge for a parent to be as liberal as they might like when their own child is involved. And I’m saying it again. Your father wouldn’t approve, and that’s an understatement.”

“Mom, you’re probably right, but I’m sure where Dad is now, he understands everything.”

Martha paused, let Clark’s words sink in. The clock ticked, and Shelby snorted and bounded to the window to bark at a chipmunk on the sill.

“Shelby, shush!” With a wistful smile and slow, reluctant nod, Martha continued. “I imagine he does. After all, It’s not as though any of us can control where we love, and whom.”

Clark, relieved at her change in tone, began to relax, just a little.

“What about Lana? Clark, you’ve been saying for years that you loved her, you dated her for months, and now, aren’t you, Lex—"

Clark flinched, but Lex heartened him by a quick squeeze of his hand. Clark tightened his own grasp in response as Lex spoke.

“Lana has nothing to do with this, Mrs. Kent. For Clark, for me...for either of us.”

“He’s right. Please just listen, Mom,” Clark begged.

Another sigh. “I am listening, Clark.” She fixed her green gaze on them both and waited.

“I told Lex my secret yesterday. That I’m from another planet. He knows.”

“Oh,” Martha said faintly. Shelby was nosing at her knees, now, and she pushed at her her slowly without looking at her. “Everything?”

Clark nodded, with a proud, tremulous smile.

“Oh, Clark. Are you sure that was wise?”

“Mom, it was beyond time. He’s known for ages, anyway. Figured it out all on his own. Didn’t you, Lex?” Clark turned to him with a grin of satisfaction. “All that secrecy for nothing.”

Lex got a chance to speak a full sentence at last. “Mrs. Kent, I assure you: I will never betray Clark’s trust.”

“Lex, I know you think you won’t, but the temptation may be too great. How do you--"

“Mom, if you’re okay, I’ll continue. Lex and I are in a relationship, and he knows my secret. But that’s not all.”

Martha raised her eyebrows with an incredulous chuckle despite the worry in her gaze. “There’s more?” she commented grimly. “I’m not sure how much I can take in one day!”

“This is really, really hard for me to say, Mom, and please believe me. I found out I have this really special, exciting, and strange new ability to reproduce.”

Martha’s response was a hollow, uncomfortable laugh. “Clark, most men can reproduce, unless there’s something wrong--" Realization dawned on her face, quickly succeeded by dismay. “Oh, God. Lana’s pregnant. I knew it.”

Lex, who was at that moment sipping his coffee smoothly, choked, then coughed.

Clark hastened to respond. “No, Mom. She’s not. And I don’t mean just reproduce. I’m talking: being able to carry a baby. I know it sounds really weird, but: it’s me. I’m the one who’s pregnant.”

There, it was said. Clark turned to Lex for support. Lex was setting his mug on the table with a thunk, a slow, scarlet blush creeping up his neck and jaw. Clark turned back to face his mother. She was staring, too, but at him, mouth open in astonishment for one stunned moment before she burst into gales of laughter.

“Oh, Sweetie! That’s hilarious, you silly!” She shook her head with an indulgent grin as her giggles subsided.

Clark felt his own cheeks redden. “It’s not a joke, Mom. This is really embarrassing, but--it’s for real.”

Martha continued to laugh, and then suddenly sobered. Her eyes grew large and dark. She reached across the table to knead Clark’s hand. “Oh, Sweetheart, I know you were upset about what happened a couple of years ago with the baby, but I had no idea it was still bothering you. I think maybe we should have you see someone…a counselor. Lex, I’m sure you know of someone who could help--"

“Mom, trust me: I’m perfectly mentally stable. Please, try to understand. I don’t have a genuine explanation, but Kryptonian biology must be different from earth biology.” He tried not to blush at the realization that Lex was hearing all this for the second time. “You’ve seen all my other powers. We’re in new territory, here. I x-rayed myself and there’s no mistake. Look.” He pulled up his shirt and coasted a palm over the small mound under his navel, then pressed.

Martha’s reaction was similar to Lex’s the day before. He eyes grew large, dark, and worried. “Honey, that’s not normal.”

“I’d say so, too, Mom, but who knows what’s normal on Krypton? I just know there’s a baby in here. I can see it. It already has--”

“No, no,” Martha protested, peering close. “Males can’t have babies, Clark! You’re imagining things. But something’s definitely wrong. Oh, if only we could get you to a doctor!”

“That’s what Lex said, too. But, again, Mom--both of you-- who knows what the Kryptonian race is capable of. Different means, methods of reproduction--"

“Oh, Sweetheart, no! You’ve been through so much these past few years. And now this?! When, and where, will it all end?”

“I don’t know, Mom. We’re in new territory. I can’t deny that this has me worried. It might be some bizarre occurrence that took place when Lex and I …when we…” He just couldn’t complete the sentence. “I have no clue what the birth process is going to be like. It might kill me. But whatever happens, we’ll face it together, Lex and I. And I hope you’ll stand by us, too.”

Martha sighed her deepest sigh yet, followed by the longest pause ever. She drummed her fingers lightly on the tabletop. Clark was surprised didn’t have holes bored in it by now from being stared at so hard.

“So what are you boys going to do?”

Lex, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation so far, was the one to answer.

“Mrs. Kent. We’re both concerned about Clark, and keeping him safe and healthy during this uncertain time. I want to keep him close by, where I can monitor him.”

Clark smiled at Lex’s words, which made him feel owned, valued. Martha’s response was a vigorous shake of her head.

“I think Clark should stay here,” she protested. “He’ll be more comfortable in his own home, with everything in such upheaval. I can cook for him and see that he eats, watch him for any sign of trouble, and help take care of the baby when it arrives.”

“Mrs. Kent,” Lex folded his hands and leaned forward. “I’m taking Clark to live at the mansion. You’re far too busy with your senatorial duties to be burdened with the extra work.”

“Lex, I’m sorry, but I don’t see care of my only son as a burden.”

“I have the resources and connections to provide the best medical care possible—without divulging Clark’s secret, of course.”

“Not Toby.” Clark begged. “Please!”

“Not Toby,” Lex chuckled. “Something far better.”

Martha didn’t look convinced. “How will you manage to do that? Hide his secret? It’s not an easy thing to do, believe me. And from doctors--”

“Trust me, Mrs. Kent. I’ll take care of things.”

Clark began to relax a little as his mother hesitated, then nodded. Whether or not it was justified, he knew from lots of experience how remarkably persuasive Lex could be, and when he said: “Trust me,”, it was hard for anyone to disagree.

Even Martha, whose final comment was: “Who in the world is Toby?”.

**

A soft knock at Clark’s door, and his mother's voice in the hallway. “Can I come in?” The door opened a crack.

“Sure, Mom.” Clark, studying tucked up in bed, laid down his math textbook as she came inside.

Martha sat on the plaid bedspread and reached to smooth damp locks from his brow. “Sweetie, you’ve been through so much. Had to bear so many burdens kids your age would never dream about. And now this. You must be terrified.”

Clark fluffed his pillow and turned on his side so he could see her. “Sure, I’m scared,” he confessed. “Everything that’s happened to me over the past few years has scared me silly. But this must all be part of a big plan. It’s not a part I can run away from this time or refuse to accept. It’s my destiny. And Lex’s. And our child’s.”

Martha was quiet for a moment. Then, “Clark, I don’t know how to say this, but are you sure? That the baby is Lex’s, I mean. Could it be that your species reproduces itself?”

Clark felt warm blood rise from his jaw to his cheeks. “Trust me: I’m sure. I don’t know how to explain it, but I just know.”

He waited for her to go on, but she said nothing. “Mom, I can tell something’s still wrong. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m tired of secrets.”

“Of course you are. But: Clark, Clark. Are you sure it’s wise to trust Lex? There’s been so much bad blood between the two of you. Are you sure he has your best interests—and the baby’s-- at heart? And not his own?”

Clark sighed. “No, Mom, I can’t be absolutely sure. But I know I love Lex. I’ve always known it, even while we both thought we hated each other. And besides, even if I did want him out of my life—which I don’t—this is his baby, too. Don’t worry: I’ll keep my wits about me.” Lex had promised to get back to them with a plan within a day or two. Clark vowed to stay aware of everything going on around him. He wouldn’t agree to anything that didn’t sound right.

“How about taking a few days to think things over? Moving in with Lex is a big step. I just want you to make sure it’s the right one.”

“I could,” said Clark. “But the time for that is past. I’ve cast in my lot with Lex, for better or worse. We’re meant to be together. I know it.”

Martha smoothed the cover over Clark, not meeting his eyes. “You’re sure he loves you? Above everything else, all his other interests, projects, and schemes? You’re sure he wants a child?”

“I hope so,” Clark replied. He laid a hand on the small bulge of his abdomen as though to reassure the entity inside.

“Well, then,” said Martha. “I have no choice but to support your choice. It’s not what I wanted for you, Sweetie, but we should be used to the unexpected by now, I suppose.” She gazed down at him for a long moment and then bent down for a hug. He hugged back, clutched tight, with a reluctance to let her go that surprised him.

“I just want you to have a normal life, Honey. That’s all I ever wanted.”

“I know, Mom. But ‘normal’ is one thing I can never be.”

She held him close for another moment, then pulled back a little, looked down, and then up at him. She opened her mouth to speak again, then hesitated.

“What is it, Mom? Whatever it is, you can ask me.”

She smiled a little nervously and glanced down at his stomach. “Clark, I don’t want to intrude, but--can I feel? Just for a moment?”

He hesitated for only an instant. “Sure.” He lifted his pajama top to bare the skin beneath. “But it’s not doing anything yet.”

Martha’s fingers settled hesitantly over the bulge on Clark’s stomach, traced, then stroked. Clark smiled and flinched, because her gentle touch tickled a little.

He’d noticed her doing the same thing now and again a couple of years ago when she was pregnant, back before the disaster, before he’d run off to Metropolis. Seen her leaning against the porch rail or seated in the rocker gliding a palm over the small swell of her belly when she thought no one was watching. That same sense of timeless wonder in her gaze, a little troubled, but ethereal. He may not have understood the feeling then, but he sure did, now.

Martha’s wistful smile told Clark she must be remembering, too. The smile broadened slowly into a grin, and she laughed.

“So, this is my grandchild.”

Clark put his hand over hers. “For real, Mom.”

**

Shortly after, Martha shook herself from her reverie and slipped her hand from beneath Clark’s. “Well, it’s late. And you need your sleep. We can talk more tomorrow, after I get back from Metropolis.” She rose and stepped over to the window to draw the drapes.

“Okay, Mom. I am pretty tired. That was one exhausting conversation this afternoon.”

Martha leaned down with a smile and stroked his hair. “So what happens now, Honey?”

“I’ll think things over for a few days the way you suggested,” he replied, like a good son.

“Will you go to the Fortress and see if you can speak with Jor-el? Maybe he has an explanation for this.”

“No”, Clark mumbled, turning over on his side away from her and pulling the covers up around him. “He’s not talking to me any more.”

**

Clark lay awake for some time after Martha turned out the hall light.

Destiny, he thought with a rueful snort. Of course, this wasn’t the path would have chosen. Parent at eighteen, and in this weird way. But all he had to do was remind himself that he and Lex would become parents together and everything would shift and all seem, somehow, right.

Without Lex, he had been a rudderless ship, aimless and unhappy. Miserable and only half alive. If this brought them closer again, saved their relationship from the skids it had been on for the past couple of years, it was worth it. As long as this brought them together at last, how bad could it be?

His palm stole down again to his stomach, and he smiled.

He could protect the world later, keep it safe. For now, he had a baby to carry and get born, however it was supposed to happen.

_________________

Chapter 5

He’d urged, and Clark had submitted to the test without a murmur of protest. Now, he turned the sonogram in his hand, this way, then that, morning light from the window illuminating the small square. Peering close as he sipped cinnamon-laced coffee, he studied with cool detachment. Envisioned the square blown up to mega-size as a main feature in his newest display, in a locked room the only key to which he wore around his neck.

A child. Their child.

His child. He knew, without proof, as fully as Clark did. Further tests were unnecessary.

Lex had a weakness for shrines, a habit almost Catholic of surrounding himself with tangible evidence of his interests, research projects and concerns. Photographic proof of the presence of his child in Clark Kent’s body was only one of the developments that might turn anyone but him into a religious man.

There was another. Clark, suddenly flung back into his life, having divulged everything Lex had ever suspected, ever wanted, and more. But not of his free will. He had an agenda. A big one. Lex’s lips curved into a smile as he studied the photo. He could already make out face, fingers and toes.

Would Clark have come to him if he hadn’t been desperate for help? Lex doubted it with a bitterness that at times threatened to consume him. Fortunately, these times were rare. Most days, he managed to compartmentalize the bitterness, keep it isolated, at arms’ length, enough to conduct himself as usual with both business associates and former friends. Because his weakness for Clark Kent eclipsed even his penchant for shrines. He was honest enough with himself to admit that.

What would happen? How would the pregnancy progress? How would it affect Clark, who would have forsaken him, but was now inextricably bound to him.

So many questions. So many answers to be found. At one time, he’d have given his entire fortune and more to secure Clark's trust, but those days were past. Long past.

It was time to look to the future. No time to waste time in bitterness. He had greater goals in mind. If he couldn’t understand the past few months, he was damned sure Clark couldn’t, either. Confused? Perhaps. But, more than that, intrigued.

This would prove the culmination of their relationship. The reason that their orbits had collided that autumn moment on the riverbank and remained joined ever since, no matter what forces conspired to drive them apart. The connection, the power. The two of them together as instruments, agents to engender a miracle. What would this child—--his child--be, gestated in a magnificent body from another world, likely possessing powers no one could check or fathom.

He stood on the brink of a great adventure. And discovery.

_________________

Chapter 6

Lana drew open the study drapes and gazed out into the mansion garden with a watery smile, the closest she’d ever been to being truly happy. Sparrows twittered and splashed in the stone birdbath, early-spring crocuses and tulips bloomed in the rock garden beneath tall trees laden with green buds.

Her garden. Her birdbath and blossoms. Luthor Mansion was now her home. Home, where she had her own room, in her own wing, no less. She lived here. With Lex, so long a friend and mentor, now significant other. And hopefully, some day not too far in the future, much more.

The thought was sweet, so sweet. To feel warm, loved. She belonged somewhere, to someone, at last.

The last few years had been so hard. Abandoned by Nell. Finding and then losing, Henry Small, her biological father. Moving in with the Sullivans but never really, truly being a part of things. Always alone since her parents died, without a family to call her own.

Not much more fortunate in the romance department. Whitney, her first love, who’d yearned for her long after she’d ceased to care for him. Adam...spirited and doomed, he’d turned on her when all hope had run out. Jason, dominated by a mother too strong for him to resist. Ultimately evil as well.

And Clark. Clark, handsome and kind, except when in the grip of mysterious forces she couldn’t fathom. Who’d dated, dumped, and then dated and dumped her again. Who’d put her through an emotional hell. Clark, so seemingly candid and open, yet constantly hiding things, still failing to confide in her, to trust her. Clark, who’d taken her virginity--sex for a period all too brief, and then nothing, cruel, lame excuses, one after the other, never telling her why. Never trusting her.

How could she have kept crawling back for so long? No matter how lacerated her heart, over, over and over again, practically grovelling. Angry, she’d broken up with him, but then couldn’t bear to let him go. To be alone. Again.

No one had ever loved her enough. Wanted her enough. She always wound up alone.

Until now. Lex treated her as though she were an expensive treasure even he had not been able easily to afford. Proud, appreciative. Lex would support her. He wanted her. He was honest with her. He trusted her. And he and Clark weren’t even friends any longer, so there were no worries about running into Clark here at the mansion, or anywhere else she might accompany Lex. The thought occasioned a sigh of relief; she’d had enough of being a bundle of nerves while she and Chloe were sharing a dorm room. Everything was working out well for once. Everything was going to be fine.

This time, she was going to stand firm, hold fast, speak up for everything she wanted, She wasn’t going to make it that easy for anyone to reject her again.

This time, she wasn’t going to let go.

She loved Lex. They were so right together.

She’d earned this. Love and devotion. Companionship. Honesty. At last.

**

Warm breath in her ear, followed by a cool "Good morning."

His voice, so like warm cocoa on an icy winter morning. She loved him for that alone. Smiling, she accepted the coffee cup he slid into her hand.

"You’re up early," he observed, nuzzling her neck.

"So are you." Her response was a low chuckle. "When I sleep alone, I wake up early. If I just had someone to snuggle with, it would be different." She lowered her voice to a sleek rumble. "I'd stay in bed all day."

"Patience," he advised, arms stealing around her waist, fingers coaxing her camisole up, then tickling across the skin of her flat belly and circling her navel. After a moment, he whispered, "Were you and Clark in the habit of snuggling?"

Clark again. Strange how neither of them could stay off that subject for long. "Wouldn’t you like to know?" she murmured as seductively as she could.

When they talked about Clark, which they did more often than she cared to consider…when he mentioned Clark to her...oh, she didn’t know, but hearing him say Clark’s name in that silken voice made her go warm and wanting instantly. Made her want to be touched, then fucked, hard.

His soft voice, still close to her ear. "Lana, you know I want the best for you...for us."

"I know," She swallowed, hard. His nimble hands roamed briskly over her body, touching and teasing in all the right places.

"Lex.." she moaned.. He was doing his best to arouse her, but still holding her off. She should be furious, and would be, if she didn’t want him...so much.

Maybe he and Clark weren’t so different.

No. She pushed that thought away.

Lex was different. Mature, dependable, brilliant.

And he was hers.

Lex was still talking as he caressed. "You just have to trust me."

Lana paused only a moment before leaning back into his embrace and surrendering herself to bliss. "I do."

_________________

Chapter 7

The land around Loeb Bridge, river, bank, and woods, didn’t look much different in early spring than it did in fall. Clark leaned on the rail, looking out over nearly bare trees and muddy banks as he waited for Lex, hoping there was no important business that would keep him from being here around four, as his message, left on the Kents’ voice mail, requested.

Clark didn’t like thinking of himself as sentimental, so he circled the thought that Lex had chosen this spot for its significance to their relationship, to everything they’d been to each other, good and ill.

Here by the river, Clark could better call up in memory the sodden, deathly torpor of Lex’s limp body when Clark had dragged him up the bank from the water. The sensation of Lex’s cold, clammy lips under his own warm, desperate mouth, the shock and thrill when the life had come back into him and he’d started up with a jolt and an expression of awe and wonder on his beautiful face.

Sure, Clark could tell himself that it was his father’s story about the spaceship a few days later that worked such a crisis and change in his own mind, heart, and soul, but he knew that was only part of the picture. The day he and Lex had met by accident, his life had changed forever, shown him how it felt to fly, in spirit, for the very first time.

Now, nearly a week since their conversation with his mother, he was still no closer to an answer. Part of him wanted to surrender to Lex and let him plan everything, to trust him as he never had before. Another, voice, sterner and more strident, and sounding suspiciously like Jonathan's, counseled extreme caution. Even if Lex loved him, Clark knew well enough that his desire for knowledge and power eclipsed everything else, and where the chips would fall when--.

He didn’t have a ton of choices right now. Stay at the farm or go with Lex. His mom loved him, but Lex had better means than anyone else to help him through this, money and connections, and whether or not Clark deserved special care and consideration, the baby sure did. He had to do everything he possibly could to see that it would be born, and live. If he had no more practical answers from the past few days’ consideration, he knew that much.

Brakes squealed on the pavement behind him, jarring him from his thoughts. He turned to see Lex exiting a silver Porsche, dark jacket and sweater calling up even more memories of the day long ago when time had stopped and a new life began for both of them.

Lex slammed the door and spread his arms as he approached Clark with a cocksure grin. "Hey. I know it’s not the same car, but it’s the same model. For old time’s sake."

Clark bestowed a brief glance on the gleaming car and smiled. "It’s great, Lex."

"You noticed I stopped short of hitting you this time."

"Thanks. That’s appreciated."

Lex stood before him, looking him up and down with that sleek, assessing gaze that Clark had never failed to find arousing in days past. "Come here." He reached out a hand and beckoned with one slim finger, husky voice deepening as his eyes darkened . And Clark didn’t think at all, just moved into the embrace, letting his arms fold around Lex as their mouths met and surroundings faded into blankness.

Luckily, the bridge was deserted. Clark stepped back first with an anxious glance around, one lingering palm gliding down the side of Lex’s scalp as he released him. "Hi."

With a preoccupied smile, Lex brushed a hand across his own lips. "You don’t look a day over fifteen this afternoon." Which told Clark that Lex must be thinking of that long-ago October afternoon just as he was. He didn’t blush as easily as that fifteen-year-old from days past, but yet he felt warm blood mounting up his jaw and into his cheeks at Lex’s words.

They both turned at the same time to lean elbows on the rail and gaze out over the swift-moving river, still laden with bobbing shards of ice from the spring thaw.

"I was tempted to arrive in a big blue Ford F-250 and hand over the keys. There’d be nothing to stop you from accepting this time."

"I need more than a truck to solve my problems now, Lex."

"I know." Lex shifted and clasped his hands on the railing as he spoke. "I take it you’ve made a decision."

"Not yet." Clark’s tone was clipped.

Lex exhaled on a terse breath. "Normally, I’d say: take what time you need, but we are under a time crunch of sorts."

It was Clark’s turn to shift from one foot to another in discomfort. Nothing like a little pressure.

"Listen to me, Clark. I’ve already located two doctors, one from Russia, the other from Bombay, the best in the world, to be trusted implicitly," Lex went on. "They, and the most sophisticated technology, can be in place by the end of the week. The sooner we can get you safely installed and comfortable and begin study and treatments, the better."

"Sounds like I’ll be a science experiment," Clark commented grimly. "My parents were always afraid that would happen."

"Don’t say that," Lex tone was patient yet strained.

Clark sighed. It was time. "Lex, there’s something we haven’t talked about. You and Lana."

Lex said nothing, just drummed the fingers of one hand on the rail with a "ping"-ing sound. Clark waited, not meeting his eyes.

"There’s no way I can move into the mansion if you’re still with her. Wouldn’t be fair to any of us, to anyone. Especially to her. She’s been through so much."

Clark stole a quick glance. Lex was was thinning his lips with displeasure. He turned abruptly to Clark with that "move in for the kill" expression Clark had seen him use to get foreign business associates to agree to just about anything.

"Lana isn’t what’s important in this equation, Clark."

Clark shook his head, trying to ignore the tremble of warmth that coursed through him at Lex’s words. "How can you say that, Lex? I’ve put her through so much. I can’t hurt her again."

Lex muttered something in exasperation. "We’ll do our best to see that her pain is minimal. But right now, we have to think of what’s best for you. And for our child." He stepped closer and slid an arm around Clark’s jacket-clad shoulder, and Clark tried not to lean into his embrace, but did, anyway.

"We can get you moved in during the week, during one of the day's she’s at Met U. You can have an entire wing to yourself, on the east side, the opposite side of the building from hers. With the mansion’s sophisticated security, you can easily avoid running into her in a hallway, or in the kitchen."

"We’ll have to meet some time." Clark argued, not as stridently as he wished. Lex’s palm and fingers gliding through his hair were reducing him to mush, as always. Still he wondered: Will you be avoiding her, too? And which of us will you be sleeping with? Her? Me? Both of us?

Lex went on. "Yes, but this will buy us some time while you get settled and begin treatments, and I can work on getting her used to the idea. Don’t worry so much about the future, Clark. For now, let’s take it one day at a time."

What a strange thing for Lex to say, Clark thought. Lex, who was more obsessed with visions of the future than anyone else he knew.

"I’ll be a prisoner," Clark commented glumly.

"Hardly. You can enter and exit the building, or run through a room, at lightning speed. You’ve been doing that for ages--don’t even try to tell me you haven’t." Lex elbowed his arm and bestowed an affectionate grin. "You can zip home for a slice of your mom’s pie and a hug whenever the spirit takes you."

Reassuring as Lex’s words were, Clark hesitated, trying briefly to tap into instincts for guidance. He’d read a book from the library recently that said that your instincts, or, more specifically, your intuition, functioned as "angels of the highest order," your best guides in situations of potential danger.

He concentrated, hard. Then reached out and took Lex by both arms, steadying him as he held his gaze with his own.

"I’m just going to ask you once," Clark said, voice steady in the spring wind. "Can I trust you?"

Lex looked away and off, over the winding river to the hills beyond. "Clark, if you don’t know the answer to that by now..."

Clark thinned his lips and bit back a caustic retort. Never a straight answer from Lex. Ever.

Stop it, he admonished himself. For now, at least. Right now, trust is the only option.

He let his face break into a smile as Lex turned back to him for his answer. He hoped desperately that his instincts spoke through him.

"Okay," he said. "I’ll do it. I’ll come."

_________________

Chapter 8

There was always something sad about Sunday afternoons. That particular slant of pale sunlight through the kitchen window and onto the hardwood floor. The end of the weekend and all those possibilities that seemed so infinite early on Friday evening. The start of the uphill trek of the next work week, whether as country wife or as Kansas state senator. Around supper time on Sundays, Martha always had a sense of possibilities forfeited and opportunities missed, and, when the sun sank low in the western sky, she missed Jonathan so much. And the loneliness was about to deepen.

She handed Clark a stack of clean shirts and sighed. "Honey, I really hope this is the right thing for you to do."

Clark’s smile was wistful. He slid the shirts into his already-overstuffed duffel bag and zipped it up. "If it’s not, I can always leave. Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. If anything doesn’t seem right--"

Martha was loathe to say, but couldn’t help but think: her son might imagine it would be easy to leave the Luthor mansion, but Clark had a habit of trusting too easily. Once Lex had him secured…And with Lana already living there--the chances of it ending well were...slim, at best. The situation had the potential for being more than French farce--it could turn into a real tragedy.

She brushed the somber thought away. Whatever she thought was secondary. It’s was Clark’s life, Clark’s destiny, and not her place to dicate, demand, or interfere. Her job was to support her son as much as she possibly could. And pray.

Besides, she reminded herself, even though Clark was far more biddable than most teenagers except when Red Kryptonite was involved, kids historically and universally tended to ignore parental advice.

Clark cast her a wistful glance, as though he could read her thoughts. "I just hate leaving you alone, Mom."

"Nonsense," Martha scolded a little too brightly. "It’s not your responsibility to take care of me. Besides, I have too much keeping me busy as a senator to spend time feeling sorry for myself. It will even be kind of nice to know you’re not rattling around her by yourself while I’m off being political." She stepped closer to Clark, laid a hand on his arm, and squeezed with a valiant smile. "No more guilt, Sweetheart, for either of us. Or doubts. We’ll just move forward."

"Thanks, Mom."

"But just remember: when you need me, I’ll be here."

Clark nodded soberly, then perked up at the light rap at the kitchen door. Martha saw him look over her shoulder, lips curving into a smile as a light came into his eyes.

Martha turned briskly and opened the door to Lex.

"Mrs. Kent." Lex, as always, offered his hand, which Martha took in both of hers.

"I was on my way back from delivering Lana back to Metropolis, and thought it would be a good idea to to get Clark in and settled before dark." He glanced down at Clark’s already-packed bag. "You’re not bringing much."

"There’s the stuff on the table, too," Clark hastened to add. "I’m...uh...kind of outgrowing most of my clothes. I’ll need more." He looked away, scarlet rising to his cheekbones.

Lex smothered a chuckle. "Not a problem." He scanned the random assortment of cardboard boxes on the oak table and glanced at his watch. "Ready, then?"

"I’m ready. Here, Lex," Clark picked up a dog-eared box from the table and pushed it at Lex. "You carry the GameCube and the games." Shelby padded up, and he bent to stroke her fur. "Bye, girl."

The dog snorted and pawed at the floor, then covered Clark’s face with slobbery licks. Clark laughed, pulled away, and stood up.

"Stay in touch, Honey," Martha begged. "Call me." Clark grabbed his duffel bag from the floor and shouldered it, then turned to give his mother a hug.

"I will, Mom. Promise."

Clark was first out the door. Lex, following close behind, paused and turned back to Martha as Clark bounded down the porch steps into the spring dusk.

"Don’t worry, Mrs. Kent. I’ll take care of him. He’s in good hands."

Martha hesitated, then nodded. "I hope he is, Lex. But telling me not to worry is wasted breath. It’s what mothers do."

She lifted the curtain on the door, watched them walk to the car and get in, swallowing hard as Lex revved the engine. She waved, and kept waving until the car reached Hickory Lane and turned right to head off to the mansion.

Martha let the curtain drop, and, as her hand dropped slowly to her side, felt the stiff smile fade from her face.

God, keep him safe, please, she prayed silently.

The roar of the Ferrari died off in the distance. Alone in the farmhouse as the sun dipped below the woods on the western horizon and the golden light faded, Martha wept.

_________________

Chapter 9

This is Clark Kent. Leave a message and I’ll call you back. *Beep*

Sure you will. Chloe bit her lip in frustration at hearing the same message for the fifteenth or fiftieth time, and tried to ignore the desolate emptiness inside. She gazed bleakly out over the Metropolis lights as she hung up the dorm-room phone.

Maybe he’s just too busy to call, she told herself. Or maybe his phone's malfunctioning and he can't pick up his messages. But she’d been telling herself that for a week now, believing it less every day.

It wasn’t like Clark not to answer his cell, definitely not in character for him not to return calls at all. The few times she’d seen him in the last month or so he’d been pale, tense, preoccupied, and despite some gentle prodding on her part, didn’t seem to want to say why. Chloe couldn’t help but worry that his father’s death and the breakup with Lana, not to mention all that solitude in the loft, had really gotten to him and that he was withdrawing from everyone. Even her.

She sighed. She’d tried Mrs. Kent’s line, too, but Martha was in Washington D.C. again and going the voicemail route as well.

Chloe’s goal was to be honest with herself at least ninety-eight percent of the time, and she knew she’d fall short if she didn’t admit three things. One: that she was delighted to know about Clark’s origin and powers, even if she wished she’d found out in a different way. Two: that she’d really enjoyed being Clark’s confidante since the previous fall, when he learned that she knew his secret. Being the one he turned to when he needed more than hacking and detective skills to help him out was great. Sweet, finally having him lean on her, level with her, trust her--the increased emotional closeness a related and welcome benefit.

And, three: desperately as she’d tried to deny it (part of the remaining two percent) since Clark and Lana had called it quits, a warm, golden glow had taken up residence in her chest and through her body and refused to be dislodged, no matter how half-heartedly she bade it begone. It just hunkered in, glowing brighter all the time. Consciously, she kept telling herself that a romantic relationship with Clark just wasn’t in the cards. They were friends, and good ones, and it was better left that way.

Seriously, it wasn’t that she had no compassion for Clark, whom she knew was devastated by the breakup. Still, all she had to do was think: “He’s free again. Unattached! Available!” and (pardon the cliché!) her heart sang.

She sighed again and stopped trying to deny the dismal sensation making itself felt in the very same heart when she realized that the phone had been silent for a good hour. Clark wasn’t going to return her call tonight. She’d try to hold off, just one or two evenings more, before giving in full force to worry that something serious had happened to him.

He’s just busy, she counseled herself yet again. He’ll call by tonight. But, if, by tomorrow morning, the phone still hadn’t rung, and her voicemail box still read "zero," what would she do?

She was just dozing off when the call finally came.

"Chloe?"

The voice she'd longed to hear. She jerked up in bed, awash with relief, pulling the covers around her to ward off the chill. "Clark. I was worried about you!"

“Sorry.” His voice, on the other end of the line, muffled and subdued. “I’ve been kind of busy.”

“Well, don’t do that to me again!” she huffed.

“I did get your messages. Thanks for being concerned about me.”

“No problem. I’m your friend, Clark. When I don’t hear from you for weeks, I worry.”

Silence on the other end. “You still there?” Chloe queried into the mouthpiece.

“Yeah,” was the hesitant response. “Chloe, I’m coming to Metropolis tomorrow. Can you meet me at The Byline for a cup of coffee? Nine o’ clock?”

“Sure.” She wasn’t scheduled to work tomorrow until noon. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Clark sounded relieved. “See you then.”

Chloe’s brows dipped into a frown as she hung up the phone.

**

“So, Clark,” Chloe faced him across their booth in a secluded corner of the coffee shop. “Why the long silence? I know you’ve had a lot on your plate now that…your dad’s gone.” She hesitated, not convinced that bringing up Jonathan was the best idea on this rainy spring morning, but Clark didn’t react. He stirred his coffee while adding a second packet of sugar, and fixed Chloe with a steady gaze.

"I have a couple of things to tell you, and even though you won’t be the first to find out, I guess I’ve been dragging my heels."

"What is it, Clark? You know you can tell me anything. After the past year--"

"This is different. And I know you’re adventurous and open-minded, but I can’t predict how you’ll feel about me after you hear it all.” Clark exhaled, slowly. "Lex and I are in a relationship."

Chloe swallowed her mouthful of coffee too fast and coughed, hard. “What?”

“Don’t make me say it again. I’m not ashamed of it, but this isn’t the most private place in the world.”

Chloe set down her spoon and fiddled with the muffin crumbs on her napkin, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Well! And here silly me thought all along it was Lana you--"

Clark looked uncomfortable, then away and around the diner. Tables and booths surrounding them were empty; only a regular or two leaned on the counter sipping coffee and chatting with the waitress on duty.

“I’ll always care about Lana. But it’s Lex that I love. Now, and forever.”

Chloe tried to ignore her plummeting heart and swallowed hard.

Clark licked his lips and looked back at her, dead on. “This is even weirder, trust me. Chloe, you know those alien powers of mine? And my status as a being from another planet?” Clark heaved a sigh and drummed his fingers on the booth tabletop. “Kryptonian males must be different from men on earth, because apparently I have other abilities, too. Like being able to get pregnant.”

Her jaw dropped, incredulous. She giggled. “What?” she hissed in a whisper.

“Stop it,” Clark’s cheeks flushed crimson as he glanced around again. Bus brakes screeched outside on the street. “It’s true. I x-rayed myself. It’s for real.”

Chloe’s gaze flickered down Clark’s chest, but his waist area was concealed by the tabletop. “What? Clark, you’re nuts! How could that happen?”

“Take a wild guess,” he said glumly, tearing another sugar packet open and, instead of adding it to his coffee, poured it out on the saucer.

Chloe, aware that her mouth was hanging open, snapped her lips shut and ran mentally through several years’ worth of memories. Clark and Lex, laughing over mugs of cappuccino and espresso in the Beanery and at the Talon. Lex glancing up at Clark with a slight, fond grin as Clark tried to figure out how to work the videocam for Chloe’s hard-won initial interview--right before she went careening through the mansion’s largest stained-glass window . Clark and Lex gazing into each other’s eyes as fireworks exploded behind them in the night sky.

"You and Lex," she said dully. "For how long?"”

“Since freshman year. High school,” Clark looked down at his cup and stirred the wasted sugar absently with his spoon, not meeting her eyes.

"That long?" she blurted in astonishment.

“And before you have to ask, he knows about me, now. My background, my powers. I told him a couple of weeks ago.”

Chloe pondered for a moment, mentally bidding farewell to her privileged status as sole keeper of Clark's secret. "I guess that’s no more than right, if you’re a couple. So, let me make sure I have this straight. All the while...when we went to the Spring Formal together, while you dated Lana, back in sophomore year and this past year--even when you married Alicia, it was you and Lex?”

"Yeah," Clark’s blush deepened. "The whole time, pretty much."

"All the while I chased you, and agonized over the fact that you wouldn’t give me more than a second glance?"

“Yeah,” he repeated. “I’m really sorry if it hurt you. I just--"

"Well, okay." Mistress of the Wall of Weird, she’d read, and heard, of things much more extreme, even if the involvement of her best friend did cast a different light on things. “Forgive me, Clark: I just had to get a lot of that out. Now that I have, let’s move on. You’re pregnant? What are you going to do about it?"

"I’m working on that part. Lex and I are both working on it."

"Ah, Lex. Right. What’s his reaction to all this? How does he feel about having a little Kryptonian rug-rat running around--"

“Stop it, Chloe. Just listen. I’ve moved into the mansion.”

“What?” Chloe’s mind raced. The mansion. With Lana there--

“Lex hired a couple of doctors who are crackerjack scientists, too. They’re sworn to secrecy. He’s paying them mega-bucks to take care of me, study me, and figure out how we can do this safely.”

Chloe shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, Clark. There could be a fine line between study and exploitation.”

Clark fumed. “Like I have a lot of choice.” A quick breath. “They use green K. With it, they can draw my blood, run tests, do other things. They give me special protein and vitamin shots. They’ve already done an ultrasound.”

“Do you have a copy of the pic?” she demanded, excited, and then could have kicked herself as she received a glare of annoyance in response. “Anyway...Clark, this sounds really scary. Are you sure it’s safe for you to be there? Are you sure--"

He cut her off. “I have to trust Lex, now, even if his need to know everything does scare me, sometimes.” A hard swallow. “I have to.”

“So which one of you is going to tell Lana?”

“Lana’s barely speaking to me,” Clark admitted. “It will probably have to be Lex. But we aren’t at that point, yet. She doesn’t even know I’m at the mansion yet.”

Chloe exhaled on a long breath and fiddled with her spoon. “Have a care, my friend. You’re swimming in dangerous waters.”

“I know." Clark drained the last of his coffee and slipped a dollar bill under his saucer. “But, again, it’s not like I have much choice. There are no solutions right now, Chloe. I just wanted you to know about this.

“And I appreciate that. But Clark, listen to me. Stay in touch. You know I’m pretty good at finding answers to questions and solutions to problems. If anything, anything scares you, call me. Right away. Promise.”

“I will.” He stood up, and now she could see that, before he quickly zipped his jacket, his waist did look--thicker somehow. Different. “Thanks for coming. Now, I have to get back. They want to run more tests on me by early afternoon.”

Chloe reached for her purse and raincoat but stayed seated. “Would it be out of line for me to say I’m happy for you? and for Lex?” she said, as brightly as she could.

He smiled down at her, finally. “Thanks.”

She sobered. “I’m here for you, Clark. Remember that.”

“I will." He looked toward the door. "You’re coming?”

“In a bit,” she replied. “Think I’ll get myself one more shot of caffeine.”

“Okay. Talk to you later.” She watched him stride past the counter and out of the diner, then disappear in the rain-soaked crowds outside.

Chloe didn’t beckon for a refill, but remained seated, fiddling absently with her empty cup as tears burned the backs of her eyelids.

Well, she had told him to move on. Guess he was following her advice.

Clark, she thought numbly, I just hope you’re not making a terrible mistake.

_________________

Chapter 10

Clark entered his mansion suite, relieved that the day’s tests were over and he could snatch some much-needed rest. He gathered his rain-soaked jeans and sweater from the carpeted floor where he’d left them on his return from meeting with Chloe and stripped off the lab gown he’d donned for today’s round of injections and x-rays. From a drawer of the antique mahogany dresser, he fished for one of the several pairs of silk pajamas Lex had bought him, even though it was the middle of the day. He pulled on the pants and buttoned the top and collapsed on the bed with a gigantic sigh.

To his surprise, he was finding that, alien or not, male or not, he was experiencing some of the typical symptoms of a normal "Earth" pregnancy. He knew: he’d been doing his research. He glanced over at the stack of pregnancy books on his bedside table and debated reading for a bit before his nap.

His powers were still in force but noticeably diminished: he was maybe fifty percent as fast, fifty per cent as energetic, fifty percent as strong as normal. The doctors in charge noted these variables and were targeting them for study, but they had no answers yet.

He was certainly vulnerable to nausea, even though he was beginning to get his appetite back. And bone-draining fatigue: when before had he ever needed to sleep in the middle of the day? Plus, when certain tests were performed, he could definitely feel pain, meteor rocks or not.

Clark winced at a twinge in his arm. Today’s tests had been a little on the grueling side. He’d endeavored to keep his mind off the mechanics by running over his conversation with Chloe in his mind as he lay on the padded table. That was his one big accomplishment of the week: clueing her in on what was going on.

He’d been relieved at the calmness of her initial reaction. Chloe never lets me down, he reminded himself, flexing his sore arm and noting with surprise an unexpected thickness in his throat. He tried to forget the fear in her gaze just before he'd gotten up to leave the diner.

He swallowed hard. The books said that another common side effect of pregnancy was being excessively emotional, and even though he couldn’t very well blame female hormones, the end result was the same.

I wish Lex could have been here this afternoon, he thought wistfully. Because the results were worth the discomfort. The doctors had captured a clear image and detected a heartbeat, turning up the monitor to enable him to hear the muffled, rhythmic beat. Even though he’d been able to tune in himself earlier thanks to super-hearing, being able to share the experience, even with just the doctors, was remarkable.

“Hear that, Clark?” Doctor Ramani observed in his perfect English. “It’s very strong.”

It would have been great to share the moment with Lex, to see his smooth, neutral poker-face break into a rare smile at the sound. But Lex was tied up in Metropolis most of the week, working well into the evenings, and both Clark and Lana were left rattling around the mansion alone. X-ray vision was priceless when it came to plotting his course through deserted halls to avoid meeting her, even if it went against the grain to sneak and spy around that way.

Whatever works, he told himself for at least the fiftieth time. This won’t last forever.

It was his last conscious thought before he dropped off to sleep.

**

The brush of smooth lips on his and the glide of a deft palm and fingers through his hair awakened him. He stirred; the mattress dipped and shook as Lex lay down beside him, kicked the comforter down, then pulled it back up over both of them. Clark yawned, debated mentally and briefly whether he should let Lex catch a nap, too--after all, he was putting in long hours these days. Or should he try to talk him into something else?

Clark decided with a mischievous grin, then pulled himself up. Lex lay with his back to him, still in his white dress shirt, bare head on the pillow, back rising, falling with slow breaths.

Clark leaned over him. "Hi," he murmured drowsily into Lex’s ear.

"Hi, yourself." Lex stretched and rolled over on his back so Clark could put an arm over his head on the pillow. His collar was unbuttoned, showing bare, pearl-white skin. Clark cast an admiring glance down, and up.

"You look great," he said.

Lex smiled, reached for Clark’s wrist and pulled him in close.

Clark grinned, then sighed as Lex’s hand coasted under the covers and his silk pajama top, over his ribcage, down to his waist, and stroked. Lex’s voice, wry and quiet in the cool air of the bedroom. "How’s the bump?"

Clark let his own hand slide down and over Lex’s. "Still there, see?"

"Getting bigger," Lex observed. He turned on his side, aiming a warm breath on Clark’s neck.

Clark cuddled in, then swallowed, saying, a little shyly. "They got a heartbeat today."

"I know."

Clark blinked. "You talked to them?" He peered close, but Lex didn’t meet his gaze.

"I had Ramani phone me as soon as the tests were concluded."

"Oh." Clark thought a moment. "They didn’t tell me. So, when do I get to see the results?"

"Whenever you want," Lex’s palm, warm and skilled, glided down Clark’s side to his thigh. Clark trembled a little at his touch, and breathed out, slowly.

"So, what’s up for the rest of the day?" He didn't dare let himself hope that Lex was free for the afternoon and they could spend it here together in bed--Clark's favorite way to spend a cold, rainy afternoon. He waited, a little uneasily, for Lex's answer.

"Besides you, you mean?" Lex's hand wandered purposefully from Clark's hip to his silk-covered cock, which rose warm and interested to meet his touch.

Clark sighed and shifted under the comforter. "Can you stay?" He was surprised at how lonely and needy his voice sounded. "Or do you have somewhere else to be?"

Lex stared up at the ceiling. "A benefit in the city tonight. We’ll be leaving soon, when Lana gets home from class."

Home. The word didn’t escape Clark’s notice.

He swallowed again. His throat felt tight. "We?"

"Lana and I. We’re guests of the Governor this evening."

Clark turned over on his side to face the wall, not trusting himself to look Lex in the eye, struggling to keep his tone casual and steady.

"When will you be telling her about us?" Again he waited, hardly daring to breathe.

"Soon. When the time is right."

When will that be? Clark yearned to ask. He bit his lip and subdued the impulse, rolling over to lie on his back and stare at the lofty ceiling along with Lex.

"Will I see you when you get back?"

"It will run late. You need your rest. The staff will bring you up supper."

Clark sighed, less than enchanted by the prospect of a bleak, lonely evening before him. After a moment, he said slowly. "You know, Lex, this pregnancy wasn’t planned. By either of us."

Lex gave a sleek little snort as though to say: damn straight. Clark’s cheeks burned, and he hesitated, gnawing his bottom lip.

"And I know it’s probably unfair of me to expect you to call it quits with Lana right away when you guys have...just started a relationship and you weren't expecting to get stuck in this situation. But who knows how much time we have? An ‘earth’ pregnancy is nine months, but maybe Kryptonians don’t gestate for that long."

"Did you learn that word from one of your books?" Lex inquired blandly.

"What if I did?" Clark replied, more sharply than he intended. Did Lex think he was stupid, or something?

"Now you’re pouting," Lex commented, meeting Clark’s angry glance with a lazy grin. "According to the medical team, the embryo isn’t that far along."

"It’s called a fetus, now." Clark reminded him glumly.

Lex ignored the comment and reached for one of the books on the bedside table. He thumbed briskly through the pages. "Here." He slid the open book under Clark’s nose. "Sixteen weeks."

Clark blinked and stared at the black and white image on the page. He had to agree it looked exactly like that day’s photo from the lab: minuscule hands crisscrossed with veins, black beads for eyes, skeletal fingers and toes, already formed.

"A fetus, but only barely," Lex chuckled.

Clark thought a few moments. "I’m not sick as often any more. Or as tired." A weak smile. "I can be in the same room with meat again."

"See? Right on schedule." Lex snapped the book shut. "You’re four months along, less than half the ‘gestation’ period." He elbowed Clark gently, set the volume back on top of the stack and turned back to him, holding Clark’s gaze with his own. "Things will unfold as they’re meant to, Clark. Trust me. Our child will be the wonder of the world."

Clark's eyes welled with tears. Damn hormones, he thought. Lex was nothing if not persuasive. How many times had he convinced foreign business executives, talked his way right past all types of resistance on Clark’s part: verbal, physical, just with a few well-spoken words in that silken voice? Maybe, instead of running a multi-million dollar business, he should have chosen a career in hypnosis.

He wanted to believe, to trust, so badly.

Lex’s hand was back on his stomach and wandering further south. Clark shifted, exhaling on a shaky sigh.

"So, you’re feeling better," Lex was saying "Did the books clue you in to the fact that your sex drive might increase around this time?"

Had they? "I think..." Clark stammered, "I think I remember reading something about that." Lex’s kneading, caressing hand, the comment in the same soft voice, sent blood rushing to Clark’s already half-hard cock.

"Let’s see, then. Your health is paramount, after all. Know what that means, Clark?"

With a slow nod, Clark let his eyes drop closed. He knew he probably ought to push Lex away and make him listen to every last thing he had on his mind, but he seemed to lack both will and strength this afternoon. He just lay still, savoring the sensation of Lex’s nimble hands roaming over his body, then slim fingers creeping under the slippery silk of the pajamas to wrap around his straining cock, which lay as full and flat against his belly as it could right now.

"Good," Lex commented, and jacked him, once, twice. Precome spurted from the head of his cock, wetting the silk pajamas.

God, it felt good, Lex stroking him firmly, soothing murmurs gradually turning to hoarse, whispered words of love. Before long, Clark was gasping, moaning, shuddering, then squeezing his eyes shut as pleasure rushed through him in waves.

He came back to himself slowly, eyes opening to focus on Lex, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, sucking white fluid from his fingers with small, catlike licks. As Clark lay panting, riding out the aftershocks, he buttoned one cuff, then the other, and picked up his shoes.

"See you tomorrow." Lex got to his feet, not looking at Clark as he headed for the door.

"Lex--" Clark began, struggling to sit up.

But before he could finish the sentence, Lex was gone.

**

Clark lay still for awhile after Lex’s departure, listening to spring rain beat on the mansion windows. Had to be the rainiest spring in the past four or five years, he thought idly.

It was hard, keeping his expectations and desires at appropriate levels for the way things were right now. He kept telling himself that he had no right to insist that Lex give up Lana altogether--not right away. Lex was offering space in his home, funding doctors, methods and equipment. Clark was dependent on his provisions and good will. He shouldn’t be too demanding, even if, with fuming impatience, he want everything "now." Good things come to those who wait, he could almost hear his dad’s voice saying, even though he was beyond positive his dad would never have applied that particular platitude to his son's relationship with Lex, or to this beyond-bizarre situation.

He didn’t want to lose Lex.

But the current living conditions were strained and dangerous. And wrong. Pride alone would have kept him from agreeing to this arrangement, had he not been so desperate for help.

He had to stop letting Lex get around him, letting him subdue his questions, his fears, with sex. Had to be strong and not give in so easily, no matter how much he wanted it. And him.

There was a lot he wanted to say. He wanted to complain, demand, accuse as he used to, till Lex was groveling at his feet, willing to give anything, do anything to keep his love. But he knew things had changed, that he no longer held Lex’s unquestioning fascination and devotion, or possessed the power over him he’d had back in high school Their relationship was balanced so precariously that an ill-placed word could destroy it all. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to curb his tongue, his hurt, his anger. The most vulnerable one in this mess, after all, the one with the most to lose, was him.

And the baby.

The baby. Now that there was a heartbeat, now that he could see fingers, toes, motion and dark, tiny eyes in a waxen, unformed face, it was no longer just an unexpected, unwelcome force that had come unbidden and was throwing his life into chaos.

It was a gift. A part of his life, now, and forever

For their child, he had to make this work with Lex. He had to be patient, plan carefully, do all he could to keep it safe.

It was worth everything.

_________________

Chapter 11

Lana stretched and yawned in the middle of the study floor on her way to the kitchen, still wearing the velvet robe that was Lex’s latest gift. She glanced toward the window: finally: a sunny day after so much rain. Buds were turning to leaves in the mansion garden and fat, nesting robins bobbed among crocuses and narcissi. A whole day before her, to fill however she chose.

Lex had taken the jet to Korea before dawn, promising to be back by evening. And Lana pondered just how she might best occupy the time between now and then. Continue teaching herself the piano? Having some more elementary sheet music would help. Read a book from the massive library? Funny: she didn’t enjoy reading as much as she once had. Explore an unseen wing of the mansion? Perhaps.

If only Lex weren’t so occupied with business at present. Their relationship was new, and so precious, so in need of care and attention. They should be together, all day, every day. She missed him every moment he was away, wanted to learn more about him, explore all the ways they were so alike.

Both left adrift by everyone else they’d ever cared about. Thank God they’d found each other at last.

“Lana.” A familiar voice echoed in the quiet room.

Dread pooling in her stomach, she jolted around. Clark stood in the doorway. Jeans and flannel, so out of place in the majestic elegance of this house.

Her heart flipped, then cooled into a block of ice. "What the hell are you doing here?" She spat the words, fumbling with the silk belt of her robe, pulling it tight, then drawing the fabric closer around her body before crossing her arms, tight, in front of her. "And how in hell did you get past security?"

She willed herself not to process how beautiful Clark was, still, summoned all the dislike and distrust at her command to drown any remaining tenderness from days past. He’d always lied to her, never been honest. Toyed with her heart and mind until both were bruised, beaten and desolate. Then rejected her, twice, with never an explanation. It still shamed her to remember how she’s gone back so easily, only to be devastated all over again.

And even now, he couldn’t let her be, to savor this new love that had come her way. Still intruding, reminding her with woeful gaze and constant equivocation of the crushing disappointment of years spent loving him.

"I’ve been here for awhile." Clark replied, stepping into the room, gaze dark and earnest.

Handsome, yet haggard, almost as he’d been during the paranoid spell the past winter. And a tad out of shape; he’d put on a little weight, while her mirror daily showed her she herself had grown sleeker, leaner, darker. She focused her attention, narrowed her gaze and continued.

"I don’t know why you think you can just waltz in here whenever...How could you have been? But then, you always have had ways around just about everything, haven’t you, Clark?"

Clark let her caustic words glance off as he always did. Lana raised her jaw defiantly, daring him to speak again.

"Lana, I know Lex is out of the country today. We need to talk, you and I."

"'You and I' have nothing to say to each other," she snapped caustically. "And correct me if I’m mistaken, but didn’t your friendship with Lex end a while ago, too?"

"Lana, we have to talk," he repeated. "You and Lex--you can’t be together. I--.”

How dare he. After everything that had happened, the way he’d treated her. "Clark, the days of my needing your protection are over. Lex and I are a couple, now, so you may as well just accept it. It’s over between you and me. For good."

"Lana, please listen. I know you and Lex have gotten really close. But there’s a lot you don’t know. If you’ll just give me half an hour, I can..." He hesitated, as though searching desperately for the right words. “Lana, if you ever loved me...if you ever had feelings for me at all--"

"I’ll never leave Lex. I trust him. He’s honest with me. Something you never were. He loves me." She faltered, cursing the weakness inside, coaxing her to believe him yet again. She should be beyond this now, able to resist the pleading in Clark's gaze, the earnest tone of his voice. She should be strong. For Lex, and for herself.

"As far as that goes, I’m sure that’s true," Clark stepped closer. Lana swallowed hard and stepped back, colliding with Lex’s desk. “But there are things he hasn’t told you."

"I don’t believe there’s anything Lex has told you that I don’t know."

"Well, if you put it that way, no. But--"

Lana sighed heavily. "Clark, I’m through wasting my time listening to anything you have to say. I gave you hundreds of chances to be honest with me, and they were all wasted. Lies, always. I’ve moved on. It’s time for you to do the same."

"Lana, I’m asking you one last time: please, just hear me out."

"Would it convince you to leave us alone if I told you Lex and I are engaged to be married?"

Lana shook back her hair and gazed at him in triumph. She saw the blood drain from his face, his expression changing as though she had struck him. She swallowed hard, both triumph and desolation battling for control of her emotions. Clark just stood, staring at her, mouth half open.

"Lana, I...didn’t know." He looked away, then down at the floor.

She lowered her voice, demanding, lethal and determined: "Now will you go?"

Without a word further, Clark turned dazedly and strode from the room.

Lana remained staring at the closed double doors for at least sixty seconds, listening to the ticking of the study clock. She waited, half expecting Clark to return.

When he didn’t, she stepped dazedly to the drink cart. Fumbled for the scotch decanter and poured, then reached for the ice bucket and tongs with shaking hands, dropping one cube, then another, into the glass, even though she had yet to eat breakfast.

Clark had drawn his own conclusions, she told herself as she sipped and swallowed, cringing as the liquor burned in her throat. She hadn’t exactly told a lie. Hadn’t said: "Lex asked me to marry him."

Because he hadn’t, not yet. But it was surely only a matter of time before he did.

She trusted Lex. He wouldn’t deceive her, reject her, abandon her. Ever.

She tipped the glass, gulped, grimaced, but kept on drinking till the tumbler was empty.

The heat of Clark’s strong body, the touch of his mouth, warm, wet on hers.

Why had he stopped loving her?

She picked up the decanter again and willed herself to forget.

_________________

Chapter 12

Saturday afternoon. The farm always looked so fair in the spring, and being without its master for the first time in decades didn’t seem to make a difference in that. Martha looked out over the fields, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

Newborn calves still trotted across the paddock, hens still laid as they had every year since Martha had arrived at the farm a bride. Seedlings sprouted in the earth, trees budded. Seasons passed, with new births, and deaths. An eternal pattern, oblivious to life changes, neutral and comforting at the same time.

With senatorial duties demanding more of her time every week, Martha enjoyed the mindless, peaceful routine of farm and household chores now on her Saturdays off. Nothing could fill the void of Jonathan’s permanent absence, and she missed her son, too, but she was out of town so much, and with so many people day in, day out on a regular week, that being alone for a weekend now and then gave her a chance to ground herself.

Her thoughts turned to Clark as she trudged in from the barn with a bucket of fresh eggs. Clark was happy with the man he loved. He was going to be a parent soon. And she...well, she had to get used to being on her own, wherever she was, at the farm, or in Washington, D.C.

Maybe Clark and Lex could both come for dinner tomorrow afternoon, if there were no business demands to interfere. She would be in some need of some company by then, and a change of scene might do both boys good as well.

But when Martha entered the farmhouse, she had to realign her thinking

Clark was in the kitchen, stuffing wool sweaters and heavy socks into his duffel bag with grim determination. Martha felt the welcoming smile fade from her face.

"I’m leaving," Clark declared, not looking at her.

Martha’s thoughts raced. Leaving? But he’d already moved out--

"Sweetheart—what..." Martha scrambled for words. "What’s happened?"

"I have to get away."

"But--"

"From Smallville. From Kansas. From everything." Clark’s voice broke, and he bowed his head. Finally, he turned to her, a look of such bleak misery on his face that that Martha was frightened.

Her heart and spirit sank together. She’d feared something like this from the day he’d left home six weeks ago.

"I found Lana at the mansion and tried to talk to her. She wouldn’t listen to me, not to a word I said."

"Honey, stop. Sit down, just for a minute." Martha pulled at one of the counter stools. "Try to get hold of yourself."

Clark hesitated, glanced down at his watch, then at the porch door. "Okay, but only for a minute." He sat down and folded his hands before him on the table.

"If what she says is true, Lex isn’t going to leave her." Clark took a deep breath, letting it out in a heavy sigh. "So I’m the one that has to go."

"Oh, Sweetheart," Martha put an arm around him and drew him close. "You told Lana about your relationship with Lex. And about the baby." She’d brooded so on that conversation, had worried and prayed for her son every day since he left, hoped against hope that it would go well, knowing all the while that the chance was slim.

"I didn’t get that far. Mom, please don’t ask me to talk about it, now. I just can’t."

"Whatever you want, Sweetheart." She knew better than to push Clark when he was in a mood like this. Jonathan had been the same way.

"I have to get away from here, from this town, get some time alone to think and figure things out."

"For how long?" Martha tried to ignore the growing spread of desolation through her chest and stomach. At least at the manor, he’d been close by, these past weeks. Now--

"As long as it takes." Clark hefted the bag to his shoulder, then hesitated. He looked over at his mother, swallowed hard, and began to speak again, the words spilling out.

"I realized all at once while she was talking--or rather, screaming--at me, that it was all wrong. My being at the mansion, living alone in a separate suite, waiting for an hour’s visit from Lex all the while he was spending the bulk of his time with her. I can’t take his help any longer, not unless he makes a commitment to me. As long as Lana’s in his house, and in his life, that’s impossible." He looked away, jaw setting in determination. "I can’t see a future for us without it."

"A commitment," Martha repeated, slowly shaking her head. My poor boy. "Oh, Clark...you may be asking too much."

"Right now, it looks as though that will never happen." Martha heard the quaver in Clark’s voice, saw the sag of his shoulders. "I don’t know why I ever thought that arrangement could work. I guess I was desperate, and grasping at straws. And because I wanted it to work, so badly, Mom. I wanted us to be together...but I’m done with all that."

Martha stepped close and put a hand on Clark’s shoulder. "Honey, have you discussed any of this with Lex?"

"No," Clark’s voice was clipped. "I can’t. Not now, anyway. Not yet. And I can’t stay here, because this is the first place he’ll look for me."

She thinned her lips in distress. "But, Sweetheart, where will you go?"

Clark took a deep breath, and said grimly, "Where he won’t be able to find me."

Martha looked down at the warm clothes that filled Clark's bag as he struggled with the zipper. "The Fortress," she said grimly.

"Maybe if I go up there and just wait, Jor-el will talk to me this time, somehow. Tell me why this is all happening to me, and what I should do about it."

Martha shook her head slowly, gazed at him beseechingly. "Your visits to him never end well, Clark. Just keep that in mind. And you have to think of your health, and the baby's--"

"I know, Mom. Why else do you think I’m doing this? If I stayed there much longer--" Clark broke off with a grimace of frustration and looked away, biting his lip.

"The tests—the medication they were giving you at the mansion. Can you--"

Clark slammed the refrigerator door a little too hard. "I don’t trust them either any more. No more tests." He gave her a half-hearted smile as she pushed him gently aside and slipped bottled water and cereal bars into his already overstuffed bag. "For myself, I don’t care, but I don’t want green meteor rocks anywhere near the baby. Not any more." Clark took a deep breath and spoke with steady determination. "Sink or swim, Mom. I’m either going to have this baby on my own, without tests, without kryptonite…or die trying."

Before Martha could respond, the phone rang. Clark started and his gaze darkened.

"Don’t answer it," he snapped. But she was already lifting the receiver to her ear. She shook her head at her son and held a finger to her lips.

"Hello, Lex...no, I haven’t. He’s not there with you?"

A pause. Martha watched Clark, who was fidgeting uneasily, holding his breath.

"I don’t know. A couple of days ago, in the afternoon. No, he didn’t."

Clark frowned and shook his head, then mouthed: Don’t tell him I’m here.

Martha listened.

"Of course I will. You do the same. Let me know if you hear anything."

She slowly placed the receiver back in its cradle and turned back to her son.

"He didn’t believe me," she said, dully. "I could tell. If you’re leaving, you’d better go now."

Clark shouldered his bag and nodded.

Martha stepped back over to her son, pulled his jacket straight and down over the small bulge of his stomach and reached out to pull him into a hug as tears gathered in her eyes. "Stay safe, Sweetheart," she whispered, running a hand through his coarse locks. "I’ll be thinking of you every day. You’ll have a home here whenever you’re ready to come back. You know I’m strong enough to keep both of you safe, whatever Lex, Lana or Jor-el try to do. It’s the Irish in me."

She savored the warmth of his body as he returned the embrace. "Bye, Mom. I’ll stay in touch as best I can. Try not to worry about me. Remember: I’ve always come home before."

"I know. And when you do, I’ll be waiting." Martha noticed how mature her son sounded, the deep, new timber in his voice, and thought wistfully: why, he’s practically a man, now.

Martha opened the screen door and followed Clark out onto the porch. What a fine afternoon, she couldn’t help thinking again despite her distress, new grass blanketing the surrounding meadows with a mist of green. The beauty of the surrounding countryside sent a pang through her heart.

“Bye,” Clark bent to kiss her cheek, then looked off, following her gaze around at the yard, over at the barn and off across the fields. He hesitated, almost seeming as though he wanted to say something more, then turned away, paused, and vanished in a blip of speed. Martha saw the wheat part in the north field and the track disappear off in the distance, all the way to the horizon.

Martha stood looking after him. She turned to go back into the house, realizing that her plans for Sunday would now have to be re-worked.

Perhaps Jor-el had stopped speaking to Clark because he wanted him to find his own answers now.

She only hoped he would.

_________________

Chapter 13

Chloe tried to ignore the tense lump in her throat as the Luthorcorp elevator glided skyward.

Ordinarily, she would have thought twice about responding to a summons to Lex’s office in the city. Certainly, she would have considered long and hard before going alone. But, with Clark’s health and safety in the balance, it was a reasonable sacrifice of a lunch hour. A good investment. However she might distrust Lex Luthor, it could cause more problems now were she to stay away.

Follow Lady Macbeth’s advice and screw your courage to the sticking place, she told herself. After all, she had only one cryptic email message from Clark to protect: Going away for awhile. Will stay in touch.

And one strained conversation with Lana. Clark tried to break us up--Lex and me. He pretends to care, but he doesn’t. He always has some other agenda… didn’t want me himself. So why can’t he stay out of my life?

Chloe was almost glad, for once, that she didn’t know more.

But at least now, if Lex let slip any details about morally ambiguous plans to locate Clark, she could try to alert her friend before too much time passed. Martha would no doubt know how to get in touch with him.

Chloe walked down the deserted hallway, hesitated briefly outside the mahogany door labeled: "Lex Luthor", then mustered her determination and pressed the button. The door slid soundlessly open, and she entered.

Lex was behind his desk, illumined by dim light from the window and the glow of his computer screen. He looked up as she approached across the polished floor.

"Chloe. I appreciate your coming by today. Have a seat." He was paler than usual, forehead creased.

"Hello, Lex." She hoped her voice conveyed the aimed-for mix of cordiality and coolness. She sat down as bidden across from him as he typed a few more words and closed the lid on his laptop, then sat back and regarded her in silence for a few moments.

"How’s Lana?" she blurted out, just to say something, and then could have kicked herself.

Lex didn’t answer the question. Instead, he said: "I wondered if you knew anything about the whereabouts of your friend and mine, Clark Kent."

She held herself steady, spoke calmly, confidently, holding his gaze. "No, Lex, I don’t. The two of you are still friends? I thought--"

"Don't play games with me, Chloe." Lex said calmly. He picked up the telephone book from his desk and thumbed through it, pages rippling. "He appears to have left town over the weekend. Left without so much as a word. He’s good at that.”

"Well, I haven’t seen him since last week," she offered with a shrug.

Lex folded his hands on the desk before him. Chloe shifted uncomfortably as she waited for him to continue.

"And you have no idea where he went?"

"No."

Lex leaned forward. "You’re Clark’s closest friend. Have been, longer than any of the rest of us. I don’t know how much you know, but if he were to confide in anyone, I suspect it’d be you."

"I don’t know about that. There’s his mother--" Chloe began.

An elegant shrug and cool smile as he sat back. "I opted to try his best friend this time, instead. Humor me."

Chloe settled back in her seat, too, and thinned her lips. "I can’t help you, Lex." She spread her hands and shrugged.

Lex’s expression betrayed nothing. He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. "I’m sure you’ll agree that Clark’s health and safety are paramount and of prime concern for both of us."

Chloe recognized the technique. The maneuver. The books on stalking called it "false alignment." She mustered her defenses. "I always care about Clark. Always have, always will."

Lex rose and stepped around the desk to Chloe’s chair, so close she caught a whiff of the crisp, starched scent his shirt. He looked steadily down at her. "Even though he’ll never love you?"

A low blow, even for Lex, and one she wasn’t expecting. She swallowed, hard.

But she determined not to let him exploit her weakness. A long sigh helped her compose herself for her reply. "Lex, I’ve been so over that for eons. You must think I’m very shallow if you still assume that his not loving me will ruin our friendship." She fought to keep her voice steady. "Sure, we had a few rocky moments back in sophomore year, but, since then--" Chloe help up two crossed fingers.

Lex’s face relaxed into an almost-smile of satisfaction. "I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. I’d hate to think--"

"As much as we can be.” She subdued her irritation and other conflicted feelings stirred by Lex’s inference and made an effort to focus her thoughts on the matter at hand. This meeting, this conversation wasn’t about her.

Lex leaned down. "Chloe." She turned halfway round, noting how his knuckles whitened as he gripped the back of her chair. "I need your help in finding him."

Chloe swallowed hard as she looked up at him with a swift shake of her head. "Lex, I couldn’t help you even if I did know where he was. Because if Clark left, he must have had a reason. A good one." She looked up, but with his back at an angle to the window, his expression was shadowed.

A slow nod. "The circumstances of his departure were unfortunate."

"Were they?" Her throat felt suddenly dry.

Lex gazed down at her a moment longer before speaking. "How much do you know?"

"Not that much," she insisted.

"You spoke with Lana?"

"We talked once, last week."

She raised her chin as though daring him to make something of it. How much do you know, she couldn’t help but wonder.

"And she said?"

"That she and Clark had met, and quarreled. Which I probably should be keeping confidential, but something tells me you already know."

"Chloe, the mansion is wired with more cameras than the White House. Very little happens there without my knowledge."

"So you heard their conversation." Despite his casual tone, she knew he was avid for details. But she kept her guard up.

"Enough to know why he left." Lex shoved balled fists into his pockets and rocked a little back and forth from his soles onto his toes.

"He made the decision on his own, Lex."

"That’s the problem, Chloe. He made it alone."

"I can’t speak against my friends, Lex. Either of them. But I have to ask you: how could you think that arrangement could ever work? Having them both there in the mansion that way. It was a disaster waiting to happen from Day One." Chloe took a deep breath. "I tried to tell you that a couple of months ago, when Lana was reeling from their breakup, and so was Clark. But you wouldn’t listen." She stood up to face him, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes and continued. "Even Luthors have to make choices, Lex. You can’t have it all."

He raised his eyebrows with a small, bleak smile as though to say Can’t I?

"You have to decide who means more to you. Lana or Clark. Decide which of them you want to spend your life with. And then let them both know. You can’t have them both. Not that way."

Lex looked off toward the window for a moment that seemed to last eons as Chloe waited for his response. Her lunch hour was up and she really needed to get back to the Planet, but she felt powerless to move.

"You and I haven’t always been the best of friends, Chloe. But I know the welfare of your true friends is important to you. So I’m asking you again: where is Clark?"

"I told you: I don’t know," Chloe replied steadily.

Lex’s voice was low, quiet, lethal. "I need the truth. Now."

"He didn’t tell me anything more, Lex. I swear it on...on your laptop." She rose quickly and laid a palm on the warm lid of the laptop with a weak grin.

No smile in response. "I don’t believe you." And, in spite of herself, she felt her resolve begin to weaken at the bleak frustration in his voice.

"Okay, well, all right. He told me a few things." Stupid, she hissed inwardly. She should have known--that he would pounce on that, as soon as the words left her mouth.

"What?"

"Just—things."

"About our child?"

"Yes." She seemed to have lost the power to master her words, her responses. To hear Lex confirm the reality of what she’d half-convinced herself was a dubious memory from an odd, fleeeting dream, was strange.

"And that doesn’t that seem odd to you? Even as former documenter of all that was weird in Smallville?"

"That Clark is carrying a child, or that he told me about it? Regardless, it doesn’t matter what I think. Because you're right: stranger things have happened in Smallville--" She hated falling back on that age-old, all-purpose explanation, but if it worked--"and even in Metropolis."

"Our child," he repeated slowly, looking out over the buildings to the horizon beyond. "Clark's child...and my child, too, Chloe. Consequently, I have some right to know where Clark has gone." He turned to her, desperation darkening his gaze. "Please. Help me find him."

It was hard to say "No" to Lex Luthor. Lex was a master at persuading foreign business partners to cough up millions for this new project or that, could talk his mellifluous way around just about anyone, coax information from behind the most fortified defenses. Chloe felt her resolve weakening seriously now, and made one more valiant effort to be strong.

"I know him well enough to know that he’s devastated, Lex."

Lex glanced over at her and gnawed his lower lip. "I wish I had the inroad to his thoughts and feelings that you seem to enjoy."

Chloe sighed again. "Oh, Lex. How could you expect Clark to live that way, knowing you were with Lana, and were making no move to end it? He has more pride than that. Again, sometimes in life we have to choose. It’s not possible to have everything."

Lex didn’t look at her. "Clark is an extraordinary young man. But he’s bearing the weight of more than one world. He belongs with people who care about him, can give him the support he needs."

"I hope you’re including yourself in that mix. Because you have his heart, Lex. All of it."

She tried not to let Lex’s expression, which softened as though he’d been given a gift long despaired of, make her go fond and foolish. He glanced up at her again, and moved closer, his gaze burning into her, holding her still.

"He shouldn’t be alone, Chloe. Who knows the multitude of risks this pregnancy may mean for him? He needs to be back under expert medical care. Which I can provide." Lex spoke low and rapidly. "He needs careful monitoring to ensure his survival--and the child’s." He reached up, both hands grasping her wrists. "I’m convinced you’ve known about him--about his powers--for some time, now. Now, tell me: where is he?"

Lex had made her uneasy from the day they first met, long ago in the Torch office on an autumn afternoon, but, now she was afraid. She flexed her wrists with a moan, and his grip loosened.

Chloe pulled back, keeping her voice steady. "I can’t help you find him, Lex. But I’ll tell you one thing. One thing I’m sure of. Clark wants you as much as you want him." With a deep breath, she reached out hesitantly to touch his arm. "I just hope that what you say is true and that he can trust you to put his needs foremost. And that your main aim is keeping him safe."

Lex looked off and across the room. The buzz of his desk phone provided Chloe an opportunity for escape, though he made no move to take the call.

"Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t be of help, Lex, but I need to get back now. I have to finish a final draft for the five o’clock copy deadline--" She reached for her purse from the arm of the chair, not taking her eyes from him.

Lex fingered the telephone receiver but didn’t lift it from the cradle. "Chloe. When you talk to him--and I know you will--tell him I’ll find him. It’s only a matter of time."

She swallowed hard, at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

"Everyone thinks I’m the Antichrist, Chloe. I assure you, I’m not. I want only the best for Clark. But I’ll find him. There’s nowhere in the world he can hide from me."

_________________

Chapter 14

Jacketed arms folded, Clark looked off over the frozen wastes. Northern lights flickered and arched over the vast expanse of snow, their remote beauty intensifying the melancholy weight on his chest.

No sound but the whip of wind over the icy plain, and the crash and boom of far-off breaking ice. The nearest person hundreds of miles away.

Jor-el was still silent. The trip here had provided Clark solitude, but little else.

Speak to me, Jor-el. Tell me why all this is happening, and what to do. He still couldn’t think of him as "Father," or call him that, even in thought.

There was no answer.

Should he test his telescopic vision to see whether he could see across the miles to Kansas? Check on his mother, at home alone in the farmhouse, waiting for his return? He lacked the courage to scope the mansion for a longed-for sight of Lex. If Lana were still there, and chances were good, he couldn’t bear seeing the two of them together.

Clark sighed. Kicking at clumps of snow on the way, feet dragging, he wandered dejectedly back into the fortress.

He’d had no other choice but to leave Smallville as soon as he could. The situation at the mansion, with Lex...well, he just couldn't deal. He hated the dependence and powerlessness of his time at the mansion, hidden away waiting for an hour's visit at Lex’s convenience. Masking the bitter disappointment of Lex’s failure to level with Lana with expressions of a patience he was far from having. Hated the attempts at control. Nor did he trust those treatments, no matter how the doctors reassured him—nothing had convinced him they were good for him or for the baby.

Clark looked up, past the lofty spires of ice into the dark sky above, spangled with frosty, twinkling stars, remote and unreachable, many light years away.

Not really a part of Lex’s life. His melancholy musings circled like buzzards. Just a minor interest, utilized for some obscure, menacing agenda that was a mystery to him.

Coming here, where he could get space, quiet and time to think, was the only real choice open to him.

Lex and Lana were engaged. Lex must have proposed to her while Clark was there in the mansion. He tried desperately to buffer the anger and desolation that slammed into him at the realization, every time.

He hadn’t stuck around to learn details of the wedding plans or date, but it had to be soon. Lex was never one for long engagements.

Whatever cruel game Lex was playing, he would no longer be part of it.

His thoughts spun around and around, and came, inevitably, back to the bottom line.

He loved Lex. Regardless of how Lex felt about him. Despite all the lies. Despite being used. Despite whatever mystery agenda Lex had.

No matter how stupid it was.

He’d always love him, no matter what.

**

Damn, why did all this hurt so much?

Clark glanced at his watch, which was useless except for helping him guess what Mom was doing. It was still set on Kansas time. He lay on the wool blanket he’d brought from home. He didn’t mind the cold, or feel pain from the jagged hunks of snow and ice around the area he’d made into a bed, but it still wasn’t the best accommodation, for sure. He shifted his head on the balled sweater he was using for a pillow and tried to get comfortable. His body was bulkier, now, and he couldn’t bend and curl the way he used to.

Pictures drifted through his mind from long ago, images from sophomore year, freshman year. Eyes squeezed tight shut, he remembered as he willed sleep to come. Images and a voice, Lex’s, smooth, mellow, so beautiful. Back when their love was new and anything seemed possible.

"“You may not have been prepared for this campaign, Clark, but if you’d won, you’d have been a great class president."

"I don’t know, Lex. Chloe just made me realize how little I really do know about what goes on at school and what the student body needs."

"Well, you’re still a freshman. There’s sophomore year, junior year. You can always remedy your lack of knowledge later." Lex, skin translucent in the muted lighting of the Talon, moved in closer and lowered his voice. "Right now, you might be thinking about what your body needs." He chuckled low at the startled expression on Clark’s face as he scanned him up, then down.

"Lex," Clark felt his face redden as he looked around uneasily.

"Come on," coaxed Lex, nodding toward the back business office. "How about a consolation prize?"

Clark thinned his lips and fought back tears at the bittersweet memories.

Suddenly, he froze. Shifted on the blanket, caught his breath and felt his eyes widen in wonder.

Tapping, fluttering under his ribcage, like popcorn popping on the stove in Dad’s old, tarnished metal popper. Was it just air? Or...

Clark gasped, raised himself on his elbows, and probed with an anxious finger. He’d been in such miserable shreds since his conversation with Lana and instant decision to leave that he hadn’t spared much time even to think about the baby except for a brief moment here and there.

He waited, breathless, half convinced he’d just imagined it…

But there. The motion again, this time almost like the languid, light flapping of a Monarch butterfly.

Gingerly, he lay back down and stayed very still for a few moments, blinking away the tears that burned in his eyes.

"Wow," he exhaled at last, out loud, to the cold, empty air. "It’s alive."

He coasted his hand over the mound of his belly in stunned fascination. It was alive, really. This was more proof than sonograms and x-rays. Real. His child.

And Lex’s. They were parents. They’d created this together. Clark wrestled inwardly with himself for a moment that seemed to last eons, then set his jaw in determination.

He had to tell Lex.

None of it seemed to matter any more: the lies, the deceptions. Lana. All paled in significance beside the reality of new life: the most important of all. More than anything, he wanted to tell Lex, be with Lex, feel Lex’s arms around him as they shared this miracle together. Sure, maybe he was following his emotions instead of his brain, but that didn’t seem to matter right now. And he had no clue whether he was being guided by Jor-el to his decision, or whether it was coming from somewhere deep inside himself. But he did know one thing.

He had to go back.

_________________

Chapter 15

Lex had paid attention in his Excelsior writing class.

An author, when crafting a story, revises, eliminating unnecessary phrases, sentences, paragraphs. In order to achieve a clearer focus and enable the real intent to shine through, rather than bogging it down with too much verbiage.

Musing, he sat sprawled in the study, shirt unbuttoned, his customary glass of Scotch at his elbow, untouched.

Gardeners have to thin and prune as well, clearing out excess. Cutting the number of plants down to a fraction of what was originally sown. Only thus can the ones left grow strong.

Even great planners had to make changes. Changes that improved the final product. In shaping one’s life, cutting one’s losses was sometimes mandatory, even for collectors like him. When relationships became unwieldy stories, unweeded gardens, it was time to edit, to revise. Prune ruthlessly. Remove the clutter.

True, for a time, he’d thought he loved her. But he now knew his brief attraction for what it was: a complex blend of delight at achieving the hitherto unattainable--Lana Lang, always surrounded by an admiring gaggle of young men, and finally of age--at connection with someone who knew some of the same losses and loneliness that had beset his life. Someone who knew pain and desolation, had been the victim of Clark Kent’s dishonesty just as he had.

And, most important: mean pleasure at snagging something, someone Clark wanted. The days were long gone when his love for Clark was pure, simple and unreserved, when his deepest desire was to enable Clark to have whatever, with the untried taste of a highschooler, he thought he wanted. Back then, his aim was to snare Lana for Clark. Only later, after the problems grew too great, after his feelings for Clark were more hate and anger than love and admiration, had he set his sights on claiming Lana for himself.

Bitterness? Undoubtedly. Revenge? Perhaps. Practicality? Undoubtedly. As a couple, Lex Luthor and Lana Lang won everyone’s attention, captured every eye around. Lana dressed up nicely, a possession to be proud of. Lana would be a wife everyone would admire, a woman anyone would want.

Anyone but him.

Love no longer factored in. On his part, anyway. Winning her love was a triumph. But a thing of the moment, transient, a temporary amusement. Lana, lovely as an exotic blossom, with the dark hair he preferred and slim, trim form. She was young. She was sweet and callow, and so invested in the relationship, with eyes for no one, now, but him. He could mold her…

He was bored already.

He no longer found her simpering cute, her self-absorption amusing. Once gained, her devotion was of little value. He wanted stronger stuff.

Stronger stuff. Clark’s strong arms around him, Clark back in his life, at his side day and night.

Thinning out possessions was hard for someone like him. But he would do it.

**

Focused and determined, Lex had tried for weeks to resist any pull toward sentimentality. With Clark in residence at the mansion, he had endeavored to keep some uniform distance, balance his life between the two of them, keep either of them from having an excess of power over his affections, over him. He prided himself on being a master of control, and he could control them, would control them to his advantage.

Neither of them, he vowed, would get too tight a grip on his heart.

Now, with Clark gone, the balance no longer mattered.

Clark had come to him. Clark wanted him. Clark, man and superman, bearing his child and incredible secrets, finally disclosed. The future, with all its promises and wonders from that long-ago day at the bridge, was not lost forever. The future was now attainable after all.

He wanted Clark. Wanted him near every day. Wanted him with a white-hot desire so intense that it left him breathless. Clark was incomparable. He was everything. Together, they could subdue the world.

There was no longer a place, no longer a need, an excuse, no longer a reason for Lana Lang.

Much as he’d wanted to have everything, it was time to prune, to revise. Lana had no further role in the saga of his life.

**

"Lex." She went to his arms in response to his raised eyebrow and patronizing smile.

He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the almond scent of her hair as he murmured, "Lana Lang...always accusing everyone else of lies, but she’s the biggest liar of all."

For a moment, she was motionless in his arms, then drew back, gaze darkening. "What are you talking about?" she said, with a little laugh, yet clearly unamused.

"You spoke with Clark recently." Lex's bland voice was the only sound in the quiet room.

Lana’s face changed, and she responded with a self-deprecating smile and a shrug, seeming to know denial was pointless. "A couple of weeks ago. How did you know?" She sank down on the couch, squared her jaw and regarded him steadily.

"Lana," he said with exaggerated patience, as though she were a naughty child. He stepped closer to the couch and looked down at her, hands behind his back. "Surely you remember that this place is wired inside and out. Draw your own conclusions."

His scrutiny was clearly making her uncomfortable. "Lex. I didn’t think of that at the time." She spread her hands. "And even afterward, I didn’t know you knew."

How could you not know? he wondered, bemused. After those conversations, disagreements, about the cameras and their placement, after his ultimatum: You’re free to make other arrangements, but the rest of them stay. This is how I live.

"All right. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I saw him, and I just got so angry. All the memories, all the lies came flooding back. You should know how that feels."

He regarded her for a long moment, then stepped over to the drink stand and fiddled with the spoon beside the bowl of limes, keeping his voice casual and smooth. "So you took it upon yourself to drive him away?"

"No," she stammered. “I didn't. I just--"

"You drove him away," he repeated, as though she hadn’t spoken, an edge of anger in his voice. "With your meanness, your lies. After he finally came to me, trusted me. After I’d waited for years."

She was shaking her head, bemused. "Lex, I don’t understand. I thought you--"

"You thought about yourself, as usual."

He raised his head, somehow unable to subdue the naked desolation in his gaze. Their eyes connected. Lana stared at him for a long moment, realization dawning. "It’s Clark," she said, dazed. "It’s him, isn’t it? He’s the one you love."

Lex didn’t answer. He no longer cared if she saw through him, divined the secret. It no longer mattered if she knew. They both loved Clark, and he was determined to come out the victor, even if it meant trimming his possessions, giving up control, bidding Lana goodbye.

She waited for his answer, her inner shock and struggle evident on her face. "Don’t lie to me." Lex noted the tremble in her voice as the sentence trailed off. "I've had enough of lies."

He had no intention of lying, so he said nothing, watching as any lingering shreds of hope abandoned her. He beat down any weak stirrings of pity. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was finding Clark. Getting him back. Keeping him safe.

"I can’t stay here." Lana gathered up her purse, knelt and fumbled for the two pairs of shoes under the couch. He watched, willing himself not to see her pain in her gaze. Hurt again. If only she didn’t make herself such a willing target, easy victim.

She rose to her feet and strode to the door, where she paused, as though waiting for him to stop her. When he said nothing, she squared her shoulder and spat the words over her shoulder.

"Goodbye, Lex. I should have known better than to ever have gotten involved with you in the first place."

He shot her the most bored look he could muster, though, headed out of the room, she couldn’t see. "Goodbye."

Soft click of metal meeting wood and she was gone, more slowly, quietly and easily than he would have expected.

He knew it was cliché, but indulged himself nonetheless.

"Don’t let the door hit you on the way out," he said dispassionately to the empty air.

_________________

Chapter 16

Lionel Luthor paid scant heed to the green spring countryside trailing by outside the limousine window, Metropolis still a half hour away. Leather squeaked as he shifted and settled back in the seat, slender fingers stroking and smoothing his chestnut beard.

It was time to get back on track. He’d allowed other matters to distract him these past months, most particularly, the pursuit of newly-widowed Martha Kent, however worthy a use of his time, and however rare a prize awaited him upon success. He’d made greater strides lately in that arena than even he might have expected of himself, had even surprised himself with his selfless heroism in the troublesome Lincoln Cole affair. Fueled by the grandiosity of peril, he'd have given his life for Martha that day. Fortunately, they'd both survived, and he himself emerged having won her admiration--permanently, with luck. A major triumph.

But then, he’d always been sure of success. Martha was drawing closer to him daily, body and soul. Fulfillment would surely come soon, for both of them.

But now: time to shift and tighten the focus, narrow, and zoom. To turn his attention back to Clark Kent. The main quarry. Now that an inroad to the Kent family was established and well-traveled. Now that the lad’s secrets had fallen into his waiting hands.

**

With Lex’s hands more than full with the Lang girl these days, Lionel was confident he would have the freedom and scope to concentrate, to close in for the coup.

Daily, he expected news of his son’s engagement. In the newspapers, of course; he wasn’t so naïve as to expect Lex to inform him personally. If Lex played his cards well, he’d be a husband by summer, and, with further luck, a father not long after. When he himself was finished with Clark, Lionel mused, he’d mold that grandson into the son he’d hoped Lex, and then, all too briefly, Julian---would be, ensure that his success would be greater this time. Lex was a son to be proud of, but he’d no intention of letting him know that. It would turn him soft, and weakness in his son, his only legitimate son, the only son that mattered, regardless of where his own heart might primarily lay--was to be avoided at all costs.

If Lionel had it in him to be regretful, he’d almost be sorry that the truth about Julian’s death had come too late. He believed Lex, of course, though it had been a shock to learn after all these years that Lillian was the one responsible for his youngest child's demise. But mulling it over years after the event, he wasn’t surprised. Lex, trained by Lillian, was always led by his emotions. Emotions that betrayed both of them in the end.

As emotions always did. It wasn’t till he himself let go of his emotions that he began to rise in the world.

But how to convey that to his son? He’d worked on that for years. Lex had too much of his mother in him. Lillian, so beautiful, so weak. Defeated by life. A shame.

It took some time to let go of the grief, the revulsion at the deed which was a habit of long-standing--a change not to be made overnight. Even anger with his son for assuming the blame, depriving the two of them of years spent awash in bitterness, years they could have spent working together, training together. Moving forward without tabloid nonsense, bail, emergency rooms, expulsions. Lex could have learned so much from him.

Foolish boy, Lex. His misplaced devotion and soft heart had robbed him of many advantages. But he was a man now, and, with irresponsibility finally behind him, ready to move forward.

Lana Lang. Pretty wisp of a girl, slight. Self-absorbed and a little drama queen, but a reasonably good choice as a wife for Lex, now that he and the Kent boy had acrimoniously fallen out, the gulf at an irreparable stage. At least she’d provide him some amusement for a while. Lionel wasn’t convinced she’d be a good breeder, but these days, when cost wasn’t an issue (and it wasn’t) modern medicine could do wonders.

Grandfather or not, he’d be the one with power over the child if and when it came and as it grew, whether Lex realized it or not. There would be a second chance to leave his mark on the world, a mark that would endure long after he was gone. Lex’s child would be an adequate backup if his plans for Clark Kent failed. But they would not fail.

**

The lad wouldn’t admit it, but those troubled, guilty looks of his were proof enough. As were the photos--even in present-day when photos were no longer as trustworthy as once they were, Lionel was sure.

He was a wonder from another world. A powerful force. Superhuman. A god.

But a bit skittish, much like Ms. Lang. He must be gentled, reassured, pacified. Before--

Lionel punched in a series of numbers on his cell.

"Send me your report."

**

That night in his Metropolis office, Lionel pondered the situation over one glass of iced, well-aged scotch after another.

Clark Kent: seen daily in the mansion over the past several weeks. Lana Lang: the same.

Lana Lang and Clark Kent. Both birds now suddenly, inexplicably flown. Lex left alone, rattling around in that place alone, except for a few servants. And planning what?

Lionel set down his glass, stood, and walked to the window to look out over city lights, gaze fixing on nothing.

Information was sketchy. Large portions of the video feed were scrambled and scratchy; his spies must have been dozing on the job, or generally incompetent, and some dismissals were likely in order. He should never have gone abroad to Berlin for three weeks on business, should have sent someone else, should have stayed in better contact with his investigators. Even he could make the very occasional mistake, and admit it, if only to himself.

What had transpired? Only the barest details could be sifted from the mess.

Lana and Clark had met and argued while Lex was absent. Lex and Lana had met and quarreled after Clark’s departure. Both conversations were ninety per cent inaudible. Now Lana and Clark—both vanished, with crucial information lacking.

He would try again.

He would know.

_________________

Chapter 17

The computer screen displayed pinpoint locations in green and blue, the many surveillance posts and headquarters, Lex’s detectives having gathered and fanned out across the globe. The bulk sent north, because last time Clark disappeared, he’d surfaced up in the Yukon, leaving a hospitalized Chloe behind when he returned to Smallville. As quickly as he’d left, Lex was banking on him having followed a familiar course, and was trusting his instincts on this one. It hadn’t taken him long to track the scent last time, nor would it now. Only this time, he wouldn’t arrive too late.

Whether or not Clark wanted to be found, he would find him.

His eyes ached from staring at the glowing screen, the only light in the darkness of the study. He closed them tiredly as he massaged the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger.

Should he go to bed? With Lana gone, his days were filled with corporate activities, the evenings often with dinner engagements, late meetings, and the occasional and brief assignation. At night, late, staff all gone home or to bed, he had time to think.

To toss and turn, tangling himself in clammy bedsheets, brooding and alone throughout the endless hours of darkness, and to wonder just how unreachable Clark had made himself, not letting himself wonder what he himself would do, could he not be found.

The waiting, the wondering was significantly harder than most of the myriad issues, business and otherwise, he faced in any given week. During daylight hours, he could push the thoughts from his mind, keep them at bay. But, at three a.m., while the rest of the world slept and the mansion was quiet, the demons found him easy prey.

He would stay up for another hour or two. He had no heart to face the loneliness of his bedchamber just yet.

**

Lex knew, without hearing a sound, that Clark stood behind him. Their connection was that strong. Slowly, he turned around.

"Clark." Lex admonished himself, firmly and sternly, to remain calm. He must retain control of the conversation, even if every nerve and impulse in his body wanted to scream in joy and triumph, even despite the near-overpowering desire to run to Clark and crush him in his arms.

"Hi." Clark’s soft, young voice sounded sweeter to his ear than any sound he could imagine.

Lex tried to calm the thudding of his heart, resist indulging in a full-body scan this time, but in spite of himself his hungry gaze swept up, then down, taking in all of Clark: his large, strong form, his untucked flannel shirt and sneakers, handsome countenance, dark, messy curls. His face had filled out, lost the angles, clefts, and the lines of extreme youth. Skin clear and radiant, cheeks flushed, full lips curving up into a hesitant smile. Still absolutely, heart-stoppingly gorgeous. Some things never change.

Lex swallowed hard, his throat unexpectedly tight. A drink was definitely in order. He stepped over to the cart and picked up the ice tongs, noticing as he did so how his hand shook. He turned his back so Clark couldn’t see this evidence of weakness and said, as casually as he could manage, "So, you’re back."

Clark didn’t answer immediately. Lex waited.

"Yeah, I’m back."

"And you’re okay." Another frivolous, noncommital comment, phrased deliberately as a statement rather than a question, lifted the drink to his lips and gulped, more audibly than he intended as he swung back around to face Clark again.

Clark held out both palms face-up with a nod.

Lex saw that the onus of the conversation was on him. He knew babbling like a schoolgirl would be forfeiting an advantage, but it was as if he had no power to stop his words. "I should be used to abrupt exits by now, I suppose, Clark, but I must admit, this last one was unexpected. I thought we had an arrangement, an agreement."

Lex watched Clark draw a deep breath, then swallow, and pause. When he spoke, his voice was dry as tinder. "We did. But things weren’t turning out the way I’d hoped. I was worried, scared. Miserable. I had to get away."

"I see." Lex set his glass down on the desk, willing himself to remain calm and detached, not to give in to the softness Clark’s presence was dangerously close to invoking. "You were making a statement."

"No, Lex, that wasn’t it. Maybe you would’ve been, if you’d been in that situation, but that’s not me."

"I see. So you just left--without any explanation whatsoever."

Clark looked at the floor, then raised his face, expression serious, stern, and a shade reproachful. "I was pretty upset."

Thanks to the security footage, Lex was privy to departure specifics, so he deferred asking Clark for his version. He opted for something different. "I was just trying to take care of you."

Clark’s expression softened. "I imagine you know what happened. My conversation with Lana. No need to deny it, Lex; I know about all those cameras you have all over the place. Remember back when Victoria was here, and you told me not much happened in the mansion here without you knowing about it? Remember that time at the Luthorcorp Offices in Metropolis? I know how addicted you are to your bugs and surveillance. You’re such an information junkie..." A strangled, almost-chuckle.

Lex didn’t answer as he slid hands into the pockets of his slacks. He could hardly deny the charge, after all.

"Try to understand, Lex," Clark begged, again. "The longer I stayed, the more wrong everything felt. It was like you and she were a couple, and I was just an afterthought, or a third wheel. And then, there were those tests. They were making me sick, and there’s no way they could be good for the baby." He shifted on his feet in discomfort. "You wouldn’t listen to me. You were spending all your time with her. I thought maybe if I talked with her, alone--well, I tried, but she still hates my guts, and when she told me---what you guys had planned, I just couldn’t stay any more."

Lex thinned his lips. Clark’s thoughts, feelings, rationale--just as he’d suspected, all of it.

A pregnant pause was definitely an advantage at this point. He strode over to the fireplace and stirred the embers, blowing on them to coax them back into flame, then stood to face Clark once again. "Perhaps, then, you could explain to me why you’re here now."

"I can do that," Clark replied. "But, is it okay if I sit down?" He glanced down, appearing disconcerted, and then longingly over at the couch. "It’s hard to stand for a long time, now. I just--"

Lex hastened to nod at the sofa, even stepped to Clark’s side to take his arm and help him ease down onto the leather. When Clark was seated, Lex took the empty space beside him, Clark’s grateful smile stirring something unnameable in his chest.

"Thanks, Lex." Clark rested elbows on his knees, gazing intently at his own clasped hands between his knees, not looking at Lex as he spoke.

"Anyway, when I was off alone, I had time to think. About you, about me, about us together, and everything we’ve shared. All we’ve been through, the closeness, the danger, the betrayals, the fights. How much I want to be with you. How much I want it all to work. How much I want to raise this baby with you if I live through it all.” He took a slow breath and turned to fix Lex with an earnest gaze, "I just want you."

Lex said nothing, resisting the urge to lay his hand on Clark’s knee. It was as if he had no power to speak. He looked away and across the room, nonplussed by his uncharacteristic loss for words. He was usually the one who discoursed while Clark listened and absorbed, he was--

"So, I’ve come back to make you a deal. To find out, straight from you, what you really want. Lex, if you really want to marry Lana, if you want a more normal life, if you love her and not me, I won’t stand in the way. But if you do, I’ll have to leave for good. I can’t stay around and watch the two of you together after I’ve lost you."

"And go where?" Lex aimed for as casual a tone as he could muster.

"Somewhere far away. Where I can forget." Clark raised his head at last to fix him again with that stunning green gaze of his, punctuating his comment with a shrug.

Lex beat down a confused sort of alarm. "And take my child?" he heard himself say. "Our child?" he corrected quickly in response to Clark’s frown.

Clark sighed heavily. "Lex, I’ve known forever that you’re a really smart guy. It’s your choice. You have to make it. Do you want me--us, me, and the baby—or not? Because, if you do, you just have to say so. Take some time to decide if you want to, but I’ll need an answer soon. Without a commitment, without a promise, without you telling me I’ll be the main person in your life--I can’t stay. And, I’m sorry, but if I go, the baby goes with me."

Lex drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch, staring off toward the door of the study, and turned abruptly back to face Clark. "Clark, there’s something you need to know. There was no proposal."

Clark’s reaction was a confused frown. He shook his head with a small, doubtful smile. "But she said--"

Lex shrugged. "Lana was indulging in a dangerous game, walking a veritable tightrope. Playing Russian roulette, staking everything on one spin of the wheel. She lost."

Clark took a moment to process Lex’s words. He rose to his feet and followed the by now well-worn path to the fireplace, bowed his head and gripped the mantelpiece with one hand. Then he spun around, his expression both anguished and hopeful.

"Lex, I swear--if you’ve ever been honest with me in your life, please tell me the truth, now. Are you saying she made it all up?"

"I never asked her to marry me, Clark. You’re right about the cameras. And I did view the footage of your conversation with Lana. And that’s why she’s no longer here."

Clark looked doubtful. "Where did she go?"

"To Nell’s, I imagine. But, truthfully, I haven’t bothered to find out. And that, for me, is quite unusual," Lex bowed his head and then looked back up at Clark with a rueful grin "'information junkie' that I am."

Clark looked away, nonplussed, and then back at Lex. "Sometimes I wonder if you’re ever really 'truthful,' with me, Lex. Or with anyone. I can never be sure of anything with you."

"Well, that makes two of us, Clark. You’ve been a mystery to me for some time, too."

"Maybe we should just both accept that we’ll never know everything about each other and stop locking horns over it."

"Clark, if you stay, I can promise you that you won’t regret it this time. You’ll get the best care--"

"Lex, that won’t be the deciding factor. I don’t want care, at least not as a reason for staying. What matters is how you feel about me."

"About you? I should think that would be clear by now." After the past several years, after the wreck Clark had made of his mind, his emotions, his heart.

"Just humor me." Clark drew closer, his expression both anguished and hopeful.

Lex rose to his feet, chin raised, gaze fixed and unmoving. His words, when he spoke, were simple. "I’ve loved you since the day I woke up on the riverbank and saw your face looking down at me."

And he meant every word.

A brief gleam flashed across Clark’s countenance before he seemed intentionally to rein himself in, said soberly and seriously.

"And if I stay? No more tests. No more meteor rocks. You’ve got to promise, Lex. We’ll see what happens without them, without drugs or treatments, and if it’s curtains for me, well—it must mean there’s a bigger plan at work." He smiled, then, and, with a glance down, coasted a hand over his flannel-covered stomach. "After all, that’s the only way any of this makes any sense, right?"

Lex swallowed hard, sensible of the lump in his throat. He nodded, astonished to feel unshed tears burn the lids and corners of his eyes.

Clark drew a deep breath, evidently empowered by his unaccustomed eloquence. He moved closer and reached out with both hands to grasp Lex’s slim palm. Clark’s hands were moist, as were his eyes, and warm as the smile that met Lex when he looked up.

Lex’s voice was husky when he spoke. "Ramani and Gabrielov are already gone."

Clark exhaled, relieved. "Well, then..."

Lex stepped closer and drew Clark in to him, threading his fingers through coarse dark locks, feeling Clark’s strong body relax against his, the dip of his head, the warmth of his face against his shoulder. "Stay."

**

A poke in his ribs and a whisper close to his ear woke Lex from a deep, dreamless sleep.

"Lex?"

Disoriented, he tried and failed to wrest himself from his drowse. Whenever he wound up sleeping on his back, he either had nightmares or that blasted Hag weighing him down, crushing his chest, holding him, fast and immovable--

Another nudge. "C’mon, Lex, wake up. You’ve got to feel this."

Finally, he was able to pry his eyes open. Clark leaned over him, hair mussed, face flushed with sleep and lit by the warm glow of the bedside lamp. Lex had meant to switch off the light, but as soon as their sated collapse on the bed, they must have dropped off, exhausted, in each other’s arms.

Now he remembered. Clark was back. Here in his bed, just as in the early days. Lex could feel the warmth of his breath, his body. They’d talked, settled things, come to an agreement. They were at the threshold of a new life together.

Lex blinked as he gazed at Clark, suddenly, unaccountably moved. Waking to find Clark beside him was infinitely better than waking alone.

Clark lay back down beside him, murmuring, in a voice thick with sleep. "He sleeps most of the day, and then always wakes up at night. Great timing, huh?" A rueful chuckle, then he inched closer to Lex and rummaged for Lex’s hand under the covers. "The books say it’s normal, though. Here, feel."

He pulled at Lex’s hand and placed it on his abdomen, his own warm palm holding it in place. He pressed, gently but firmly.

"Wait just a minute." Wide-eyed and holding his breath, he looked to Lex like a mischievous child zeroing in on an unattended cookie jar. "There!"

A rippling thump and tap under his palm, and Lex felt his eyes grow round. When he first tried to speak, nothing came out except a little gasp. He tried again. "Wow."

"See?" Clark nestled in closer to Lex’s side as Lex coasted his hand gently over the stretched skin of Clark’s belly. "It’s moving, now. It’s really alive. Our baby, yours and mine."

Lex noticed that Clark put ever-so-slight emphasis on the "our," and chuckled. He didn’t know what to say, so he did what he usually did on the rare occasions this happened. He asked a question. "How long has this been going on?"

"It just started a little bit ago. Before I came back." Clark paused, as though wondering whether he should continue. "It’s why I came back.”

Lex nodded slowly in response to Clark’s searching gaze. He wasn’t about to dampen Clark’s sense of wonder by commenting that embryos were in motion from the time of conception; that they were too small for their movements to be detected until around the fourth or fifth month. Though he wasn’t disposed to admit it just yet, he’d been reading his share of prenatal literature lately, too.

Instead, he yawned--it was late, and the stress and worry of the past couple of weeks had tired him. Then he demanded, "You said 'he'."

Clark smiled at the chance to divulge a special secret. "It’s big enough for me to tell, now. With my x-ray vision, I mean. It’s a boy."

Lex was silent. X-ray vision. And then: A boy. "My son." He’d be a better father than his own father had been, he’d--

"Our son."” Clark corrected yet again, with a gentle shove, his knee connecting with Lex’s hip.

"Right," said Lex, sliding his other arm under Clark’s head and around his shoulder. "Ours."

"I mean, after all, who’s carrying this kid, anyway?" Clark shifted his palm an inch or so from where it lay on his stomach, prodded with a fingertip, and gave a delighted chuckle. "That’s a foot, there, I think. Or maybe an elbow." He lay still a moment longer and then rolled over on his side to reach up and switch the lamp off. Then he snuggled down again in the dark beside Lex, dragging the comforter up and over them.

"Are you sure you’re all right?" Lex wasn’t ordinarily lacking in self-confidence, but he was far from sure he’d be able to handle this situation with the aplomb Clark was showing, were he in Clark’s place.

"Well, except for the fact that this is all unknown territory, I think so. After all, my whole life has been unknown territory for the past few years." Clark laughed, a husky, low sound, as Lex drew him in closer.

"You don’t seem lacking in courage," Lex bent to kiss Clark’s brow with half-open lips.

"I’m just faking it." Clark laughed, and then suddenly sobered. He looked up at Lex and held his gaze steadily with his own. "Know something, Lex? I don’t know how or why this happened, and I know we got this parenthood project off to a rocky start, but I’ll bet we can handle it. Together. If we love each other, that’s all that matters. We can’t lose." A pause. "That is, if you do love me. Do you?"

Lex made him wait a moment before he responded. After all, a man could only go through so much excitement, so much wonder, in one day. "More than anything. More than anyone."

A contented sigh. "Then that’s good enough for me. Now, we'd better get to sleep, both of us, because tomorrow, we ought to start picking out some names."

It was the last thing Clark mumbled before his peaceful, regular breathing told Lex he slept again.

**

Lex lay awake, listening to Clark’s soft, regular breaths, sensible of a peace altogether unknown during the desolate nights of Clark’s absence. A new calm he’d never known before.

He looked over at his companion, gaze focusing through the darkness, noting an unaccustomed tenderness akin to that of the early days somewhere around his heart.

Gently, he raised himself on an elbow, reached out to pull the covers down, carefully, so as not to jar Clark. Clark murmured and sighed as he did so, but did not wake, though one hand wandered in sleep to his belly and rested there almost protectively.

As Lex studied Clark’s body, the stretched flesh of his abdomen, mottled around the hips. he sighed, too, fighting the urge to shift Clark’s palm aside and touch again, trace the mound of flesh, try to detect the motions inside. It might disturb Clark, who needed his sleep.

Subduing his natural curiosity was difficult, especially since he seemed to have been granted a larger share than most. There was so much he wanted to know about Clark: his origins, the extent of his capabilities, his limits. Giving up this quest that had captivated him for half a decade wouldn’t happen without a regret or two. But he could wrestle with, subdue his need to know, at least for a time. Having Clark back was a seduction too powerful to resist. Clark, and the unexpected treasure he carried, the son that belonged to, was part of, both of them. His child—his son, Alexander Luthor II. Clark had dropped off before he could divulge the name on which he had set his heart.

Child of his blood, and of this being from another world.

Clark appeared even younger in slumber than he did awake, despite the shadow of stubble on his full upper lip. Mussed hair clustered in damp curls on his brow, flushed cheeks glistened with a dew of perspiration.

Lex leaned over to kiss the parted lips. Clark stirred a little.

Lex drew the blanket back up and eased back down, leaning an elbow on his pillow, facing Clark. He continued to study him, now that his own eyes were accustomed to the darkness of the room.

Clark was young to go through all this, alien or not. He must have support, especially considering all the unknowns: length of gestation period, mechanics of labor and birth. Now that the doctors had gone...Clark was right: they were in unknown territory now. Together.

Clark had divulged his secrets at last; he himself had to let go of the lingering sting of the knowledge that it was done, finally, under some duress. And channel his curiosity and need to know toward caring for Clark during the coming weeks, ensuring that his surroundings were relaxed and peaceful, sparing him from stress. All crucial factors, were his child to see the light.

This child would live. It must.

He could subdue his often overpowering inquisitiveness. Only rarely did he fail at any task he set himself. For the child, for Clark-- reconcile it with the love that now burned bright and warm once again.

He would succeed. Forget the wrongs and move forward. Funnel energy previously spent on investigation into keeping the darkness at bay.

Glancing back down at sleeping Clark, for the final time before the oblivion of slumber enveloped him, too, Lex reached out to touch one of the damp curls on his brow, but stayed his hand.

He might become a good man, yet.

_________________

Chapater 18

Lionel eased himself into his desk chair, a big tumbler of neat Scotch in his shaking hand. He raised it to his lips, ice cubes rattling, and sipped, then coughed as the liquid burned his throat.

The glass rapidly drained, he stroked his beard, the latest round of security tapes having astonished him as little else ever had before.

Clark Kent: alien being from another world. Now again ensconced at the mansion. In love with, and beloved by, his own son. Bearing a child: seed of the Luthors, housed and forming in that magnificent body, heir, no doubt, to strength and powers unknown.

A grand, new world, studded with limitless possibilities, opening before him.

Were he to gain control of that infant, educate, form and shape him, there would be no boundaries to what he might achieve. Clark Kent was nearly grown, with strengths, principles, prejudices and values already developed. Less malleable, though Lionel by no means intended to relinquish him entirely. Kal-el he thought. You will not slip from my grasp--.

But with this child, he could begin fresh, train him from birth to be both the son he’d always wanted and the agent he’d always needed and craved. The helper imperative were he to continue to progress.

Study him as well, in order both to test the limits of his capabilities and learn as much as he could about the world beyond the stars from whence Clark, Jor-el, and the other intergalactic visitors came.

My grandchild. A worthy descendant, one who would make him proud.

Lionel smiled, suddenly feeling miles beyond powerful himself.

**

Lana’s eyes grew large and dark; she drew back several step into the apartment, almost to the door of the nearest bedroom.

"Good evening, Miss Lang," Lionel said.

He saw her hard swallow, the slight tremble of her bottom lip as she responded, "Mr. Luthor."

He strode into the apartment like Moses entering the Red Sea, Lana stepping back almost automatically to let him in. Once inside, he turned back to face her with his best affable smile.

Lionel took a moment to assess before he began. Pausing before speech often put one’s...subject, one’s prey, ill at ease. Pretty girl, golden skin, brown eyes, small, lithe body encased in snug jeans and slinky, tight-fitting dark-green sweater. Expression guarded, yet curious. He’d made a point of arriving when he knew she’d be alone, Miss Lane and Miss Sullivan conveniently engaged elsewhere.

Lovely, but vulnerable, and gullible, without a doubt. He’d come to the right place for assistance in carving an inroad into his son’s current life--and secrets.

"I do hope you’re enjoying your new surroundings."

She hesitated, and a rueful shadow flickered briefly across her countenance. Lionel could well imagine that life in this small, cramped apartment proved a stark contrast to Miss Lang’s previous lodgings at the mansion.

But she was nodding, with a watery smile. "It was great of Lois and Chloe to take me in till I can find a place of my own."

"Of course," Lionel strolled around the apartment, fingering knick knacks, thumbing the pages of a textbook that lay on the desk by the window, letting them ripple slowly. He continued with his back to her.

"If they hadn’t, you’d have been forced to scour the city for an appropriate place of your own. And I imagine your tastes expanded quite a bit while you lived with my son."

Lionel suppressed a chuckle as he turned back to face her, in time to see Lana cast down her eyes in what was likely embarrassment, before raising them again with an expression of simmering defiance.

"Why are you here?" Arms crossed before her, she fidgeted, smoothing both hands on opposite, sweatered arms, hugging herself in self-protection.

Lionel smiled again, eyes growing moist. The color suited her. She should always wear deep colors: ruby reds and forest greens, violets, browns, and deepest black--all set off golden skin, dark eyes and satin hair far better than the favored pink pastels of years gone by. Years which had unfolded her into a lovely young woman with eyes nonetheless shaded with the dark shadows of suspicion. She hadn’t escaped her relationship with his son, or with Clark Kent, unscathed. Of that, Lionel was sure.

"I said: what are you doing here?" Lionel detected the imperious lift of her jaw, and a nervous glance around the room. The girl was skittish as a young rabbit alone in a field who had caught wind of a wolf. The mental image made Lionel grin. Yes, you’re well aware that we’re alone here, you and I...aren’t you, my lamb?

He could work her.

Lionel strolled leisurely to the center of the room, then turned abruptly round.

"Young Mr. Kent has moved back into the mansion with my son. But I assume you knew about this?"

He noted the wince, which, to her credit, she did her best to conceal. Slowly, she shook her head. "No, I didn’t." His sharp eyes caught the tremble of her bottom lip, the sigh of hurt she tried and failed to hide.

"Well, now that you know, Miss Lang, what are your thoughts?"

She turned away, wandered to the window, fingered the curtain as she gazed down at the street below. "I’m not sure."

"Well, maybe I can help you formulate some." She turned to look at him, doubt warring with a gleam of interest in her eyes.

"May I sit?" Lionel glanced at the sofa.

Lana hesitated, then nodded. She perched on one of the stools by the counter, searching gaze fixed on her guest. Lionel sat, too, spreading the tails of his black coat beneath him as he did so

"Separating from Clark Kent, with his many secrets, and then breaking off with my son, must have been difficult for you, Miss Lang. You’ve been quite an important commodity to both young men over the past year, if I remember correctly."

Fire flashed in her eyes, but she stayed silent, clearly aware that denial would be useless. Lionel smiled in satisfaction. A spirited young woman, if self-absorbed, and one whom he’d had no doubt would readily snap up the bait he planned to dangle. He had but to be patient for a short time.

After a long moment, she found words. "How dare you!" She lowered her voice to a trembling whisper as she leaned toward him. "And, it wasn’t me. Clark said he didn’t love me any more, and then, with Lex--"

Lionel continued as though she hadn’t spoken. "Surely you realize that there’s more between them than simple friendship."

She ducked her head like a wounded bird. "Mr. Luthor, I’d rather not talk about this, if you don’t mind. And I’m sorry to have to cut this short, but I--" One foot slid off the bar at the bottom of the stool as she prepared to stand up.

Lionel rose to his feet and stepped over to where she sat, moving in close, willing her successfully to look back up at him, holding her gaze with his own. "I have a proposition for you, Miss Lang. Some of what I have to say may be painful for you, and for that I apologize in advance. But I hope you’ll hear me out, whether or not you have other plans for this afternoon. For I promise you, it will be worth your while if you do."

She opened her mouth to speak, and, for a brief moment, Lionel thought she might refuse, despite his not insignificant powers of persuasion. But his original assessment, as well as his eternal self-confidence, proved correct.

"Go on," she said.

Curiosity will win out, he congratulated himself. He rose to his feet and stepped over to the stool. He reached for her small hand, not at all surprised that she let him take it without protest.

"I would like you..." He dragged out the words, keeping his voice deliberately, deceptively, light. "I would like you, Miss Lang, to go back to the mansion and apologize to Lex Luthor and to Clark Kent--both of them. Tell them you regret the conflict between you and can rise above it, that you would like to bury the hatchet and be their friend once again.”

Her eyes flashed, then darkened with anger. "Apologize. Me? What have I done? They’re the ones who--"

Lionel began to shake his head before she finished speaking. "Such a shame, when all along you thought it was you they both loved. Only to find out--tsk. Such a sad mistake." He caressed her hand with both of his as he spoke.

"Everyone makes mistakes," Her voice came out in a low hiss. He could see that the arrow had hit its mark. The child had an almost pathological need to be loved, that much was clear. He’d been watching her for years, time enough and more to have divined that.

Now, she stared at him as though unable to look away, swallowing hard. She glanced down at her hand, still in his. Lionel tugged gently at her fingers until she slipped from the stool and stood before him. He smiled down at her as she gazed up at him, wariness within clearly warring with curiosity...and yearning.

"Poor child," he crooned, lifting one hand to trail one finger down her cheek. "So alone. I know that all you want is honesty from the one you love, whoever it might be." Lionel drew closer. "And for him to love you. And that you deserve it."

It would have taken a better man than he to resist the needy doe eyes and trembling lips raised to him. He drew her close, lips meeting hers in a long, long kiss as her slim arms wound around him.

Slowly, Lionel broke the kiss, smiling down at her with narrowed eyes. "You should be loved," he murmured. "You were made for it."

**

She wept on his shoulder as they lay together in her bed, the room darkening with twilight, her cries of pleasure still ringing in his ears.

He soothed her. "There, there." One hand stroked her silken hair as he nuzzled, then tongued, then kissed the hollow of her throat. "You deserve so much more than either of them were able or willing to give you." He drew back, just a little, and whispered, low, moist and husky, near her ear. "Trust me, and it will all be all right."

No doubt in his mind but that she would.

**

After he’d shared the details about Clark’s condition, and what details he’d gleaned about the relationship from security feeds, minions’ revelations, and his own sharp wits, Lionel received the reaction he expected. First disbelief, then shock. Then another flood of tears, followed by brooding anger.

And then, swiftly, inevitably: the desire for revenge.

Together, he vowed mentally as he positioned himself over her again, noting with pleasure with what abandon she lay back and smiled up at him through glistening lashes, yearning for him to take her again. Never one to disappoint a lady, he bent again to tongue her lips open as her slim arms folded around his bare back.

Together, Miss Lang, we’ll make them pay. Both of them.

_________________

Chapter 19

Chloe glanced up from her dog-eared paperback to tuck a strand of straight, blonde hair behind her ear and indulge in an unaccustomed wave of nostalgia as she glanced around Arthur A. Montague Memorial Park.

When she was little, after her mother left, her dad brought her here often. Being in Montague Park in Metropolis at this time of year in the park called up memories of quarters jingling in Dad’s pocket, and ice cream carts, of her dad spinning her around on the little merry-go-round that still stood by the Ursuline convent (a girl’s school back in those days), then jumping on with her and laughing, holding her close.

The merry-go-round was now in serious need of repainting. The small convent building adjacent now hosted an art gallery and café. Mothers, some solitary, some in pairs and groups, wheeled infants and toddlers in elaborate strollers built to do everything but fly. Lots of grubby-faced children in scuffed sneakers and cartoon-bedecked summer tees were now flipping out and begging for dollars (not quarters in this decade) when they heard the clink of bells on the approaching ice cream wagons. She’d been one of those kids--so long ago now, it seemed. Now, in summer, when working the evening shift at the Planet she often took her dinner break here around four in the afternoon just to indulge in memories and nostalgia.

Life is fleeting, she thought, the phrase from her medieval lit survey at Met U drifting back into her mind. Ubi sunt qui ante nos fuerunt?

Time passed so quickly. Things changed.

Though she knew she should be used to it by now, Chloe still started at the whoosh of air. Nearby bushes and shrubs flailed crazily in the breeze. She smiled in welcome, pulled off her reading glasses and closed her copy of William E. Blundell’s The Art and Craft of Feature Writing with a quick snap of her wrist.

"Hi, Clark."

Flushed and smiling, he looked down at her, drew one hand from behind his back and held out her absolute favorite candy bar: Fifth Avenue.

"Where on earth did you find that?" Fifth Avenues weren’t easy to come by, even here in the big city.

"City News just got them in. They’re carrying retro candy now. They’ve got it all: Teaberry gum, Big Times, Crows, even Clark Bars." He pressed the wrapped bar into her outstretched palm.

Chloe opened the clasp of her purse and shoved the candy inside, then smiled up at him brightly. "I hope you’re not expecting me to share."

Clark shook his head and patted his shirt pocket, where Chloe could see the top of another Fifth Avenue bar peeking out.

"You trying to butter me up?" A little warily, she waited for his answer.

"Maybe."

"I guess I’ll find out why in the course of this conversation." She looked him up and down. "Should you be traveling on foot these days? Metropolis is a three-hour drive from Smallville, and superspeed--" She shrugged and dropped her eyes, reaching out to pluck at the hem of his shirt. "Might not be child-friendly."

Clark smiled. "I didn’t go that fast. I’m keeping safety in mind. Promise." He put his hand on hers and pulled it gently away, then cradled it in his.

"So you’re back."

"Yup." Clark took a seat next to her on the bench, easing down carefully. "Thanks for meeting me here."

"You weren’t gone for long." She thought best not to mention the endless, sleepless nights during his absence, especially after her conversation with Lex.

Clark exhaled. Chloe noted the thin sheen of perspiration on his upper lip. "Long enough to get clear on what’s most important to me. Being back with Lex."

"You’re sure, then?"

"As sure as I can be."

She was far from convinced Clark was making the best choice, but who was she to toss cold water all over his new-found happiness? Let him enjoy it while he could. Maybe he and Lex could make a life together--against all odds.

"Are you doing okay? You and the...um...?" A glance down.

"We’re fine. And so is Lex." Clark’s manners were too good for him to say so, but it was clear he hadn’t expected her to ask about Lex.

"He’s excited about being a father?"

"I think so. He hasn’t said so in so many words, but I can tell." Chloe couldn’t help but notice how Clark’s eyes shone as he placed a palm on his stomach. He looked pretty much the same as always except for the basketball-sized mound at his waist, now clearly visible as he smoothed the fabric of his shirt flat over it. But when he stood, with his baggy shirt untucked, it was barely noticeable due to his large, strong frame. Suddenly, unaccountably shy, she felt an uncharacteristic warmth creep up her neck to her cheeks.

Her best guy friend was pregnant. No joke. If the Wall of Weird hadn’t been dismantled some time ago, this definitely would have merited a feature spot.

"Actions speak louder than words," Clark was gazing off across the park to the splashing fountain across the walk. "He’s completely taken over the decoration of the nursery. He’s started a savings account. He’s appointed himself in charge of picking out a name."

"Is that all?” she said with an indulgent grin. "And how do you feel about that?"

"We aren't seeing see eye-to-eye," Clark sighed. "Not yet. He’s dead set on ‘Alexander.’"

Chloe blinked. "Wait, wait, whoa. It’s a boy?"

"Yeah. We’re having a boy." Clark looked down, coasting a hand over the basketball bump again with a small, proud smile.

"You didn’t tell me." Chloe didn’t mean to pout, and struggled to beat down a pang of confusion and hurt. She couldn’t help feeling a bit disconnected from Clark and his new life these days. It hadn’t always been that way. Sure, they’d had their tense moments in freshman and sophomore year, but ever since her discovery about his powers, there’d been a new bond. Now that he was with Lex, and now that Lex knew, too, that unique closeness had faded. Too special to last, she thought.

"That was one of the things on the agenda for this afternoon."

She lifted her face to him and smiled, a bit too brightly. "What’s wrong with ‘Alexander,’ anyway? Is it just because it’s Lex’s Christian name and it might seem like he’s the one calling all the shots?"

"It’s not that," Clark protested, clasping his hands in front of him between his knees. "I just don’t see the point of naming a baby after someone else when the first person is alive and well, and around a lot, because all that’ll happen is you’ll get the names confused. Alexander the first, Alexander the second."

“But Lex doesn't go by 'Alexander'. Or you could always use 'Alex,' or 'Al.' Or 'Xander'.

Clark laughed. "Come on. 'Xander'? Get real!"

"Well, you know what a history buff Lex is."

Clark looked far from convinced. "I don't think I'd do that to a kid."

"So, what’s your choice of name?"

"I like 'David'. Now, if I can just convince Lex!"

Chloe pondered. "Why 'David,'?" She was coming up blank on any significance that name might have for Clark.

A shrug. "No real reason. I just like it. It's a good, simple, decent name."

"Middle name?"

"Haven’t decided yet. But I thought, 'Jonathan,' maybe?"

"Very biblical," Chloe agreed. "And nice homage to your dad."

Clark sighed and kneaded her hand. She couldn’t help but note the far-off, melancholy look in his eyes. "I just hope I can be as good a father as he was."

Chloe sighed. "I hope Lex can be as good a father as he was. Hopefully he won’t be a chip off the Luthor block and absorb Lionel’s parenting skills, if you can call them that. God, your guess as to how Lex he survived is as good as mine.” She realized as she finished speaking how agitated and shrill her voice had grown as she spoke, noticed how Clark’s face fell at her words.

"Hopefully you’ll be able to count on him to be there when you need him," she finished up, and then, "I’m sorry." She looked off across the park and across the street at the Daily Planet building. Sometimes, she chastised herself, you just talk too much.

"Be happy for me, Chlo. Please. I’m where I want to be, with the person I love."

With a hard swallow, she nodded. "I know. And I am happy for you, Clark, believe me. You deserve to be happy. Just promise me we’ll stay friends."

"Do you even have to ask?" He looked askance at her with a wry smile and shake of his head.

She hesitated, gnawing her bottom lip, knowing that maybe this was an invasion of Clark’s privacy, but it might be her only chance. So she decided to go for it.

A pointed glance at the bump. "Can I feel?"

Clark shifted on the seat, moving closer. "Sure." He grasped her fingers, drew her hand over and held it in place. "Feel that?"

Chloe could feel her eyes grow wide with wonder at the tapping and thump under the warm fabric. "Wow. That’s--"

"Really something, huh?"

She exhaled. "Incredible. Must feel amazing from inside." And she tried to keep her mind and heart from going there, but even she had only so much willpower. Maybe, someday, I’ll have a child of my own...maybe I’ll--

She tuned in to find Clark regarding her with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sure." She cleared her throat, blinking back unexpected tears, trying to keep her voice even. "Just feeling a little sentimental. After all, we’ve been friends for a long time."

Clark nodded, holding her gaze with his own earnest one. "Promise me something, Chlo'?"

"Whatever you need, Clark. You should know by now you can trust me."

He took a deep breath. "In case I…don’t make it. Will you be there? Lex might need help. And for the baby--"

Chloe held up her hand. "Don’t even think about that, Clark. Please. Nothing’s going to happen."

Another sigh. "Chloe, when have you ever heard of a guy giving birth? Check the books--I’m not exactly built for it." He looked so melancholy that her heart twisted.

Her lightning-quick mind rifled quickly through many possibilities, considered and discarded them all. Only one thought remained. She had to reassure Clark, spare him from imaginings of the many horrible things that could happen physiologically. "Clark, there must be a plan, and a way, or you’d never have been able to get pregnant."

She could see him visibly relax. "Thanks. I knew you’d be able to make me feel better. You’re so smart--and you give the best advice in the world. So," he continued in a voice noticeably more cheerful, "Can we count on you for some babysitting when this is all over and things settle down?"

Before the words were out of his mouth, she was shaking her head. "Come on, Clark. Seriously. I don’t do kids."

"Maybe you’ll change your mind once 'David's here. I hope you will, because I really want you to be part of his life. Lex and I both want that."

Chloe’s lips curved into a smile. "Regardless of my young-person-phobia, and my lack of confidence regarding matters of child care, I think I’d like that, Clark. As long as you're sure you're both okay with it."

"Good." He sounded pleased and relieved. "Maybe you and Lex can get to a point where you can actually be friends again."

She thought back one last time to winter of freshman year when, briefly, she and Lex almost had been friends, when the three of them had met regularly for coffee and to tackle challenges and generate solutions: together. When Clark purported to believe that having Lana as a girlfriend was still the be-all and end-all of everything. When even she could see how Lex looked at him, as though he were a banana split to someone on that dumb cabbage-soup diet. Who’d have thought back then how things would stand with Clark and Lex---and Lana, too--this burnished summer evening, nearly five years later? Even as recent as last early fall, when Clark and Lana were back together and for all practical purposes seemed destined to remain so for good.

She knew it was probably in the worst taste ever, but she still had to ask: "Clark, what about Lana?"

A heavy sigh. "Lana’s hopping mad at both of us. I mean, Lex and me."

"I’d be careful," warned Chloe. "Hell hath no fury', and all that. She’ll be angry. Vulnerable." She had no clear fix on what Lana could actually do to cause trouble for Clark and Lex, or if she’d even try to do anything, but she couldn’t quite shake the uneasy sense of foreboding that was settling in somewhere around her heart.

"She’s all alone," Clark was saying, subdued. "Which has always been hard on her. I hope she’ll find someone she can love, and soon. I never wanted to hurt her. I don’t think she knows about Lex and me--not everything, anyway, but we can’t keep it secret forever that we’re living together. And when the baby shows up, even if we keep quiet about where it came from—well, she’s always wanted a family of her own, and--"

"Clark, Lana and I are still friends, but I’m not about to let that come between me and you. If you think my talking to her will help--"

"Chloe, no way am I going to put that on you. I’m just sorry it puts you back smack in the middle of a tough situation."

"My lot in life, I guess. But just remember: if there’s any way I can help you, and Lex, and 'David'--"

Clark broke in with a grin. "I promise to let you know."

Chloe glanced at her watch. "Well, I’m due back at the office in five minutes."

Clark stretched and grinned. "Sure. And I’m meeting Lex at the penthouse. He had some business in the city, so we’ll be spending the night there."

"Well, say 'hi' to him for me." Chloe smiled and leaned over to plant a quick kiss on Clark’s cheekbone. "Be happy."

He turned to her with one of those big grins that never failed to make her heart flip in her chest. "I’ll do my best. Don’t worry about me."

She stood. "Not that easy. I’ll always worry about you, Clark. Lots of things change, but that’s one that won’t."

A slim palm on Clark’s shoulder, and Chloe couldn’t fail to notice the way his face brightened. "Lex. Hi!" He laid a hand on Lex’s and bent to press a kiss on his ring finger. "I thought we were meeting up at the penthouse after your board meeting."

"I cancelled the meeting," Lex said smoothly as both Chloe and Clark rose to their feet. "Having something more important to do." A diffident nod in Chloe’s direction, a cool greeting: "Chloe."

"Hi, Lex."

Lex nodded toward the park gate. "Thought you might like to walk back to the building this evening."

"Sure," said Clark with a smile. "The exercise will be good."” He turned to Chloe. "So, we’ll stay in touch. Call me."

"Absolutely," said Chloe. She bent to gather up her tablet, book, and purse. "So, see you guys later."

"Drop by when you’re in the neighborhood." An even smile accompanied Lex’s casual comment as his palm cupped Clark’s elbow.

He almost sounds as though he means it, thought Chloe. Lex was unfailingly cosmopolitan, always the good host.

"Well, bye." Clark reached out to clasp her fingers briefly, then turned to go.

Chloe watched them walk off toward the park gate, arms slung around each other, smiled. when she saw Lex try to steer Clark over to the ice cream cart parked by the gate. Clark shook his head vehemently, gesturing at his frame with a sweep of his arm, and Chloe chuckled.

Her thoughts wandered back to that lost summer of five years ago, interning at the Planet during sweltering, endless summer afternoons, waiting in vain day after day for correspondence from Clark, wondering, hoping they could get back together when they started school in the fall.

"Where are the snows of yesteryear?" she murmured, too softly for any average human to hear.

_________________

Chapter 20

"You’ve barely eaten," Lionel dabbed at his moustache and mouth with a fine linen napkin and a nod at his companion’s dinner plate. The chit's first time at Le Vendome, and one would have thought her enjoyment of the experience would have been more pronounced. Instead, her poulet au vinaigre de framboise remained virtually untouched, as did her salade de fenouil and her glass of wine. The girl was underage, but Lionel was fully capable of pulling whatever strings were necessary to ensure her compliance with what he was about to propose. "Drink some wine. It will relax you."

Lana pushed her plate away, sepia hair glossy in the candlelight, eyes dark and troubled as she gazed across the table at him. "It feels--strange. Being here with you. I'm guess I'm still getting adjusted." Her slim fingers curled around the stem of her goblet but she still did not drink.

Lionel raised a candid eyebrow. "Adjusted. To me?"

A hesitant nod, an uneasy glance right, then left. But Lionel had chosen well. The secluded corner offered a view of the restaurant while keeping them largely concealed behind stained glass and potted greenery.

A faint rose stained Lana’s cheekbones. "What happened the last time we were together--shouldn’t have."

"Shouldn’t it have?" He used his lowest, crispest, most sensual voice and reached for her hand. A sapphire on her ring finger, a gift from whom? The Teague boy? Lex? Clark?

“No.” She looked down at his hand on hers. "These past few months have been difficult. I wasn’t myself that afternoon."

Ah, the overused excuse again, the one that did duty for virtually every bizarre happening in Smallville. Lionel feigned acceptance by a nod.

Lana eased her hand out from under his and Lionel noted trembling fingers as she began to fold her napkin. "And I’ve had some trouble coming to terms with what you told me last time we--were together."

"Miss Lang--Lana--I suppose we’re on reasonably familiar terms?" and a wince from her showed him the dart had struck its target "Thus far, you've been ill-served by life."

Aha, Lionel thought, that’s piqued her interest. Lana raised her head and gazed steadily at him. He paused for effect, one moment, two, before proceeding.

"Both your parents, dead so young, and in such a tragic manner. How devastating for you."

Slowly, she nodded, and settled back in her chair, her gaze growing thoughtful and far-off. "I keep wondering what my life would have been like if it hadn’t happened. If I’d been able to grow up with my mother and father and have a normal life."

"Of course," Lionel agreed. "Abandoned. And not only due to a terrible tragedy. By those who purported to be not only your friends, but your loved ones as well. My son. Clark Kent."

Lana looked away, and Lionel’s keen vision detected the tremble of her lower lip. "Neither of them wanted me. Even though I loved them both."

Lionel shrugged and looked away. "Could that possibly have been the problem?" He released her hand and leaned back in his chair. Yes, he imagined it was difficult for her, bitter the knowledge that she was the one left outside the circle, lonely, alone. Abandoned.

And it was about to get worse.

"At least you have one good friend. Miss Sullivan."

He studied her, waiting for her reaction, saw the brief flinch. "Yes."

He cleared his throat, then slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket and drew forth a small manila envelope.

"These photographs were taken last week in Montague Park." Lionel held them out to her. He waited while she slid them from the envelope into her palm and studied, flipping from one photo to the next, then back once or twice to study again.

"Lies. Such a sad thing, between friends. Both of them lied to you. All three of them lied. To you, the best of friends. Now I just wonder, why and how the three of them were able to forge such strong bonds--and yet not include you." An empathetic shake of his head, a tap of his ring finger at the top photo, Lex, hand on Clark’s shoulder, leaning over the park bench, Chloe looking on with a smile. All three standing together by the fountain, sunset shining through the trees, Clark holding Lex's hand, the small mound of his belly clearly visible in that particular shot.

Lana laid the pictures down on the tablecloth, raised her glass to her lips and began to sip. One swallow after another, till the glass was nearly empty.

Lionel watched and waited. He was in no hurry. He had all evening.

He could be patient.

Lana set down her glass. "They trust her," she commented bitterly, staring straight ahead, and for a moment, Lionel almost thought he discerned hatred in her gaze. "She’s always come between Clark and me. He always confided in her, and now--"

"So it appears."

She turned to stare straight at him, and Lionel felt transparent for a brief, uncharacteristically uneasy moment. Steadily, he held her gaze until she faltered and looked away.

Time to move in for the proverbial kill.

Lana was again studying the fountain photo, and shaking her head in dismal amazement. "I can’t believe Clark’s... pregnant." A small shudder, and the hint of disgust in her tone was not lost on Lionel. "That’s one of the strangest things ever."

Lionel pursed his lips. "Well, in Smallville--we should all be used to it now. Deformities, mutations. Happenings beyond one’s wildest imaginations. This is just one more."

"But he's a man. How can this be?"

An elaborate shrug from Lionel. "If I had all the answers, Miss Lang..."

She continued as though he hadn’t spoken. "I always knew he was different. But I thought at first it was a lie. That you’d deliberately lied to me, a sick, crazy lie. But...then—I realized you were right. More things made sense. Now--I’d just like to go away somewhere and forget I ever knew either of them." And you, she didn’t say, but Lionel could read her thoughts as effectively as if he were Kreskin or someone similar.

"My son--a father. Not quite in the manner I was expecting, but a father, nonetheless."

Lana looked beseechingly at him, apparently a wordless plea for him to cease talking. No chance.

"He seems ready to settle down at last. I understand he’s appointed himself in charge of decorating the nursery and quite possibly selecting a name."

Lana shifted in obvious discomfort at his words. Lionel's sharpened senses divined her unhappiness with ease. How much more would it take to make her crack?

Not as long as he would have expected.

She drew a deep breath, making a visible effort to keep her voice steady. "I thought, a few months ago, that I was pregnant."

Lionel let a beat or two go by before he waved at the waiter. "Sazerac. Double." He turned back to Lana. "By whom?"

"By Lex," she whispered, dropping her gaze, and Lionel could have sworn he saw a tear drop down onto the satin napkin.

"And how did you feel about that?"

"Stunned. Scared. Frantic. Hopeful. Excited. Proud and amazed, all at once."

"Typical." Lionel turned as the waiter set a frosted tumbler in front of him on the table. He stirred his beverage with the swizzle stick, plucked the slice of lime from the rim and sucked the fruit from the rind.

Her gaze flashed as she raised her chin in defiance. "How would you know?" Her voice quivered as she spoke. "I told Lex."

Lionel sipped. "And what did he say?"

Lana dropped her gaze to examine the tablecloth. "He told me...he said, 'Lana, I don’t want children.'"

Lionel shook his head, tsking low under his breath.

She swallowed hard, then choked, her voice nearly a whisper. "I have to be sure my wife doesn't want them, either."

Lionel picked up his glass, then set it down again. "And then?"

"He suggested I get it 'fixed'." Lana drew a deep breath. “He handed me a wallet full of bills and a slip of paper with an address. He told me he’d order the limo for me the next Wednesday morning, and to be ready."

"Monstrous," Lionel’s voice a murmur, his hand crept across the tablecloth to grasp hers again.

She bowed her head. "It turned out to be a false alarm. When I told him, he pretended to try to comfort me, but I knew how he really felt." A bitter smile. "Relieved."

"Poor child."

Lionel’s keen hearing picked up on the quiver in her voice. "I know I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I was nineteen, not finished with college, in a new relationship I wasn’t sure of yet. And yet I was devastated. I felt even more alone than before. He couldn’t have cared less. And I’m left with nothing now. I’m alone. With a baby, at least I’d have had something. Someone to love, and to love me." She looked up, her eyes dark, bleak wells of misery. "All I’ve ever wanted was someone who would be honest with me. Who would stay with me. That’s all I wanted."

The longing evident in her tone, she fixed her gaze on Lionel. Expecting him to fill her request, he supposed. He knew better than to try. Nothing would ever be enough for her, that much was clear. But if she thought for a time that there was a chance, so much the better for his plans.

Lionel lifted the wine bottle from the cooler, peeled off the white napkin, and tipped it to fill Lana’s glass with the pale golden vintage once again. "Miss Lang, if you will be guided by me, I promise you that you will have everything you want."

A bitter smile, a cynical shake of her head. "I don’t trust you."

Her remark didn’t trouble Lionel in the least. Wary, yet intrigued, Miss Lang was the last person who could resist the promise of all her dearest wishes come true.

**

Green-yellow street lights glinted through the rain-soaked limo windows as the vehicle coasted down the side streets of Metropolis.

Lana was kneading her light jacket into a wrinkled ball on her lap. "Drop me off at the university. Please."

"Patience," Lionel advised. "First, we have a mission."

He moved closer to her on the seat. She drew ever so slightly away. "The child---" he began.

He could feel her tense. She turned to look out the window at the rain-soaked streets. "Has nothing to do with me."

"Not yet. But it will."

He knew she wouldn’t be able to resist that. And he was correct. She turned back, clearly wrestling inwardly with herself, curiosity ultimately getting the upper hand.

"What do you mean?"

He favored her with a paternal smile. "Patience, please, Miss Lang. May I continue?"

"I doubt my son and his partner will understand what their child will need in order to achieve the greatness that is its destiny."

Lana waited. "And that is--?"

Lionel’s bland voice was the only sound in the limo. "The most important? The love and support of a family. And, most important, of a mother."

Lionel could tell she was trying to affect disinterest, but that, in spite of her efforts, she was intrigued. "Go on."

"Clark Kent. Lex Luthor. You know them both well. Too well, perhaps." Lionel paused to let that sink in. "Lex’s involvement in schemes, projects, expensive ventures—is constant. Too constant to allow him to be a good father, or even a present father. While Clark--well, Clark is unreliable, changeable. No one know that, from experience, better than you. Not to be counted on in many cases. Certainly not fit to be a parent."

Lana, burned many times if Lionel’s powers of recall were correct, nodded slowly.

"There is more for you to consider. Even if things turn out better than we suppose, if the child is left in their hands, at best it will grow up cared for by live-in staff. Left alone on holidays, rattling around in the mansion or in the penthouse here in the city. Growing up without parents, alone and desolate. Just as you did."

Lionel was perceptive enough to divine that, while she might feel some pity for the yet-unborn child, the bulk of her sympathy was reserved for herself. But still, he was confident of some amount of surplus that he could utilize--

"You could ensure that the child is spared that fate. A mother’s love is of paramount importance, and it will take a very special woman to assume that responsibility. If you give that child love, there is hope."

Lana was silent for a moment. Lionel almost fancied briefly that her mind had wandered. But then: "You mean--"

"We could raise the child. You and I. Ensure that it receives what Clark and Lex will never be able to give."

For a moment, he fancied she wasn’t listening, or that she was and would momentarily shrink away in a combination of disgust and fear. But her next words proved him wrong.

"We could be a family."

"We could." Lionel reached out to trail a finger over the fine bone of her wrist, toy with the thin silver bracelet that graced her slender arm. "And, more important, you might have a hand in saving the world, Miss Lang, and everyone on it. Yes, you. If we band together, you and I."

A moment to consider, then a skeptical twist of her mouth. Undeterred, Lionel continued.

"Lana, you’ve seen the visitors. Looked upon the carnage, gazed into their steely, merciless eyes. This child: it's a harbinger, a bequest: and, quite possibly, a weapon It will be strong, powerful--destiny, I’m convinced of it. If you...and I... could get that child, and raise him, we could do so much good. My son is, quite frankly, not to be trusted. Lex is hungry for power, and his obsessive curiosity will one day be his undoing. We could not only keep the child safe, but raise him with care, ensuring he embraces the proper values. By doing so, we can protect the world."

She was listening, intent. Doubtful at first, and then gradually, her eyes began to shine, her mouth curving up into a smile. When Lionel reached out to draw her to him, she didn’t draw back.

"You think Clark--and Lex--will let us just--"

"Not likely. That is where you come in. We must take control, you and I."

"But how?"

He held up his hand. "First: will you be guided by me?"

A slow nod.

"And, second, will you keep in mind that whatever we plan and execute is for the greater good?"

Lana drew a shaky breath. "I will. More than anything, I want to help others. I’ve always wanted that. I just lost sight of it for a while."

Even easier than he'd hoped.

Lionel rapped on the window separating them from the driver. "Edward, take us to the penthouse."

Lana stared straight ahead, voicing no objection. Instead, she said. "What should I do?"

Lionel reached out to draw her in to his side, smiling when she didn’t resist.

"Trust me." Lionel bent to kiss the top of her raven head as she nestled close. "Shortly, it will all be clear. Now, listen."

_________________

Chapter 21

"Maybe it’s too soon for us to be doing this." Clark let the copy of Adorable Nursery Décor fall shut and slip from his hand to the floor.

Lex muttered something under his breath, so low it was inaudible to Clark, even with super-hearing.

"I mean, how can we be sure the baby’s going to be okay? I’m not usually superstitious, but--"

A patient sigh. "We can’t. But there’s much to be said for positive thinking."

Clark rocked languidly back, then forth, in the antique rocker Lillian Luthor’s mother had bought on a trip to Germany back in the 1930s. His face was flushed and he clutched a sweating glass of pink lemonade as he watched. Lex, wearing new jeans and a form-hugging sweater, sat cross-legged on the varnished wooden floor, putting finishing touches on the wainscot with a thin paintbrush, tongue protruding from his mouth as he concentrated hard.

Clark studied him: slim body, smooth scalp bedecked with a sheen of perspiration. A little jealous, he noted with what agility Lex was able to bend and stretch. He’d always taken his own strength and speed for granted before all this started. Now he doubted he could even get out of the chair. He felt unreasonably irritable as he shifted in his seat with a small moan.

"I’ll be so glad when this is over!" Though earlier in the pregnancy he studiously avoided contemplating the future, more and more lately he found himself thinking ahead, imagining yearningly how it would feel to be slim, strong, and free once again.

"Feeling okay?" The wainscot finished, Lex dipped the brush in paint thinner and laid it on the dropcloth.

Clark put a hand on his abdomen, pressed and stroked. "I’d feel a little better if he’d settle down for a little. Ow!" The bump was larger now, but still localized in his belly, more evident when he sat, still easy to conceal when standing with an untucked shirt. Except for this afternoon, when the heat, which was seeping into the half-finished nursery despite that the air conditioning was set at about fifty, was causing the shirt to cling to the bump so anyone who didn’t know would be able to tell in a heartbeat that something weird was going on. You could even see the little thumps and his stomach rolling like a waterbed every few minutes. His invulnerability still reduced, the temperature was causing him some discomfort. What he really wanted was a nap, but he couldn’t seem to summon the energy to get up and head for the bedroom.

With a wry grin that didn’t look as sympathetic as Clark thought he deserved, Lex reached to pull another can of paint over to him. With a screwdriver, he began to pry at the lid. "If it hurts you that much, he must be strong. And that’s a good thing."

Clark's response was a sound of mild disgust. "Whatever," He suppressed a nasty chuckle as he watched Lex struggle with the paint can, keen hearing picking up this time on the curses whispered under Lex’s breath.

"What color is that one?" Clark wondered idly, still massaging his belly, eyes half-closed.

"Robin’s-egg blue. And the lid won’t budge!" Lex grasped the can tighter and tried again. He exhaled after a moment, defeated.

Clark moved to rise to his feet, pushing himself up with both hands, huffing a little.

Lex held up his hand, motioning him to stay seated. "Don’t get up, Clark. I’ve got it."

Clark paid no attention. "Here, hand it up."

Glumly, Lex lifted the can.

With a flick of a thumbnail, Clark sent the lid flying halfway across the room.

"Showoff," grumbled Lex.

Clark ambled over to the window, looking out at the shaded lawn. "Lex, I’ve been thinking," he said. "At first, I thought that this pregnancy was another weird alien abnormality, and that I would probably die at the end of it. But maybe it’s a normal thing on Krypton and something will happen so that I’ll be able to give birth and stay alive. Somehow. And not for sure, but maybe."

Lex was quiet for so long that Clark glanced over at him, wondering if he’d even been listening.

"I hope so." His voice gruff, Lex didn’t look at Clark. "Because I don’t plan on bringing this child up by myself."

Clark considered with a rueful smile. He knew Lex was really as worried as he was, but that both of them were trying valiantly to conceal their fears. "Listen to me. If it happens, and things aren’t going well, here’s what you do: get a meteor rock--doesn’t have to be a big one, and I know you’ve got a stash of them, even though you said you were getting rid of everything back when we made up in senior year--and hold it near me. Meteor rocks neutralize my powers, so it should make it so that my skin can be cut, and maybe even sewn back up. Just, whatever you do, be sure not to let them get it too near the baby!" He coasted a protective palm over his belly. "Promise you’ll be careful."

Lex, still on the floor, glanced up at him with a heartening smile and a small shake of his head. "You’re making this up as you go, aren’t you?"

Clark sighed, then continued as though Lex hadn’t spoken. "And if you can’t save me, you should at least be able to save him."

Lex’s expression turned serious as his gaze darkened. "Don’t talk that way, Clark. And enough melodrama for today. Nothing will go wrong. I’ll see to it."

Clark was silent for a few moments. "Now that you’ve kicked those other doctors out, I guess we’ll be on our own." He wasn’t scared any longer, not exactly--he’d gone his entire life without shots, physical exams, or other medical attention, and the new strength he drew from the realization that this was all part of a bigger plan had yet to desert him--but it was still unsettling to face the unknown ordeal that was staring him in the face, relentless in its approach, getting closer every day.

"Not necessarily. I’ve asked Toby to help out."

Clark thinned his lips in dismay. "Lex, are you--"

"Relax, Clark. I know he freaks you out, but Toby’s seen it all. And he’s nothing if not discreet."

"He doesn’t 'freak me out'. I barely know him." Clark heard the whine in his voice with dismay; he wasn’t sure why he was being so grumpy with Lex; he only knew that he was hot and irritable, and damn, he hoped Lex appreciated all he was going through just to--

Clark dragged back to his chair and sank down with a thunk. "Damn, my back hurts. And his feet are pushing right up under my left rib now. And we could have maybe timed this not to happen in the summer."” He knew, and figured Lex did, too, that there had been nothing 'planned' about it, but he just couldn’t seem to stop complaining this afternoon.

Lex apparently knew better than to get in an argument with him, because there was no answer, just another tolerant sigh.

Which just annoyed Clark even more. He grumbled and shifted in the chair. He just couldn’t get comfortable. "I’ll tell you one thing. After this, we’re using birth control."

A wicked chuckle from Lex, which belied the fondness in his gaze as he turned to him. "But, Clark, I don’t plan for us to stop at one."

Clark could feel his eyes grow round with horror. "Okay. Then you get pregnant next time!"

"Maybe if I could, I would.”

"Yeah, right."

"Come on," Lex cajoled. "You and I both know what a raw deal only children get."

Clark stared at him a moment longer, aghast, then sighed. "The women of this planet have my sympathy, believe me. Well, maybe after a while if everything goes okay," and I don’t die, he thought, "but not right away."

Two arms glided around his neck. A nuzzle to his earlobe, and "God, Lex, you move fast! Faster than me, sometimes. At least, right now."

"Can we please cheer up, just a little? Everything’s going to be okay." Lex leaned down to kiss his left cheekbone and whisper in his ear. "I can't wait to see him."

Clark felt his lips curve into a smile in spite of himself. "Neither can I."

Lex drew back, easing Clark’s empty glass from his hand.

Clark leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, listening to the clink of ice cubes in crystal as Lex poured. "Have some more lemonade, and try to relax." Lex pressed the glass back into his palm and stepped back over to the bureau.

Clark lifted the glass to his lips and sipped slowly as Lex fumbled with something in the top drawer.

"So, I have one question, and then we'll stop for today so you can take a nap. You seem to need it!" He turned around, holding up a pair of pastel baby blankets, one yellow, one blue, embossed with tiny animal decals. "Stegosaurus, or Mr. Duck?"

Clark considered, all his troubles seeming to vanish at once as he broke into a delighted grin.

_________________

Chapter 22

p>The Beanery was a safe bet. Lex didn’t know he was here. No one knew.

The Beanery was so freshman year. None of Clark’s friends came there any more. Which was the main reason he’d picked it. The sunny yellow and green umbrellas on the sidewalk outside, hanging strands of lights inside: Long time no see, Clark reflected wistfully. He hadn’t realized how he’d missed the place.

How often he’d wandered in here during the fall and winter of his first year in high school, looking around for Lana, not admitting to himself that he really hoped he’d run into Lex. Coffee or hot chocolate, study sessions, companionable chats about finances, fathers, and quarterbacks. Could nearly five years really have passed since then?

Once the Talon opened, switching refreshments allegiance had been bound up in shoring up Lana, supporting Lex, and helping both of them make a go of their new business. Clark never drank that much coffee, anyway, so it had been a while since he’d been here, and...he was really nervous.

Lex was in Kansas City and not due back till around midnight. He would be hopping mad if he knew that Clark had made plans to meet Lana here at seven o’ clock.

Last night in bed, he’d indicated to Clark that the three messages from Lana on his Luthorcorp voicemail that day were three too many.

"Both of us tried, Clark. To be anything and everything to her, and it still wasn’t enough. It was never enough. After what she did to you last spring, my patience is exhausted. I don’t want her back in our lives."

Clark, lying on top of the covers because of the heat, shifted uncomfortably. Lex was rarely this outspoken about his likes and dislikes. Clark didn’t mention that he’d received his first call from Lana that afternoon on his own cell, or that he’d answered, in spite of seeing her name on the display.

"Lex--"

"No arguments. If you get a call from her, don’t answer. And if she tries to get you to agree to see her, say no, Clark. First and last, she’s bad news. A succubus."

Clark figured he should probably be dead-on certain what a succubus was, but he had only a vague notion. Nothing good, he knew that much.

Lex glanced over at him, and moved closer. "I know you, and how soft you go when she’s around. She’ll lay one of her famous guilt-trips on you and you’ll cave and do whatever she asks." His fingers trailed down Clark’s bare arm as his voice dropped to the pitch of quiet intimacy that Clark loved. "I mean it, Clark. I don’t want anything upsetting you right now."

And this is definitely not helping. Clark looked away, troubled yet moved by the warmth and concern in Lex’s gaze. He gnawed his lower lip, realizing they should probably get off this subject, but somehow powerless to stop.

"Lex, I’m afraid she’ll do something serious. She gets so desperate when she’s rejected that she can’t think straight. Remember what happened right after I broke up with her last spring?" The incident hadn’t ended well for any of them. Clark often thought back on those precious few minutes beyond time and space spent with his father, but Lex wouldn’t even talk about the time he’d spent on the threshold of death.

Lex made a scoffing sound, then said with exaggerated patience. "One of these days, Lana Lang is going to have to take responsibility for her own actions and decisions. But I’m not holding my breath." He punched, then fluffed, his pillow, then lay back down, continuing his grumbling monologue.

"You should be staying in for the most part, anyway. Those untucked shirts aren’t going to work for that much longer."

Great. Thanks for the reminder, Clark thought, but didn’t say. Instead, he reached over to draw Lex close. “Lex, relax. You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” He touched his lips to Lex’s brow, his palm coasting over his bare scalp.

Lex stirred to raise himself on an elbow and leaned down to place a soft kiss on Clark’s cheekbone. "Your kindness will be your undoing some day, Clark."

He reached over to turn out the bedside lamp, then settled down on the mattress with his back to Clark, and soon his even, regular breathing told Clark he slept.

Despite being bone-tired himself, Clark lay awake for a while after the conversation.

Ordinarily, he’d be amused and touched at Lex’s being such a mother hen. Instead, he was suddenly filled with apprehension about his plan.

Lana. Clark thought back on their last in-person conversation. She’d screamed at him to get out of her life, that she and Lex were engaged to be married. A lie. At least Lex said it was a lie, and the way things were now, Clark had to believe him. If he still even suspected Lex of dishonesty, he had no business living at the mansion.

Lex had never shared the details about their breakup, but Clark knew Lana well enough to know that, with all her issues about being abandoned, being alone, she must have been devastated. He hated having been the one to have yet again caused her more pain.

So what was he doing here? He wasn’t about to tell her about the baby--that would be a bad idea for more reasons than he could begin to list. So why should he feel guilty about keeping it from her?

Clark sighed and stirred his thick strawberry milkshake with the striped straw. Maybe Lex was right and he was too soft. Seeing her might mean even more temptation to divulge the secret. The secrets, all of them—why stop at one?

Why didn’t I say no? Tell her I was too busy to come here tonight, or doing something else? But he already knew. It was his fault that Lana had lost nearly every chance of happiness that came along for her. All starting with that meteor shower when they were kids. No way could he make that up to her. Then he’d broken up with her again and again, and finally ruined her relationship with Lex. Maybe if it hadn’t been for him, it could’ve worked between Lex and Lana. Maybe, in another time, another life, it could have worked between Lana and him, the way he'd dreamed, way back in junior high (before Lana even knew he was alive), that it someday might. Despite everything that had happened between them, despite the fact that he loved Lex, now and forever, Lex was right: Lana was still one of his major weaknesses.

So here he was.

He’d chosen the most secluded booth in the place, and the one with the deepest seats and highest table, the one that could best conceal his now-sizable belly. Lex was right; this morning he’d had to switch shirts twice to find one that provided enough concealment, and he’d worn a jacket for the trip in to the coffee shop even though it was the middle of summer. He hoped desperately that the conversation wouldn’t last too long--frequent bathroom breaks were crucial these days--and that nothing would occur that would necessitate getting out of his seat.

Clark no longer took unfair advantage of his x-ray vision, now that he and Lex were back together. He wouldn’t x-ray inside himself to check on the baby. He’d wait to see him when he arrived, the same way Lex had to wait. A tiny foot, or what felt like a foot, nudged at his left rib, tickling a little. Clark slid a palm between the table and his body.

Hey, little guy. No distractions. Stay still, just for a bit.

He took a deep breath and turned his thoughts to Lex, as he so often did these days when he felt scared or unsure. Their love, and being together at last, was worth everything. Clark chuckled as he recalled Lex’s excitement when the new crib was delivered last week, along with the Star Wars mobile and the antique rocking horse. Still wrestling with his own superstitious notions that too much excitement this early couldn’t be good, he couldn’t help but smile at the precious memories that he hoped would give him strength to face what lay ahead. The birth, physical agony without a doubt--but first, the meeting with Lana.

I’m sorry, Lex, he thought. But this is something I have to do.

**

Lana breezed in and slid into the seat across from him. "Hi, Clark." She shook her raincoat off her shoulders without bothering to hang it up.

Clark greeted her with as big a grin as he could muster. "Hi." He took a slow sip of his shake, trying to keep his guard up and not process how pretty she looked. Dark sweater and jeans hugging her slim figure. Same perfect makeup accenting her delicate features, hair pulled back neatly into a bun and secured with a pair of chopsticks.

Lana folded her dripping umbrella and tucked it under the table. "Did you know it’s pouring outside? Maybe it’ll cool things off."

The bobbed-haired waitress appeared instantly. “Tall mocha latte,” Lana said with an offhand smile.

Clark set his cup on the table and tried to match her casual tone. "What’s up?"

Lana drew a deep breath. "I wanted to talk with you." She leaned both elbows on the table and fixed her dark eyes on him. "Ever since our last conversation, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind."

Clark’s lips curved into a rueful smile. "You were pretty definite about not wanting me within at least a fifty-mile radius."

Lana’s smile faltered a little, but she ignored the comment. "I tried to call Lex, too, but he wouldn’t take my calls. He was pretty angry with me." A wistful sigh.

Clark opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He couldn’t very well disagree, but he didn’t want to hurt Lana even more than she’d been hurt already. So he just shrugged and looked down at the table.

"I won’t say none of it matters, but I know I was out of line, Clark, and I want to apologize. To both of you." She nodded to the waitress as the girl set her beverage on a coaster.

"Thanks," said Clark. He couldn’t remember Lana ever apologizing to him before.

She reached across the table to clasp his hand, and he let her take it. "Clark, I want you to think about this. We were a couple on again, off again, and could never get things to work between us. But we’ve been through so much together." She gazed earnestly into his eyes. "Our relationship may have changed, but it would mean so much to me to keep you in my life as a friend. And Lex, too, of course. He’s done a lot for me, ever since freshman year."

"Lana, I don’t think you and I can be friends. Not any more." Clark sighed heavily. "Things have changed."

Lana picked up her steaming mug and blew on it. She took a sip, then set it down, leveling her dark gaze straight at him. "Maybe not as much as you think."

Clark stared back. And suddenly, it all seemed so wrong, sitting here in The Beanery, having a companionable chat with his, and Lex’s, rejected girlfriend with Lex’s child kicking inside him.

An unexpected wave of dizziness surprised him. "I have to go," he muttered uneasily, and began to push back his chair, stopping abruptly when he realized the chance he’d be taking. She could notice.

Lana had that quizzical look on her face that she always got when she was both puzzled and amused. "Clark, is there something wrong?"

"No, I--" He forced a smile, settled back into his seat, and grasped his plastic cup. He sipped, draining the cup through the straw, emptying it with a gurgle as the fluid disappeared. He could feel blood flowing back to his cheeks as the nausea passed. "Guess I’ll... have another shake."

Lana grinned. "Sure." She shook her head as Clark reached for his wallet. "It’s on me."

Clark shook his head. "Lana, you don’t have to do that."

"I want to." She slid three dollar bills from her purse. "I want to celebrate our being friends again. Even if you’re the one living with a billionaire now."

She must have seen his face change, because she said: "I didn’t really mean that."

Even considering his jitters beforehand, Clark couldn’t believe how appalling this conversation was turning out to be. He cleared his throat in something like desperation and tried again. "I never meant to hurt you. Believe me."

"I know that, Clark. You couldn’t help what happened. I really loved you, but you didn’t want me. I guess now I know why. Why it didn’t work for me with either of you."

"I’m sorry." Clark said. "So sorry. I know Lex didn’t mean to hurt you, either."

He almost thought he perceived a flash of bitterness in her gaze, which disappeared almost instantly. But he could have imagined it.

Lana held up Clark's empty cup and flagged another waitress, who bounced over to the booth. "Make it a ‘large’ this time. Though that might not be the best idea." She looked him up, then down, with a chuckle. "Looks like you’ve put on a little weight!"

Clark’s stomach clenched and gave an uncomfortable flip that had nothing to do with the baby. "Maybe a little."

"I understand. Believe me. Food is a ‘bonding’ thing. I ate more mocha mint ice cream and Chinese takeout when I lived with Lex than ever before, or since." She laughed, a warm, companionable sound that sent him back to the fall after graduation when they were the happiest together they’d ever been. "Anyway, Clark, I hope we can do this again. Even if we just meet once a week for coffee and a talk? A short one?" She reached across the table to lay her hand on his. "It would mean so much to me."

Clark considered. His instincts blared that it was wrong, all wrong, not the least because he was far from sure he could continue to be the first one to arrive at wherever they were meeting and conceal his condition. No doubt it would be best to cut all ties with Lana now, no matter the history of friendship they shared. For both their sakes.

"Lana, I don’t--"

She leaned closer. "Please, Clark."

Clark thinned his lips glumly, because there was absolutely no way he could agree.

As the waitress returned with his next, gigantic, shake, he was astounded to hear himself say: "Okay, sure."

_________________

Chapter 23

"Hi."

"Hi".

"You okay? And the kid?"

"Yeah, we’re fine."

"Just making sure."

"Long time no see. Seems like all we do is talk on the phone these days."

"You were sleeping last night when I got back from Missouri and you’re always still asleep in the mornings now when I leave for work."

"Sorry. Just tired, I guess. And I miss you.”

"I’m on the road. My dad collared me after the board meeting today, and wants me to meet him in the city. I’ll be home, but late."

"Lex, be careful. I know he’s your dad, but you can’t trust him."

"Tell me something I don’t know, Clark. Don’t worry: I’m used to it. Whatever his game is tonight, I can beat him."

"Maybe you should stay over in the city. Those country roads are dangerous after dark. And the way you drive---"

"I’m more careful these days with people depending on me. You...Alexander--"

"DAVID!"

"Alexander. Alexander David, maybe, if you’re good."

"David Alexander. Maybe. If you’re good.

"Anyway, Clark, I’ll be home late, but I'll be home."

"Okay. But, Lex, be careful. Don’t let him--"

"Don’t worry. The days of his getting the better of me are over."

"I hope so. Love you.""

"Back at you. Now get some sleep."

**

Lex snapped his cell shut and glanced at his watch. 7:20 p.m. as he hit the midway point on the highway to Metropolis.

The invitation--invitation, not summons--had arrived that morning. His father’s crisp, soft voice on the answering machine: bidding him come to White's, Lionel’s private club that evening for drinks and "a few words of caution."

Hard to refuse a message like that. Because it was Lionel, and no matter how many reasons he had to excise his father from his life, he was yet a valuable source of information, as long as a judicious filter was applied. After all these years, Lex was wise to his array of tricks.

But yet their contact, the games and their intricacies, were like drugs. And while he knew it imperative he keep Lionel away from Clark, he was honest enough to admit that he was addicted to his father’s attentions, however twisted. After all, it was the sole attention he received. As hard as Lex might wish to extricate himself, there was work yet to do.

He knew better than to suppose this was a simple request for some bonding time. He tried to avoid being too far away from Clark these days, but neither could he resist knowing what his father had to divulge. Always better to have at least some notion of what scheme he might have in the works. Even though Lionel knew him well enough to bank on his curiosity.

Friends close, enemies closer. Protecting Clark from Lionel, keeping the web from ensnaring the fly, was the most important task. Despite Clark’s initial objections, Toby was now installed in the mansion, payment beyond his utmost dreams duly promised. Lex had relegated Clark, with his consent, to rooms and areas of the mansion that had been scoured meticulously well before his knapsack was unpacked, and were maintained and checked daily. Short of confining Clark to the mansion completely, which he had elected not to do (especially as Clark had grumbled at being "held prisoner," as he called it, before), this was the best he could do to shield Clark from Lionel’s prying eyes. And grasp.

And he would succeed. Lex smiled in satisfaction. Lionel was smart, but he himself was smarter. This would work. All they had to do was make it to the end of Clark’s gestation period and then declare to the world that this was his own biological child, born to an unnamed surrogate mother. Neither Lionel nor the world would know more than that.

It would work. It must.

**

As he drove, his mind wandered back over the past few months, past the time when Clark had come back to him, back to their vicious fight last winter when Victor Stone escaped from the lab.

Clark not only ignored his clipped directive to leave the mansion, but came running after him as he strode down the hall, so swiftly Lex hadn’t even heard the thud of footsteps on the stone floor. He could still feel the grasp of Clark’s fingers as they gripped the collar of his sweater and dragged him back into the study. Lex remembered being slammed against the wall near the window and Clark’s mouth crushing into his, Clark’s big hands ripping at his clothes.

As usual, his splendid security team was on break. Not that he would have called them anyway.

He’d been enjoying it too much.

The memory was making him hard even now. He thinned his lips and shifted in his seat, unable to resist gliding fingers over his cloth-covered cock as leather creaked beneath him.

If he and Clark hadn’t decided 'what the hell,' and celebrated Valentine’s Day one last time on the polished library floor, things would now be different. Clark would be gone from his life. Nor would he now be on the brink of becoming a father himself.

Lex glanced at his speedometer, then out the window. His car was flying like a bullet through the countryside at ninety-two miles an hour. The burnt-orange sun glowed just above the horizon, light filtered through a layer of mist floating low over the harvested fields.

Early September, tag end of a brutally hot summer, brutal especially for Clark. Only about two months to wait, now, provided Clark’s "project" was on the same schedule as a normal earth pregnancy.

Lex smiled. The child was growing stronger daily, cementing the bond between them. Small face now visible in the ultrasound scans: eyes closed, curled up, head down, thumb in mouth. Before long, the three of them would be getting acquainted in person.

Clark would be fine. He simply wouldn’t let himself consider otherwise.

Lex thinned his lips as he pressed his foot on the gas pedal.

Fatherhood. Once something he’d never envisioned being part of his destiny. Unwanted, even to be feared. Something he’d certainly never thought to share with Clark. But even though unexpected, even though incredible, there was now no room in his heart for regret.

His change in attitude astounded even himself. He seemed driven to this.
Not for nothing had he decreed, years ago, that he and Clark had a future together.

And I don’t want anything to stand in the way of our friendship.

Now---

He’d only been half-kidding about the possibility of more children, that day they’d decorated the nursery. If it could happen once, and Clark survived (and he would survive, Lex vowed, gripping the steering wheel harder.) How desperately he’d wanted, as a boy, to be part of a family, a desire he’d sublimated after the tragedy that happened back when he was twelve. Sublimated, but ultimately not abandoned. Reborn with, and from, his love for Clark.

They’d lay the past to rest and move forward. He wouldn’t be alone any longer. He would never be alone again. This son would be born, then perhaps another, and then--

His lips settled into a thin line. But reaching even further back in his past than his relationship of Clark was his relationship with his father. Tantalizing. Inescapable. Though he was as confident now as could be that he could withstand any enticements, no matter how complex the relationship Lionel was and would doubtless continue.

Bound by blood. Forever. As he and Clark would be bound by the blood of their child. Or children.

A bond that would withstand anything. Everything.

He drove on into the late-summer dusk, toward the northern horizon and the lights of Metropolis.

**

"Lex," Lionel rose slightly from his seat as the head waiter escorted Lex to the table. "Son, what will you have?"

"Brandy. Grande." Lex took his seat, then leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table in front of him. "So, Dad, what’s on your mind?"

"Now, Lex," Lionel’s voice was a golden purr. "What’s the hurry? Surely you can spare your father a pleasantry or two and perhaps some chit-chat about the weather."

Lex dignified the request with a slight roll of his eyes. "Come on, Dad. It’s three hours here and three hours back to Smallville. Let’s cut to the chase. Why did you want to see me?"

"Back to Smallville. Ah." The pale light from the candle on the table illumined Lionel’s countenance as he lifted his own tumbler to his lips, sipped, then smiled. "Things involving, I am assuming, your current significant other?"

"My private life is none of your concern, Dad. As a grown man, I’m no longer under your control. Even if it’s taken my entire life to drag myself out from under it. Even if I nearly lost my life in doing it."

Lionel shook his head, and Lex could hear the faint *tsk* under his breath. "Do you recall what I once told you, my son? 'You will always, always need me.’”

"Dad, there’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then. I've grown strong, just as you always wanted. Strong, and out from under you. Things have changed."

"An understatement, with you and young Mr. Kent now sharing a bed. And your lives."

Lex shifted uncomfortably, hoping his father didn't notice. The bedroom was bug-free. He was sure of it. He set down his glass and did his best to maintain a bland, blank expression, one of the few effective defenses against his father’s skills.

"Surely you didn’t think you could keep it from me."

"Of course not, Dad." Lex sat back in his chair, pushing himself back from the table. "With your fascination with, and unstoppable use of, bugs? I always knew it was only a matter of time." He took a deep breath. "I also know that you’re far from naïve in your own sexual preferences, so--"

"I’m not making any moral judgments here, Lex. As always, I have only your good at heart. You’re my son. Whose happiness--wherever you might find it, and with whomever--I desire above all."

Lex suppressed a derisive snort. Always amazing how Dad genuinely seemed to believe his lies.

"So, it’s for your protection that I’ve been having Ms. Lana Lang," and Lionel made sure to enunciate the Lang with crisp emphasis, "tracked these past few weeks. I’m aware that the dissolution of your...'friendship' was a bit less than pleasant."

"It’s over." Lex drummed fingers lightly on the table. "And, Dad, I don’t have time for this. If this is all you wanted--" He pushed back his chair and began to rise from the table.

"Sit down, Son. Stay for just a bit. I think you’ll be glad you did."

Lex looked pointedly at his wristwatch and then glanced up and over at the door. "I refuse to listen to you sling mud. At Lana, at Clark--" But he sat back down. He could continue the pretense of disinterest, while at least hearing what his father had to say.

"Son, I have only your best interests at heart. When will you realize that this is so?"

With nothing he could possibly say in response to that, Lex said nothing. He rested one arm on the white linen tablecloth, not meeting Lionel’s eyes.

Lionel lowered his voice. "Are you aware that Ms. Lang has been meeting Mr. Kent?”

Lex's gaze went sharply to his father’s face, to find Lionel fixing him with a gaze of such cobra-like intensity that Lex couldn’t look away. He could tell that Lionel’s keen eyes detected the small flinch that, try as he might, he couldn’t conceal.

"Ah," Lionel exhaled slowly, swirling the amber liquid in his tumbler. "I see not."

Lex took a deep breath. I'm not letting him get to me, he vowed. "Clark and Lana were friends."

"And lovers, too, once upon a time, if I remember correctly. Do you think it’s wise, or acceptable, for them to be tete a tete on evenings when you are absent on business?"

"It’s been over between them for a long time."

"I see." Lionel placed his hands on the table and pushed back his chair an inch, only to reach into his pocket and lean forward, one elbow on the table. With the other hand, he tossed a handful of photographs onto the tablecloth in front of Lex’s startled gaze.

"Love triangles can be titillating. Exciting. Dangerous and entertaining. Perhaps Ms. Lang and Mr. Kent enjoy deceiving you."

Lex reached for the photos, picked them up, fanned them in his hand.

"Taken last night at 7:10, 7:15, 7:22 respectively."

Clark and Lana in The Beanery. Lana smiling at him over coffee. Clark with a plastic cup, sipping through a straw and watching her as she spoke, then leaning close in another shot with a warm, companionable smile.

Lex drained his brandy in a big gulp and rose to his feet. "Dad, I have no buttons left to push. Clark is the most important thing in my life. I trust him. I won’t listen to slander. Or lies. Those days are over. I’ll never let you have that power over me again."

Lionel’s eyes dropped half-closed as he flagged the waiter. "Just keep telling yourself that, my boy. And don’t say I didn’t warn you."

**

On the endless drive home, Lex gnawed his lip.

He’d told Clark to ignore Lana and any overtures she might make. Clark had agreed, and the very day after, was meeting with her at The Beanery Talon while he himself was out of town?

Despite Clark’s long history of deception, he’d not expected this.

The speedometer crept up to 95 as the car sped through the night, whipping through one of the one-traffic light towns scattered along the road. The lone fluorescent lights of the gas station/minimart were swallowed up at once in the gloom, already gone by the time he glanced up at the rear-view mirror.

He must remain calm. No advantage was to be gained by allowing emotion to take over. Dad was right in that, at least.

Too much was at stake. Clark and the child, his. His. They were bound, pledged to one another, now and for the future. He had so little to fear it was negligible.

In the morning, when he’d vanquished the nocturnal chimeras plaguing him on this nightmare ride and regained his common sense, they would talk. Clark would level with him, have a sensible explanation for the coffee-date with Lana. Surely there would be an explanation.

There had to be.

_________________

Chapter 24

Over breakfast next morning, Lex aimed for casual as he poured cream into his china coffee cup and stirred.

"Clark, about the evening I went to Kansas City."

He paused, giving his remark a moment to sink in. Clark’s own spoon poised over a bowl of sugared oatmeal with milk. Lex deliberately resisted looking up at his face as he stirred, the clink of sterling against fine china the only sound. Breakfast in the kitchen at the stainless steel table was a near-sentimental tradition for them, born in the early days when Clark’s meal was naught but a hasty bowl of cold cereal downed on his hurried way out the door. There was the inevitable pressing need to get home before his parents rolled out of bed to feed the livestock and make breakfast for themselves.

"A Daniel Beakman from Thompson Enterprises came by here to meet with me. He confused his dates and telephoned me right after he left town. I’d given him my name and yours as contacts. He said he stopped by the mansion, asked for you and was told you were out." He sipped, only then glancing up abruptly to meet Clark’s troubled gaze.

"He couldn’t have." And Lex could almost see the blood drain from Clark’s cheekbones as he set down his spoon on the stainless steel table with a soft clang. "I was here the whole time you were gone." He hesitated, gaze darkening, white teeth worrying his lower lip. "I--I did go to bed early, though--about seven."

Lex sat back in his chair, observed Clark’s uneasy swallow and glance off toward the window. Noted that, though he picked his spoon back up and dipped it in the oatmeal again, he didn’t raise it to his mouth, but just pushed small mounds of the cereal back and forth in the bowl.

"If you’d let me know someone was coming, I’d have stayed up." Clark reached for his milk glass and lifted it to his lips, but didn’t meet Lex’s gaze.

No, Clark. Please don’t do this. Lex beat down the thought as Clark set his glass back down on the table.

"You're sure about that?"

"Of course I’m sure. Maybe Anthony and Kim didn’t know I was home. Or forgot, or something." Clark raised a hand to brush droplets of milk from his lower lip, drew a deep breath, then looked up at Lex with one of those big, beautiful grins. And then said it.

"Come on, Lex. Would I lie to you?"

Lex threw down his napkin, shoved back his chair, and left the room.

**

Clark shoved his bowl away, his appetite only a memory.

He could feel the shamed blush creeping up his cheeks. He’d wanted desperately to call after Lex, but something held him back.

Guilt.

If it weren’t for that, he’d just shrug and figure Lex had a serious case of the pre-baby jitters. But he knew this was his fault. He’d really gotten himself in a jam. A big one. By trying to help Lana behind Lex’s back, he was betraying their vow to be honest with each other.

Lex clearly suspected something. And, well, he himself was getting to be a worse liar all the time.

He sighed, dejected. Whenever it came to Lana, he usually thought with his guilt rather than his head. It had pretty much always been that way. She was his biggest weakness, except for Lex.

Lana was alone now. All alone. She had no one. She’d always been so sad about losing her parents, in the meteor shower for which he still couldn’t shake his even bigger sense of responsibility. He hadn’t been able to be the man for her, the man she wanted, and he’d taken her chance of happiness with Lex from her as well. No matter how important his own relationship with Lex was to him, if she wanted to meet once a week or so just for some companionship, he just couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

He sighed again.

She’d left another message on his voice mail asking him to come back to The Beanery on Friday night. Today was Wednesday. True to his promise, he’d already written it in his datebook, but now, well...this morning’s uncomfortable breakfast conversation had made up his mind for him.

Lex was too smart to be fooled for very long. Continuing to see Lana was just taking too big a chance. Much as he wanted to help her, be there for her, he couldn’t risk losing Lex.

That was one big risk. And besides, concealing the baby was getting harder every day. He couldn’t zip his jeans at all any more, and only a couple of his shirts were still big enough to cover his belly and allow him to look like a normal guy.

Normal. Clark winced at the thought.

He was taking a colossal chance by going out at all.

Much as he cared about Lana, much as he'd always--yeah, love her--he had to let her go.

Lex was his future, his best friend, his mate, his everything. Lex was the father of his child. He’d done enough himself already to jeopardize their relationship.

It had to stop. He’d tell Lana that this couldn’t continue, that it would be better for them not to meet any more. If he had to cast all pride away and plead with her to understand, he would. And he’d try somehow to help her feel better about herself, and to convince her that there was hope for her future. As pretty as she was, and as much as she had going for her, if she just gave it some time, she couldn’t lose.

He’d go to the Beanery one last time, and then he’d never, ever lie to Lex again.

_________________

Chapter 25

"Hi, Clark. Thanks for coming. It means a lot."

Lana greeted Clark with the brightest smile she could muster. Despite her anger, and her vow of vengeance, it was good to be out and here at the Beanery, away from the mad hamster-wheel of her own thoughts and raw emotions. And she’d expected to find him here just like this when she arrived, hiding that stomach of his behind the table of the most secluded booth. Still thinking he was fooling her, the idiot.

Hands clasped on the table in front of him, Clark smiled up at her, but his eyes were troubled. Lana faltered as her heart twisted in her chest, because, no matter how much she hated him now, he was still so beautiful. But she couldn’t let herself think about that. Not now.

Never again.

"Hi."

She sat down.

**
On the drive over, with a few minutes to consider, she’d been a bit alarmed at the depth of her anger and hatred. Because she’d loved Clark and Lex. She really had. Clark was the sweet boy next door who yearned after her and had time to console her when grief for her lost parents grew too heavy to bear, or when Whitney was too busy with football or his other friends to pay her sufficient attention. And Lex, who was once like an older brother to her: affectionate, teasing, always there to set her straight and ask her if she’d considered all her options before making a business decision. Always a shoulder for her to cry on when Clark was being more cryptic and standoffish than usual. They’d both loved her. Now she was on the outskirts, and alone once again.

It always seemed to end up that way. Everyone wanted her. But no one wanted her enough to stay with her. Over the past weeks, she herself had passed the point of grief and unhappiness at the realization, journeyed through anger, and was now strengthened by sheer force of will and committed, stripped of any weakness.

Now there was Lionel. Who was right. Though she had no love for him, she’d cast her lot in with his. Because Lionel could help her obtain the one thing in life that still held some appeal.

Power.

Power was all that remained when the people you loved left you, betrayed you, disappeared. With him, and through Clark’s child. Which would be hers.

Lex and Clark had cheated her of her chance to be a mother. Both of them, Lex with his callous disregard and Clark with his fickle behavior. Clark and Lex weren’t fit to be parents to such a special child. But she was. She was special--everyone said so. She had overcome so much adversity, her parents leaving her, Nell leaving her...She could make something of herself by raising a child as special as herself. She’d devote herself to the task with all her heart, with every fiber of her being.

She’d have what was due her. And she wouldn’t look back.

They owed her. Both of them.

**

"Lana?" Clark was watching her, quizzical, troubled. He started to reach across the table toward her hand, but checked himself, swallowing hard.

"Sorry," Immediately, Lana put on her brightest grin. "I was just thinking...about back when we used to get together for ‘real’ dates."

He looked away, abashed, and she continued. "But thanks for meeting me again, Clark. You have no idea how helpful this is."

A rueful smile. "I’m glad. But, Lana--"

She leaned toward him with an earnestness she was far from feeling. "How’s Lex?"

Clark’s face fell. "I don’t know," he said with a sigh. "He hasn’t spoken to me for the last couple of days."

"Oh, I’m sorry to hear that." She hoped she concealed effectively the jump of joy she felt at his comment. The plan was working.

She hoped she sounded entirely innocent as she asked, "Where is he now?"

"In Metropolis. He’s been staying there late--gets home after I’m asleep, leaves before I’m awake. He acts like this when he’s really mad about something."

"I remember," she said with a smile she hoped was sufficiently self-deprecating, even as she watched for the small flinch that showed her comment had hit home.

Clark took a deep breath and fixed her with a steady gaze. "Lana, I think he found out that I met you last week."

"How could he know that? You said you didn’t tell him." Lana felt a crazy urge to giggle well up in her throat, because sometimes, Clark was so dense. She knew full well that not only was Lex a brilliant detective, but he had surveillance that was not to be believed, and if Clark didn’t know that by now--

"You know how smart he is and how good he is at finding things out." Clark looked down at the tabletop. "Well, I’ll bet he knows, and now he’s so mad at me he’s giving me the freeze."

"I’m sorry." Lana let her face go glum and serious as well. Her small, manicured fingers plucked at a paper napkin in the metal holder.

"I don’t know why I thought this would work. Lana, you and I--we’re going to have to stop these meetings."

She shook her head, letting the corners of her mouth droop even further. "Clark, I don’t understand. We went over this all last time. We’ve been friends for so long. After all we’ve been through: is one afternoon or an evening too much to ask?"

Clark was clearly wrestling with grief and shame. "Lana, I’m really sorry I’ve put you through so much. We can’t meet any more. It’s not fair to any of us: you, me, or Lex. I know we’ve been friends for years, but we’re going to have to take a break. I’m sorry."

She bowed her head. "Even though you’re with Lex now, I still thought you cared enough about me to--" She commanded tears to well in her eyes as his hand fumbled for hers across the table. She glanced up at him, eyes brimming, then back down again.

Clark looked away, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Lana, I’ve always cared about you. Trouble is, I can’t keep myself from caring too much. When you’re around, I still make all the wrong choices. I never meant to hurt you, ever. I’ll always care about you. I know someday you'll find the right guy--the one meant just for you."

"Maybe," she said shortly.

"If you ever need help or anything, I promise I’ll be there. But I can’t meet you just...socially any more. Lex and I are a family, now, and, well..." He took a deep breath. "Three’s a crowd."

You mean four, don’t you?, was Lana’s bitter thought. She tossed her dark hair back over her shoulder. "I’m used to being hurt by you, Clark, though you’d think I’d have built up more of a tolerance by now."

He looked away. "I’m sorry," he said again, and Lana regretted that, back when they were dating, she hadn’t gifted him with a t-shirt emblazoned with that message. Did he realize exactly how much time he spent apologizing for things?

"Okay," she said in a clipped voice as she pushed her cup away. "I don’t agree, but I respect your wishes. Maybe in a few months, you guys will be secure enough in your relationship"--and she saw him wince--"to realize that I’m no threat. That I only want happiness for both of you. That I can get beyond what happened, even if neither of you can."

"Ouch," Clark flinched visibly, but then smiled. "Thanks for understanding, Lana. I hope, in time, we’ll be able to do that, too. Lex and I have had our problems, and first we have to work those out. Maybe after that, all three of us can have a fresh start to our friendship." Lana noticed how he stressed, ever so slightly, the word "three." So no more solitary coffee dates, then.

It was time. She slipped her hands under the table to unlatch her purse, which rested on her lap.

"Now, I’m going to go home and wait up for Lex so we can get started on those repairs tonight." With a tremulous smile, Clark finished his drink and set his glass on the table. Lana watched, and waited, and within moments the color drained from his face.

She reached out and laid a comforting palm on his wrist with an expression of concern. "Clark, are you okay?"

Clark blinked. "Yeah," he said in a weak voice. His trembling fingers gripped the edge of the table. "Just a little dizzy."

"Maybe some fresh air would help. Let me walk you to your car."

"I walked," Clark protested, with a shake of his head. He leaned on one elbow, panting, then gave a little gasp.

"Well, then, I’ll give you a ride. I can drop you at the mansion gate if you don’t want me on the property."

"No," Clark, pale as death, rose to his feet. Lana tried to take his arm, but he pulled away, clutching his jacket around him. "You don’t have to do that. I’ll be okay. Just--" He stumbled toward the back door, coughing and beginning to gag.

But she followed close behind him, closing her purse and concealing the small chunk of green meteor rock from view. This was going even better than she’d hoped.

**

Despite her resolve, she still wasn’t able to watch when Lionel’s thugs slipped from the shadows with more and bigger chunks of the glowing green rocks clutched in their gloved hands. She turned to look at autumn sweaters and slacks in the window of the boutique next to the Beanery a "Back to School," display, trying to tune out the scuff of shoes and the struggle behind her on the deserted street. She let a fingertip trail down the glass, trying not to listen as she heard Clark cry out, a sharp, desperate sound, and then the thud of the van door slamming shut.

"All completed as arranged, Miss Lang." She turned slowly round as the leader of the gang approached her. She raised her chin and gazed steadily into the man’s dark eyes, noting the cruel set of his lips and sharp angle of his stubbled jaw. "Our work here is finished. Mr. Luthor is waiting for you at home."

Home. The word kindled a warm glow inside her. Lionel. She had a home now, and a life opening up before her. So why this feeling of foreboding, of guilt? She would not let herself dwell on this. It had to be done.

Still, Lana shivered, suddenly cold. She shoved a hand in her jacket pocket and fumbled for her car keys.

No reason for her to care. Not any more.

_________________

Chapter 26

Lex was halfway home from Metropolis when he felt the first twist of fear, pale and hollow, like a ghost in the pit of his stomach. Up to that point, he’d tried desperately to remain calm.

This is Clark Kent. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back.

No answer, and he’d been trying for a couple of hours, after two days with no contact at all. His anger was finally broken, but Clark’s cell was going directly to voicemail.

For three days, he’d endeavored to distance himself from Clark, and from harsh thoughts that threatened to consume him. Ruminations that ranged from brooding to fury. Tried, with alcohol and drugs, came perilously close to using sex as well. Lana and Clark--meeting still, despite his impassioned request. Learning about the deception from Lionel, the ultimate insult.

Verbal and physical distance was imperative for a few days, before he said or did something unforgivable.

Several days of internal fury, bafflement and (he had to admit it) hurt that Clark would seek out Lana yet again. After everything that had happened. After they’d made a pact. And surely Clark couldn’t be so stupid as to think he could keep it secret from him, the master of surveillance. A grim chuckle.

If you lie to me about her, Clark, you'll lie to me about anything.

He hadn’t touched the latest tapes, though the second Beanery conversation was available for viewing at any time.

Did Clark want to be found out? Was he deliberately trying to betray him? And how much did Lana know?

Lana’s love for him had been minimal at best and was now vanished, but what about her love for Clark? Even when they were together, Lex had known that she was unable to forget him. Apparently Clark was unable to forget her as well. Were they both trying to take him down? Planning to raise the child together, his child? Planning to kill him so they could do so undisturbed?

Lex sighed. No, he didn’t for one moment believe Clark really capable of murder. Too many lofty principles for that. But of deception and dishonesty? Without a doubt. He’d been served proof of that more times than he could count.

He’d come that close to solacing himself elsewhere. Metropolis was crawling with rent boys and willing, beautiful women, and he had money and to spare. But the future was uncertain, and he couldn’t risk endangering his child, even for fleeting revenge against Clark. Now, after days of going over in his mind all that was at stake, he’d attained resolve.

He was beyond sick of subterfuge. They’d talked, hashed things out, come to an agreement. And if he had to do it again, damn it, he would. He’d confront Clark, both with his knowledge and with his suspicions without equivocation, pin him down. Bare his own heart and soul in the most unaccustomed manner possible. Beg, if he had to. Give up his ever-constant need for control and make it clear that this commitment was for good. If they were to be a family and parents to their child, Lana had to stay out of their lives.

He’d try for honesty, one last time. But he would not call again.

He glanced down at the luminous display on his cell, and, with a defeated sigh, picked it up and punched the speed dial again.

Still the same recorded message. And for him: the same cold wave of disappointment, same eerie sense of dread. He had surveillance, he reminded himself. He would have known if anything had happened with the pregnancy; at the very least, Toby had his cell number.

Lex pressed his right foot harder on the gas pedal and sped down the dark highway toward Smallville.

**

The mansion was minimally staffed at that time of night.

"Master Clark? He’s not been seen since Monday," said Rachel, the newest housemaid, rubbing sleepy eyes. "We thought perhaps he’d joined you in Metropolis." Her face darkened in concern as Lex turned away.

Tonight was Wednesday.

He drifted upstairs and down the long hall to the master bedroom. Opened the door, not daring to breathe.

The bed unslept in. The room cold, still, deserted.

Where was he?

**

"Why so late, Son?" Lionel smiled into the mouthpiece of his cell and leaned back in his desk chair.

"Clark’s missing. I want to know what you know." Lex’s voice was clear and crisp on the other end of the line but there was a hollow stillness in the background.

"Why, Son. Why should you think I’d know anything whatsoever about the whereabouts of your pretty boy?"

"Cut the crap, Dad. I know you. You never could resist meddling in my affairs. In my life. Or resist taking anything, anyone, I wanted, and who wanted me. You’ve always been intrigued by Clark: admit it."

"As have you." Lionel kept his voice was calm and unruffled. "We both share a passion for the…unexplained. Perhaps you should try ringing Martha Kent, instead."

"I’d rather not alarm her unnecessarily when you doubtless have all the answers."

"Lex...Son, I do think you’re getting yourself in a panic over nothing. Clark has no doubt simply—decided to take a trip, or been--detained somewhere. I’m sure he’ll turn up before you know it. After all, it’s not as if anything could hurt him, now, could it?"

Dead silence on the other end. "You’re delusional, Dad. Now, tell me: if you know anything about where Clark could be, tell me, or I’ll make sure you regret it."

"Son, if I were you, I’d get myself a good night’s sleep."

**

Lionel flipped his phone shut and glanced over at Lana, who sat curled up in a big leather chair before the big penthouse window, gazing out over the lights of Metropolis.

"He’s cracking."

A flicker of dark lashes, but no reply. She’d been curiously silent since her arrival two evenings before, ten minutes after Clark and his captors. Too late to see her former lover dragged into the secret suite of rooms in the lower level of the building. Lionel had been there to oversee operations, to ensure that the procedures recommended by doctors Gabrielov and Ramani--who worked for him, now--were followed to the letter.

Lionel stepped behind her, fingering a straight strand of raven hair. She stirred a little but still didn’t turn to look at him. "Nothing to worry about, my dear. Everything is proceeding just as we planned. The power? In our hands, now. Yours and mine." He reached for her small hand, which lay limply in his for a moment or two before he he lifted it to his lips.

"I know." Lana’s voice was thin and toneless. She didn’t stir.

Lionel kneaded her shoulder with gentle fingers. "All worth it, Lana. Soon, you’ll hold your child in your arms. Our child, and your revenge against them both will be complete."

She turned away from the caressing finger he let trail down her cheek, and if he hadn’t been convinced it was a trick of the light, he could have sworn a tear glistened on her soft cheek.

He bent down to kiss the cheek and to whisper in her ear. "It will all be worth it."

**
The nursery was in darkness. Lex could barely distinguish the crib, crowded with infant-safe stuffed animals, as he drifted closer. The Star Wars mobile stirred almost imperceptibly as he reached in. His fingers curled around a small stuffed baby penguin; he lifted it up, caressing the soft synthetic fur with half-open lips as he stared down into the crib.

Am I just a pawn in an alien master plan?

One surveillance tape left to review. The last one filmed, the tape of Clark and Lana’s meeting two days ago in the Beanery.

He drummed on the crib rail with the fingers of one hand. Generally he devoured surveillance tapes with the avidity of a starving man at a buffet restaurant. But could he face it tonight?

He smoothed a palm over the soft patchwork quilt under the clutter of toy animals. Then, with a muttered curse, he turned abruptly on his heel and left the room.

**

Lex flipped the switch to on and settled down in his leather chair with the stiffest drink he could mix, endeavoring to let his emotions go numb.

His eyes narrowed as the video began to play on his computer screen. Clark, with Lana in the Beanery. Clark fixing his earnest gaze on her, fumbling for her fingers on the booth tabletop.

If you ever need help or anything, I promise I’ll be there. But I can’t meet you just...socially any more. Lex and I are a family, now, and, well...

Lex lowered his glass from his lips and swallowed hard. Still staring at the screen, he reached over to set it on the table beside him. The glass shattered as it hit the floor.

Now, I’m going to go home and wait up for Lex so we can get started on those repairs tonight.

The tape whirred to a close; the computer screen went blank. Lex remained staring at the screen for several moments, then blinked and rose to his feet.

His fears were groundless. Clark would always do things to make him crazy. But Clark loved him. He had to accept the good with the ill. Focus on the good. Their love. The child. Being together, all three of them.

But Clark had clearly been ill as he'd stumbled from the coffee shop, Lana following close behind. Did Lana knew something, anything?

He had to find him--now.

____________________

Chapter 27

"Clark!" Lionel rapped sharply on the two-way glass. Lana watched as Clark, wearing white hospital garb and slumped alone on a sofa in the laboratory chamber, jerked and looked around the room.

"I know you can’t see me, Clark, but that you can hear. That’s correct, isn’t it?"

Clark frowned in the direction of Lionel’s voice. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and his face was pale and drawn. Clearly he hadn’t slept.

The room that held him was in the lowest level of the Metropolis penthouse. Lit by bright fluorescent lamps, it had no windows. The couch, an examination table, a shelf with books--it was smaller than the master bedroom many floors above.

"The half-silvered surface is strengthened with lead," Lionel’s gaze remained on Clark as he leaned over to whisper to Lana. "The walls? Fortified with green meteor rocks. Not enough to hurt the child, they assure me, but enough to disable Clark’s extraordinary strength. He can’t see through the glass. Nor can he escape." He stroked his crisp beard, his features settling into an expression of satisfaction. "He’s in our power."

Lana caught her breath and nodded. Clark seemed to be starting straight at them. "He can’t see us," Lionel’s breath was warm in her ear as he repeated his assurance with a light touch to her wrist. They stood motionless in the dark hallway, watching.

Clark narrowed his eyes as he rose to his feet, keeping his gaze trained in the direction from which Lionel had spoken. His voice lowered, serious and intense. "You son of a bitch. Let me out of here!"

"Easy, Son." Lionel soothed, leaning closer to the pane of glass and to the metal case that held the sophisticated microphone projecting his voice into the chamber.

Clark’s pale face darkened; Lana could almost see his temperature rise as he glared at the unseen voice. "I’m not your son! So don’t call me that again."

A light chuckle from Lionel. "Do you know where you are, Clark?"

Clark looked around, then back toward the glass. "I’m in your building."

"That’s right." This time, Lionel laughed loud enough for Clark to hear, and Clark’s face flushed even darker. The heavy metal lab door swung open to admit Dr. Gabrielov with a tray of medical equipment. Clark jumped, then grabbed him by the arm and sent him flying into the door, the tray of needles and syringes clattering against the wall on their way to the floor

"My boy," Lionel spoke into the mouthpiece. "That sort of behavior will not be tolerated here. Or work to your advantage. We only want to help you."

"Help me?" Clark scoffed, chest heaving. "By locking me up?" His trembling voice rose, tinged with desperation as he moved closer to the wall. "You don’t understand. It’s not just me you’re hurting. It’s--" Clark broke off and glanced down, and Lana’s heart twisted in spite of her resolve at the despair in his tone.

"Who?" Lionel’s smile was small and smug; he looked to Lana exactly like a cat with a mouse trapped in its claws.

Clark was silent for a moment before he answered. "Someone else who’s very important to you."

"My grandson," Lionel whispered, again in Lana’s direction. "He thinks I don’t know."

Lana tried but couldn’t suppress a wince, and Lionel’s glance told her it hadn’t escaped him. His dismissive conversation about Clark with Clark apparently within earshot was disturbing. But she beat down the impulse to protest. After all, she’d made up her mind, pledged her allegiance to Lionel. Whatever he wanted to do, she would support.

Clark had come to her aid more than once from captivity like this. Rescued her when she was in danger, put her safety first. Never asked for anything in return. Stayed her friend no matter what, even if he no longer wanted her in his life.

But she could no longer care. Her heart was dead, thanks to Clark. And Lex. They’d toyed with her, hurt her, passed her back and forth till she had no feelings left. She mustn’t be soft. Those days were over. That girl no longer existed, the sensitive young woman who’d wept at the blows to her emotions, time and again. Power and control were all that mattered now.

She gripped the metal rim along the wall and turned away, thinning her lips. "I’m going back upstairs." She waited for Lionel’s response, but his rapt gaze was still focused on Clark. Their prisoner.

"So, Clark, will you do as you are bid? It will be best for you and all concerned." Lionel put ever so slight emphasis on the "all."

Gloomily, Clark hesitated, with a rueful glance at Gabrielov, who was dragging himself slowly to his feet. "I’m sorry," he whispered, then turned back to the speaker. "I need to see Lex," he demanded.

"Get some sleep, boy. You’re exhausted." Lionel reached for a switch on the wall. "Watch him carefully," he directed Gabrielov, who was straightening his coat and clearly endeavoring to regain his composure.

"At least let me talk to him!" Lionel’s men had confiscated Clark’s cell phone immediately upon his arrival. "Please!"

Lionel ignored the plea and turned to Lana at last. "Come, my dear. We’ll return tomorrow. Perhaps, after he spends a bit more time alone, he’ll decide to...cooperate."

Lana swallowed hard and nodded, slipping her hand into his. She turned back once more to see Clark slump down on the couch in despair as Lionel flipped the switch with his free hand.

"Wait!" Lana watched the room dissolve in darkness as Clark’s voice rang in her ears.

**

A few sleepless hours later, Lana was back, having left Lionel asleep upstairs and having pocketed the key to the door in case she needed it.

Surely by now, Clark slept. Lana peered warily through the glass.

No, he was still awake, just a little more wan and haggard, and pacing, smoothing his shirt over the rounded and now obvious bump of his belly and murmuring aloud.

"It’s okay. Don’t worry. We’ll get out of here." He stroked the fabric with a faint smile. "Somehow." The smile faded and, gnawing his lower lip, he sank back down on the couch. "They must know about you, and even if they don’t, I can’t keep you secret for long." A sigh. "We’ll just have to try to get them to listen. If we can get word to your dad, and he can help well, maybe we’ll let him name you Alexander after all." Clark choked back a sob as his voice trailed off.

Lana watched. When Clark suddenly looked up and straight at her, she caught her breath and stepped back from the glass.

"Someone’s there. Who is it?"

She knew she should remain silent. So it was with surprise that she heard her voice, small and thin in the quiet of the hallway. "Clark, it’s me. Lana."

His eyes grew large and dark. "Lana!" He yanked his shirt down as far as it would go. "I don’t--how come--" Squinting, he stared in the direction of her voice as though he knew exactly where she stood. "Why are you here?"

Lionel would freak if he knew she knew about the secret screen, but, well: Lionel wasn’t here now. She pushed the button and the glass panel slid up to reveal a screen. Clark would be able to see her now. Nothing between them.

His startled gaze softened as it always had when he caught site of her and something in her awoke as though from a long sleep. She stepped closer to the screen

"I live here now. With Lionel."

Clark frowned. "Lana, are you serious?"

She didn’t answer.

"Don’t you know what--"

"I don’t want to talk about it," she broke in. "Not now."

His mouth settled in a glum line as he moved close to the wall. "All right. But Lana, listen." Lana could barely hear the whispered words, "Help me. Help me get out of here."

She shook her head and looked away. "I can’t."

"Please, Lana, he’ll listen to you. I know you can’t really be part of this. Maybe he’ll listen to you--it’s worth a try. It’s really important. I know you’re probably still mad, but there’s more at stake here than just me."

The baby, she thought, but didn’t say. Always secrets with Clark. Secrets he would never share. Instead, she murmured.

"Clark, do you realize you broke my heart?" He couldn’t know the bleak days and sleepless nights she’d endured. He just couldn’t.

He looked away. "I never meant to hurt you. But please--"

"I can’t go against Mr. Luthor--Lionel. He took me in after everyone else cast me out." She paused for the remark to sink in, then continued. "He’s all I have left."

"Lana, you deserve better. You shouldn’t be with him. He’ll only destroy you." Clark looked down, then back up, and said bleakly. "Look at me."

"I can’t listen to this." She should never have come back down here. She should just have stayed away. She drew back from the window as Clark pressed closer to the grille.

"Lana, you have to leave him. And I have to get out of here. Please!" He took a quick breath, glancing down again, and back up. "There’s so much I haven’t told you…"

"That was always the problem between us, Clark."

"Lana, if you ever cared about me, and Lex, help me get out of here."

"Stop! I can’t listen any more. I--"

Her gaze still fixed on Clark, she reached for the button on the wall.

"No! Lana--"

Her heart was thudding in her chest as she pressed the button and the glass lowered, sealing her off from Clark.

She walked quickly down the dark hall, away from the mirror, away from him, trying to block out the memory of her last glimpse of his desperate face.

She only knew she had to escape back upstairs, away from the lies once and for all.

____________________

Chapter 28

Chloe arrived at the penthouse just as the city lights were coming on and the shadows darkening toward evening.

Not that she willingly entered any Luthor domicile, and the penthouse in particular. High in the Midwestern sky, dozens of floors up from the street below--escape, if necessary, would be difficult. Though Lex and Clark were together now (any friend of Clark’s was a friend of hers) and she and Lex had achieved a tenuous truce (mainly for Clark’s sake), she still trembled upon passing through the doors. Too many memories of meetings with Luthor senior and of those months of mental and emotional cat and mouse--no, slavery. She was more comfortable staying away, keeping as much distance as possible between herself and unquiet memories.

And there was more. She’d come a long way from being that vulnerable girl who’d given Lex Luthor her body and her heart in exchange for safety, that summer she was hidden away and believed dead by everyone else who knew her. A strange, trancelike, stark and beautiful time, ended too soon and without explanation when Lex disappeared, leaving her alone to wait out the dying summer by herself. She’d learned later that larger schemes and visions had enticed him far from Kansas and to the other side of the world. She’d achieved belated understanding. She’d accepted. But she’d never let herself be put in that position again.

Still, Lex’s frantic message this afternoon left her no choice. Though she’d drawn too close to him in a time gone by, though he and Clark belonged to each other now, some fondness remained. And her love for Clark--well, that would last forever. She couldn’t imagine a world without him.

Lex opened the door himself, scanned suspiciously up and down the hall before drawing her inside. As he closed the door behind them and glanced uneasily around the room, Lex coasted a hand over his scalp, a gesture Chloe knew indicated extreme stress.

She aimed for as dispassionate a tone as she could muster as she raised her chin and shoved her hands into the pockets of her light raincoat. "What’s going on, Lex?"

"Clark’s been missing for several days." He snapped the lock on the door and tested it before turning back to her.

"I know. I’ve been trying to reach him. His cell goes to voice mail." A wry shrug as she lowered her voice. "I’ve grown to hate that message."

Lex exhaled through his teeth. "Tell me about it."

"Last time Clark and I talked, he said you weren’t speaking to him." Chloe tried to keep her tone from sounding too judgmental. No need to make things any more difficult right now.

Lex glanced off toward the window. "I’ve had legions of people searching for him. Legions. But--nothing." Chloe stood, following him with her eyes, thinking how much he resembled a caged white panther as he paced.

"The last trace I have of Clark is a tape of a meeting at The Talon with Lana."

Chloe’s gaze went sharply to his face. A tape. Of course. Typical Luthor modus operandi, so why should she be surprised? A little shake of her head as she tried better to focus. "A meeting? With Lana?" Why would Clark still be seeing Lana in private? Despite all the back and forth over the years, she’d thought their friendship truly over this time.

"They met four days ago. Had coffee, talked. Then Clark became mysteriously sick and stumbled out with Lana right behind him." Lex spread his hands. "That’s all I know. The tape kicked off as soon as they exited the shop." He thinned his lips as he strode over to the carafe of liquor, and Chloe could see his hands shaking as he poured, then raised the tumbler to his lips and drained half the glass at one gulp. "Knowledge is always power, Chloe, and right now, I have none. He could be out there, ill. Dying. At this stage he should be under close observation. No one knows the risks." He poured again, and raised his eyes to study her as he sipped. "When did you last speak with Lana?"

Chloe thought back. "Two days ago. Not really as 'friends, but--" Lana had been oddly distant and evasive during the brief telephone conversation, seeming in a great hurry to bring it to a close.

"Did you know she’s seeing my father?"

Something like a dead weight settled in Chloe’s chest. "'Seeing' him? You mean--?"

Lex nodded, his expression grim. "Since Lana was the last person seen with Clark, I began searching for her. With no luck, until I got a report that she’s been seen several times over the past couple of months in my father’s company."

Chloe stepped close and laid a hand on Lex’s arm. "Lex, listen to me." She had to help--but how? Her sleuthing skills would probably yield less than Lex had been able to uncover thus far. Still, she’d share what she had.

"I think I know where he is. I did some research before I came over here. Did you know your dad purchased a new townhouse in Metropolis?"

Chloe could almost sense the rapid progress of Lex’s thoughts. His voice was low when he spoke. "When?"

"A couple of weeks ago. Most of the paperwork has been obliterated or so well hidden that finding most of it is impossible for someone with my skills and equipment. But I did manage to uncover a handful of details."

Lex stepped closer, grasped both her arms with trembling hands. "Tell me everything you know."

Chloe took a deep breath. "Since the purchase, the building has had a new security system installed, and new construction on the basement level. Only there, though--the rest of the building has remained as it was. The real kicker is: lead panelling. New basement, level construction – but no evidence of Lionel building up or out. Several deliveries, too, of food and health care supplies."

Lex's grip eased. "What sort of supplies?"

"I couldn't make out the specifics. But they were shuttled in and down through a back entrance.

"What else?"

Chloe continued. "For a couple of months, now, I've been keeping an eye on two or three of your father's storage facilities. I've been wise to his work with, and obsession with, green meteor rocks for some time. Just this past week, a shipment was sent out from the central point. I was able to determine that several employees assisted in loading vials of the green liquid variety into a secure delivery truck."

Lex nodded slowly, his mouth settling into a grim line. "He’s got Clark."

Chloe frowned. “It sounds like it.”

"I should have put the pieces together sooner. He called me last night--cryptic remarks, gloating--intense, even more him. Guess I’m not as sharp as usual. I mean, he’s unfailingly the first suspect." A grim chuckle. "Maybe I just didn’t want to believe."

"Do you think your father knows about...the baby?"

Lex cast a dark glance in her direction. "I learned long ago never to assume ignorance on my father’s part. About anything. Little as I like to admit it, there’s very little Lionel Luthor doesn’t know. And I’ll bet anything he’s moved Lana into the new place." Lex’s voice was a hiss through teeth clenched tight. "So Dad’s back to his old tricks. Anything I have, anything I want, anyone I've had, he takes. Lana, and...he’s itched to get his hands on Clark from the beginning. Not only because he knows there’s something special about him," a pause, "but because I love him. And now I’m sure he finds the prospect of getting control of my child--Clark’s son, and his own grandson-- too much to resist." Lex stared out the window at the city lights as they winked on one by one. "I have to find him, Chloe. And my child, as soon as possible.”

As Lex spoke, Chloe could feel her heart soften, and wondered how she could ever have felt reluctant to help in any way she possibly could. She stepped closer and laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"I’ll do whatever I can, Lex. You can trust me.” He didn’t look at her, but she could sense that he’d registered and accepted the remark. Chloe took a deep breath, hesitating for a moment, wondering if she should continue.

“My God, Lex, I don’t know what would be worse: Clark in your father’s clutches without proper medical care or Clark a prisoner with a bevy of doctors doing all the wrong things.”

Lex looked down at her then. “Chloe, you’ve always stood by him, even when--"

"He’s my friend, Lex. I’d do anything to help him." Chloe took a quick breath. "I love him, too. Your dad won’t be a match for the two of us working together."

"You and I haven’t always exactly been friends," was his dry comment.

"Yeah, but you’re with Clark now, so you’re part of the package."

He smiled then, that sleek, lidded small grin that always seemed to go right through her, no matter the time and space between them. Before she knew it, they were in each other’s arms. Lex lifted a finger to trace her bottom lip, then wipe away a tear that trickled down her cheek.

Chloe could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke. "Has anyone ever told you how absolutely wonderful you are?"

Embarrassed, she looked away as tears welled in her eyes. And suddenly, for no real reason, despite being nervous, despite Clark’s peril, she felt incredibly, inexplicably happy.

"Constantly," she laughed. She grinned and tugged at Lex’s arm. "Let’s go."

____________________

Chapter 29

It was a sensation of which Lionel Luthor never tired: satisfaction at a well-wrought and successful plan. That, and prey in his hands, to dance at his command to whatever tune he ordered. Even this early on a Sunday morning, even a bare twelve hours after his last conversation with young Mr. Kent.

Lionel paused again before the observation screen and pressed the button to raise the panel. It wouldn’t do to enter before apprising himself of the particulars this morning.

Clark Kent lay curled on the camp bed, asleep. Lionel, gazing through the two-way glass, observed how his chest rose and fell with the deep, slow breathing of his slumber. The boy’s lower body was covered with a light thermal blanket; his secret burden hidden from view. But it was there.

Here, now, and in his hands. Clark Kent and the alien child he carried, a child not only of a distant race but blood of his own blood as well. The enthusiasm coursing through his veins could barely be contained. He yearned to shout through the deserted halls in triumph that he’d won. He’d won. At last.

Lex might be his son, but this child would achieve far more. Lacking the weaknesses his full-blood issue displayed with regularity, this child would stride like a Colossus, subdue the Earth, and he, Lionel, would guide him, shape him, mold him, remain at his right hand until claimed by death. Even then, his legacy would outlive him indefinitely, perhaps for centuries. Lex’s brilliance, Clark Kent’s strength--oh, the Kent boy would not walk from this facility without granting any and all rights to his child to Lionel. If he refused, well--he would not leave at all.

As the doctors exited the lab, Lionel stepped in front of them. "Gentlemen. What have you to report?"

Doctor Ramani stepped back again, then said in slightly accented English, "In reasonably good health, but agitated. Thanks to Brahman he’s finally fallen into a doze, however fitful."

"Well," Lionel crooned, pushing past him to grasp the metal handle of the door. "We must see what we can do to calm him."

Ramani’s face darkened with concern. "Mr. Luthor, that might--"

But Lionel, paying no heed, stepped briskly inside.

**

Clark, seeming to sense Lionel’s presence at the side of the cot, opened his eyes, then closed them again, voice a bitter grumble. "Is this viewing time at the zoo or something?"

Lionel, looking down at him, made a soothing sound, but couldn’t suppress a chuckle. "Now, my boy, don’t be ridiculous." He leaned down and fingered the edge of the blanket intending to pull it down, but Clark snatched it back from his grasping hand. "My, we are testy this morning."

As Clark dragged himself to a sitting position, Lionel noted how the white hospital garments set off his rosy lips and fair complexion. More handsome than ever, but his beauty would avail him nothing today.

"I trust you’re enjoying your accommodations." Lionel sat down on the edge of the cot as Clark drew closer to the wall. He reached out to ruffle the dark curls, and smiled as Clark jerked away.

"Let me out of here."

"You and I need to have a conversation before we even begin to discuss that." The cot creaked as he shifted. "I want you to listen to me carefully, Clark, and consider fully what I have to say. Will you do that?"

Clark tossed his head, like a restless young stallion, thought Lionel, watching those exquisite full lips settle into a grim line. "You’ve always wanted to get hold of me. You've done your best to destroy Lex, and now I'm next on the list."

"I suppose my son told you that?" Lionel affected the most theatrical sigh he could manage. "Ah, Lex, such a bright boy, yet always mistaking my motives. Just as you are, Clark." He placed a hand companionably, deliberately on Clark’s cotton-clad thigh, keeping his enunciation precise and clear. "Clark. I just want to make sure you know that I have only your best interests at heart."

Clark reached for Lionel’s hand, lifted it and placed it on the bedcover between them. "I know you. And I know whose interests you care about. Your own."

"Clark," Lionel continued with exaggerated patience as though lecturing a wayward child. "I suggest that you hold your comments until you’ve listened to what I’ve come to say to you today."

Clark bowed his head, clasping and unclasping his hands. Rather than begin, Lionel waited.

When Clark finally spoke again, his bleak voice was faint. "What are you going to do to me?"

Lionel raised his eyebrows. "You think I intend you harm? Far from it. I only ask that you agree to one or two conditions, and then you’ll be free to go."

Clark drew a deep breath, pushed back the blanket and swung long legs over the edge of the cot. He gave Lionel’s arm a little shove and Lionel, after a moment’s hesitation, moved over a bare inch. "What are they?"

"I want you to promise me--"

Clark shook his head. "I’m not promising you anything. I want to talk to Lex."

"Clark, Clark," Lionel tsked as Clark glared, marveling at how closely the strong young man could resemble a pouty child. "You must remain calm. Think of the valuable treasure you carry."

Lionel noted with what rapidity the blood drained from Clark’s cheeks. He smiled in enjoyment of the game as Clark’s searching gaze studied his face. "How much did they tell you?"

"Enough. Of course, I’ve been aware of your condition for some time." Lionel aimed a pointed glance at Clark’s midsection. "Almost as long as you have, I daresay. Yes, indeed, I know far more than you would expect. Not only do I know about the child, but I know that my son is your lover, and the father as well." With relish, he noted the deep blush that crept back up Clark’s neck to his jaw. "And I know about you. Your background, your origins. My son, sire of a master race--do you sincerely think that I would abdicate my responsibilities as both guardian and grandfather?"

Clark opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again-- but still said nothing. Lionel dropped his voice to a velvet whisper.

"So my proposal for you, my boy, is that you agree to hand your child over to me, without argument, as soon as it is born. I’ll ensure that you have the best medical care; as you see, the same team that was treating you in the beginning is here now and in my employ. With so many unknowns in the equation, you must admit that your safety is, at best, tenuous, and the involvement and utilization of the most knowledgeable medical personnel available is paramount. In exchange for your cooperation, your safety will be ensured--nor will I interfere further in your personal life."

Clark said nothing, but Lionel noted his hard swallow.

"I know the word of Clark Kent to be good and solid. Experience has taught me. Promise me this, and you’ll be allowed to walk out of here a free man. To rejoin my son, or Miss Lang, or any bed partner of your choosing."

Clark’s gaze flashed with what Lionel diagnosed as a combination of rage and shame.

"Just give me the child. That’s all you have to do."

Clark shook his head, and when he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was barely a whisper. "No.

Lionel sighed. "Now, Clark, listen to me. I know if you give some thought to what I’ve said, you’ll realize that what I ask is the only reasonable solution to an embarrassing and difficult situation. Lex will never be able to achieve the goals he has set for himself with a young male lover and a child at his side. He must marry a beautiful and elegant woman who knows all the social niceties and will photograph well with him for the newspapers," and Lionel savored Clark’s flinch as he looked away. "If you cling to him, well--you’d be holding him back from a brilliant career. Nor would you be able to care for a child effectively on your own. Your compliance would be wise. Because, you see--" and Lionel stroked his beard with his slim fingers, then leaned closer to the screen. "If you don’t, I’m afraid I’ll be forced to keep you in here indefinitely, and you’ll never see Lex again. Or your mother, or your friends."

"Lex wouldn’t let that happen."

"Lex might not have that much to say about it. He owes me too much, and it’s nigh time for me to begin collecting."

Clark rose to his feet and walked over to the sealed door, then stopped and turned. "You can’t have the baby," he murmured in a daze. Lionel watched him coast a palm over his now-sizable belly. "I’m not giving him to you." His voice rose, frantic. "I’m never giving him to you. You can go to hell!"

"Now, Clark, calm yourself. If you but cooperate, things could be very nice indeed. You’ll continue to get the best medical care from the fine doctors in my employ," and Lionel emphasized the last three words ever so slightly, "and when you recover from the birth, you can return to your secret life with my son. Why, I may even let you see him--my grandson-- now and then. Whereas--if you resist, well-- things could get complicated. And perhaps a little painful for you, Clark. I’m asking nicely at this point. Cross me, and things could take an unpleasant turn.

"I know how you love your mother. And young Miss Lang, and even my son. I’m sure you--good son, good friend, and one who loves so deeply, would never do anything to put them in any kind of danger."

Clark shook his head slowly. "No. I wouldn’t. I’d--"

"It’s up to you, my son. I’ll have him anyway, no matter what you decide."

Clark’s fingers flexed as though they itched to close around Lionel’s neck. "I could kill you now--right now, even without my powers. Even if I can’t get out of here, I could do that. Do the rest of the world a big favor."

"Ah, but you won’t. The lives of too many of your friends and family hinge on your decision. Think again of those you love most: Lex, Miss Sullivan, your mother, Miss Lang...were I to die, each of them would have barely half an hour of life left." Lionel made sure to temper his suddenly lethal tone toward the close of the sentence and punctuate his statement with a crisp chuckle.

Clark rose to his feet and glared down at him for a moment before turning away. "You’re a monster. I always knew--"

"I’m tipping my hand to you, Son, because I trust you to make the right decision. I have complete faith that you will." Lionel rose and strode over to the door, barking into the intercom. "Open this door."

As the door swung open and he prepared to step into the hall, Lionel turned back, though deliberately avoiding eye contact. "Think about what I've said. Think hard, and well. But--I would decide quickly, if I were you. Who knows how much time you have?"

Clark sank back down on the cot, and Lionel could almost feel his beseeching gaze burning into his back as the door closed behind him.

First the child, then the parent. He would control them both.

**
Lana drew back from the glass, lifted a hand to her mouth and touched her lips with ice-cold fingers.

Everyone you love. Lex, Miss Sullivan, your mother, Miss Lang..."

How dare he. Even if it was but an empty threat. In a flash, it all came clear, despite her attempts across the past weeks to deny it. She was no less a pawn than all the rest.

Lionel had never loved her, never really wanted her.

He was evil.

And she couldn’t let him win.

_________________

Chapter 30

It shouldn’t be this hard.

Chloe sat back in her desk chair and squeezed the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb. A habit she’d picked up from Lex. And one that, just as when Lex did it, indicated extreme stress and frustration. She had a two-day headache that wouldn’t quit despite being treated with a bottle and a half of extra-strength ibuprofen. Had she been anyone else she’d have tried to keep from pondering Clark’s absence, and from wondering what might be happening to him as time passed with no word. But that wasn’t her style.

In the week that had passed since they joined forces, the two of them should have been able to come up with a foolproof scheme for getting Clark out of that hellhole. Security at the new Luthor building was tighter than Fort Knox and the Pentagon combined. The team Lex hired after their initial conversation had been on the job for days, scrutinizing, reporting, still turning up nothing that could help.

She and Lex had spent most of the past three days working together as well as alone, and still not been able to pinpoint unguarded entrances to the building or formulate methods for getting in. That is, if they wanted to be careful and cautious. They could be careless and try for an easy and hasty way in, but at the possible cost of Clark’s life. A risk neither of them wanted to take. And even if they took that chance, they both knew that a premature effort to free Clark could likely result in additional loss of life for Lionel’s staff. Neither of them wanted to put Clark through that additional stress and grief.

She usually effected connections, unearthed results faster than this. Were her skills deserting her?

She’d urged Lex to go back to the penthouse to get some sleep before he collapsed. "You won’t be any help to me half-dead," she’d insisted, giving him a gentle push toward the door.

He’d thinned his lips and left as bidden, the door closing briskly behind him.

Now it was after midnight and, as she drained her mug of coffee, tasting nothing, Chloe reached again for her mouse, clicked and began punching data into the machine once more. It was better than tossing and turning in bed through a lonely, endless night, her troubled thoughts spinning round and round.

The beep of the telephone startled her from her thoughts. Chloe fumbled for the receiver.

"Damn it!" She cursed as it slipped from her fingers and clattered on the desktop.

"Chloe?"

"Lana." Suddenly she was awake and alert.

"Chloe, can we talk?"

"Sure."

"When can you meet me?"

Chloe didn't allow herself to weigh pros or cons. "Right away. Just tell me where you are and I’ll be there!"

"Not here, It’s too dangerous. Come to the Winston Lodge Motor Inn on the interstate just outside of town." A pause. "Park at least a block away, and wear dark clothes.

"Is this about Clark?" Chloe knew she shouldn’t have said it, but the words seemed to rush out on their own.

"Just hurry. And be sure to come alone. If we’re found out, he’ll kill both of us."

_________________

Chapter 31

An open box of meteor rocks glowed on the metal tray beside the examination table.

Clark moaned as the doctor smeared a handful of cold gel on his exposed belly. He tried to cover himself but Ramani grasped both his wrists and snapped them efficiently into chrome restraints. The wand coasted over the mound; the image blurred, then cleared on the screen --a fetus which visuals indicated was near to term. The monitor picked up the rapid thump of a tiny heart.

Lionel stood nearby, chiseled features impassive.

Lana’s lower lip trembled. Despite valiant attempts at resolve, she couldn’t stay upstairs, couldn’t stay away from the basement level, from Clark and the mysteries that surrounded him, the secrets he contained.

So it was really true. She gazed through the two-way glass at Clark but his face was turned away. His hands hung limp in the metal clasps as his chest rose and fell with his panting breaths. The fetal heartbeat remained strong and steady.

"Look," and Gabrielov sounded as close to amazed as was likely possible for the stoic Russian doctor. "To all appearances, a male child, and entirely normal."

Ramani held a scalpel near. In a panic, Clark struggled. "No!" he groaned.

Gabrielov laid a hand on Clark’s wrist. "Clark, you must relax. We are only testing today."

Clark’s eyes were squeezed shut, but Lana could see a trail of tears on the cheek she could see. His whole body tensed as his captive hands curled into fists.

Lana held her breath the doctor nicked at the bare skin of Clark’s abdomen. The blade was repelled, leaving no mark, and she surprised herself with a gasp of relief.

"I hope there’s an alternate plan for this birth," Gabrielov muttered in lightly-accented English. "For a Caesarean appears to be impossible. Even with the presence of the rocks."

Clark struggled to sit up. "It’s too early," he gasped Clark. "Not time...not yet." Lana could hear his heavy, labored breaths.

"You will only need to move the rocks closer," Ramani said in his oddly soothing voice. "Place them on his abdomen. Then you can make an incision. Calm yourself, Clark. This is practice only."

Gabrielov shook his head, gaze darkening as he glanced up at Ramani. “We were ordered to use care.”

"And we will. But securing the child alive and healthy is of primary importance."

Lana could almost hear the unspoken imperative. If there’s a choice to be made, save the child first.

**

Lana cast a furtive glance to the right and then to the left into the darkness of the motel parking lot as she opened the door. "You’re alone?" she hissed in a whisper as she grasped Chloe’s wrist and drew her inside.

Chloe freed her arm gently but firmly. "Of course." If Lana thought she wouldn’t do everything possible to ensure Clark’s safety, she didn’t know her nearly as well as she seemed to think she did. And she wasn’t such a fool herself that she’d betray upon arrival what she knew about Lana’s involvement in Clark’s disappearance.

Lana would have to work hard to earn her trust again, but she’d risk anything to save Clark.

"It’s good to see you," Lana nodded at the chair by the bedside table.

Chloe shook her head. "I’ll stand, thanks." Her supervisor at the Planet habitually claimed that people remained more alert on their feet, and often held meetings in rooms barren of chairs. No way could she let herself slide back into the easy familiarity of their erstwhile friendship. She must remain steadfast, aware--keep on her guard, while fighting the almost irresistible urge to hurl accusations at Lana for her unspeakable actions. Clark’s life could depend on how successfully she held her tongue.

Her lips curved into a tight smile. "So what’s up?"

Lana glanced uneasily around the room as she hesitated.

Chloe aimed for a lightness in tone she was far from feeling. "So why did you want to see me? And why here?" A nervous giggle. "A budget motel hasn't been your style for quite a while now."

Lana remained standing as well, gaze dark and urgent. "Does anyone know you’re here?"

Summoning her best poker face, Chloe shook her head. She’d of course told Lex, as they were in this together--Lex, who, after initial protest, had acquiesced to her plans, demanding only that she allow surveillance from several blocks away. When she expressed unease about this, he vowed that he could best his father’s methods or die trying.

"Listen to me, Chloe." Lana began. "It’s about Clark. He’s in terrible danger. And I want to save him, but I can’t do it alone. I need your help, and Lex’s, too. I know the two of you are working together."

How did she find that out? Chloe wondered, but didn’t say. Instead, she lowered her voice. "Where is he, Lana?" She studied Lana up and down, dark hair like a raven’s wing, designer slacks and shoes, and wondered exactly how much she could be trusted. Much would depend on her answer.

Lana looked off across the room, toward the curtained window. "He’s a prisoner in the basement of Lionel’s new townhouse. In a specially-prepared cell."

Chloe feigned surprise with raised eyebrows and a small gasp. "Why?"

"Chloe, don’t pretend you don’t know. Because Lionel wants him. And something he has." Lana stared straight at her, chin raised in near-defiance. "Chloe, I know about Clark’s powers." She drew a deep breath, steadily holding Chloe’s gaze. "And his baby."

Chloe could have kicked herself for the way her voice squeaked when she blurted out. "You do?"

"It’s no use denying it. I have ways of finding things out. I’m not the imbecile you all seem to think I am."

"Lana, you have to understand why this had to be kept secret. For the very reason that Clark’s a prisoner now. Lionel Luthor is dangerous. And who knows how many enemies Clark and his child might face if the world learned his secrets."

Lana looked down at the carpet, then back up at Chloe. "I was the one who turned him over to Lionel."

"I know."

"How did you find out?"

Superior research skills. Along with, maybe, just maybe, some help from a Superior Being. "Lana. How could you do that to Clark? He’s been a good friend to you all these years. How could you?"

"He didn’t want me. He didn’t love me. And it wasn’t enough for him to cast me off himself. He rejected me and then he took Lex from me. I was angry. I wanted revenge." Lana’s lips settled into a grim line. "I needed it! I’ve always been on the outside. Clark never trusted me, wouldn’t stay with me. And when he and Lex got back together, I was alone again."

Chloe stepped closer and took Lana by the arm. "I had no idea you felt this way."

"I know that," Lana turned to face her, and the bitterness in her gaze was unmistakable. "He told you! I had to 'find out'. You’ve always had parts of Clark that I never did. When he dumped me and took up with Lex, he kept you. Clark didn’t want me, and Lex wants a child with Clark but not with me. I have no one--and nothing.”

“Lana, none of us can choose where we will love.”

"I know that." Chloe noticed how her eyes welled with tears. "But, Chloe, I’m alone in the world. Except for Nell, and she has her own life now, with Dean. I couldn’t stand being alone with myself, Chloe. My life had no purpose. When Lionel took me in, when he enlisted my help. I had to align myself with him. Finally, I was needed." She drew a deep breath.

"Oh, Lana," Chloe shook her head with a sigh. "Why didn’t you come to me? We could have talked this over, and maybe I could have helped."

"I was angry...jealous. Of the two of them, but more than anything...of you. At different times, they both wanted me, my affection...my body...but you, they always saw as a friend. They trusted you. They still do. I had to do something. Just to get my mind off the pain, and keep it off."

"Had to? Lana, you know what he is. What he ‘needed’ you for was to assist him in his unspeakable crimes. Kidnapping Clark, for starters."

"I know that now. I must have gone a little crazy for a while. But I swear I’ve come to my senses now."

"A ‘little crazy'? Is that why you changed your mind about making Clark and Lex pay for your loneliness?" Chloe noted the rise and fall of Lana’s chest and the tremble in her voice. "Do you realize what you've set in motion?"

Lana was silent for a long moment. "Lionel wants to send me to Paris. He’s saying it’s because he knows it’s my favorite city. But I don’t understand why now, unless he’s had second thoughts about our working together. He told me--before Clark was taken--that I could have charge of the baby. So I should be here--not halfway across the world--when the baby arrives."

"It does sound suspicious."

"I wanted to ask more, but I was scared. And I was trying so hard to deny it, but I realize now that all Lionel has to offer is misery and anguish. And evil. For me and for everyone that crosses his path." Lana scarcely paused to breathe as her words came tumbling out over each other. "Chloe I'm scared. I thought that I could get something out of this, survive and even thrive with Lionel, but I no longer think that there's any way this can end well for me. But I refuse to let him hurt Clark more than he already has. The depths that Lionel's willing to go to... no revenge is worth this hatred I feel for myself now. I just can't do this, be a part of this, any more."

She was sobbing now. Chloe drew closer, hesitated for an instant and then reached out to deliver an awkward pat to Lana’s back, noting as she did so how Lana’s shoulders shook

"And I’m not sure Clark will find things much different with Lex, but they deserve at least a chance at happiness." Lana’s face crumpled as she wrapped her arms around Chloe and wept on her shoulder. "I want to make up for what I’ve done. I knew Lionel wanted Clark, but I wasn’t expecting it to be…practically torture. No one deserves to have done to them what Lionel is doing to Clark. Lionel Luthor has no heart, and no soul, either. Whatever my feelings toward Clark--Chloe, he loves that baby so much. I always thought that I would be able to give Clark a family, that we would have a family together, and that--he’s so scared and so alone, and no one knows what’s coming for him, not even the doctors."

Chloe freed herself gently to reach into the pocket of her jacket, then pushed a pack of tissues into Lana’s trembling hand. Pensive, trying to process Lana’s words, she stepped slowly over to the window, lifted a corner of the curtain and immediately let it drop. Sure, it all sounded good, it sounded great, but was it sincere? Lana Lang’s powers of manipulation, of eliciting sympathy, were legion. She knew that better than just about anyone. And involvement with the Luthors could only have strengthened those powers.

Behind her, Lana was still talking. "...and I need you to help me, Chloe, because I can’t do it alone. I know you care for Clark more than anyone else in the world. Please tell me you’ll help me make up for what I’ve done. Please"

Chloe hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was plunge Clark into more danger. What if contact from Lana had been engineered by Lionel. Perhaps this entire scheme of Lana’s was a plot to bring all three of them down: Lex, Clark, and her. Hell hath no fury... But Clark was already captive, so it wasn’t as though things could get much worse. He was as much at risk of death in childbirth as from any malice on the parts of Lionel or his henchmen.

Abruptly, she turned around. "Yes, Lana, I will. I’ll help you."

But if this is another trick, God help you.

_________________

Chapter 32

Leaves blew and whipped across the pavement. Darkness fell early in November; reflections of the street lights glistened in puddles on the near-deserted Metropolis street, rain threatening to turn to sleet by morning. The tower of Lionel Luthor’s new townhouse rose into the storm-darkened sky.

Lex scanned the building exterior from top story to street level, having chosen the blackest car in his fleet for the night’s errand and parked at enough distance down the street from the building to avoid any building security cameras scanning the street outside.

"Where is he, Lana?" Voice low and tense, he didn’t turn to look at her.

In the passenger seat, Lana kneaded gloved hands together. "In the lower level," she said. "Guarded. They’ve had him there for about a week, now, I think."

"Longer than that," piped Chloe from the back seat, leaning closer. “Almost two.”

"Maybe," Lana drew a deep breath. "I guess I’ve lost track of time."

Chloe could tell that Lex was holding in his anger with an effort, and prayed inwardly that he’d be able to do so. “What brand of security system controls the doors?”

Lana thought a moment. "Oracle. Or maybe AVS. One of those two. But I’m not positive."

Lex drummed fingers on the steering wheel with a quick shake of his head. "It wouldn’t be Oracle. Dad hates the CEO--he’d do everything to avoid lining his pockets. AVS, then. I have diagrams."

Lana glanced down at the briefcase between them. "A complete set?"

A curt nod.

"How did you get them?"

"I don’t share my methods." And Chloe could almost hear the unspoken words: Especially with you.

She leaned over the seat again. "Come on, you two. If this is going to succeed, we have to work together." She paused to let it sink in; the two of them needed to quit acting like pouty kindergartners posthaste and lay their animosities aside. "So, Lana-- where would the illustrious Luthor Senior be, this time of the dank, dark evening?"

Lex thinned his lips. Lana hesitated, casting a worried glance out the rain-spattered window.

Lex indulged himself in an exasperated sigh. "Come on, Lana. Not only do you know more than we do, but right now my father trusts you, at least as much as he ever trusts anyone. You have to get us inside without his knowing."

"That’s not going to be easy. You know better than anyone how hard it is to get the better of your father."

"But it can be done." Lex was shaking his head. "How you could--"

Chloe put a hand on his shoulder. She’d spent an hour and a half the evening before persuading Lex to forget both past and present deceptions and join forces with Lana again--that he’d agreed, however reluctantly, was evidence enough of his desperation. "Guys. Let’s not waste time and energy arguing. We have to stay focused and back-burner whatever petty--"

A bitter snort from Lex, under his breath. Chloe steadied herself and continued, undeterred.

"-- animosities we may still harbor. Regardless of our differences, we all care about Clark. And we have to get him out of there."

They waited. Chloe checked her watch.

"By the way, has anyone talked to Martha?"

Silence.

"I thought about phoning her," said Lex slowly as he shifted in his seat. "But she’s in Washington; the Senate is in session. She’ll know soon enough if--" His voice trailed off.

Chloe put a reassuring hand on Lex’s coat-clad shoulder. "No one will have to break any news to Martha--other than, soon, that she’s a grandmother-- because Clark is going to be fine." A forced chuckle. "I mean, he has us for friends! So let’s get busy and get him out of there!"

"Getting back to Lex’s question,” Lana spoke with exaggerated patience as she stared straight ahead. “Lionel left for Beijing this morning. He’s scheduled to return tomorrow afternoon."

Lex exhaled on a long breath. "So now’s the time to move."

"Staff have instructions to watch me," Lana continued, "but they aren’t quite as devoted to the job as their employer might think. Several of them were more than agreeable to an evening off and a generous amount of spending money. And it wasn’t that hard to find and disable the security cameras that had my name on them." A grim smile.

Lex drummed fingers on the steering wheel. "We need more facts. How many staff does he have guarding Clark?"

"Four guards: two in the hall, one in the doorway, one inside." Lana drew a deep breath, staring straight ahead as she continued. "A security system."

"And what sort of schedule do they have?"

"They wake him up about 7:30 for an examination. The doctors bring him food twice a day, at 8 and then again at 5. They examine him again in the evening. They report to Lionel after each one." She glanced at the digital dashboard clock. "The next examination will be around 7:30 p.m., and they'll send the report to Lionel immediately. It’s 6:10 now." She hesitated, staring straight ahead, through the windshield and down the rain-swept street, lowering her voice as she continued. "I’m afraid for him. Each day he seems a little paler, a little weaker--"

Lex gripped the wheel. "We’re wasting time, here. Let’s get going."

Chloe gazed across the street at the townhouse, where the lights of the entryway glowed golden through the gloom. "If we could get hold of even one of those doctors, maybe we could find--"

Lana thinned her lips. "No, we’d have to take them both out."

"If we could just disable the security system--"

"We’d stand a better chance with the doctors."

Chloe realized that Lex had been silent for several moments. "What do you think, Lex?"

Lex considered a moment more. "I have a couple of guys on my security team that should be able to overpower Ramani and Gabrielov with no trouble. I have a pretty good idea where to find the controls to the service entrance. If you two could slip in and wait near where Clark is being held, I’ll give Chloe a call when I pinpoint the location of the control bank. Then if Lana could telephone Dad overseas and keep him occupied" and Lana had the grace to blush-- "we could stand a good chance at getting Clark out of there."

"I have a better idea," said Lana. "One of the guards--is a friend of mine. He cares about me."

"There’s always someone like that, isn’t there?" It wasn’t hard to detect the edge of bitterness and something bleak like envy in Lex’s tone.

Lana continued unruffled. “He’s been trying to convince me to leave Lionel. If I ask him to arrange it so that Clark remains unguarded for a short span of time so we can get in, I’m sure he will."

Chloe aimed another worried glance across the street at the forbidding building and the armed guard that flanked the entry. "If only there were some way we could warn Clark we’ll be coming in."

Lex nodded. "I don’t want him upset."

Lana was staring straight ahead. "Lionel stripped him of everything: wallet, cell phone--even his own clothes. He’s done everything possible to break Clark’s spirit. And he may have come close to succeeding."

"Not for long." Lex shoved the gear lever into drive. "He’s about to look failure in the face."

Chloe gazed out the window at the rain, which was falling harder now. Lionel had had a good spell of striding the world like a Colossus, but Fortune smiled on no one forever. She glanced at Lex and slowly turned to glance searchingly at her erstwhile best friend. "You’re sure you’re okay with this, Lana? Because there may be no turning back--"

Lana drew a deep breath and nodded. "Let’s go."

_________________

Chapter 33

Lana and Chloe crept on sneakered feet through the uncanny silence of the lower-level hallway of Lionel’s new building. Despite the elegance of the exterior, the corridors inside were bleak and unadorned, narrow passageways punctuated at regular intervals with steel doors. No luxury apartments, no offices or storage lockers--nothing but blankness. Just when Chloe began to despair that they would ever reach the place where Clark was being held, Lana stopped short in front of a wall bearing a metal plate.

"Is that where--" Chloe’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened as Lana whispered:

"Shhh!"

Her slim index finger pressed a button on the wall. The plate slid up, revealing a screen beneath. She leaned back against the wall. "He’s in there."

Chloe stepped up to the screen and paused. She cast a troubled glance at Lana, whose eyes had dropped closed, and then turned to peer through the screen.

A bare room, and Clark sat slumped against the wall, arms wrapped around his white-clad body. Half-closed eyes pale and red-rimmed, a sad and solitary image of desolation.

Chloe’s heart clenched in her chest. "Clark!" she hissed in a whisper through the grid, then turned to Lana with an accusing glare. "He can’t hear me. Why?"

Lana still didn’t look at her. "His powers are fading. And so is his strength."

Chloe frowned, then turned back to the grate and raised her voice--not too loud, as no one knew who might be lurking nearby, or monitoring. "Clark!"

Still no response.

She forced herself to remain calm and recall her earlier advice. Nothing would be gained by irritation and anger, and a great deal could be lost. "Clark will need all the strength he can muster for what lies ahead for him. We can’t waste any more time. We have to move as fast as we can without giving ourselves away."

Lana, her gaze dark, responded with a grim nod.

"Take my cell. Call Lex on your way up and tell him the plan’s a go. Tell him I’ll join him in a few minutes and we’ll tackle that security system. We’re going to get Clark out of here as fast as we can. His life depends on it."

**

Lana stepped into the empty elevator and pressed the button, thinning her lips as the car began its smooth, upward glide.

When Lionel when he learned of Clark’s escape, his wrath would be terrifying. His sophisticated, agonizing methods of revenge were legend, and could well be turned on her.

Lex and Chloe were perfectly willing to offer her as the sacrificial lamb to Lionel Luthor’s rage. They cared nothing for her. Only for Clark.

She beat down the thought. She was a better person than that. She’d looked deep into her soul over the past couple of months and could no longer live with what she saw there. Even if she wound up alone in the end, she had to redeem herself.

Clark was an amazing being, and she had forgotten somewhere along the way that he had been her friend. He was up against the biggest challenge of his young life, and she was to blame for putting him in even more danger. He was alone and scared.

Clark had saved her countless times. She owed him her help. She owed it to him, and to herself, to help make this right.

Only by saving Clark could live with herself again.

_________________

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