Alliance

by Lanning Cook

"You've been sniffing your printer cartridges." Pete swung himself into the nearest chair and propped his feet up on the desk next to Chloe's monitor, grateful that few people ever bothered to venture into the Torch office. "Seriously. I'm talking major inhaling, here."

Chloe shot him a narrow-eyed glower, the one she used on the freshmen. "You know I'm right."

Pete sighed. Chloe was not going to let this go until some other unnatural phenomenon distracted her, and there had been too few of those lately. Pete found himself wishing for a ten-foot flaming carrot or a talking meteor rock or something. "Look. Clark is weird. I've known him since he was four, and I'm telling you Clark is weird. There's no international conspiracy going on here, Chloe."

"Oh, no, the conspiracy is completely domestic, unless Lex Luthor has had himself declared a sovereign nation or something. Which I wouldn't put past him."

"So what are you saying? That Clark got your dad fired? That Clark got you and your dad evicted?"

Chloe scowled at him. "No."

"Good, because--"

"I'm saying there's something funny going on between Clark and the guy who did get my dad fired and us evicted."

"There's been something funny going on between those two since the day that asshole showed up in Smallville," Pete growled. "And it never bothered you before."

"Well, now it bothers me! Whose side are you on? You've been the president of the He-Man Luthor-Haters Club for years, and now you're going to wuss out on me?"

Pete bristled. "Who's wussing?"

"Clark hasn't wanted anything to do with us since December--"

"Chloe--"

"Which, coincidentally – not – was the same time all those guys in pickup trucks and black vans showed up all over town."

"Do we have to go over the whole list of weird again?"

"Then all of a sudden the Kent farm goes from teetering on the brink of bankruptcy to being completely refinanced and sitting pretty, while everyone else around here who isn't kissing the Luthors' collective asses are being foreclosed--"

"I guess we do." Pete swiped Chloe's Coke and took a sip, settling in with gloomy resignation for the recital.

"And I won't even mention Mrs. Kent blowing some guy's guts all over her barn."

Pete choked on the soda.

"Some guy who just happened to work for LuthorCorp."

"Do we have to talk about guts right before lunch?" Pete tried with little success to brush some of the Coke from his shirt.

"And then there's the amazing disappearing-reappearing Lex Luthor."

"Chloe, as a friend? I'm telling you you're coming off a little obsessive here. Just a little."

"First he's in Smallville, and whoops! Some guy just walks into Castle Anthrax and hits Asshole Junior over the head with a tire iron – give me a second while my heart breaks – and then he's in Metropolis, and then he's in Smallville, and then he's in Metropolis again. And according to some people, he's in two different places in Metropolis at the same time. But whenever he's in Smallville, he's even more bizarro than he used to be."

"They say he had brain damage."

"He had brain damage before he started. And then he fires my father, and what's his reason?"

"Here we go," Pete sighed.

"Ask Clark Kent."

"Brain damage."

"Oh, no. Not brain damage, because when we tell Mr. Kent about it, he gets on the phone, and in less than an hour Asshole Junior is apologizing to us."

"Let it go, Chloe."

"And when we ask Mr. Kent how he did it, all he'll say is that he talked to someone who knows A.J. very well. Asshole Senior, maybe?"

"And now we're back to the conspiracy again."

"We never left. If the Kents are cozy with Lionel Luthor--"

"Okay, Chloe? I'm telling you this theory is whacked. Mr. Kent hates Lionel Luthor almost as much as my dad does, and he's never made any secret about it."

"People change," Chloe said darkly.

"Plus? If the Kents are conspiring with Lionel Luthor, what was one of his employees doing prowling around their barn in the dead of night, attacking Mr. Kent and Clark?"

Chloe scowled, shifting in her chair. "I didn't say I had all the details worked out."

"Whacked," Pete repeated firmly, finishing off the Coke.

"Well, what's your theory, then?"

"My theory? My theory is that Clark is weird, and Clark is a jerk, and Clark has no time for us peasants because he's been having too much fun riding around in A.J.'s Porsche and eating pheasant-under-glass at Castle Anthrax."

Chloe shot him an exasperated look. "That doesn't even begin to cover all the facts!"

"Covers all the facts I'm interested in." Pete crumpled the Coke can and sent it flying into the wastebasket with more force than he'd intended.

"Hey," someone said softly.

Startled, Pete turned toward the door, then snorted and looked away again. "Well, look, Chloe. It's Lex Luthor's friend."

"And he's talking to us." Chloe's voice was waspish; she turned away from Clark to study her monitor, scowling.

Clark went red. "Look, I said I was sorry."

"That's right! Clark said he was sorry, Chloe."

"Well, that's all right, then," Chloe snapped. "Everything's peachy."

"I didn't mean to hurt you guys. I just-- There's been a lot going on at home, and--"

"Yes, tell us about what's been going on, Clark." Chloe whirled her chair around to face him. "Explain it to us."

Clark got even redder. "It's…it's family stuff."

"Whose family?" Chloe demanded harshly. "Yours or your friend Lex Luthor's? Collaborated in any other evictions lately?"

Pete winced in spite of himself. "Whoa. Chloe."

"The guy who tried to evict you isn't my friend," Clark said unevenly.

See, now this was the thing about Clark – he was a really bad liar, and a really good liar. Because he lied by not telling you anything, and he did it so well you forgot he hadn't answered your question or volunteered the same information that everybody else had. But he hardly ever told a lie by telling you something, and when he did he might as well have had a neon sign over his head flashing LIAR! LIAR!, it was so damn obvious. And this time there was no sign.

"The guy who tried to evict us is your best friend," Chloe retorted. "And you know why he did it. You know why and you won't tell me."

Clark looked at his feet. "My mom's doing a little birthday dinner thing for me tonight," he said quietly. "Just family and a couple friends. I'd really like you both to come."

"You have got to be kidding." Chloe turned her back on him; Pete could see tears in her eyes. Oh, man. "Sorry. Washing my hair. Sick dog. Dead grandmother."

Clark nodded without looking up, and Pete realized that he was waiting for his answer.

"Sorry, man," he heard himself saying. "I made other plans."

"Okay," Clark breathed. "See you." He disappeared from the doorway, leaving Pete feeling like he'd just kicked his Aunt Sophie's puppy.

"Shit," he muttered, trying not to notice that Chloe was crying. "Shit."

***

"There. Seventeen." Martha took a deep breath and stepped back to survey her creation, trying not to remember a time when Clark's cake had only five candles on it. "I suppose Clark is a little old for birthday cakes, but--"

"I never knew a boy who was too old for cake."

Pamela was smiling, but it didn't conceal her extreme pallor, her emaciated face. Martha had visited too many shut-ins not to know that look. Stifling a sigh, Martha slid onto a chair beside Pamela at the kitchen table. "Pamela, are you sure--"

"Yes."

Martha looked up, startled.

Pamela shot her a wry look. "Yes, I'm sure I don't want to go to a hospital. There's nothing they can do for me there that the nurse can't do for me at Alexander's house. My doctor agrees with my decision."

Martha nodded, turning the package of birthday candles over in her hands, wondering if she'd have half Pamela's grace when her own time came. "Lex and Eli say you should be able to move in tomorrow."

"They've been working hard."

"Lex wanted me to remind you that he won't be over tonight to read. He promises two chapters tomorrow night."

Pamela's smile deepened, but her gaze was sharp. "The big date."

Martha wryly considered the possibility that she was being sized up as a prospective in-law. "Yes. Although movies and homemade popcorn in a farmhouse are a far cry from dinner and dancing in Metropolis."

"I actually think Alexander prefers the former."

"And that surprises you."

"It's a pleasant surprise." Pamela glanced down at her hands. "There were times, when I heard the news accounts of his Metropolis days, when I wondered if he would survive them."

"I think Lex has outgrown those days."

"I think he's had some help to outgrow them." Pamela met her eyes.

Martha smiled. "He'd started to outgrow them long before we met him, I think. He would have found his own way without us."

"You underestimate Lionel Luthor." Pamela's voice went hard.

"Not anymore," Martha said grimly.

"When I think of what he's put Alexander through--"

"It'll come to back to him, Pamela." Martha said, believing it. "God willing, a hundred times over, and soon."

"Wouldn't you prefer to bring it back to him?"

Martha set the little box of candles on the table. "Violence is a line Jonathan and I are not prepared to cross."

"I'm not talking about violence. There's the matter of--"

Both women jumped as the phone rang.

Pamela's eyes narrowed, and Martha sighed. "Speak of the devil."

"Let me talk to him," Pamela said in a tone of low loathing. "I speak his language."

"No," Martha said firmly, rising from her chair to cross the kitchen, approaching the wall phone with something like dread. "That's just what he wants."

"He already knows I'm here, Martha. What difference--"

Martha picked up the phone, bracing herself. "Hello, Mr. Luthor."

Ragged laughter assaulted her ear. "I see I'm becoming predictable."

"You're becoming a stalker. This is harassment, Mr. Luthor. If you call again, my husband and I will have no choice but to take legal action."

"And if I were to notify the authorities that you were keeping my son from me--"

"They'd ask you who it was hitting the Metropolis clubs every night and illegally dumping toxic waste all over our county every day, and wouldn't that be an interesting question to answer."

A pause. "We can come to an understanding, Mrs. Kent. We can help each other."

"So you can blackmail us again." Martha maintained an even tone with difficulty. "Find someone else to help."

"For God's sake, Mrs. Kent, all I want is to talk to my son. I don't want to lose him; surely you must understand that."

"You didn't lose him," Martha snarled, finally losing control. "You threw him away. This conversation is over." Martha slammed the receiver into the hook with a satisfying reverberation of steel bells and leaned against the wall, drained.

"Well," Pamela said, after a moment of silence. "I guess you speak his language, too."

***

"They hate me."

Eli glanced up at the young man sitting on the steps to the school's main entrance, every line of his posture radiating adolescent rejection. Had he ever been so young as this? "They are angry. They are hurt. This is not hatred." He bent over his weeding, actually enjoying the feel of the spring earth in his hands. It was a good thing to touch the earth. It put one in his place in the greater scheme of things.

"Looks like hate to me. They won't talk to me. They won't have anything to do with me." Eli gave him a sharp look, and Clark blushed. "Yeah, I know, I did the same thing to them."

"You must give them time."

"Chloe thinks I had something to do with the eviction."

"You did," Eli reminded him, as gently as possible. "You cannot expect her to understand what kind of something it was when she has no information except that which the creature has given her."

"She's known me since we were twelve! She can't really think I'd have her put out in the street. She can't."

"An infatuated young woman rarely employs reason where the object of her affections is concerned."

A blank stare met this statement, and Eli glanced heavenward. The boy could move mountains, run like a cyclone, and, most amazingly, divine the heart and mind of the enigma that was Alexander Joseph Luthor, but to some facts of life he was as oblivious as a dead fish left on the dock for a week.

"The lady," Eli said in his most delicate tone, "entertains feelings of a romantic nature."

"For me?" The boy's voice rose to a squeak. "That's crazy!"

"She bought a gown for the spring formal months ago," Eli informed him blandly. He really should do something to curb these sadistic impulses. They were bad for his soul.

"You've only been working here for two days! You've barely laid eyes on Chloe. How could you know--"

"I know because I have eyes and ears," Eli snapped. "You would do well to start using yours."

"Aw, God," Clark moaned, leaning his head in his hands. "God, I thought things couldn't get any worse."

"Things can always get worse." Eli cheerfully tossed a weed into his basket. "This is what makes life interesting."

"I don't want life to be interesting. I want it to be normal."

Eli snorted. "Normality is a myth concocted by statisticians, damn their sorcerering souls."

Clark's head jerked up; his expression was anguished. "It is not! It's what everybody else in this school has and I don't."

"I think you would be surprised to find how many of your schoolmates long for the same mythic normality that you do," Eli said, gentling his tone.

"Maybe," Clark said glumly. "But they aren't as un-normal as I am."

Eli reminded himself for the hundredth time how very young a soldier the cricket was. "Come," he said softly. "Help me finish here, and I will drive you home. Your mother will have a very normal birthday cake waiting for you."

***

"No good deed goes unpunished, Jonathan."

Lex sounded indecently cheerful for a man who'd been painting all morning, and Jonathan snarled into the recalcitrant box spring, throwing his weight against it to no avail. "Stop quoting Twain to me and get that damn corner up!"

Lex grunted from above Jonathan on the staircase. "I am getting that damn corner up. It's your damn corner that isn't cooperating."

Jonathan suppressed some of the more colorful portions of his vocabulary as he found himself wedged between box spring and wall. "It just had to be a king-sized bed, didn't it?"

"And it just had to be a curved staircase." Lex heaved again, with no effect.

"You knew it was a curved staircase when you bought the damn bed!"

"My measurements were exact. It will fit."

"A king-sized bed," Jonathan growled. "Pretentious Luthor crap. You couldn't have just…gold-leafed the toilet bowl or something?"

Lex paused in his efforts. "That," he said in a horrifyingly admiring tone, "would be an absolutely stunning design touch, Jonathan."

"Shut up."

"Traditional, yet daring."

"You're a damn loon. No, pull it straight up."

"My measurements--"

"Screw your measurements! Pull it straight up, or I'm so help me I'm sawing it in half. No, wait. Wait." A sudden, sickening thought occurred to him. No good deed goes unpunished. "There isn't…anything up there that I don't want to see, is there?"

"Don't want to see?" Lex sounded genuinely confused.

"Yeah. You know…."

"All my criminal mastermind paraphernalia is in the storm cellar, Jonathan."

"No, I don't mean that. I mean…you know…. You…and Clark will be, uh, spending time up here, right?" This was amazingly hard to articulate for a guy as cool as he was.

"Oh!" Lex paused. "Well, there are my…toys."

Jonathan froze.

"And I suppose the mirrored ceiling is a bit suggestive."

Jonathan gripped the box spring in a stranglehold.

"And the mural on the wall beside my bed of Clark in the nude, striking a rather provocative pose--"

"Goddamn it to hell!"

"On red satin sheets."

Jonathan shoved the box spring wildly toward Lex, regardless of caution, and it finally gave way, shooting through the opening at the top of the stairs. Jonathan heard Lex's startled squawk and sprinted up to find the boy flat on his back with the damned box spring resting on top of him. The bastard was laughing.

"Kidding, kidding," Lex said breathlessly, shoving the box spring away.

"You'd better be!" Jonathan scanned the large, freshly painted room, but no evidence of Luthor debauchery was visible. In fact, it was a shockingly normal room. Sunlight poured in through the dormer windows and the newly-installed French doors that led to a small balcony. The walls were a respectable pale yellow, the carpet a respectable beige, and the unhung artwork stacked along the walls, or what Jonathan could see of it, was as far from avant-garde as Jonathan could imagine. The new wardrobe and chest of drawers stood where the delivery men had left them last night, as yet open and unused. A remarkably tame room for a Luthor.

Jonathan blew out a sigh. He fell for it every time. "Are you okay?"

"Never better." Lex reached over to grab a bottle of water from the six-pack lying on the floor; he tossed one to Jonathan. "Thanks for your help."

Jonathan grunted and swung himself down to sit cross-legged on the floor, opening the water. "Can't expect Dirty Harry to haul that monster up those stairs, and since you had to be up here this afternoon--"

"Clark is coming over tonight, after the party," Lex said, taking a water for himself. "I have a lot to do up here."

"Like Clark has never seen a mess before. You know what his room is like." It struck Jonathan that the color of Lex's walls was remarkably similar to those of Clark's bedroom. He scowled and took a long swig of water.

"I like Clark's room." Lex's voice was quiet.

Jonathan snorted, absently running a hand across his aching chest and left shoulder. It was a weird ache, but it came and went. "It's a swamp."

"By the way," Lex continued, abruptly changing the subject, "I wouldn't advise you to refer to your son's bodyguard as 'Dirty Harry'."

"Oh, yeah?"

"He's very sensitive, and something might go off accidentally."

"Look, if he can hum 'Old MacDonald' every time he sees me --"

"I'm sure that's a coincidence."

"Then I can call him Dirty Harry."

"I saw him shoot a button off a man's shirt once," Lex said in a warning tone. "At a hundred yards."

Jonathan rolled his eyes, took another long drink from the water bottle, and lay on his back on the new carpet. "Bring it on. I have spare buttons."

Lex snorted and lay back on the floor, too. "Your funeral."

"Lex." Jonathan scanned the ceiling, bemused. "There are stars on your ceiling."

"Um…yes. So there are." Lex slid the cool water bottle over his face, which probably accounted for the flush there.

"Glow-in-the-dark stars."

"Uh-huh."

"Why?"

"Why not? Don't you like stars?"

Jonathan grimaced. So the Luthor weirdness was just changing its style, is all. Going from tacky crystal chandeliers to dime store stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars. He should have known better than to think it would ever be completely cured. "I like 'em just fine."

"Good." Lex was silent for a moment, then spoke in a subdued tone. "Mrs. Kent told me that my father has been calling the house."

Damn. "She shouldn't have told you."

"I thought we agreed to no secrets."

"I don't want him anywhere near you. I don't want him talking to you. He's dangerous, Lex."

"No. Really?"

"Lex--"

"Jonathan, I think it should be my decision whether or not to speak to my father."

Jonathan shut his mouth, absurdly stung. Of course it was. It wasn't as if Lex were his son or anything.

"But I appreciate your concern."

"No problem," Jonathan replied stiffly.

"I'm not used to that," Lex continued in a strained voice. "People being concerned. Unless they're paid, of course."

Jonathan sighed. Christ Jesus, sometimes Lex was more of an alien than Clark would ever be. No, strike the sometimes. "I think some concern is warranted here. Because no offense, but your father is a psychotic son of a bitch--"

"No offense taken," Lex said drily.

"--and if you were my son, I'd blow his head off before he got within ten yards of you."

Lex fell silent for a moment. "Lines, Jonathan."

Jonathan stared up at the stars. Lines. It always came down to lines lately.

"But thanks."

Jonathan shrugged, avoiding Lex's steady gaze.

"What did my father say?"

"That we must know where you are. That he didn't believe that you'd returned to Europe with Pamela so ill. That he would find you. That all he wants is to help us."

Lex actually chuckled, but it was a grim sound. "All he wants? My father's motives haven't been that simple since he learned to crawl."

"He said that he has information about the science project that will help us."

"I don't doubt it. And the information wouldn't come cheap."

Jonathan nodded, relieved. Lex wasn't buying Lionel's bullshit. That was good. "He wanted to talk to Pamela, too."

"Over my dead body." Lex's tone was flat. "The sooner she and Eli move over here the better."

"What the hell is he up to?"

"I don't know. He hasn't been answering his email. He hasn't been to the office. He's cancelled some extremely important business meetings. That's highly unusual. Eli is working on getting his sources within LuthorCorp and the townhouse organized again, but it's much more difficult, now that he's no longer able to contact them in person."

"Hope Harry's enjoying his groundskeeping gig," Jonathan said, with no small amount of malicious satisfaction.

Lex raised an eyebrow. "Jonathan. You know Eli loves working in the great outdoors. It improves his aim."

Jonathan snorted and refrained from comment.

"Besides, it puts him on the school grounds and close to Clark."

"How convenient," Jonathan said grimly. "Do I want to know how he got that job?"

"Probably not."

"Tell me anyway."

Lex turned his head enough to look Jonathan straight in the eye. "My father got it for him."

Jonathan restrained himself as the foulest words in his vocabulary threatened to find voice. "Damn it, Lex. Who is Eli working for?"

"Eli is family." Lex spoke the words as if they were scripture.

Jonathan forced a gust of air from his lungs.

"I understand your misgivings. But there was no way in hell to get Eli on the school payroll without the recommendation of someone with my father's influence."

"So your father has done us this favor out of the goodness of his heart. Is that why you want to talk to him? What does he want in exchange?"

"It's impossible to know what he wants." Lex's voice was uneven. "I've spent my life trying to understand what he wants." Lex cleared his throat. "His immediate goal appears to be to regain his…proprietary interest."

It took Jonathan a moment to understand what the hell Lex was talking about; when he did, it made his stomach turn. "You mean you. His son."

"I am now a resource of inestimable value."

"Goddamn it, Lex!" Jonathan jerked himself up into a sitting position. "Don't ever--"

"Jonathan--"

"Don't ever talk about yourself that way! Don't even think about yourself that way."

Lex's gaze was fixed on the stars. "If I'm going to anticipate his actions--"

"Thinking like that is poison! You're not a 'proprietary interest.' You're not a 'resource.' You're Lex Luthor and you're a human being. You're part of my family."

Lex turned toward him; there was no mistaking the amazement in the boy's face. He hadn't understood, Jonathan realized. Despite everything, the boy hadn't understood.

"You're part of my family," Jonathan repeated more gently.

Lex tore his gaze away from Jonathan to stare at the stars again; he was breathing hard. "Jonathan, were you ever afraid of your father?"

Jonathan's throat tightened. Damn Lionel Luthor. Damn him to hell. "No, son. Never."

"Someday…I want to stop being afraid of mine."

Jonathan envisioned beating Lionel over the head with his tire iron. "You will. If I can do anything--"

"This is something I need to do myself." Lex glanced back again, smiling faintly. "But thanks."

Jonathan nodded and hauled himself to his feet. "I'd better get back to work. Will you be all right with the rest of this?"

Lex sat up, nodding. "No problem. Thanks for your help."

"Anytime." Jonathan started down the stairs, then stopped and turned toward Lex. "Lex. If you ever need to talk. You know where to find me."

Lex actually looked puzzled.

Jonathan drew on his limited supply of patience. "When Clark is in trouble, he talks to me."

"You want me to talk to you like Clark does?" Lex looked lost.

"Just like Clark."

"Okay," Lex whispered.

"I mean it."

"Okay. I… Okay."

"See you later, then." Jonathan started down the stairs.

"Jonathan. I'm…not good at this."

Jonathan snorted and glanced over his shoulder. "Tell me something I don't know."

Lex smiled faintly.

Jonathan grinned back. "It's like laundry, Lex. It takes practice."

Lex's smile broadened to a grin. "I'll bear that in mind."

Jonathan tossed Lex his water bottle and walked down the stairs, wondering resignedly what the conversational equivalent of pink boxers was likely to be.

***

"Absolutely not."

Eli sighed. He should have known there would be resistance from this quarter. "Mr. Kent--"

Clark activated the tazer with a huge grin on his face. "Cool."

Jonthan glowered at Eli. "I knew it. I knew you'd give him something completely inappropriate."

Pamela attempted to conceal her laughter with her napkin, and failed rather badly. Martha studied her son with a grave expression, slowly lowering her coffee cup to its saucer.

"I cannot imagine any gift more appropriate than one which could save his life," Eli replied, meeting Jonathan's gaze.

"Isn't that what you're supposed to be doing?"

"It is the responsibility of every bodyguard to be certain that his charge can protect himself long enough for him to arrive, or to protect himself entirely should the bodyguard be incapacitated or killed."

The grin faded from Clark's face.

"Eli," Pamela murmured, laying a hand on his arm, but Eli pressed on.

"Training in the martial arts requires time we do not have, and strength that Clark may not have at his disposal, should his attacker possess a meteorite. You would prefer a knife, perhaps? A firearm?"

Martha closed her eyes, and Jonathan sank into his chair, looking lost.

"The tazer is a weapon which incapacitates the attacker without killing, and requires minimal strength to operate."

"All right, all right," Jonathan growled. He looked at Martha.

Martha opened her eyes. "Clark, you understand that this isn't a toy." Jonathan sighed and leaned back in his chair.

Clark looked indignant. "Of course I do!"

"That thing is only to be used in a dire emergency." Jonathan scowled at the tazer as if it were a rattlesnake.

Clark was glaring now. "Geez, Dad, what do you think I'm going to do, go down to the football field and taze Whitney or something?"

Jonathan's eyes narrowed. "Why Whitney?"

Clark flushed. "No reason."

"Your father and I just want to be sure that you understand what a serious responsibility this is," Martha said quietly. "An adult responsibility, Clark. And one that no one can know about."

"Okay, okay," Clark sighed. "I can keep it in my backpack. No one will ever see it."

"In the front pocket," Eli said, relaxing. Reason would prevail, then, thanks to the lady of the house. "And keep the pocket unfastened."

"I think our present has been outclassed," Martha said wryly.

"No." Clark was around the kitchen table with his arms around his mother before Eli saw him leave his chair. "The jacket is great, Mom. It's the one I wanted, it's perfect."

Martha smiled at him, stroking his hair. "It's hard to know what to give a…a young man for his birthday." Her voice was unsteady.

"Martha," Jonathan muttered. "For God's sake, he's only seventeen."

Eli grimaced into his coffee. Kent refused to see what he did not wish to see; his wife could not afford that luxury. Martha Kent saw the young soldier before her; she sensed that her boy would remain under her protection for only a little while longer. Her heart was breaking, and the man would not see it, for fear his own heart would give way. Eli thought of his own mother, twenty years dead, and wondered when she had known, when her heart had broken. Women were the stronger sex. They needed to be.

Clark rolled his eyes at his father. "That's right. Listen to Dad, Mom. I'm an infant." He straightened, smiling, then froze. Eli recognized his expression, his posture, and hauled himself to his feet, silently cursing his sore muscles. "What? What do you hear?"

"There's a car coming up the drive," Clark said slowly. The rest of the adults at the table rose from their chairs.

"We're not expecting anyone else, are we? Pete and Chloe having second thoughts, maybe?" Jonathan sounded doubtful of his own suggestion, and Eli ignored it.

"The creature?"

Clark shook his head, frowning. "No. It's not one of Lex's cars."

Eli strode to the front windows and snatched up his binoculars, wondering as he did so why he was bothering. He knew perfectly well what he would see.

"Who is it?" Jonathan was standing at his side.

"Get your shotgun," Eli said harshly. "Clark, take Pamela and your mother upstairs."

"Oh, no," Pamela said, low and icy. "I'm staying right here." Eli heard Martha move to stand at Pamela's shoulder in some perverse display of feminine solidarity, and resisted the urge to indulge in vocabulary unfit for use in the presence of ladies.

Clark moved to the windows. "It's Mr. Luthor."

Eli spared him a glance, fascinated by the low loathing in the boy's tone. It had grown, slowly, in the months during which he had known the boy, and Eli could not help but wonder if Alexander had finally confided to his Hephaestion some private childhood horrors that he had told no one else. "It is. Your father and I will deal with this, Clark."

"He's coming down our lane like a bat out of hell." Jonathan was frowning. "Do you think he's drunk?"

"I think he is insane," Eli snapped, catching a glimpse of the driver's face through the open car window. Lionel Luthor was ash white and wide-eyed, his long hair flapping madly in the wind as if being beaten into a frenzy by the wings of demons. "I think he is mad dog. You will please fetch your shotgun, Mr. Kent."

Jonathan sighed and strode across the living room to the closet.

"He wasn't insane this afternoon." Martha peered into the twilight at the approaching car. "He sounded perfectly normal. For him," she added.

"Something's happened," Clark said.

Something had indeed happened; something to provoke impulsive and strategically dubious behavior from Lionel Luthor. It must be a very interesting something indeed. "Ladies, stand well back from the windows, if you please. Cricket, stay out of sight for now."

Clark nodded as Martha drew a clearly annoyed Pamela further into the living room; Eli overheard the muttered phrases "damned chauvinist" and "sexism in survival situations" even over the roar of the Mercedes' engine. Yanking the front door open, he strode out onto the front porch with Jonathan at his elbow.

The blue Mercedes came to a screeching halt in the drive, sending dust wafting over the driver as he struggled from the car with none of his usual grace. Eli's eyes narrowed as his gaze swept over the disheveled figure that staggered toward the two men standing on the porch.

"That's far enough," Jonathan said sharply.

Lionel lurched to a top, looking wildly from Jonathan to Eli and back again. "Let me in," he rasped.

Jonathan barked an unexpected laugh. "Not by the hair of my--"

"You profane this place," Eli snapped, cutting off Jonathan's bizarre and inappropriate silliness. "You will leave, Mr. Luthor. Get back in your car. If you continue to harass these people, you will find that I am not quite so devoid of resources and operatives as you imagine."

"You have to help me!"

"Where have I heard that before?" Jonathan's voice was a low snarl. "Get off my land."

Lionel dragged a shaking hand through his hair. "He was hanging there. He was hanging from the rafters in the foyer, bleeding all over the floor, hanging there like a piece of meat!"

Eli leveled his gaze. What new game was this? "You are babbling, Mr. Luthor. Who was hanging where, and what has it to do with us?"

"Atkins! He's hanging in the foyer of the mansion with big chunks shot out of him!"

Clark made a quickly muffled sound of dismay.

"Jesus," Jonathan muttered, going noticeably paler. "Did you call the police?"

Lionel stared at him.

Eli made no effort to restrain the chuckle that rose to his throat. "The police, well-bribed though they may be, may well begin to wonder at the abundance of corpses laid at Mr. Luthor's door. Yes?"

"You know I didn't do this!"

"If your evil has come home to roost, it is none of our affair. Take the matter up with the thing you made, the thing with your son's face."

Lionel licked his lips. "You have to help me. There's no staff at the house, he's sent them all to Metropolis."

"We're not your servants, and we're not doing your dirty work," Jonathan snapped, raising the shotgun. "Get back in your car."

"We can help each other," Lionel grated.

"Yes, I can just imagine." Jonathan closed one eye, aiming the weapon at Lionel's head.

Lionel backed away. "He's obsessed with your son. He's convinced that he's…different. That he has special abilities."

"Take the tales of your creature's madness to those who have time and inclination to listen to them." Eli pulled his pistol from the breast pocket of his jacket.

"He has a collection of evidence! He has files on your son, Mr. Kent. Photographs. Videotape. He's been excavating a field near here--"

Jonathan abruptly altered his aim and fired at Lionel's feet; Lionel leapt back against his car, eyes wide.

"Whoops," Jonathan said pleasantly. "Sorry. Finger slipped."

Eli heard the screen door open and slam, and ascertained with a quick glance that Martha, Clark and Pamela had left the safety of the house and were standing on the front porch.

"Pamela," Lionel said in a desperate tone. "You know what he's capable of. Tell these people--"

"These people know exactly what he's capable of," Pamela said, leaving Martha's restraining embrace to descend the stairs. "They also know exactly what you're capable of."

"Pamela, go back inside," Eli snapped. "All of you, inside at once." They were impossible, these people. How could one be expected to bodyguard such lunatics? He saw Clark step forward, watching Pamela with worried eyes.

"So I have nothing to tell them." Pamela strode slowly but steadily past Eli to stand in front of Lionel, fists clenched at her sides. "But I do have a message for you." In one fluid motion, she swung her knee up and drove it into Lionel's groin.

Lionel sank to his hands and knees with an open-mouthed groan, eyes wide with shock. Eli heard a quickly-suppressed laugh from Clark.

"From Alexander," Pamela continued coolly, turning back toward the porch. "And Lillian."

"Bitch," Lionel gasped, huddled over his affronted genitals. "You fucking bitch."

"It's a little late coming, but no less effective for the delay." Pamela stopped, one hand resting on the banister, to glance over her shoulder. "I'm not afraid of you anymore, Lionel. Neither are these people. Get used to it."

"I could have destroyed any of you at any time," Lionel rasped. "Any of you. All of you. Your lives were all in my hands."

"Yeah, well, what goes around comes around." Jonathan glanced over his shoulder. "Clark, would you do Mr. Luthor a favor, and call the police?"

Clark smiled á La Jaconde and disappeared into the house.

"I'm…a Luthor, Mr. Kent." Lionel made a rather pitiful attempt to stand, and wound up leaning over the hood of his car. "If you're attempting to intimidate me--"

"No intimidation," Jonathan said pleasantly. "Just a favor."

Eli shot Jonathan a sharp glance, and saw, out of the corner of his eye, Martha hastily leaving the porch to ease Pamela to a sitting position on the steps. She sat beside the pale, shaking woman with an arm around her shoulders, whispering something into Pamela's ear.

"A favor," Lionel echoed grimly. For the first time, Lionel looked to Eli as if he understood how much trouble he'd found by coming to the Kent house. "They'll think I'm responsible!"

"You are responsible," Martha said, her voice strange and hard. "You're responsible for everything that's happened here."

"You'll regret this. I am your only hope of saving your son."

"That science experiment of yours doesn't dare lay a hand on our son," Martha retorted. "And you know it."

Lionel managed a grin. "It was a valiant attempt, Mrs. Kent. But you're a fool if you think those photographs will stop him indefinitely. The information he's collecting will capture the interest of too many individuals and organizations outside your control. They will see the evidence, and they will come for Clark."

Eli found himself lowering his weapon in spite of himself. Damn this demon to hell. "And you are here to save him, I suppose."

"I'm here because together we can take this monster down and save both our sons." Lionel forced himself into an upright and more dignified position.

"Your monster," Pamela said in a loathing tone. "Why haven't you taken him down?"

"You can't imagine I haven't tried."

"No," Pamela replied, contempt in her face. "I can't imagine."

"You are an efficient killer," Eli said in a bland tone. "Am I to understand that in the five months since its creation, this thing has given you no opportunity to dispose of it?"

"I haven't made such an attempt personally." Lionel's eyes kept shifting uneasily toward the house.

"Why not? You were closer to it than anyone else. You of all people were in the best position to destroy it."

"It wasn't that easy. He looks…sounds…just like my son." Lionel lowered his eyes.

Eli smiled, unsurprised, as Jonathan snorted and Pamela burst into laughter. "I understand." Lionel's head jerked up, clearly furious at the lack of an appropriately sympathetic reaction. "You did not have the manhood required for the business, so now you come to a farmer, an old man, a boy and some women to do it for you."

"He doesn't look anything like Lex," came in an angry voice from the porch. "He doesn't sound anything like him either. You don't know Lex at all."

"Clark, did you call the police?" Jonathan's voice was gentle.

"Yeah. I told them that Mr. Luthor found a dead body in his house, and that he got so scared he ran away and came here."

The mixture of adolescent malice and self-satisfied triumph in Clark's voice made Eli grin; he watched the crimson and impotent fury in Lionel Luthor's face with considerable satisfaction.

"You think I don't care about my son?" Luthor hissed. "You think killing someone that looks exactly like him--"

"I think the question is ludicrous past any attempt to answer it." Eli slipped his gun back into his breast pocket. "I suggest you get back in your car and go meet the police, unless you wish them to consider you their prime suspect more than they already do."

"I came here to try to help you people."

"We don't need your help." Clark's voice rang out, angry and defiant.

"You need it more than anyone." Lionel's tone was ice now. "Unless the prospect of being locked up in a government lab appeals to you."

"My finger is starting to slip again," Jonathan said in a deadly tone.

"He found some very interesting artifacts in that field, you know. One item in particular--"

"Leave now, Mr. Luthor." Martha rose to her feet.

"--was a little octagonal piece of metal with some peculiar characters imprinted on it. My sources tell me that the alloy is of non-terrestrial origin."

Eli felt the fear, heard the silence, and managed not to allow his expression to change. So. This was the inexplicable cricket explained. "Your sources are mad or drunk or both, and you are a fool."

"He's become obsessed with it. He keeps it on his desk during the day and takes it to his bedroom at night. He believes it's the key to controlling your son."

"Get in the damn car," Jonathan rasped. "Or so help me God, I'll blow your head off."

Lionel forced a smile, but Eli could see the fear in his eyes. "That is scarcely my idea of a fair exchange of information, Mr. Kent. Where is my son?"

"Have we not told you a thousand times that he returned to Europe?" Eli demanded, desperately trying to distract Lionel's cold blue eyes from Jonathan's white face.

"With his beloved nanny at death's door?"

Clark muttered "prick" in a voice that was clearly audible to Eli, but Pamela only raised an eyebrow. "In case you hadn't noticed, the dying nanny's knee is still very much in the land of the living."

Lionel ignored her. "He's here. Somewhere. Somewhere nearby. And I will find him."

"No, you won't," Clark said in a shaking voice. "You'll never find him. You'll never touch him again."

"Clark." Lionel gentled his voice, but the change was not soothing. "I'm on your side. Yours, your family's, Lex's. I want to help. The replicate is a danger to all of us now. We need to work together to stop him, before he finds a way to take you from your home. Before he finds Lex."

"He'll never find Lex!" Clark, visibly shaking, whirled and barreled through the door into the house. The back door slammed no more than a second later.

"Moves fast, doesn't he?" Lionel observed softly.

Eli had Lionel by his suit jacket so quickly that Lionel actually gasped. "So, as you may have noticed, do I." Opening the passenger-side door, he shoved Lionel inside. The devil could not be set free to follow Clark; it was all too obvious where the boy was headed. It crossed Eli's mind that Lionel might have operatives in the neighborhood of the house, waiting for just such an indiscretion, and prayed that Clark had presence of mind enough to chart a circuitous course to Lex's farmhouse.

"You and I are taking a little ride to that Scottish monstrosity of yours, where we will discuss with the police your alarming habit of attracting corpses." Eli slammed the door shut, but Lionel crossed his arms across his chest, glowering, and made no move to escape. So. The dog wished to speak to him privately. A good sign; it meant that Eli still had something that Lionel valued. Perhaps something that could be turned to the Kents' and Alexander's advantage.

"Eli." Jonathan laid a hand on his arm as Eli moved toward the driver's side door. "This is a bad idea."

"You will be lending me a wheelbarrow for all my bad ideas, I suppose." Eli slipped behind the wheel and closed the door. "Leave this to me. Stay here. And make certain that Clark stays wherever you find him."

Jonathan cast a black glance at Lionel and nodded in understanding. "I'll tell him to stay put. He's probably gone over to Pete's."

Ah. A nice touch. The farmer was becoming a much better liar. "I will call you after I have spoken with the police." Eli started the car and took off down the lane. The two men sat in silence for a few moments.

"Well?" Lionel snapped finally.

"Well." Eli shot him a look that had silenced far more courageous souls than Lionel Luthor; Lionel paled and said nothing more. "You will tell me everything the creature thinks he knows about Clark Kent, and in return I will perhaps consider not letting the authorities strap you into an electric chair. Does that sound like a fair exchange of information to you?"

***

"Oh, yeah." Pete's voice was so I-told-you-so that Chloe briefly considered doing to him what the redhead had done to Lionel Luthor. "The Kents are so tight with Mr. Luthor."

"Shut up," Chloe snapped, watching through the small gap in the hedge as the departing blue Mercedes turned onto the main road.

"Mr. Kent always fires his shotgun at his closest buds."

"Will you just be quiet a minute? I'm trying to think." Chloe turned the binoculars toward the house, but Mr. and Mrs. Kent and the strange woman had gone back inside.

"I can't believe you talked me into this." Pete's voice was low, now; low and angry. "Spying on the Kents."

"We aren't spying!" Chloe hastily lowered the binoculars. "We're investigating."

"Investigating what? Where's the crime, here, Chloe? You tell me what the Kents have done except be decent to everybody in this town."

"The eviction--"

"Hello! They stopped the eviction. They got your dad hired again. I don't know how they did it, but it wasn't by kissing Lionel Luthor's ass, that's for damn sure. And here you are, hiding behind their hedges with your damn binoculars, disrespecting their privacy. Nice, Chloe."

Chloe actually felt her face going red. Damn, she hated that. "Don't go all righteous wrath on me, you know that all the evidence--"

Pete held up a hand to stop her, looking as pissed as she'd ever seen him. "Oh, no. We're not going there again. You know why? Because I know what this is really about."

Chloe hastily put her sunglasses back on and groped for her car keys. "Come on, they have to be heading to Luthor's place. I'm going to find out who our new groundskeeper with the shiny little gun really is."

"This is about that dress hanging in your closet."

Chloe resisted the urge to bash Pete's face in with her binoculars. "Don't be stupid."

"This is about you being pissed that Clark dumped us and didn't ask you to the formal."

"And you aren't pissed?" Chloe's voice rose a little more than she'd intended, and she didn't care. "You aren't pissed that Clark's treated you like shit for almost five months? Or maybe you aren't. Maybe you're glad that Clark hasn't been around."

Pete's eyes narrowed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

She was on dangerous ground, and she knew it, and she didn't care about that, either. "Maybe you're glad that Clark hasn't been there to see you sniffing around his precious Lana Lang."

Pete stared at her for two seconds, then rose to his feet, giving anyone who happened to be looking out the front windows of the Kent house a clear view of him.

"Get down!" Chloe hissed.

Pete looked down at her as if she were a stranger. "Mrs. Kent used to make me breakfast, you know," he said in a weirdly conversational tone. "Blueberry pancakes. And when I was sick and Mom was working, she used to stop at the house to check up on me. When Dad got behind with the mortgage when I was little, Mr. Kent went to bat for him with the Savings and Loan. And Clark…" Pete trailed off, staring at the house, then back at her, and Chloe knew she was screwed.

"You're on your own," Pete said coldly. He turned his back on her and strode quickly toward the road, taking no trouble to conceal himself.

Chloe watched him go for a few minutes, then wiped her face and scrambled away behind the hedges, heading for her car. She was going to the Luthor place.

Because this was not about the dress.

***

"Clark?"

The sound of Lex's voice steadied him, and Clark paused on the stairs to the third floor, trying to regulate his breathing. "Yeah, it's me."

Lex appeared at the top of the stairs, his cell phone in one hand. "Jonathan just told me."

Clark gulped. "I didn't run straight here. I zigzagged all over the county. There's no way anyone could have followed me."

"Clark. Breathe." Lex offered his free hand, one corner of his expressive mouth turning up.

Clark blew out a gust of air and climbed the remaining stairs to take Lex's hand. "I had to get here. I had to make sure--"

"Do you hear me complaining?" Lex tossed the phone away and pulled him close, grinning now.

Clark wrapped his arms around Lex's shoulders and held him tightly, closing his eyes. "He said he knew you were nearby. He said he'd find you. He said--"

"He won't find me," Lex murmured in his ear, drawing his arms around Clark's waist. "As a little cricket once told me--"

"Damn it, Lex--"

"'He's trying to freak you into making a mistake.' You didn't make it."

"He said he's on our side. He said--"

"I know. He's desperate." Lex drew him further into the room. "Karloff probably slipped a razor blade into his oatmeal this morning. Insert fiendish laughter here."

"That wasn't it. Atkins is dead. At your house."

"Your father told me."

"He's hanging--"

"Don't think about that."

"Do you think Karloff or…or Mercy--"

"Clark."

"If they find you, will they try…will they do--"

"None of them know where I am. The idea that I'm nearby is only wishful thinking on my father's part. Eli has this place wired so thoroughly only a cricket or a supersonic farmboy could get in without my knowing it." Lex's hands were moving soothingly on Clark's back.

Clark rested his cheek against Lex's. God, he wished he was as brave as Lex. "I don't know how you stay so calm," he muttered.

"Luthors are always--"

"Hardy-har-har."

Clark could feel Lex smile against his cheek, but he didn't answer right away. "You're here," Lex finally murmured in his ear.

Clark fell silent, letting Lex hold him in the fading sunlight, feeling the tension in his muscles fade away with it.

"Happy birthday." Lex's tone was not without irony.

Clark managed a rueful laugh. "Yeah. The whole day has sucked."

"Tell me."

"I invited Pete and Chloe to dinner. They blew me off."

"Ah."

"I've lost them," Clark said flatly.

"You have to give them time, Clark."

"Everybody keeps saying that."

"I am not everybody."

Lex's hauteur only made Clark roll his eyes. "You're a retard. Why should they forgive me? I was an asshole."

"I've been given to understand that this is what friends do."

"What? Be an asshole or forgive?"

Lex leaned away enough to regard Clark with raised eyebrows. "Both, as I recall. What do you think?" He gestured toward the room.

Clark stared around him. Geez, it looked so…normal. He had been sure, when Lex had decided to renovate the farmhouse for Pamela, that he would recreate the mansion in some way. But the house was starting to look more like the Kent house than a castle. "It's great, Lex. But it's not very, uh, millionairish, is it?"

Lex's mouth twitched. "Less is usually more. But do you like it?"

"Sure I like it. I feel like I'm at home."

Lex's smile turned triumphant. "I would have had it finished if you hadn't shown up early. But you can get the general idea."

Clark wandered across the room toward what, to his eyes, appeared to be the largest bed in existence, to look at the only piece of artwork that had been hung. He frowned. "I never liked this, though."

Lex joined him, slipping an arm around him to rest his hand on Clark's hip. "'The Unicorn in Captivity'? Why not?"

"He's a prisoner. And he's hurt. Look." Clark pointed to the red stains that marred the unicorn's white flank.

Lex pressed closer to speak in Clark's ear, in a voice that made Clark suddenly breathless. "Look closer. Follow the chain."

Clark swallowed and followed the glistening silver chain away from the intricately woven collar. "It's…not tied to anything."

"That's right."

"But the blood--"

"Look closer, Clark." Lex's breath was warm against Clark's ear. "Look at the fruit in the tree."

Clark peered at the fruit, intimately aware of Lex's body pressing against his. "They're the same color as--"

"Pomegranates. A medieval symbol of love and fertility." Lex's hand shifted to slide inside the waistband of Clark's jeans. "They're so ripe they're bursting."

"He has p-pomegranate juice on him?" Clark heard himself stammer.

"That's right. All the plants in the tapestry – wild orchid, bistort, thistle – are symbols of love and desire. They were used as aphrodisiacs and fertility aids in medieval times. Even the frog was famous for its noisy mating habits."

"Frog?"

"Yes. See? There on the bottom right, near the violets."

"Oh." Clark gathered himself for another effort at rational thought; he could hear himself breathing hard, feel the soft touch of Lex's fingers along the skin of his abdomen. "But the fence, Lex."

"Look. Closer." Lex touched his tongue to Clark's ear. "He's lying down. The fence is so low that if he stood up, he could jump over it easily."

"So what are you saying?" Clark demanded breathlessly. "He wants to wear the collar?"

Lex popped the button on Clark's jeans. "He wants to wear the collar."

Clark resisted for all of two seconds, then hoisted Lex into his arms and tossed him onto the bed. "I want to wear the collar," he said wildly. Crawling onto all fours over Lex, he ripped Lex's shirt open, sending buttons flying everywhere. "I want to wear the collar right now."

Lex was laughing so hard he could barely speak. "Oh, the…little known…benefits of a sound…education in the fine arts."

"Shut up!" Clark drew his t-shirt over his head, nearly ripping it in two in the process. "I want to be collared, and you're going to do it."

Lex only laughed harder. "You…you know, there are some neighborhoods in Metropolis…where that kind of talk…could get you into real trouble."

Clark undid Lex's fly feverishly, wondering what the hell Lex was talking about. "I want everything. I've wanted it so long and I can't take wanting it anymore and you are going to--"

Lex caught Clark's hands, held them, raised them to his mouth to receive a soft, wet kiss. "Shh. Shh." He pulled Clark down on top of him and kissed him. "I see I underestimated the erotic power of medieval botanical symbolism."

"Lex--"

"Slow down. We have all night."

All night. All night with Lex. Clark swallowed and tried to slow his breathing.

"Anyone would think I was trying to run away." Lex took Clark's face in his hands and kissed him again.

"Sorry," Clark breathed against Lex's cheek. He swallowed. "Lex. I was scared."

"I know," Lex whispered.

"He said I would wind up in a lab."

Lex drew a harsh breath. "That will not happen."

"He said Karloff had evidence about me. He said the government…he said people would come and take me away."

"Damn him." Lex's voice had gone harsh. "Clark. No one is going to take you away. I give you my word there won't be a shred of Karloff's evidence left by the time Eli and I are done with it."

"Eli and you and me." Clark started to breathe again. They had beaten Karloff before. They had even beaten Lionel before. They would do it again.

Lex's body relaxed as he began to chuckle. "Yes. Eli and you and me." He buried his hands in Clark's hair, stroking gently.

"Lex," Clark whispered, sliding a hand up to Lex's side so that he could touch warm skin. "Teach me to be brave."

"Teach you?"

Clark lifted his head at Lex's startled tone, and his rueful laugh. "What?"

"I thought you were teaching me." Lex looked up at him with a smile that Clark knew was only for him; he was the only one to ever see that smile. God, he loved that smile.

Clark started laughing weakly, touching Lex's cheek. "We are in so much trouble."

"Of course we are." Lex slid his long hands down Clark's torso to unbuckle Clark's belt, undo his fly. "Trouble is our destiny, Clark."

Clark rolled his eyes. "'Give me today, for once, the worst throw of your dice, destiny. Today I transmute everything into gold.'"

Lex yanked on the waistband of Clark's jeans with an exasperated expression. "You've been reading that idiot Nietzsche again. Just put that drivel out of your impressionable young mind. We're dealing with the forces of destiny, here."

"It's just…a run of bad luck, Lex." Clark swallowed as Lex lifted his hips, obligingly allowing Clark to pull down his jeans and boxer briefs. Lex was hard already. Hard for him. Pushing himself up on his knees, Clark pulled the jeans down Lex's legs with shaking hands, careful not to do it too fast. They had all night.

"Destiny, Clark. The one thing we can count on is trouble. It's a certainty. It's become our area of expertise, our raison d'etre." Lex was starting to look perversely pleased about it.

Clark couldn't help laughing. "Yeah, I hear there's a lot of money in trouble."

"You're right. I'll incorporate us," Lex breathed as Clark's hand brushed the inside of his thigh. "The tax advantages. The futures market. The novelty item empire. Destiny Unlimited. I'll get us listed on the Exchange. We need a logo."

Clark grinned and tossed Lex's pants aside to lean over him on all fours. "No, 'Man and Superman Unlimited.' Maybe a big red S on--"

"So help me God, one more Nietzsche reference from you and I'll--"

"You can be Superman." Clark started wriggling out of his pants.

Lex was glaring. "I have no interest whatsoever--"

"Quiet. I want to look at you." Clark bent down for a quick, wet kiss to Lex's throat.

"Looking is not what I had in mind tonight."

Clark leaned upward to look Lex up and down, working his pants down his legs and laughing inwardly as Lex scowled and his face went pink. "I like looking."

"I'm all amazement." Lex's expression softened to amusement. "Don't think I hadn't noticed."

Clark stopped looking, which was probably the whole idea, but something in Lex's face required his attention. "Noticed what?"

"That that telescope of yours was always pointed in the direction of Lana's house."

Clark felt his jaw drop.

Lex's expression was unreadable. "Hey, we all have our kinks. Do you want to hear mine? It's--"

"I didn't look at her when she was naked!" Clark burst out. God, he hadn't thought anybody knew about that. What if Mom and Dad had noticed, too? Jesus! "It wasn't like that! Geez, Lex, you think I'm some kind of pervert?"

"I think you're a red-blooded American male with an extraordinarily healthy libido," Lex said gently, stroking Clark's hair back. "And Lana is a very beautiful girl."

"I didn't--"

"Even with her clothes on."

Clark stared down at Lex for a second, breathing hard, thinking hard, which was hard to do with Lex's dick pressing against his stomach. "Lex, you're not jealous of Lana, are you?"

"Certainly not."

The answer came a little too fast, the voice was a little too cool, and Clark knew Lex a little too well. He lowered himself to nuzzle Lex gently, still trying desperately to work his pants off. "I don't love Lana," he whispered in Lex's ear. "I love you, Lex. Just you. That telescope has been pointed at the stars for a long time now."

Silence.

"I know," Lex muttered. "But she was your first--"

"Crush," Clark cut in emphatically. "My first crush."

"Oh," Lex breathed. He exhaled slowly. "Oh."

"Retard," Clark whispered.

Lex swallowed. "Voyeur."

"Dumbass."

"Pervert."

"Lex."

"What?"

Clark sighed. "My pants are caught on my shoes again."

Silence. Then loud, un-Luthorish laughter, the kind Clark had heard maybe three times since he'd known the man. Lex pushed Clark over onto his back, still laughing, and slid down to remove the offending footwear. "And…I'm retarded?"

"Aw, come on, Lex. You get me all hot and then you expect--"

"--you to take your shoes off before your pants?" Lex tossed the shoes aside, laughing until he was breathless. "What am I thinking? And what else should I expect of a devoté of that moron Nietzsche? His Superman probably makes love in his Nikes, too."

Clark glared at Lex through narrowed eyes as Lex pulled off Clark's jeans and boxers. "Y' know, some guys might take it as a compliment that I go for them and forget the shoes."

"And some guys might take it as a kink, but shoes don't do it for me."

"Because you're a socks man."

"Not tonight." Lex grinned and threw Clark's pants over his shoulder, then plucked off Clark's socks.

"Geez, Lex." Clark cleared his throat, watching his socks arc through the air after his pants. "You're, uh, ditching all my sex appeal there."

"Oh, no." Lex moved up to lean over Clark on all fours, eyes dark. "You have sex appeal that transcends socks, Clark."

"Yeah? Wow."

Chuckling, Lex guided Clark onto his stomach and slipped a pillow under him. Clark sighed at the relief. "Okay?" Lex murmured in his ear, licking it.

"I'm always okay with you," Clark whispered, wrapping his arms around the other pillow.

Lex dropped a soft kiss on Clark's shoulder. "Clark."

"Yeah?"

"I do. Take it as a compliment."

"Good," Clark breathed, tensing as Lex's slow, wet kisses descended the length of his back.

"Relax." Lex drew both hands down Clark's back, pressing his thumbs into just the right spots to make the muscles loosen.

Clark sighed and let himself go limp. "How do you do that?"

"Sorry, that's proprietary." Lex's mouth descended to Clark's skin again, licking its way down Clark's spine.

"Proprietary," Clark echoed faintly, clutching his pillow. "Is that like...I belong to you?"

"Oh, that's been sufficiently established." Lex's voice was raspy. "But this is more like I belong to you."

Clark took a breath. "You're wearing the collar, too?"

"I'm wearing it."

"Because you want to?"

"Because I want to." His hands were on Clark's ass, now, warm and strong, and Clark closed his eyes in eager anticipation of those gentle, teasing fingers, but what he got sent fire up his spine.

"Jesus!" Clark went up on his elbows, nearly tearing the pillow in two in his surprise, his eyes flying open. Soft and rough and wet and Jesus, Lex was--he was--

"I told you I had a kink."

Lex's voice was far away, and everything was hot, and red, and--

"I take it you approve."

The pillow made a dull, concussive sound as it burst into wild flames, and Clark choked out something that wasn't quite English as he pulled away from it, throwing a frantic glance over his shoulder toward Lex. Lex yanked himself up onto his knees, wide-eyed, as Clark's t-shirt, which had landed on the edge of the bed inches from Lex's leg, ignited into a small inferno as well. Lex kicked the shirt off the bed and dove for the pillow.

Clark got it, a little late, but he got it, and buried his face in his hands as he kicked the pillow onto the floor, hiding his eyes. He heard Lex strip the comforter from the bed, heard his harsh breathing as he pounded, smothering the flames from both pillow and shirt, and then the pounding stopped and there was nothing but the breathing.

"Clark."

"I'm sorry." God, what a lame thing to say. Freak. He couldn't even do this, he couldn't even just be with Lex, just belong to Lex. "Did I hurt you?"

"Did you...?" To Clark's confusion, he found Lex's arms around him and his steady voice in his ear. "Don't be ridiculous. Let me see your eyes."

"No!"

"Clark, we need to make sure--"

"What, that I set you on fire next?"

"--that you're not hurt." Lex tugged on Clark's forearm with no success.

"I'm not hurt. I can't be hurt. I'm the one that does the hurting." Clark cursed inwardly as his voice broke.

Lex fell silent, then drew his arms tightly around Clark's shoulders and guided Clark's head to his chest. Clark felt Lex's fingers combing his hair, felt his other hand moving soothingly over his lower back. "What kind of people do I come from?" Clark whispered in desperation. "What kind of monsters--"

"No," Lex snapped.

"--run around setting each other on fire?"

"We don't know that. We don't know anything about your people, except that they evolved some rather spectacular natural defenses. Which implies that they had some spectacular natural enemies."

"Defenses?" Defenses. "Who the hell was I defending myself from just now? Did your pillow go psycho on me or--"

"You couldn't control your vision when it came online either." Not a hint of doubt in Lex's voice. "Now you can."

"Lex--"

"You'll learn to control this, too. We'll practice. Every day, if we have to."

"It's too dangerous," Clark whispered.

"Right. I live for danger. Now. Let me see your eyes."

Oh, great, it was the I-am-a-Luthor-and-I-command-it voice. Why the hell Lex thought that worked on anybody was beyond Clark. "Stay to the side," he heard himself saying. "And I'm not looking at you."

"I'll try not to take that personally."

Jesus, did anything freak this guy out? Floating, x-rays on demand, meteorite allergies, supersonic jogging – none of it seemed to faze him. Maybe he really was retarded. Or crazy. Or the bravest man on the planet. Or all three. God, he loved this guy. He loved this guy more than anything. Clark wondered if, when it was the real thing, you just kept falling in love, over and over. Maybe his parents had just kept falling in love. Maybe he and Lex would, too.

"I'm waiting, Clark."

Trying to keep his hands from shaking, Clark lowered them from his face. He felt Lex's fingers brush his cheeks gently. "No burns." Lex's voice shook for the first time. "Good. Now open your eyes."

Clark swallowed. "If something else catches fire--"

"I'll bill you," Lex said impatiently. "Open your eyes."

Clark took a quick breath and opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on the blank wall in front of him. He could see Lex out of the corner of his eye, leaning around to look at him; everything seemed bathed in an orange glow.

"I can see the fire," Lex said in a soft, wondering kind of voice, and Clark instantly pinched his eyes shut again. "No." Lex turned Clark's face toward him. "It's all right, it's fading."

"Lex." Clark wished to God he didn't sound like a scared little kid, whispering in the dark.

"Open your eyes." Lex stroked Clark's hair back from his forehead. "It's all right, Clark."

Clark forced his eyes open, forced himself to look at Lex's face.

Lex was smiling. "It's beautiful," he said.

Beautiful. "I nearly roasted you alive!" The thought made Clark's stomach turn over. "For God's sake, will you please panic a little?"

Lex's smile deepened. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

Lex leaned close. "Parce-que j'adore cet homme avec le soleil dans les yeux," he murmured, pushing Clark onto his back and climbing on top of him.

"Aw, geez, Lex, again with the French dirty talk? What does that mean?"

"Roughly translated? It means, 'Where were we?'"

"No!" Clark clutched Lex's shoulder. "Lex. We can't. It's too--" Lex's mouth settled over Clark's, soft and warm, and Clark couldn't have resisted kissing him back if both their lives had depended on it. "Lex," he breathed as soon as Lex lifted his mouth. "Listen to me. I can't--"

"Do you still trust me?"

Clark groaned and wrapped his arms around Lex's neck, pulling him close.

"May I take that as a 'yes'?"

"This has nothing to do with trusting you!"

"And Lesson One of your tutelage in Lex Luthor's Depraved Den of Carnal Delights was?"

"Oh, for God's sake."

"No, it was, 'Lex will not let me hurt him.' Say it."

"This isn't the same," Clark snapped in exasperation. "What if fire starts coming out...other places?"

Lex's eyebrows rose. "Other places?"

"Yes."

"Are you suggesting you have a flaming asshole, Clark?"

Clark smacked Lex's chest, knowing his face was red. "You know that's not what I meant!"

"I do?"

"I meant...you know, my mouth, or...my ears or from under my fingernails or something. God, Lex, I shoot fire now, and we don't know what it's going to do."

"You're right," Lex said, outrageously unperturbed. "Science demands we investigate."

"Fuck science!"

"Language, Clark."

"It was you that set me off. Do you get it? You, doing that, uh, that--"

"It's called rimming, Jiminy." Lex bent low over him, smiling in a way that Clark knew his mother would never see. His voice dropped to a sultry register. "Did you like it?"

"You know I liked it!"

"Good. Always begin a campaign from a position of strength." Lex tried to turn Clark over again, but Clark caught Lex's wrists and held them, breathing hard.

"No. Please. Lex. I'll lose it, I'll--"

"Say it. 'Lex will not let me--'"

"Please." Clark heard his voice break again, saw Lex's eyes widen.

Lex lowered his head to rest it against Clark's, going very still, and Clark relaxed, releasing Lex's wrists to wrap his arms around Lex's waist. They stayed that way for a long time.

"You know," Lex whispered finally. "There's a very simple solution to this little problem."

"You find yourself a boyfriend who doesn't set your bed on fire?" Clark flinched as his voice wobbled.

"Well, there is that, of course, but since there's no damn point to my life without you, it's a pretty unpalatable option." Clark drew a breath to say something, anything, but Lex barreled on. "No, I was thinking more along the lines of you closing your eyes."

Clark swallowed. "What if...you know, if--"

"The flaming asshole scenario?"

"Will you please stop saying that? This is serious."

"Of course it is. And I could give you a dozen physiological reasons why I'm unlikely to have success toasting marshmallows with your asshole or your mouth or your fingertips, but in the end you'll have to close your eyes and trust me." Lex nuzzled him, his warm breath dancing across Clark's skin.

Clark pounded the mattress in frustration. "God, if I could be normal, just tonight."

"Normality is vastly overrated, and by definition relative." Lex spooned up behind him, sliding one hand down his belly.

"What does that mean?" Clark whispered, trying not to stiffen as Lex's long fingers slid toward his dick.

"It means that in Smallville, you and I are about as normal as it gets," Lex whispered.

"God help Smallville," Clark said glumly.

"Smallville doesn't need God's help. It has us."

Lex's smug arrogance made Clark laugh; he found himself relaxing against Lex's warm, firm body as that gentle hand stroked him. "So we're guardian angels, now?"

"With teeth." Lex raked his teeth across Clark's ear lobe for emphasis. Clark pinched his eyes shut tightly as he started to go hard again, and Lex licked the ear he had just bitten. "Tell me you still want everything, Jiminy."

"I...yes...just...." Clark barely recognized his own voice. "Just don't let me--"

"I will not let you hurt me."

"Don't let me hurt anybody, Lex."

"I won't." It was a whisper; Lex's touch was unspeakably gentle.

"Promise me."

"I promise."

Clark heard Lex fumbling with the lube one-handed and sighed, leaning his head back to rest against Lex's shoulder. Lex bent to whisper in Clark's ear. "Promise me something."

"Anything," Clark breathed as Lex's warm, slick finger slipped inside him. Nothing felt as good as this. Nothing had ever felt as good as this.

"If you don't like what I'm doing--"

"You have got to be kidding." Clark managed to stammer the words out, gasping as Lex's finger touched the place that turned his brains to goo.

"--you'll tell me. Promise me."

Lex sounded weird; this was probably another one of his things, like keeping Clark away from ugly stuff and forgetting to sort the laundry. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Fuck me." Lex's ragged laughter rewarded him. "I'm not kidding!"

"I know." Lex slipped another finger inside. He slowly drew his tongue across Clark's neck, and Clark, shivering, wondered where Lex had picked up this habit of licking things and how he could keep him doing it. "Relax." Lex drew his hand up Clark's dick so slowly that Clark wanted to scream. "Relax."

Clark took a deep breath and unclenched every muscle he was capable of unclenching, but before he could exhale, Lex moved. Clark exhaled sharply in surprise at the sensation of Lex slowly filling him. It was supposed to hurt, and burn, and it didn't; but then, he wasn't normal. It just felt...tight, and hot, and good, and Clark pinched his eyes shut as tightly as he could as the fire danced on the inside of his eyelids.

"Clark. Tell me you're all right." Lex's voice was thick, unsteady.

"God, yes." Clark didn't recognize his own voice. "So all right."

With a little sigh, Lex started to move, slowly. Too slowly. Too carefully. Clark wanted to really feel it; he wanted to be as human as an alien freak could be, and Lex was not cooperating. "Lex, fuck me," he managed to choke out, pounding the mattress with his fist.

Clark heard Lex draw a sharp, ragged little breath. "No front seat driving." Lex sounded breathless. "I debauch at my own pace."

"Fuck me right now! You can't hurt me. God, Lex, please, make me feel you, I want to feel you--" Before Clark had got the last word out he found himself on his belly with Lex on top of him, and Lex was pounding into him as if both their lives depended on it.

Clark felt him now; God, he felt him. That place Lex was touching inside him was turning his brain inside out with every thrust, and Clark heard himself yelling words he could barely understand. Lex seemed to understand them, though, and he kept doing what he was doing, which was all Clark cared about, until Lex leaned down to say in a husky, barely audible voice, "I want you to fuck me like this. I want you to make me feel you."

Clark did scream then, and muffled the scream in his pillow as he came, harder than he'd ever come. He came for a long time as Lex continued to fuck him, more gently now, rocking in and out of him easily, like they were two parts of the same person. It took a couple minutes before Clark could make his brain work again, and another minute before his brain made contact with his mouth. "Sorry," he panted. "Sorry, I couldn't last any--"

Lex kissed his shoulder. "It's a compliment," he rasped. He kept moving, his breath growing uneven and harsh, and Clark let lassitude and pleasure lull him into silence until Lex came, crying out Clark's name, and something incoherent about love.

Clark smiled into his pillow as Lex, breathing like he'd run a marathon, rested his forehead on Clark's back. "Are you all right?" Lex whispered finally.

Clark turned his head, resting his left cheek in the pillow, but kept his eyes firmly shut. Groping behind him, he found Lex's hand, and pulled it to his mouth to kiss it.

"Clark," Lex muttered. "Christ." He pressed his mouth to Clark's back in a soft kiss.

Clark felt him pulling away, slowly pulling out of him, and sighed at the separation.

"Did that hurt?" Lex asked sharply.

"No," Clark murmured. "I just didn't want it to be over."

"Neither do I," Lex said, his voice going uneven. "It isn't over. We have all night. We'll have a lot of nights, Clark."

All night with Lex. Clark smiled again and rolled over, keeping his eyes shut. "That was so good, Lex. I didn't think anything could feel that good."

Clark felt the jostle as Lex crawled up on all fours to straddle him, felt the moist heat of Lex's mouth on his, the touch of his tongue. "It didn't hurt?"

"Don't be retarded." Clark groped blindly up Lex's arm and shoulder to touch his face. "You'd never hurt me."

"Not if dying was an option." Lex's voice gave way; he rested his forehead on Clark's. He cleared his throat.

"It isn't," Clark breathed, shoving the thought away violently. "It isn't an option."

"I want to make you feel good. I'm highly motivated, Clark."

Clark grinned. "Me, too. Motivated."

Lex kissed him again.

Clark sighed his contentment. "I, uh, kind of made a mess of the sheets."

"No kidding. Move over." Clark squirmed toward the edge of the bed and felt Lex move to lie at his side. "How are your eyes? Let me see."

Clark cautiously opened one eye to stare into the darkened room through the weird orange filter. The sun had gone down. The dark room was lit only by the moonlight streaming through the French doors, and he hadn't even noticed the change. Nothing burst into flame, so he opened his other eye. "Are they still all weird?"

"They're beautiful." Lex was bending over him, smiling.

Clark swallowed. Lex thought this was beautiful. Lex was a retard. Tearing his gaze from that smile, his smile, Clark stared up at the ceiling. He blinked a few times, wondering if the fire had done something strange to his vision. "Lex?"

"Yes?"

"There are stars on your ceiling."

"Yeah."

"There are constellations on your ceiling."

"That's right." Lex lay on his back, staring up at the soft glow.

"There's Leo Minor, and Centaurus, and Canes Venatici--"

"Yes. All the constellations that were in the sky when you were born. Well. In Earth's sky, when you celebrate your birth."

"Lex." Clark scanned the high ceiling in amazement. "This must have taken you forever. What...why--?"

"Happy birthday," Lex said quietly.

"Oh," Clark breathed, his chest tightening. "Oh, wow." He tore his eyes from the ceiling to look at Lex, who looked back at him with an unreadable expression. Clark felt a stupidly wide grin cover his face, and knew he must look like a dork. "You're sure better at presents than you used to be, mastermind."

The tension in Lex's face disappeared; he exhaled as if he'd been holding his breath. His smile was back. "Tell me the rest, Jiminy."

"You already know them. You made them." Clark squirmed closer to rest his head on Lex's shoulder, and Lex draped his arm over Clark's shoulder, his hand resting on Clark's chest.

"I want to hear you say them."

Clark curled his fingers around Lex's hand. "Okay. There's Corvus, and Hydra, and Lynx...."

***

"It is no doubt the work of Mr. Luthor's business adversaries," Eli said in the matter-of-fact tone that was always effective with policemen. "There have been several similar incidents."

Sheriff Millar gave him a sharp look before turning back to watch the coroner and two deputies lower the mangled corpse to the bloody flagstone floor. "That's one hell of a business Mr. Luthor's in."

Eli glanced across the foyer, where Lionel was sitting, clutching a glass of scotch and staring at Atkins' body as if it were his own. "Powerful men frequently attract enemies, Sheriff. Obviously someone is attempting to intimidate Mr. Luthor."

"No kidding. And they're willing to shoot chunks out of a man to do it. How long did Mr. Atkins work for LuthorCorp?"

"Not long. No more than a year, I should think. You will have to consult with the new head of Luthorcorp security; he will have all the records."

Millar's eyebrows rose. "You're not working for Mr. Luthor anymore?"

"I am retired. I work part-time at the high school as a groundskeeper." Eli saw the question in the man's eyes. "I happened to be visiting the Kent family when Mr. Luthor arrived."

"This retirement. Was it voluntary?"

Ah. Seeking a motive. If the man only knew. Eli laughed softly. "Sheriff, if I were attempting to frighten Lionel Luthor, I assure you I have more effective means at my disposal than this." He waved contemptuously at the corpse. "Such a display is déclassé. I would not stoop to it."

Millar stared at him, his mouth hanging open slightly before he recovered his composure. "Uh...okay. You said Mr. Luthor has enemies. Who are they?"

"Everyone with whom Mr. Luthor has done business is his enemy," Eli returned wryly. "The list is long, Sheriff. Very long. If there has been a recent addition to that list, Mr. Luthor can no doubt enlighten you."

"There have been rumors lately that Mr. Luthor and his son have had several violent arguments."

"Mr. Luthor and his son have been having violent arguments since the boy first learned to speak."

"Do you think Lex Luthor is capable of something like this?"

Eli cursed inwardly. He wanted to implicate the creature. He wanted to see it arrested, imprisoned, convicted, and hung. And yet he could not. If Alexander were ever to regain his name, that name must not be that of a convicted – or even suspected – murderer. To protect Alexander, he must protect Lionel Luthor's abomination. His stomach roiled. "I have known Alexander since he was born," he said firmly. "He could not do this, and would not. His disagreements with his father are those typical of any strong-willed young man."

"I see. Well, let me see if Mr. Luthor is making any more sense. I'll probably need to talk to you again later. I take it you're living in town?"

So. Millar was suspicious, but lacked cause to detain him. "I have purchased the Wilson property."

Millar looked surprised. "Oh. I'd heard somebody had moved in there. That old place must need a lot of work."

Gossip flies quickly in a small town. Eli briefly longed for the anonymity of the city. "Yes, it is a challenge. But I enjoy working with my hands."

"Got a phone in yet?"

Eli gave him the number, his eyes fixed on the bloody mess that had been Randy Atkins. A clumsy, crude business, however satisfying. What did the creature hope to accomplish by this campaign of terror? Was it simple sadism, or was he trying to pressure Lionel into a concession of some sort? More power? Money? Assistance in some pet project? "I will take a stroll in the garden while you speak to Mr. Luthor, if that is all right. The smell is unpleasant."

"Yeah," Millar said absently, scribbling the phone number into his book. "Thank you, Mr. Cohen. Go ahead."

Eli nodded politely and turned toward the door, ignoring Lionel's commanding stare and its implied summons. They had agreed on what was to be said; it was now time for Lionel to give his performance. Eli had never stood in the wings whispering Lionel's lines, and he was not about to start now; it was high time the great Lionel Luthor changed his underwear and pulled himself together.

The sun had set, casting spectacular shades of red, orange and purple across the sky as Eli made his way along a path into one of the formal gardens several yards from the house. Eli relaxed – as much as he ever allowed himself to – breathing in the early spring air and the scents of stirring life. There were some advantages to country living, although not nearly enough of them to compensate for its privations.

Lionel Luthor knew far more than he had told Eli so far. That the creature had been investigating Clark Kent and his family was not a surprise. That he had been successful in amassing incriminating photographs and video was. The cricket, in his misguided efforts to save every living creature that strayed across his path, had been shockingly indiscreet. The extraterrestrial artifact that the creature prized so highly, although it could not be linked directly to Clark, was another source of concern. As was the creature's impressive collection of meteorites.

Eli grimaced as he recalled Lionel's rapidly shifting eyes as the subject of meteorites arose. He had much more to tell on that score, and he would do it, even if Eli had to employ methods of which Alexander might not approve. Any threat to the cricket was a threat to Alexander. Any threat to Alexander was unacceptable.

Strolling among the empty flower beds, he became gradually aware of a rustle behind the meticulously manicured boxwood. So. The hunter was being hunted. A casual glance confirmed his suspicions. "I am so fascinating, Miss Sullivan?"

The rustling stopped suddenly.

"Your stalking technique needs work," Eli continued, stooping to touch a lovely purple crocus in the fading dusk light. Spring was a beautiful season. Rebirth. Renewal. Hope. "Conducting surveillance is an art, and should not be attempted by amateurs. You offend my muse, Miss Sullivan."

Chloe appeared in the gap of the hedge, her face full of fear and defiance. "How do you know my name?"

Eli seated himself on a rock and regarded the child thoughtfully. "I know the name and face of every student and employee of Smallville High School."

Chloe frowned. "Why?"

"It is a hobby."

"What are you doing in Smallville? Do you work for Mr. Luthor?"

"These are very personal questions, Miss Sullivan. May I ask how I have merited such interest?"

"I'm...doing a profile of all the teachers and staff at school. For the paper."

"Indeed."

Chloe glared. "You don't believe me?"

"Is my belief required?"

"I just want a little background information, a little bio."

"And for this you creep in the bushes. Your methods are eccentric."

Chloe flushed and continued her inquisition. "Why are the police here?"

"A man has been murdered."

"What man?" Chloe was breathless. "Was it Lex?"

"No. It was a former employee of Luthorcorp. Do you always ask so many questions?"

"It's a reporter's job to ask questions. And to report the truth. To serve the interests of the public."

Eli chuckled at her nonsense. "Truth rarely serves public interest. When you are older, you will understand this."

"Look, I just want to know who you are."

"You already know who I am. I am Eli Cohen, a retired gentleman who has taken up residence in your charming town, where he will spend the remainder of his golden years in peace and quiet, barring the presence of inquisitive young ladies, and keeping the grounds of the local school."

"And since when do groundskeepers carry guns?" Chloe snapped, clearly at the end of her patience.

Startled, Eli scanned the girl again, this time catching sight of her shoes. Wisps of hay covered them. He grimaced. He was a fool. How else would she have known he was here? "You have been to the Kent house."

Chloe's eyes widened in alarm; she saw her mistake too late.

"I am disillusioned. It seems that your interest in me is due only to my recent proximity to Clark Kent."

"I...I don't know what you mean."

"Then let me put it this way. Neither the public's interest nor yours will be served by the revelation of anything you might have seen while trespassing on the Kents' property."

"Are you threatening me?" Chloe held her ground.

The child had spirit. "I have found it unwise to spy on my friends, Miss Sullivan. It detracts so much from the time required to spy on my enemies."

"Is that what you're doing in Smallville? Spying on your enemies?"

If the girl had an ounce of discretion she might actually be dangerous. Eli rose slowly from his perch on the rock. "It is time for you to go home. The authorities will be removing the body from the house soon, and a dead body is no thing for a young lady to see."

Chloe swallowed visibly. "I'm going to find out, you know. I'm going to find out what you and Clark and Lionel Luthor are up to."

"Miss Sullivan," Eli said coldly. "Pray you do not."

Chloe took a deep breath and bolted back through the gap in the hedge; Eli could hear her running full pelt away from the house. Eli turned and strode toward the drive, yanking his cell phone from his breast pocket. Perhaps spring was not quite so hopeful as he had previously believed.

***

Jonathan stared across the kitchen table at Pamela. "You want us to what?"

"Please," Pamela said quietly.

"But...don't you have family?" Martha laid a hand on her arm, her face drawn with concern. "There must be someone--"

"No. There's nobody." Pamela swallowed, and Jonathan saw a long story in her eyes. "I know it's a tremendous thing to ask. But I want... I'm determined that Alexander be my heir."

"And if you will it all to 'Lex Luthor'..." Jonathan sighed. Jesus. Just what Black Lagoon boy needed – more money, more power to make other's people's lives miserable.

"If I transfer the stock and my other assets into a trust fund for Clark, with both of you as executors, then neither of those monsters will be able to touch it."

"Lionel would be livid," Martha said, her voice grim. "And I don't want to think about the clone's reaction."

"There's nothing either of them can do. You would be de facto shareholders of a large block of LuthorCorp stock. You would have a voice, a say in corporate decisions. Your voice may influence others. Do you see where I'm going here?"

"Nobody listened to your voice," Jonathan said skeptically. "Lionel Luthor runs that company like an empire."

Pamela smiled faintly. "Look closer, Jonathan. The emperor has no clothes. You saw his face today. He's running scared. And I...didn't use my voice." She shrugged, her expression rueful. "I was afraid for Alexander. And myself."

"I don't blame you. I'm afraid for us. And for Clark. This could make him more of a target than ever." Jonathan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, scowling.

"On the contrary. If anything happened to Clark, you would inherit those assets. That is the last thing the clone wants. You would have far greater latitude to disperse and conceal them once they were free of the restrictions of the trust fund."

"And when Clark turns twenty-one?" Martha asked.

"He will be a very wealthy young man. Until he and Eli can find a way to transfer the assets to Alexander. God willing, he'll have his life back by then."

"You're very trusting." Martha stirred her coffee absently, her eyes searching Pamela's face. "What's to stop Clark from keeping the money once he inherits it?"

Pamela laughed. "Clark. You. Jonathan. I'm not trusting, Martha. But I have eyes, and I see what you are. Alexander doesn't trust easily, and with good reason, but he's put his life in your hands when he could be safe and living in luxury on another continent. That speaks worlds to me. And then, of course, there's the matter of Clark and Alexander."

Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "Clark and Alexander?"

Pamela shot him an amused look. "As I said, I have eyes. Clark will keep Alexander's inheritance safe for him."

"You think it will last." Martha was barely audible.

"I think it will last." Pamela's voice dropped to a whisper. She cleared her throat. "I think this is best for all of us."

Best for all of us? Jonathan's stomach clenched at the idea of being a stockholder, however temporarily, of LuthorCorp. Didn't he have enough on his conscience? Jesus H. Christ.

Pamela leaned forward with an earnest expression. "You may be able to help people, Jonathan. You may be able to undo some of the damage that's been done to Smallville, to your neighbors."

Jonathan flinched. Damn, she would have to say that. She would have to put it that way. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Martha met his eyes, and he saw his answer. He sighed. "All right," he said wearily. "Where do we sign?"

***

"She kneed him in the nuts?" Lex stared at Clark for a moment, then laughed so hard that he nearly slipped from Clark's embrace to topple to the floor four feet beneath them.

Clark tightened his grip with a little gasp, his head nearly touching the ten-foot ceiling as he bobbed suddenly upward. "Careful! I don't have this vertical thing down yet." He glanced at the ceiling nervously as he lowered them both a couple of inches.

Lex rested his forehead on Clark's shoulder, still laughing. "Kneed him in the nuts. Oh, God, Clark, tell me your mother had her camera. Tell me this cataclysmic event was preserved for posterity."

"Sorry. But I'm sure she'd be glad to do it again."

Lex lifted his head, breathless. Clark was giving him a mischievous smile that was unsullied Kent innocence and affection, and Lex willingly lost himself in it. There was no war with Lionel Luthor there, no clones, no plans, plots or lines, nothing but Clark Kent in candlelight, looking at Lex as if he were better than his mother's blueberry pie. Debauchery, like bullets, bounced off.

Lex took Clark's face in his hands and pulled him into a kiss, and Clark kissed him back with enthusiasm and surprising skill. God, he'd learned fast. Lex felt himself going hard again, and, wrapping his arms around Clark's neck, pulled himself up to wrap his legs around Clark's waist, pressing his dick against Clark's stomach. Clark gasped and broke the kiss, wide-eyed.

"Uh, Lex..."

"Yes?" Lex bent down to kiss him again.

"I don't think, uh, I can concentrate on floating if you do that."

"I think you need to develop your multitasking skills, Jiminy."

Clark swallowed as Lex pressed closer. "You don't...you don't really think we can do anything up here, do you?"

"My mind boggles at the things we could do up here."

Clark rolled his eyes. "We'll fall on our asses, mastermind."

"I have absolute faith in your ability to keep us off our asses."

"Well, I don't."

"Fine. Take us outside, then." Lex slid down as provocatively as possible to resume his former position.

Clark's jaw dropped. "Outside? What for?"

"I believe a man can fly. Show me." Lex kissed him again. He felt drunk.

Clark came out of the kiss looking absolutely scandalized, and Lex nearly started laughing again. "You want to fly around the countryside naked?"

"Think skinnydipping with altitude, Clark."

"It is not the same. And you know perfectly well I can't fly. I just...float."

"It's all mind over matter, Clark."

"And I'm not too good with heights."

"Neither am I."

"Then why do you want to fly?"

"So I can stop being afraid." Lex flinched at his own frankness; Clark's ability to blunt his talent for obfuscation never ceased to amaze him.

Clark was suddenly sober, studying Lex's face, then nodded and leaned his forehead against Lex's, closing his eyes. "Tell me everything will be all right, Lex," he whispered.

Lex drew in a breath. "It will be. We'll--"

"No. Tell me how tomorrow. Tonight, just tell me we're going to be okay."

"We're going to be okay." Lex nuzzled him gently. "We're going to be okay, Clark."

"Okay," Clark breathed. "Lex."

"Yes?"

"Show me what we can do." Clark yanked him back into a kiss, but before Lex could put his mind-boggling ideas in order, a shrill keening startled them apart. With a startled squawk, Clark teetered wildly to one side and plummeted to the carpet below with Lex on top of him. Lex laughed softly against Clark’s warm skin as Clark swore under his breath, glaring at the phone. For one second, Lex thought he saw the fire. Installing a fire extinguisher up here would probably be a prudent measure. "I don't believe it!"

"I'm going to kill him," Lex informed him matter-of-factly. "With knives. I have knives, Clark."

"God, Lex. Does he have some sort of sex radar or something?" Clark managed to untangle his limbs from Lex’s, kissing him several times in the process. Lex pulled away from the caresses with difficulty. He admitted it to himself: he was a junkie, hopelessly addicted to this beautiful boy. God, he hoped he never went sober.

"Probably. Eli Cohen's dark arts are without number." Lex stalked across the room to snatch up the phone. He should have turned the damn thing off. He should have known he wouldn't be granted so much as one night's furlough from the fucking war. Lex pressed the call button. "This had better be good, Eli."

Lex blinked. This was new. "No problem. Clark was just showing me his stamp collection." Eli's snort communicated his opinion of the assertion. Clark grimaced as he wriggled into his boxers and pulled one of Lex's t-shirts over his head. "Tell me."

"Of course they are. They're never deactivated. What's happened?"

It took Lex a moment to realize that "your house" meant the mansion, not the farmhouse. He closed his eyes, trying to clear his head.

"Damn," Clark whispered.

Lex opened his eyes to see him sinking to the bed and sat down beside him, numb. "I see."

"Yes. That's Chloe."

Lex shook himself. "She'll come here, the alarms and lights will go off, and she'll run away. End of problem."

Lex smiled faintly. "Uncle?"

"I know."

"No," Lex said flatly.

"I'm not leaving Pamela here to die alone, and I'm not leaving the Kents alone to deal with my father and Karloff."

"No," Lex repeated, feeling Clark taking his hand.

"Lex." Clark's voice was uneven. "Do what you have to to be safe. We'll be all right."

Clark shot a dirty look at the phone.

"They drove me out of my home once, Eli. They're not doing it a second time." Lex's gaze locked on the vaulted ceiling of his room, on the stars glowing there. He felt Clark's warm hand tighten around his. Home. Yes. He understood now.

Eli was silent for a moment. "I see." His voice hardened. "In that case, certain measures may be required."

"Absolutely not," Lex snapped. "She's a kid, Eli." Clark's hand was going cold.

"You're making a hell of a lot of assumptions. She has no idea I exist. She has no way to discover my existence unless you turn off the security systems and invite her in for milk and cookies. And you may very well have frightened her enough that she'll drop the matter completely. I know what a scary son of a bitch you are, Eli."

"What can she tell them? That she saw Lionel Luthor run off the Kent place on the business end of Jonathan's shotgun? It's colorful, but not particularly enlightening."

"If anything happens to Chloe Sullivan there will be a lot of questions," Clark burst out, as if he could no longer contain himself.

Clark's expression twisted in horror, and Lex's throat tightened at the sight. "Eli. You're overreacting. You can't eliminate every possible security breach. We're going to have to learn to live with them. Do you understand? We blew total security long ago. Unless you've implemented 'measures' against Toby."

Eli snorted. "With such a worm, measures are unnecessary. The scoundrel knows what will happen to him should he breathe so much as a word. I have shown him pictures."

Lex briefly wondered if Eli actually had pictures of his handiwork, or if he were speaking metaphorically. "Measures are unnecessary in Chloe's case as well. She doesn't know anything, Eli. And everyone in Smallville knows better than to ask too many questions about Lionel Luthor. Let her talk. No one will listen."

Eli fell silent. "Perhaps. But I have already called Max to Smallville, Alexander. He will keep an eye on the girl."

Clark let loose with a shaky sigh. "You won't hurt Chloe?"

"Don't tell me," Clark snarled. "I don't want to know."

"As you wish." Eli's voice was quiet.

"Call the Kents and tell them everything that's happened, Eli," Lex cut in. "They need to know."

"Good night, Eli." Lex broke the connection and tossed away the phone, suddenly exhausted.

"He wouldn't...he wouldn't really--"

"He would. If he had to." Lex turned to Clark and caught his breath at that white face and shell-shocked expression. "Clark." Lex draped an arm around him. "It won't happen. He'll realize he overreacted in a minute, if he hasn't already. Come here." Lex drew him up to the head of the bed and pulled Clark up against his chest, between his legs, and pulled the covers over them. He felt Clark try to laugh and fail. "Breathe."

Clark drew in a shaky breath, letting his head fall to Lex's shoulder. "I won't let him hurt Chloe, Lex."

"Neither will I. Neither will he, once he calms down." Lex stroked Clark's hair. "This is all about Eli's freakish control issues when it comes to my safety, Clark. Once he--"

"No, it isn't." Clark's voice was very quiet. "It's about Joseph and his daughter."

Lex glanced down at him, startled. "Who?"

"His friend Joseph. Joseph died and his daughter was kidnapped because Joseph wouldn't let Eli kill the kidnapper when he had the chance."

Lex sat in silence, stunned.

"Joseph was your grandfather's name, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Lex said hollowly.

"Eli thinks it was his fault. He left you with your father because your mother asked him to, and your father hurt you. He thinks that's his fault. You were shot at the hospital, and he thinks that's his fault, too."

"They never told me," Lex whispered, unable to get past the thought of his mother, threatened, abducted, imprisoned. It was inconceivable. Pamela's remark about his mother marrying Lionel Luthor because he was powerful enough to protect her, which he had dismissed as preposterous, suddenly made sense. Everything made sense.

"He's on some kind of mission, Lex. He's not thinking straight. He might do something crazy."

Lex heard himself laughing weirdly. "She was...paranoid."

"What?" Clark looked up at him, clearly startled.

"Paranoid. My mother. She thought...she imagined--"

"Lex."

"--that I was a target for abduction and would be safe living in my father's house. She wouldn't let Eli hide me from him, even when she knew what my father was, all because--"

"She loved you. She was afraid for you."

"She was delusional." Lex heard the words coming out of his mouth and fairly expected Hell to open up to swallow him. Maybe it had.

Clark sat up, his face drawn in alarm. "Don't say that. She was afraid. She had a good reason to be afraid."

"She left me with my father," Lex snarled. "Because there were bogeymen in her closet."

Clark wrapped his arms around Lex. "She loved you," he whispered almost fiercely in Lex's ear. "She believed in you. Whatever her reasons were, they don't change that."

Lex had no answer that wasn't obscene.

"She couldn't possibly have known--"

"She knew. She knew that no one would be able to harm or abduct the son of the great Lionel Luthor, except, of course, the great Lionel Luthor himself."

"She thought Pamela and Eli would be there to protect you."

"There are some things that they couldn't have protected me from even if they'd been there." Lex tried to steady his breathing. It was absurd to dwell on this. It had no bearing on the situation at hand. It was irrelevant. He blinked to clear his vision, realizing that his face was wet.

"I know," Clark breathed, and Lex wondered for the hundredth time if he really did. "He'll never hurt you again, Lex. I will never let him touch you again."

Lex pulled back sharply to examine Clark's expression, and flinched. He knew. God only knew how. So much for keeping ugly away from Clark. "It only happened once," he heard himself saying.

"Once is too much." Clark's eyes were dark and his voice was shaking.

"He was drunk. He was drunk a lot right after Mom died."

"I don't care how drunk he was."

"I don't think he remembers."

"I don't care. I only care about you." Clark's arms tightened around him, and Lex let himself lean on him, resting his forehead on Clark's shoulder.

Pulling himself together would be the appropriate course of action right now. "I'll speak to Eli. His little campaign of personal redemption can end right now."

"Lex."

"Nothing will happen to Chloe, Clark. If I have to bodyguard her myself, I will."

"Lex, hush." Clark kissed his temple. "Hush. We'll talk to Eli. We'll protect Chloe."

We. Yes. "Yes," Lex murmured. Jesus. Happy birthday, Clark. Welcome to the dirty little secrets of the Luthor family. "I'm--"

"If you're thinking about saying you're sorry, shut up."

Lex laughed raggedly, his morbid fantasies of Clark recoiling from him in unholy horror evaporating under his friend's caresses.

"She loved you. More than anything. That's real. Don't let your father take that away from you."

Clark was a spellbinder when he was passionate. Lex nodded wordlessly.

"I love you more than anything, too." Clark curled around him, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Lex actually smiled. "Yeah. I noticed."

***

"And then I told him I was going to find out what they were up to, and he gives me this look like he's going to cook me on a stick, and he says, 'Pray you do not,' in this stone cold voice, and I swear to God he sounded just like Bela Lugosi." Chloe bit into her third chocolate chip cookie, scattering crumbs over Judge Ross' clean kitchen table.

Pete kept his head in his hands, listening to the drone of his mother's television on the kitchen counter with one ear and Chloe with the other. He really had to remember to let his mom know when he was pissed at someone, so she wouldn't let them in the house. Especially this someone. "Chloe, have you even noticed that I'm not talking to you?"

"Have you heard anything I've said?"

"Every damn word. A guy who used to work for LuthorCorp got whacked, somebody's living in the Wilson house, and Mr. Cohen is Bela Lugosi."

"He sounds like Bela Lugosi. He has an accent, and a gun."

"Okay, news flash, Chloe? It's not illegal to have either."

"He threatened me!"

"I don't blame him. I'd threaten you, too, if I thought it would work."

"Pete, don't you get it? This explains everything."

"Aw, God." Pete lowered his head to the table.

"Mr. Cohen is a criminal."

"Because he has an accent and a gun?"

"Because he threatened me! And Mr. Luthor. This is some kind of war between them, and somehow the Kents got in the middle. Don't you see? If he threatened me, maybe he's threatening the Kents, too. Maybe that's why Clark went all weird. He didn't want to get us involved. Maybe they're in trouble, Pete."

Pete lifted his head sharply. "In trouble?"

Chloe leaned forward with an earnest expression. "It would explain everything."

"How the hell would the Kents get in the middle of one of Lionel Luthor's wars?"

"I don't know. Maybe...maybe Cohen found out that Clark and Lex were friends, so he's using the Kents as hostages to pressure Mr. Luthor into something."

Pete rolled his eyes. "You should write for TV, Chloe." He turned away from her to glance at the television. Jesus. You couldn't get away from Luthors for any money – there was Asshole Junior grinning at him, his arm around the mayor of Metopolis' shoulders.

Chloe glared at him. "So I don't have all the facts yet! At least I'm trying. A few hours ago you were telling me about all the things the Kents have done for your family. If you really feel that way--"

Pete cut her off with a sigh. "So what are we supposed to do? Call in the marines?"

"Pete," Chloe said archly, "We are the marines."

"Oh, my God," Pete said in disgust. "Tell me this isn't some Scooby thing. Tell me we're not going to do something stupid."

"If we're going to help the Kents, we need to find out what Cohen is after."

"Why don't we just ask the Kents?"

"Hello! Hostages! Cohen probably has one of his goons at the Kent place. They won't be able to tell us anything."

"Cohen has goons now? Chloe, you're out of control here."

"Hey, you weren't the one Lugosi wanted to cook on a stick, okay? He's got these cold, beady little eyes--"

"It's not illegal to have beady little eyes either."

Chloe drew a deep breath. "We're going to check out the Wilson place."

Pete surveyed her with narrowed eyes. "Check out? What exactly does 'check out' mean?"

Chloe shifted in her chair. "You know. Have a look around. Maybe see if there's a window open or a door unlocked."

Pete exploded. "I knew it. I knew it! It's some dumbass Scooby thing--"

"That house has all our answers."

"That house is private property and we're going to get fucking arrested," Pete retorted, folding his arms across his chest.

"Clark's life could be in danger, and you're wussing over a misdemeanor?"

"We don't know that Clark's life is in danger. We don't know jack shit, okay?"

"Exactly. And that's why we're going to the Wilson place."

"I'm not going anywhere." Pete glared at her. "And unless you're tripping, neither will you."

Chloe stood up, jaw set, and Pete's heart sank. "Then I'll go alone. Tell your mom thanks for the cookies." She stalked across the kitchen and yanked open the back door, disappearing into the night.

Pete managed to stay where he was for exactly five seconds. Then he swore softly and bolted after her, snagging his jacket from its hook by the door. God, he was so screwed.

***

"You are very drunk, Mr. Luthor."

Lionel turned from the bar, his fifth whiskey in his hand. "I've never been drunk in my life. Luthors hold their liquor, Eli."

His speech was not slurred, or his steps unsteady, but Eli could see the unhealthy glitter of his eyes. "I should be keeping my wits about me if I were you," Eli said coolly, settling himself in a comfortable chair. The war room. How appropriate. "A hunted man cannot afford a lapse of attention."

Lionel sat down on the sofa across from Eli, moving with his usual grace. "The hunted frequently becomes the hunter."

"I think not this time. I think this thing you have made is better at your game than you are."

Lionel smiled, but it was unconvincing. "He has proven to be resourceful. I would expect nothing else, given his genetic advantage."

Eli leaned back in his chair. "He has attempted poison. He has attempted sabotage of your vehicles. He has attempted the corruption of your servants. He has attempted professional assassination by firearms. And yet he has failed every time."

Lionel's smile became strained. "I'm not without resources of my own."

Eli laughed at him. "Do not flatter yourself. He intended to fail. What does he want, Mr. Luthor?"

Lionel avoided his gaze. "The impossible."

"Specify the impossibility, if you would be so kind."

"He wants me to fix him." Lionel laughed harshly. "He wants his defective memory repaired, for God's sake. As if he were a broken watch."

"Can it be done?"

"I imagine, with the records of the original research, and an extraordinary expenditure of effort, time, and valuable corporate resources, that the genetic defect could be treated."

"You are right to refuse. Certainly your life is not worth such an expenditure."

Lionel flushed. "He's supposed to be dead. He probably will be in a matter of months."

Eli's eyes narrowed. "The memory problems and this preordained demise are connected?"

Lionel shifted uncomfortably. "Possibly."

"What else?"

"What?"

"What else does he want?"

"What makes you think--"

"Do not insult me. I have known you too long."

Lionel took long sip of his whiskey. "He wants control of the corporate supply of meteorite ore."

Good God. "The what?"

Lionel waved his hand dismissively. "We've conducted many experiments with that ore over the years. Most have been miserable failures. Some have promise."

"Why would he want this?"

Lionel shrugged. "I have no idea."

Eli contained himself with an effort. "You are lying, Mr. Luthor. You are trying my patience, and this is not in your best interest."

"And what exactly am I receiving in return for this information?"

"Your miserable life," Eli snarled.

Lionel clutched the arm of the sofa with his free hand. "I want to see my son."

"Over my dead body you will see your son."

"You want my help to destroy the replicate? That's the deal. I want to see my son."

"You have told me nothing that is of any use. It is plain to me that it is you who needs our help. You have nothing to offer."

Lionel licked his lips and took another sip of whiskey. "He thinks the ore counteracts his deterioration."

"Does it?" Eli asked sharply.

"I don't know."

Eli drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, fixing his eyes on Lionel's face.

"I don't know! It's...possible. The ore was used during the cloning process."

"What else does he want?"

Lionel's laughter had a vicious edge. "You know what else he wants. He wants the Kent boy. He seems to be under the impression that the ore has a, shall we say, pacifying effect on the object of his desires. I can't imagine how he came to be under that impression, can you?"

"Your creature is insane, and his impressions do not concern me."

"Oh, I think they do. Clark Kent's future may well depend on the replicate's impressions. If he should show his evidence to the appropriate authorities--"

"Then he would lose the boy forever," Eli cut in with a calmness he did not feel. "I am not a fool, Mr. Luthor, and neither is he."

"There are certain members of the international scientific, business and intelligence communities who would welcome an opportunity to examine a fascinating specimen like Clark Kent. His particular mutations would be useful in any number of fields, and I'm certain the replicate could retain custody while Clark was trained and put to use."

The man was Satan. Eli said nothing, watching Lionel's face.

"I seem to recall a reporter named Roger Nixon who came to me with stories about the Kent boy. He couldn't provide any evidence, and I thought he was a simple crank; it seems I misjudged the man." Lionel studied his glass intently. "Nixon was last seen heading out of town in the direction of the Kent farm. He hasn't been seen since. Interesting, don't you think?"

"Fascinating. I am spellbound."

"Bodies have a nasty way of turning up at inopportune moments, Eli."

"I will bear this in mind when you have not been seen. It will be something to look forward to."

Lionel grinned, like a wolf showing its teeth. "All business considerations aside, I understand Clark's appeal. A very attractive young man. I'm sure he could be trained to please, given the correct proportions of incentive and discipline. I wouldn't mind taking on that task myself, given the opportunity."

The hair on the back of Eli's neck rose. This man had had sole custody of Alexander. Alexander. A very attractive young man. "I will kill you one day," Eli said.

"I want to see my son." Lionel met his gaze without flinching. "Contact him. Tell him what's in store for his friend if you don't accept my help."

Eli managed not to snap the man's neck. "And what help is this?"

"To start? I can get Lex into the penthouse. I can help him destroy the evidence against Clark, and dispose of the replicate's little meteorite collection. We can save his friend together. Consider it a demonstration of good faith."

"I consider it extortion," Eli said flatly.

"To which Lex would not be susceptible if he hadn't formed attachments to the peasantry. I've always warned him not to allow his emotions to rule him. A man without love gives no hostages to fortune."

"A man without love is not a man." Eli rose. "I will deliver your message. You will have an answer tomorrow, unless, of course, your creature decides to hang you from your foyer rafters before then."

Lionel's smile faded. He drained his whiskey glass as Eli turned on his heel and left, murder coursing through every muscle.

***

"Martha. He's fine."

Martha started and turned from the window, from the moonlit view of their lane. It seemed desolate. Lonely. "What?"

Jonathan put his arms around her, smiling. "Clark is fine."

"I know that. It's just.... It's the first time he's been out all night." Martha cleared her throat.

Jonathan pulled her close, and Martha rested her head on his chest. "He's with Lex. He's safe."

Martha smiled, blinking. "It's good to see you two getting along."

"Who's getting along?" Jonathan demanded gruffly. "Lex Luthor is a pain in my backside."

Martha managed not to laugh. "Of course he is."

"He's an arrogant, condescending brat, and damned if I know what Clark sees in him."

"Sell it to someone who's buying, mister." Martha gave up, and laughed softly into Jonathan's flannel shirt.

Jonathan snorted and said nothing, one hand caressing her back soothingly.

Martha sobered. "I can't help but wonder how they're going to react to Pamela's proposal."

"Clark will do it. That boy would turn himself inside out for Lex if he could."

"Our son, the millionaire."

Jonathan barked a short laugh, but it was strained. "Temporary millionaire."

"People will treat him differently, Jonathan."

"Yeah, they'll suck up."

"I don't want this to change him."

"It won't. We won't let it."

"He'll be leaving for college in a year." Martha swallowed to keep her voice steady. "We won't be there."

"If the scholarship for Metropolis U comes through, he'll only be three hours away. Less, if he's coming to us. There'll be plenty of opportunities to kick his butt if he starts acting like a Luthor."

Metropolis was not that far away. Martha had been telling herself that for months. It wasn't as if her son was moving to the North Pole. Why did she feel like part of her life was disappearing forever? She drew a shaky breath.

"Martha." Jonathan bent to murmur in her ear. "It doesn't matter how grown up he thinks he is. He'll always be our son. Always."

"I hope so," Martha whispered, searching for belief. She actually jumped when the phone rang. Laughing at herself, she pulled away from Jonathan reluctantly and crossed the room to pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

Martha blinked in surprise. Two calls in one night. "Mr. Cohen?"

Martha felt herself clutching the phone and forced her fingers to relax. "Why? What's happened?"

Martha closed her eyes. "What does he want?" She felt Jonathan's arms going around her as he lay his head next to the phone, listening.

"But we don't believe that," Martha whispered.

"That's not a solution," Jonathan snapped. "That's Lionel Luthor winning."

Something in Eli's voice sent a chill across Martha's shoulder blades. "Mr. Cohen. We all need a few hours to think about this. Don't do anything rash."

"It's in all of our natures, if we're frightened enough. Count to ten, Mr. Cohen."

Eli hung up before Martha could answer. She replaced the receiver carefully in its hook and began to count.

***

"You have whipped cream on your nose." Lex grinned at Clark across the kitchen table. Midnight snacks would never be the same, now that he had experienced one with Clark. There was something exquisitely decadent about sitting in the kitchen in your underwear, watching Clark Kent eat blueberry pie.

Clark glared and put down his hot chocolate to pick up a napkin, but Lex stood up, leaned across the little table and licked the cream from Clark's nose. Clark flushed a brilliant scarlet as Lex sat down again. "You've really got a thing about licking, don't you?"

"I have thing about licking you," Lex said in a sultry voice.

Clark went even redder. "Stop it with the voice."

"What voice is that?" Lex dropped his voice half an octave.

"That one! You're getting me started again."

"Maybe I want to get you started."

Lex nearly laughed aloud at the shocked expression on Clark's face. "We're in the kitchen."

"This observation shatters my world, Clark."

"We are not doing anything in the kitchen, Lex." Clark was firm. "Jesus."

"Variety is the spice of life."

"I get plenty of spice upstairs." Clark bit into his blueberry pie, eyeing Lex with a decidedly lascivious look despite his protests.

Lex snorted dismissively. "You need to broaden your outlook. Sex isn't just for the bedroom anymore."

"Well, it is for me."

"You are a hidebound traditionalist."

"No, I'm just a guy who doesn't want to do it on the kitchen table. It's unsanitary."

Lex lost it, then, laughing so hard he had to bend over.

"Well, it is!"

Speechless with laughter, Lex rose again, leaned across the table, and kissed him, blueberry pie and all. It was no doubt the sloppiest kiss he'd ever had, but he couldn't care less, because Clark was on his feet, holding Lex's face in his hands, kissing him back. Clark leaned back, swallowing his pie and grinning. "You have blueberry on your mouth."

Lex chuckled and reached for a napkin, but Clark leaned in again to lick Lex's lips. Very slowly. Lex closed his eyes and clutched the table. God, the boy learned fast. "Clark."

"Hmmm?"

"Spice, Clark."

"Hold your horses. I'm not done being sanitary."

Lex drew breath to answer, but was cut off by the shrill sound of the security alarm. The floodlights outside snapped on as Lex bolted across the room to turn off the kitchen lights. Turning, he caught sight of a gray blur streaking from window to window until it reached the living room, where it solidified into Clark. Lex let out the breath he'd been holding. No matter how many times he saw that, it still fascinated him. Everything about Clark fascinated him.

"Oh, my God." Clark clutched the windowsill.

Lex was at his side in a moment. Peering through the window at the brightly lit lawn, he caught sight of three figures at the edge of the woods that circled the house. Pete and Chloe, on their knees. And Eli. Eli's gun flashed in the harsh light. "Clark, go!"

Clark streaked away, and Lex ran after him, his mind racing. Eli had snapped. Jesus Christ, Eli had finally snapped. Why the hell hadn't he let them run away? It would have been over; those two would never have set foot here again.

Lex barreled through the screen door and pelted across the lawn as two gunshots ripped the cold night air; but Clark solidified in the same instant, crouching in front of his friends with his arms around them, shielding them. Lex saw Clark shudder as the bullets struck his back, and winced in empathy as he skittered to a stop on the wet grass, planting himself between Eli and Clark. "Have you lost your mind?"

Eli's eyes widened; his face was sickly white in the bright light. "I? Get back in the house at once!"

"Clark?" Chloe's voice was shaking. "What just happened?"

"Shhh." Clark didn't move. "Stay still."

Lex grimaced. So much for Clark's secret. Hell, so much for his own. "Put the gun away now."

"It must be done."

"Then you'll have to shoot me to do it."

Eli's face twisted. "They know. They will tell others. I will not see you taken, tortured--"

"Is that what happened to my mother?"

Eli closed his eyes.

Lex took a deep breath. "You're not doing this thing, Eli. If my mother were here, she'd say the same thing."

"God help me," Eli whispered. His gun arm dropped to his side, and he turned away to lean against a tree as if he could not stand on his own. "God help us all."

Lex watched him, his heart pounding in his ears. "Clark, take Pete and Chloe up to the house. It's cold out here."

Eli swung about, amazement on his face. "You are a madman! The house! Have they not seen enough?"

"They've seen too damn much," Lex said grimly. "And they're going to see more."

"You're in Metropolis." Lex glanced over his shoulder at Pete as he rose to his feet, staring at Lex. "I saw you on TV. I saw you at the Mayor's fundraiser, it was live."

"Clark will explain."

Clark turned to Lex with an apprehensive expression. "I will?"

"We've been down this road before. Remember?" Lex caught Clark's gaze and held it.

Clark swallowed. "If you're sure."

"Don't be absurd," Lex snapped. "I'm not sure of anything. Take them up to the house and get them something hot to drink. And explain." He had begun to question the wisdom of running out into a cold spring night in nothing but boxer briefs. He folded his arms across his chest. "Eli and I need to have a few words."

"Come on," Clark said gently, helping Chloe to her feet. "It'll be okay." The girl looked shell-shocked as Clark shepherded her and Pete toward the house.

Lex watched them for a moment, then turned to Eli. "I take it you realize that you very nearly murdered two children."

Eli regarded him with a grim expression. "In the old days, I killed soldiers younger than these."

"These aren't the old days," Lex said sharply. "And they aren't soldiers. They're a couple of curious kids who are worried about their friend." He noted with annoyance that his teeth had begun to chatter.

Eli gave him a sharp look. He shoved his gun into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pulled off his coat. He wrapped it around Lex. "You are a lunatic," he said gently.

"They're not soldiers," Lex persisted, burying himself in the coat. "None of us are soldiers, Eli. This unilateral gun slinging is going to stop."

"I swore to your mother--"

"Who was paranoid and delusional."

Eli's eyes widened. "Who told you this lie?"

"No one told me. She left me with my father because she imagined--"

"She imagined nothing. The threat was real."

"She left me..." Lex's threat closed.

"She did not leave of her own free will. I caused your suffering, Sasha. The shame is mine."

Lex swore softly, shifting from foot to foot. "More goddamn black shame? You're letting it run away with you, Eli. It's affecting your judgment. You can't protect me from every threat, and you sure as hell can't do it by killing kids."

"The sin is also mine." Eli was barely audible; he was staring at the ground.

"Not when you do it in my name. Not when you do it in my mother's name."

"Sasha--"

"Then the blood is on my hands. And on my mother's."

Eli flinched. "You would have me stand by and watch you come to harm?"

"I would have you find a new way to protect me. If I'm going to remain sane, I have to draw a line somewhere, Eli. I've drawn it at killing."

"I did not hear you object when I eliminated the dog Nixon."

Lex shot him an exasperated look. "In consideration of the fact that he shot me and nearly killed Clark in an effort to deliver him to my father, I found it not to be in my best interest to object."

"Ah, the cricket. You would not kill to protect him?"

Lex went very still. Clark. He swallowed.

"You see?" Eli whispered. "It is not so easy."

Lex exhaled. "Chloe Sullivan might come at Clark with a meteorite some day. But I can't kill her on the off-chance that she might, Eli. She's an innocent. She's...like Clark. You can't possibly believe that she deserves to die."

Eli was silent for a long time. "I am not a champion of justice."

"Learn."

Eli met his gaze, and for once he looked his age. "I am afraid, Sasha."

Lex managed not to let his jaw drop. He struggled for a coherent response. "I didn't think you were afraid of anything."

Eli smiled grimly. "I was not, once. I am wiser now. I cannot fail you again."

Lex sighed and glanced up at the stars. "You haven't failed me, Eli."

"No, of course not. Leaving you to the tender mercies of Lionel Luthor was a stunning success. My brilliance amazes even myself."

"That was my mother's decision."

"And her last wishes were sacred to me. But she was...wrong."

Lex felt his world tilt. "You think my mother was wrong?"

Eli fell silent again.

"Eli?"

"Your grandfather was my comrade in arms," Eli said quietly. "He was my friend. He was as a brother to me. I failed this man, Sasha, and he bled to death in my arms."

Lex stared at him wordlessly.

"Your mother was abducted. She was abused. Violated. She was never again the Lillian Edouard I had known. I failed her, too."

Lex closed his eyes, shoving away the image of his mother in violent hands. "There's more to this than you're telling me. You didn't just stand back and let this happen."

"I did not. But it was not enough. They came to harm."

"You're not God, Eli."

"I entertain no such delusion."

"I know you. I know you did everything in your power to protect them."

"I failed. And your mother lived in fear for the rest of her life. Decisions made in fear are never wise, Alexander."

Lex opened his eyes. "My mother wasn't God, either," he said in a strained voice.

Eli smiled and rested his hands on Lex's shoulders. "No. Not God."

"The mind boggles."

"Just a mother who loved her son."

Lex nodded, unable to speak.

"Sasha. You cannot stay here."

Lex heard himself breathing too hard. "We've been through this."

"I have spoken with your father tonight."

Lex grimaced, calling inconvenient emotions to heel. "My condolences. I suppose that would explain your homicidal episode."

"He demands to see you. He implied that Clark's abilities will be revealed to those who would exploit him if you do not agree."

Lex laughed harshly. "Eli. You must have been expecting this. It was inevitable."

"He offers to help you access the penthouse and destroy the creature's evidence as a mark of good faith."

"I see. Both carrot and stick. My father hasn't lost his touch."

"It is a trick, Sasha. A trap."

"Of course it is. And your advice?"

"Be on the next plane to Paris. I will tell Monsieur de Rothschild to expect you."

Lex jerked out of Eli's grasp, furious. "And let my father sell Clark into slavery. That's not an option, Eli. It will never be an option."

"Sasha. Both of you. Both of you must go."

Lex fell silent for a moment, then lifted his head and squared his shoulders. "I need coffee."

Eli looked exasperated. "Alexander, for the love of everything holy--"

"I need to think, and I can't do that without a clear head. Are you coming?" Lex turned toward the house, toward Clark, and Eli followed him, muttering under his breath.

***

"He said, 'Forgive me,' and then he started shooting." Chloe's hands were shaking so hard that her hot chocolate splashed from her mug onto the table. "That guy is a psycho, Clark. What the hell are you doing hanging out with him?"

Clark flushed slightly. "He's not a psycho. I mean, not usually. He was trying to protect us."

Pete snorted, glancing through the door to the living room and its view of the lawn. Asshole Junior and Lugosi were still going at it. He'd love to hear that conversation. It would probably shed more light on this crazy stuff than Clark ever would. Pete circled the table to run a hand across Clark's back. Clark stiffened as Pete's fingers touched the bullet holes in his t-shirt and the bruises beneath them. "Looks to me like you don't need much protection."

"Those bullets bounced off you," Chloe whispered. "Didn't they?"

Clark nodded silently.

Chloe took a shaky breath. "The meteorite radiation?"

"Something like that," Clark said quietly.

"For God's sake, why didn't you tell us?"

Clark sighed. "I was afraid." He lifted his head to look at Chloe. "I was afraid I would wind up on your Wall of Weird."

Chloe flushed a brilliant scarlet. "I would never--"

"Nice faith in your friends, Clark." Pete managed not to punch him. He swung around the table to sit down beside Chloe.

Clark nodded, swallowing. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You should be," Pete snapped. "Dumbass."

Clark glanced at him, clearly confused. "You don't look surprised."

"Pissed, Clark. I look pissed." The guy was a clueless jerk. "I've known you since you were four. You think in all that time I never saw you do things that nobody else could do?"

Clark's jaw dropped. "And you...never told anybody?"

"No, genius, I never told anybody. I figured somebody might take you away if I did."

Chloe turned to him in obvious astonishment. "You knew?"

Clark closed his eyes. "Jesus. Pete. Thank you."

Pete sighed and relented. "You are such a jerk."

"You should have told us," Chloe said. "We could have helped."

"We could have got your back." Pete leaned forward, his arms resting on the table. "I don't know what the hell you were thinking, you asshole. Did you think we'd sell you out?"

"I wasn't thinking," Clark said in a low voice. "Dad always said nobody can know. That something terrible might happen if they did."

Pete sighed. Brainwashed by the 'rents. He should have known. "You didn't have any trouble telling A.J."

Clark gave him a blank look, and Pete jerked his thumb in the direction of the living room windows. "Oh. He found out by accident. I probably would never have told him, either, if he hadn't taken a bullet for me that he didn't need to."

Lex Luthor taking a bullet for Clark. Pete tried to wrap his mind around the concept.

"I didn't want you guys to look at me like I was a freak." Clark's voice was unsteady.

"I've always looked at you like you're a freak," Pete snapped in exasperation. "You are a freak. You'd be a freak even if bullets didn't bounce off you. News flash, Clark. You're fucking weird."

Chloe smacked Pete's shoulder, glaring.

But Clark was laughing. "Uh, yeah. Thanks, Pete."

"Okay." Chloe put down her mug and folded her hands; they were still shaking. "We're going to go over this again later, Clark. Over and over. Until you suffer enough."

Clark sighed.

"What I want to know now is how Lex can be in two places at the same time."

Clark sobered abruptly. "Um...that part is kind of hard to believe."

"Oh, that part is hard to believe. Do you hear that, Pete? That part."

Pete snorted. "I hear. Make it good, Clark."

Clark took a deep breath. "The guy in Metropolis isn't Lex."

Pete crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. "He sure looks like Lex to me."

"I know. I..." Clark swallowed. "He's a clone."

Chloe's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Pete briefly wondered if Clark had taken too many hits to the head. "A clone."

"Yes."

"Lex cloned himself?" Chloe burst out, eyes wide.

Clark looked horrified. "No! God, no. His father did it to him. He was going to replace him."

"Replace him," Pete echoed, profoundly regretting getting out of bed that morning.

"His father had Lex locked up in basement of the mansion for almost a month. Eli paid one of the security guards to get him out, but the guy dumped Lex out in the middle of nowhere. By the time I found him, he was in really bad shape." Clark swallowed again. "Everybody was looking for him. His father. The clone. Nixon."

"The vans," Chloe said triumphantly, elbowing Pete. "I told you they had something to do with it."

Pete stared at Clark with a sinking feeling. "Nixon? Roger Nixon? The reporter?"

"Yeah."

"Son of a bitch. He was talking to a bunch of us outside school, just before the Thanksgiving break. Asked if we'd ever noticed anything weird about the meteorites, if exposure affected us in any way."

"He was onto the mutation thing," Chloe said softly.

Clark frowned. "Did anyone tell him anything?"

Pete grimaced. "Well, Whitney made some joke about you."

"A joke?" Clark was going pale.

"He said one look at a meteorite and you started to puke." Pete stared at Clark's anguished expression. "What? He wasn't right, was he?"

"Don't tell Lex. Don't mention it at all." Clark was white to the gills.

"Why the hell not?"

"Lex will kill him. He's said over and over that if he ever found out who told Nixon--"

"Clark. Calm down." Chloe reached across to lay a hand on Clark's arm. "Are you saying that the meteorites make you sick?"

"Yeah." Clark took a deep breath and let it go. "Enough of them could kill me."

Pete exploded. "Jesus Christ, Clark!" All the times Clark had become suddenly ill during their childhood explorations of the countryside came flooding back. "You could have told us that much! All the times I dragged you into heaps of them--"

"It's not your fault."

"God damn it! You are unbelievable."

"Looks like Whitney's been watching you pretty closely." Chloe regarded him with raised eyebrows. "You haven't been within sniffing range of Lana lately, have you?"

"What? No. No. I can't believe it. I can't believe how many people knew something." Clark was breathing too fast.

"Clark, chill." Pete scowled. Jesus, Clark was scared of everybody. "Whitney's probably forgotten all about it. Is Nixon still dogging you?"

Clark laughed, but it sounded a little hysterical. "He's not dogging anybody."

Pete felt Chloe freeze beside him. "What do you mean?"

"He made me hold a meteorite until I passed out. And then he shot Lex." Clark met Pete's eyes. "Eli was there."

"Holy shit," Pete breathed, getting it. "Holy shit, Clark."

"He killed him?" Chloe's voice was a squeak.

"Clark, who the hell is that guy?"

Clark tried to smile and didn't quite make it. "He's my bodyguard."

"Uh-huh." Pete swiped Chloe's hot chocolate and took a sip. "If Nixon is gone, what do you need a bodyguard for?"

"The clone knows what I am." Clark dragged a hand through his hair. "He wants me to help him get rid of Mr. Luthor and Lex. He's kind of crazy."

"Gee," Pete said sourly. "How do you tell them apart?"

"I have absolutely no trouble telling them apart," Clark said sharply. "The guy that fired Chloe's father and tried to foreclose on their house wasn't Lex."

"When did all this happen?" Chloe demanded.

"Beginning of December."

"So everything Lex has done for the past five months--"

"The foreclosures. The illegal dumping. It was all Karloff. All of it."

Chloe raised her eyebrows. "Karloff?"

Clark shrugged with a rueful smile. "We had to call him something."

Pete heard the front door open and close, and turned to see Lex and Eli crossing the living room. Chloe drew in a sharp breath and stumbled out of her chair, clutching the table for support. "Clark?"

"It's okay." Clark took her hand. "Breathe, Chloe."

"We come in peace," Lex said mildly, nodding to Clark as he strode into the kitchen. He was wrapped in the coat Eli had been wearing. "Your attention, please." He made a bee-line for the coffee maker. "Eli has something to say."

Eli paused on the threshold of the room, staring at Pete and Chloe until Pete thought those dark eyes would bore a hole in his skull. He cast a sharp glance at Lex, who met it squarely, and then turned back to them again. "I do not expect forgiveness," Eli grated. "I do not expect anything. But I swear I will never attempt to harm you again."

Before Pete could even think of responding, Eli turned on his heel and disappeared. Pete could barely hear him going up the stairs.

Lex lifted an eyebrow. "It would seem we have a houseguest for the night."

Pete realized he'd been holding his breath, and exhaled. "That guy is twisted, A.J. He's a serial killer or something."

"I've known him all my life." Lex crossed the kitchen to sit down beside Clark, sipping his coffee black. "He's a good deal saner than I've been the past few months."

"Gee, that's comforting." Chloe dropped back into her chair, glaring.

"How far have you gotten?" Lex asked Clark.

"They know the basics." Clark sighed heavily.

Lex regarded Pete and Chloe with an inscrutable expression. "I hope you understand that we've put our lives in your hands. Only a handful of people know where I am. My father and Karloff are laboring under the delusion that I'm in Europe."

God, he was an arrogant son of a bitch. Clark had some insane clone after him, but it was all about the almighty Luthor. Pete straightened in his chair. "Oh, yeah, we understand."

"Pete," Chloe said in an undertone. "Don't."

"Like Clark didn't have enough on his plate. You had to drag him into this comic book scenario."

"He didn't drag me anywhere," Clark said angily. "We've been in this together from the beginning."

"I never wanted Clark to become involved in this." Pete gave him an uncertain look. There was something different about the asshole. His voice, maybe. Or the look on his face when he glanced at Clark. "But for some reason I've yet to comprehend, he and his family insisted on saving my life, and no good deed goes unpunished."

Clark rolled his eyes. "Put a lid on it, mastermind."

"Your parents know all this?" Chloe drew in a breath. "Was that why your dad took a shot at Lionel Luthor?"

"At his feet," Clark put in hastily, glancing at Lex.

Lex sighed. "I always miss the good stuff."

Clark smiled faintly. "Karloff is out of control, and Mr. Luthor is running scared."

"My father recovers quickly from these little setbacks," Lex said coolly. "It would take more than a corpse hanging from his rafters to disconcert him for any significant length of time."

"Hanging...from his rafters?" Chloe looked a little green.

"I have to give Karloff points for style." Lex took another sip of coffee, his sharp blue eyes searching their faces.

Pete's eyes narrowed. "This thing is killing people?"

"Three that we know of. There are probably more."

"God. Why?"

Lex shrugged. "They annoyed him. Or they stood in his way."

Pete stared at him. The bastard didn't look like he cared at all. "And what are you doing about it?"

Lex's eyes narrowed. "Apart from keeping Clark and myself from joining the dearly departed? Absolutely nothing."

"Not nothing." Clark was red. "Lex has been working hard to take LuthorCorp down. To stop them from hurting anyone else."

"He's not doing a very good job of it if there are three people dead."

"Pete, for God's sake," Chloe snapped. "Knock it off."

Clark leaned forward angrily. "There would probably have been a lot more people dead if Karloff and Mr. Luthor were as rich as they were five months ago."

Pete snorted contemptuously and fixed his gaze on Lex. "So you're stealing their money. What are you using it for?" He glanced around him. "Investing in real estate?"

"It's not stealing! Lex has only taken what was his."

"Clark," Lex cut in harshly. "I've taken a hell of a lot more than what was mine. And it's done nothing to help anyone except myself."

Clark looked horrified. "That's not true. That's--"

"So you're just sitting around while this thing is dumping toxic waste all over the county and evicting and murdering people all over the damn place. Just sitting around waiting until it gets around to killing Clark."

Chloe sighed and rested her head in her hands. "Clark. Shut him up or shoot me."

Pete didn't feel like shutting up, and judging by the look on Clark's face, he wasn't going to try. "You said this clone killed those people because they stood in his way."

"That's right." Lex was cold.

"Like Karloff stands in your way?"

"Exactly."

"So why haven't you sent Lugosi to off him, then?"

Lex smiled, as if they were talking about weather, for God's sake. "This is a question I often ponder myself."

"Lex," Clark said in a low voice. "Stop."

"He's a murderer." Pete managed not to yell. "He knows about Clark. And he's not even human."

Clark blanched and dropped his gaze.

"Pete, do you hear what you're saying?" Chloe was looking at him with a horrified expression. "Get off the vigilante trip."

"Define human," Lex said in a voice that sent a chill up Pete's spine.

"What do you mean, define it? Human! Like us."

"Clark and I aren't like you. Our genetic code differs significantly from the norm. Are you saying we're not human?"

Pete looked at Clark, who was bone white and staring at the table. Shit. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Murder in cold blood does have a certain visceral appeal," Lex continued in a musing tone. "My father certainly wouldn't hesitate to indulge; in fact, I would be very surprised if he hadn't arranged Karloff's demise many times since he realized that he posed a threat." Lex locked eyes with Pete, and Pete felt a sudden desire to crawl under the table. Shit. This guy was as much of a psycho as Lugosi.

"Lex." Clark's voice was barely audible. "Don't do this. You're not Karloff and you're not your father. Just tell us what's happened."

Lex's gaze faltered and he closed his eyes. "Eli had a message from my father. He's threatening to help Karloff expose you."

"Oh," Clark said faintly.

"He wants to see me. He says he'll help me get into the penthouse to destroy Karloff's evidence."

Clark drew a breath. "He's lying, Lex. You know he is."

"He's very likely my only way in there."

"No. Lex--"

"As I see it, we have two options."

"You do?" Chloe's voice was positively timid, and Pete grimaced. She was as creeped out by this guy as he was.

Lex opened his eyes and leaned back in his chair, and Pete could see the strain under the mask. "One, we get on the next plane to Europe."

"We?" Clark whispered.

"We." Lex gave him a look that made Pete's eyes widen. "Or two, I go talk to my father."

Clark fell silent for a moment. "We need to talk to Mom and Dad."

"Uh-huh." Pete's eyes were riveted to Lex' right arm and Clark's left. Their hands were under the table. "Before you do that, can I ask a question?"

"Sure," Clark said wearily.

"What the hell are you guys doing in your underwear?"

Clark went the color of Mrs. Ross' stewed beets, and Lex raised his eyebrows. "You have some philosophical objection to underwear, Pete?"

"Pete," Chloe sighed. "Shut up."

"I have a philosophical objection to you." Pete leaned forward. "And if you're holding Clark's hand, we have a hell of a lot more to talk about."

Chloe's eyes widened; she turned back to stare at Clark and Lex.

Lex glanced at Clark, who looked back at him with a resigned expression, then lifted his hand from beneath the table. Lex's hand was curled around it.

Pete launched himself out of his chair, grabbed Lex by the coat he was wearing, and rammed him into the nearest wall. "You sick son of a bitch!" Lex, clearly unruffled, eyed him with an amused expression.

"Get off him!"

Pete barely recognized Clark's voice; he ignored him. "I'm going to fucking break your legs, you bastard."

"I really don't think so," Lex said mildly.

"Let him go now!"

Pete gasped as he suddenly found himself dangling from his collar a foot off the ground. Lex folded his arms across his chest, smiling faintly. "Nice moves."

Clark set Pete down none too gently a few feet away from Lex and planted himself between them. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"You're gay?" Chloe sounded stunned.

"More dirty little secrets," Pete snarled.

Clark flushed. "There's nothing dirty about it."

"Don't say anything you'll hate yourself for tomorrow, Pete," Lex said quietly.

"Bullets bouncing off me doesn't freak you out but this does?" Clark's face twisted in anguish.

Pete backed up, panting. "Jesus, Clark, what did he do to you?"

"Not much. He just made my life worth living," Clark said quietly.

"Pete. Stop." Chloe was on her feet and between them. "Don't say anything else."

"I'm out of here." Pete whirled toward the door and stalked out into the night, trying not to run. He heard Chloe calling him and ignored her. Fucking Lex Luthor. Clark was sleeping with fucking Lex Luthor. Of all the weird shit he'd imagined going on between those two, he'd never even considered that. That was fucking unthinkable. Unbelievable. Impossible.

"Pete."

God damn it. Pete turned to see Lex striding across the lawn, Eli's coat hanging on him, barefoot, looking like a total loser freak. Pete wished to God he had a baseball bat. Or even a golf club. Anything that would bash that bald head in. "Do you have a death wish or something?"

Lex stopped a few feet away from him, regarding him soberly. "Occasionally." He went on before Pete could comment. "Don't do this to him, Pete. He needs you."

"The hell he does! Ever since you showed up in Smallville, all he's cared about is you. Lex this and Lex that and Lex the other goddamned thing. I got so fucking tired of hearing about you, I wanted to puke."

Lex smiled faintly. "I can imagine."

"He didn't have time for me or Chloe anymore. He was always with you. And then comes December, and he drops us like week-old garbage."

"Pete--"

"He was my best friend. Since before kindergarten. And you show up with your cars and your money and your fucking Armani suits and take over."

"I didn't buy Clark," Lex said sharply. "Clark can't be bought. If you're really his best friend, you know that."

The problem was that he did. "Then what the hell did you do to him?" Lex raised an eyebrow, and Pete felt his face going hot. "You know what I mean!"

"If you're suggesting that I somehow coerced Clark into our...friendship--"

Pete clenched his fists. "There's no damn 'friendship'! You...you mind-whammied him."

Lex's eyes widened slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

"You brainwashed him. You tricked him. You're messing with his mind."

"And I did this how, exactly?"

"Look. I've known Clark since he was a damn baby. And he never showed any signs of being gay, okay?"

Lex looked Pete up and down for a moment. "Maybe he's just picky," he said loftily.

Pete charged him, taking a wild and desperate swing at that arrogant face, but before he could fully realize what was happening, he was flat on his back on the ground, staring up at Lex.

Lex frowned down at him. "I've had enough action adventure for one night, thank you."

"How did you do that?" Pete stammered.

"I mind-whammied you," Lex snapped.

"You're an asshole. Your father's an asshole. Your whole family are assholes, and you've done nothing but try to destroy Smallville and everybody in it."

Lex laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "I'd say that's an accurate assessment."

"You don't deserve a friend like Clark."

Lex went suddenly somber. "That's an accurate assessment as well," he said softly. "But neither do you, if you turn your back on him because you think he's gay."

Pete scrambled to his feet, barely restraining the urge to take another swing at the bastard. "Because he's gay? I don't give a shit whether he's gay or bi or into fucking goats, you son of a bitch. I don't want him near you."

Lex nodded, his expression unreadable. "Understood. But don't walk out on him, Pete. Clark isn't a Luthor. He loves. His friends and his family are part of who he is. You are part of who he is. If he loses you, part of him will die, and I can't stand by and watch that. Do you understand me?"

Damn him. That was Clark, all right. The ultimate softie. "And I'm just supposed to accept the fact that he's sleeping with a guy who wants to put everybody I know out in the street?"

Lex actually had the nerve to look angry. "That is not what I want. Who the hell do you think blackmailed Karloff into rehiring Gabe Sullivan? The employment fairy?"

Pete stared at him, shocked. "You? You're...the one who knows Luthor very well?"

"Light dawns," Lex said in an acid tone. "How could you think that Clark would become intimate with someone who condones the things Karloff has done for the past five months? He's better than that. I don't think you know Clark at all."

Pete realized his mouth was hanging open. "I don't know Clark?"

"I didn't change him, Pete. He changed me."

"You look the same to me."

"If you really knew Clark, you'd trust him. I do. With my life."

"I trust him fine. It's you I don't trust. Maybe I'll just pop over to the Kent place and let Mr. Kent know that you're screwing around with his son."

To his amazement, Lex started laughing. "You do that. It'll be old news, I'm afraid, but by all means, give Jonathan my best."

Pete gaped. No, no, no. This was not happening. "There is no way he knows. He'd kill you."

"You don't know Jonathan very well, either, do you?" Lex asked softly.

"I've known him all my life!" Pete shouted.

"Maybe I mind-whammied him, too."

"I hate your guts, you bastard!"

"I'm receiving that distinct impression, despite your subtlety. Do you hate Clark, too?"

Pete glared at him, panting, longing to get his hands around Lex's scrawny neck. Like he could ever hate Clark. Like anyone could hate Clark. "Clark," he grated, "is my friend."

"And mine. We need to come to an understanding, Pete."

Pete swore under his breath. "Why?"

"Because Clark will be miserable if we don't. Believe me, he has enough to deal with at the moment without us making it worse."

Pete stared at the house. "I'm not going to lie to him. I'm not going to tell him I'm happy about this, or what a great guy you are."

Lex lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, that's completely unnecessary. He already knows what a great guy I am."

"You're a prick."

"Also true, but irrelevant. All that matters now is Clark."

Pete looked at him uncertainly. There was that difference again. All that mattered was Clark. Shit. "So what are we supposed to do?"

"I think refraining from killing each other would be a good start."

Pete snorted. Hell, it was for Clark. "Fine. I promise not to kick your sorry ass."

"Thank God. Now I can sleep at night." Lex stood to one side and gestured toward the house. "After you."

Pete hesitated. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe he could talk some sense into Clark before this asshole totally ruined his life. Lex was right about one thing. Clark needed him. Clark needed Pete to protect him from this bloodsucking bastard. "Fine. Just stay out of my way."

"Please don't hurt me."

Smug prick. Gritting his teeth, Pete stalked toward the house.

***

"They're not going to kill each other, are they?"

Chloe's voice shook, and Clark put an arm around her, his gaze never wavering from the two figures shouting at each other on the lawn. "I won't let them hurt each other." He caught his breath as Pete took a swing at Lex, but Lex caught his arm and took Pete's feet out from under him with a rather impressive leg swipe, depositing him on his back. Lex immediately stepped back, and Pete was up in a few seconds, obviously unhurt. The shouting continued.

"Idiots," Chloe muttered.

"I'm sorry, Chloe," Clark breathed.

"For what?"

"Everything. You guys shouldn't have had all this dumped on you."

"We weren't exactly invited," Chloe said drily.

Clark smiled. "No. But it's good to see you. I really missed you."

"You did?"

"Yeah. I'm glad you know." Clark felt Chloe touch his face, and he turned to her in surprise. She had tears in her eyes. "Chloe?"

"Do you love him?" she said unsteadily.

"Yes," Clark whispered. Aw, God. Chloe.

"Does he love you?"

"Yeah. He really does."

"Okay." A tear hit her cheek as she turned back to the window; she brushed it impatiently aside. "Okay."

Clark swallowed hard. "Are you all right?"

"Do I look all right, Clark?" Chloe snapped.

Clark hastily turned back to the window too. "Uh...no. Not really."

"Men," Chloe grated, "are stupid."

"If you say so," Clark said meekly.

"I do. I say so. You're stupid, Pete's stupid, and Lex is stupid. All of you are stupid."

"Okay."

"I don't know how you keep breathing, you're so stupid."

"Maybe we're so stupid we don't know how to stop."

"Shut up. Look at those two! I don't know which one looks more ridiculous."

"That would be Lex," Clark said mildly. "He looks like a flasher."

"Are you sure he isn't one?"

"Chloe."

"Sorry." Chloe sighed shakily. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"I know. It took Lex and me a long time to get used to it."

Chloe shot him an amazed look. "You know, Pete is right. You are fucking weird, Clark."

"Yeah," Clark said resignedly. "I know." He breathed a sigh of relief as Pete started walking toward the house. "He's coming back." He watched as Lex fell in behind him, giving Pete a respectable berth.

"He looks pissed as hell." Chloe sighed. "This is going to be so much fun I can't stand it."

The front door slammed, and Pete strode from the hall into the living room, fists clenched and jaw set. Clark turned to face him, bracing himself. "Pete, calm down."

Pete stopped, hands spread. "Clark. I'm cool."

Clark blinked. "You're cool?"

The door slammed again, and Lex appeared. He leaned in the doorway, his arms across his chest. Pete shot him a baleful look over his shoulder.

"But let's get something straight. I mean, clear." Pete cleared his throat. "You have seriously whacked taste in boyfriends, Clark. Okay? This guy is a size eleven prick, and he's going to make your life living hell."

Clark opened his mouth to answer, but Lex cut him off.

"Attaboy. You tell him." Lex breezed through the living room, stopping momentarily to brush his fingers against Clark's cheek, and vanished into the kitchen. "Chloe, would you care for some coffee?"

"No, thanks," Chloe sighed.

Lex appeared in the doorway. "Chloe. I make excellent coffee." He jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen, eyebrows raised.

"Oh." Chloe hastily crossed the room. "Gee, coffee sounds wonderful." She disappeared into the kitchen, and Lex followed her, giving Clark an odd little smile.

Clark smiled back, swallowing hard.

"Clark."

Clark turned back to Pete, who was glaring at him. "Could you stop making goo-goo eyes at that asshole for two minutes and talk to me?"

"I don't make goo-goo eyes," Clark said indignantly. "And he isn't an asshole."

"He's a Luthor."

"He's Lex. You don't know him, Pete. You never gave him a chance."

"Yeah, I never gave him a chance to stick a knife in my back. You are making a huge mistake here."

"It's the best mistake I've ever made," Clark said in a low voice.

Pete rolled his eyes. "Hello? Killer clones? Homicidal bodyguards? Lionel Luthor on your ass?"

"None of that is his fault."

"Clark." Pete came closer. "Your life is in the fucking toilet, man. Wake up and smell the shit."

Clark grimaced. "Gee, thanks, Pete. That's so helpful. Really."

"Do you want to wind up dead? Or in some Luthor freak show?"

"Lex and I," Clark said very slowly and distinctly, "are in this together. I wouldn't walk out on you, Pete, and I'm not going to walk out on him. I love him."

Pete's jaw dropped slightly. "Aw, God."

"And he loves me."

"You are so whacked. You are mental."

"And all I want to know is, are we still friends?" Clark found himself holding his breath.

Pete's eyes widened. "The hell? Why would I be standing in this dump in the middle of the night yelling at you if we weren't friends? You are a dumbass, Clark. You have zero brain activity, I swear to God."

"Just checking," Clark whispered, resisting the sudden compulsion to hug him. Pete would probably take that the wrong way right now.

"Are we friends. Fuckin' A."

"Sorry."

"This is what happens when you keep secrets from me. Your life totally goes to hell. If I had known what was going on, you'd never be in this mess."

Clark started to smile. "Would that be the life-in-danger mess or the in-love-with-an-asshole mess?"

"Both," Pete snapped. "It would never have happened on my watch, Clark. You were friends with me for thirteen years and nothing like this happened to you."

"Actually--"

"And then A.J. comes along, and in a few months you're booking flights out of the country. This would tell anybody with two live brain cells to rub together that the guy has some seriously bad mojo."

Clark opened his mouth, angry again, but Pete held up his hand. "Okay. I'm done. But from now on, Clark? No more secrets. Your life management skills suck, and you need help."

Clark felt himself grinning, and looked down at his bare feet. "Yeah. Thanks, Pete."

"Have you told us everything?"

"Not exactly."

"Well, you're going to. All of it. But first, I want you to do me a favor."

Clark looked up again. "Anything," he said softly.

Pete sighed. "Put some damn pants on, will you?"

"Oh." Clark looked down at himself again, flushing. "Sure."

"Dumbass." Pete laid a hand on Clark's shoulder, smiling. "It'll be okay, Clark. We've got your back now."

Clark closed his eyes. "I missed you, Pete." His voice was uneven.

"Yeah?" Pete cleared his throat. "Well, at least you've got that much brain left. There might be hope."

Clark felt part of the weight he'd been carrying fall away. He started to laugh.

***

Jonathan became vaguely aware of an annoying, high-pitched sound in his ear, and swatted at it in a vain attempt to silence it.

"Jonathan," Martha murmured in his ear, nestling against him. "Answer the phone."

Phone. Jonathan sighed and opened his eyes. It was 3:13 in the goddamn morning, if you could call anything this dark morning. Who the hell would be calling them at this hour? If it was another gloom and doom report from Dirty Harry, he'd pass.

"Jonathan. The phone." Martha gave him a little nudge in the ribs.

Jonathan sighed and fumbled for the phone in the dark. "Hello?"

"Sorry about the hour, Jonathan."

Jonathan blinked, trying to clear his head. "Ethan?"

"Yeah. I thought I'd better let you know that something's happened at the Luthor place."

For one bizarre moment, Jonathan thought he was talking about Lex's farmhouse. "The Luthor place."

"Emergency Services got a 911 call from Lionel Luthor about a half an hour ago, but he hung up in the middle of it. When we got out here, we found the front door forced and signs of a struggle from the foyer into...whatever the hell he calls this room on the first floor. But there's no sign of him."

"My heart," Jonathan said acidly, "is breaking."

Millar snorted. "Look, I know there's no love lost here, but I thought since he ran to your place once, he might do it again. There's no indication he's been injured and all his cars are in the garage. He might be trying to walk."

Jonathan cackled softly at the thought of Lionel Luthor making his way through dark woods, muddy fields and filthy hog ponds in a frantic attempt to save his miserable hide. Martha jabbed him in the ribs with an exasperated expression. "You've made my night, Ethan."

Millar sighed. "Jonathan. Seriously. If he shows up--"

"I'll call you. But he's just as likely to head for town. Provided he knows which direction to walk in."

"I'll lay you even money he doesn't." Some unprofessional glee crept into Millar's voice, and he cleared his throat. "Anyway. Just wanted to give you a heads-up."

"Thanks, Ethan. If he makes it here without being trampled by cows or falling into a well, I'll let you know." Ethan was chuckling when Jonathan hung up.

Martha propped herself up on one elbow, frowning. "Jonathan, stop laughing!"

"Aw, let me have my fun."

"He's still a human being, even if he is a sorry excuse for one."

"Sure about that?"

"Yes. And so are you. Now go downstairs and turn the outside lights on."

Jonathan grimaced. "Let him take a header into one of Black Lagoon Boy's toxic waste dumps."

"Jonathan Kent--"

"All right, all right," Jonathan grumbled, reluctantly pulling himself from the warm bed. "A man can dream, can't he?"

***

"Yes, I say you are to guard the girl. She and the Ross boy are no longer a threat. She will be watched and no action will be taken against her. Do I make myself clear?" Eli drew a calming breath. Max must think him a madman.

Developments. It was not the word Eli would have chosen. "Yes. I will provide you with the particulars later."

Eli broke the connection and stared at the ceiling. The bed was comfortable. The room was warm. Yet he knew he would not sleep tonight. Those two terrified faces would not allow it. Alexander's voice accusing him of the attempted murder of innocents would not allow it. Indeed it was true that decisions made in fear were never wise. Alexander and the cricket had saved him from that by a hair's breadth. Martha Kent was a wiser woman than she knew.

Ironic that his search for redemption had led him to such a crime. Eli could hear Lionel Luthor laughing. Yes. Lionel Luthor would glory in such a victory. He would glory in such a victory over Alexander. For the first time, Eli understood the cricket and his lines.

Those lines were Alexander's now. Find a new way to protect me, he had said. As if he had not been trying to find such a way for months, and had found nothing but failure. The elimination of Lionel Luthor and his creature was the only solution he could see. These two were no innocents. Why had he allowed the situation to escalate to this point? Were Alexander's principles, however admirable they might be, to be given free reign to the exclusion of Eli's duty?

Eli became slowly aware of the sound of someone climbing the stairs, and frowned. The tread was too heavy for Alexander. Sighing, Eli sat up and swung his legs over to sit on the side of his bed and wait as the footsteps approached his door and stopped. Someone knocked softly. "Come in, Clark."

Clark opened the door and slipped inside, staring at him with wide green eyes. "How do you do that?"

"I listen."

Clark gave him an odd look. "Will you teach me to listen?"

Eli sighed. He had expected recrimination, and instead received nothing but kindness. The black shame of this night would never end. "Cricket, why are you here?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Why? Tonight I have become a murderer of children. Of your friends."

Clark grimaced. "They're not dead, Eli."

"Only because you run like the thought of God and have skin of steel. Only because Alexander led me out of my madness."

"You lost it. Mr. Luthor threatened us and you lost it. If you had given yourself five more minutes--"

"But I did not," Eli whispered. Count to ten, she had said. Count to ten.

Clark was silent for a moment. "Lex looks a lot like his grandfather, doesn't he?"

He was a wizard, this one. He read hearts as another man might read a newspaper. "He is Joseph reborn."

Clark nodded. "That must be hard sometimes."

Eli's eyes narrowed. "Do not attempt to excuse--"

"I nearly killed someone once."

If the boy had claimed to have swallowed the moon, Eli could not have been more taken aback.

"He framed my dad. He blackmailed me. He tried to make me hurt people. I wanted to kill him, Eli. I almost did."

"But you did not."

"This close," Clark whispered. "I can still see his face."

Eli lowered his gaze to the floor, unable to meet those bright eyes. It was incredible that this boy could understand. Inconceivable. "My judgment failed, cricket. Again. I have lost Alexander's trust."

Clark sighed. "What is it with you guys? Lex loves you, Eli. He trusts you. You're his family."

It was sweet to hear. "I cannot begin to count the times I have failed him."

"You made mistakes. And Pamela made mistakes. And Lex's mom made mistakes. Get a grip, Eli. You're not responsible for what happened to Lex, and he knows it. We all know who's responsible."

Eli looked up sharply. "If I had not sworn to Lillian--"

"Eli."

"He is no innocent."

"You know you're not going to do that."

"Have you any idea how many lives he has destroyed, this monster?"

"No. I just don't want Lex to be destroyed. You said it yourself, Eli. Family blood leaves a stain that can't be washed away."

Eli swore under his breath. The cricket's memory was...inconvenient. "He is a greater threat than you know. He has created a pure ore from the meteorites. He has used it in his vile experiments. He used it to make the creature. God alone knows how much of this poison he has at his disposal. And the creature wants it."

Clark swallowed. "Did you tell Lex?"

"Not yet."

"He needs to know."

"Cricket. Lionel Luthor now knows your weakness. He possesses a weapon which could destroy you. He will not be disposed to allow the creature to take such a prize."

"Do you mean the ore or me?"

"Both."

"Okay." Clark was bone-white. "I get it."

"This ploy of offering his help is merely an opportunity, not only to reclaim Alexander, but to devise a plan to ensnare you as well."

"You don't think Mr. Luthor really just wants to see Lex?"

Eli couldn't help but laugh. The cricket's absurd faith in human nature was both inexplicable and amusing. "'A man without love gives no hostages to fortune.' This is what he said to me. This is what he believes."

"I think Mr. Luthor doesn't know what he believes."

Eli frowned. "Perhaps. But he is not sane, cricket. He does not behave as a sane man does. This makes his behavior difficult to predict. This makes him dangerous."

Clark regarded him solemnly. "Eli. What if Mr. Luthor and Karloff aren't really trying to kill each other?"

Eli raised an eyebrow. The boy had promise. "Then we lose one of our few advantages."

Clark released a gusty breath. "I don't want Lex anywhere near his father."

"We are in agreement."

"He's going to see him anyway."

"Of course he is. He is a lunatic."

"What can we do?"

"If this meeting cannot be prevented, it must be controlled."

"Controlled," Clark echoed. "Okay." He studied Eli for a moment. "Come downstairs. There's something you need to see."

Eli sighed. "If it is more boorish territorial displays, I have seen enough from my window."

Clark actually grinned. "No, not that. I think there's some kind of truce on. Sort of."

"You amaze me."

"It's important, Eli."

As if he could deny Clark anything tonight. Stifling his complaints, Eli shoved his feet into his shoes and tied them.

"And don't get mad at Lex."

Eli lifted his gaze briefly to the ceiling as he followed Clark into the hall and down the stairs. What had the madman done now? "I am a lamb."

"Uh-huh. And don't get mad at me."

"I am a woolly lamb."

"And don't scare Pete and Chloe."

Eli flinched. "Understood."

Clark glanced at him over his shoulder with a small smile. "It'll be okay."

Eli snorted, disconcerted. That this boy thought it necessary to reassure him was ridiculous, and irresistible. He wondered if Clark had offered comfort to the inscrutable Alexander in the same way, and how long Alexander had been able to resist it. He doubted it had been very long.

***

Martha started from her doze and lay motionless, listening to Jonathan's faint snoring. Something had woken her. If Clark were here, she would know he was having a nightmare; she would go to him and whisper comfort until he calmed. But Clark wasn't here. Martha ruthlessly squashed the thought.

Slipping from the bed, Martha paused at the open door of the bedroom to listen as she slipped into her robe. There it was again. Someone was outside. Martha moved quietly down the hall and to the stairs, hesitated for a moment, then moved quickly down to the living room. A loud metallic clang from the direction of the barn made her grimace. Couldn't the man trespass quietly? She strode across the kitchen, snatched up her broom, and marched out the back door before she could change her mind.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Martha muttered as she paced off the distance between the house and the barn. "Jonathan will have kittens. Eli will have kittens. I will be up to my ears in kittens." She gave the barn door a shove and stepped inside, flipping on the lights. She didn't have any trouble finding what she was looking for.

Lionel Luthor was huddled in the far corner of the barn, his expensive suit mud-stained and his dirty face white. He stared at her for a moment, then rose slowly, leaning heavily against the wall. "Mrs. Kent. Allow me to explain--"

"Ethan Millar called," Martha cut in, curbing some primordial impulse to scratch his eyes out. "I take it you had a visitor last night."

Lionel blinked. "I...yes."

"Come inside."

"I beg your pardon?"

Martha glared at him. "Do you want to stay out here?"

"No."

"Then come inside before I change my mind." Martha whirled and walked back to the house. She could hear Lionel behind her, breathing on his hands to warm them.

"It's cold out here."

Martha yanked the back door open and stood aside to let him pass. "It was a lot colder in December. I imagine Lex could tell you all about that, if he ever lets you within a hundred miles of him again." She followed him inside and let the storm door slam behind her.

"Mrs. Kent--"

"Sit down. I'll start some coffee." Martha set her broom within easy reach and slapped some coffee into the coffee maker. She was grateful for something else to look at. She heard Lionel sigh as he sat down at the table.

"You must believe me when I say I never intended to harm my son. Or yours."

"Must I? Mr. Cohen told me last night that you've threatened to hand Clark over to--"

"I was desperate! You've blocked me at every turn. You're a parent, you must understand. I haven't been able to talk to my son for months. And if Eli told you that much, he also told you that I was willing to help you."

"Forgive me if I point out that your threat casts doubt on the sincerity of your offer."

"If you were in my place--"

Martha turned to him, her hands itching for her broom. "Mr. Luthor, I would never be in your place. You abducted, abandoned, and tortured your own son. That is a place I can barely conceive of, let alone occupy."

Lionel closed his eyes. "It wasn't supposed to happen that way," he grated. "I was trying to save Lucas' life. I made a horrible mistake, I know that now."

"You know it only because your 'mistake' has become inconvenient to you." Martha drew a calming breath. "Did the clone come to your house last night?"

Lionel barked a laugh. "Of course not. He would never dare to confront me openly."

"Who was it?"

"He didn't introduce himself. He was in a stocking mask."

"They'll dust for prints." Startled, Martha turned to see Pamela leaning in the kitchen doorway. She was ash-white. "And won't it be interesting if there aren't any."

"Aren't you dead yet?" Lionel snarled.

"Mr. Luthor," Martha said, trying to conceal her shock, "As long as you are in my house, you will at least pretend to be a civilized human being."

Lionel spread his hands in a gesture of acquiescence, bowing his head. "My apologies. That was rude of me. I trust you're feeling well, Miss Jenkins?"

The man oozed insincerity. Martha bit back a sarcastic response as she took Pamela's arm. "You shouldn't be out of bed," she murmured, more frightened by Pamela's appearance than the man at her back. "You did too much yesterday."

"I didn't do nearly enough if he's still able to walk." Pamela regarded Lionel through narrowed eyes. "Don't believe a word he says, Martha. He's incapable of telling the truth."

"Speaking of honesty," Lionel said smoothly, "I'd like to discuss the disposition of the LuthorCorp stock you swindled my wife out of."

Martha helped Pamela into her chair, seething. "This is your last warning, Mr. Luthor."

"It's all right, Martha." Pamela leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "I'm more than happy to discuss the disposition of my estate."

Lionel raised an inquiring eyebrow.

Martha sighed and sat down, bracing herself. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

"Oh, yes." Pamela was smiling. "I've been looking forward to it."

Lionel's expression became guarded. "I trust I am correct in assuming that Lex is your heir?"

"You are correct."

"I think we can both agree that it would be disastrous to leave your assets to 'Lex Luthor' at this time."

"Yes," Pamela said sweetly. "We do agree, Lionel."

Lionel smiled. "Excellent. I suggest--"

"I have therefore willed them to a trust fund for Clark, with his parents as executors."

Lionel's face went blank. "I beg your pardon?"

Pamela spoke very slowly and distinctly, as if she were speaking to the mentally impaired. "Clark Kent is inheriting my estate."

What little color Lionel had gained faded away. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm completely serious, Lionel. Clark will hold my assets until that thing of yours is disposed of and Alexander has his life back."

Lionel stared at her, slack-jawed.

Pamela met his gaze without flinching. "You didn't really imagine I'd trust you with Alexander's inheritance, did you? Even Lillian didn't make that mistake."

"I'll contest the will," Lionel said hoarsely.

"You have no grounds with which to contest it. You're no relative of mine."

"That stock--"

"Would go a long way toward rectifying your cash flow problem, but that's scarcely my concern." Pamela leaned back in her chair, still smiling. "Alexander's operations putting a crimp in your style, Lionel?"

Lionel's mouth settled into a grim line. "You had no right to that stock in the first place."

"Lillian thought otherwise. I trust you understand that if anything should happen to either Clark or Alexander--"

"Bitch," Lionel snarled.

"--that the Kent family will inherit my estate."

Lionel made a visible effort to control himself. "I've never had any intention of harming either of them."

"Your benevolence moves me deeply. Isn't that touching, Martha?"

Martha closed her eyes. Pamela had been right. This would make Lionel think twice about hurting the boys. "Yes. Touching."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph."

Martha opened her eyes in time to see Jonathan, face flushed with anger, making a bee line for Lionel, and launched herself out of her chair. She barely managed to intercept him, laying her hands on his chest. "Jonathan. Calm down."

Jonathan glowered at Lionel over the top of Martha's head. "What is that doing in my house?"

"Good morning, Mr. Kent." Lionel leaned back in his chair with a smile so close to a smirk as to make no difference.

"I found him in the barn." Martha tried to keep her voice soothing. Judging by the look on Jonathan's face, she wasn't succeeding.

"That's where you should have left him," Jonathan snarled. "Call Ethan and tell him we need a trash pickup."

"Jonathan Kent, you wouldn't have left a dog out there. Now sit down."

"I will not have that bastard in my house, at my table--"

"Our house," Martha said gently. "Our table. He'll be leaving as soon as he's warm and can arrange for someone to pick him up." Jonathan tore his gaze from Lionel's smirk to look down at her, and Martha could see how close he was to pushing her aside, to taking Lionel Luthor by the throat. "Lines, Jonathan," she whispered.

"Fine," Jonathan rasped. "I'll call Ethan." He turned on his heel and disappeared into the living room; Martha could hear him taking out his rage on the stairs as he climbed them. Swallowing, she turned to the coffee maker and started pouring.

"I am at a complete loss to understand your husband's attitude," Lionel said mildly.

"How do you like your coffee, Mr. Luthor?" Martha yanked the refrigerator door so hard that the whole appliance shuddered.

"Tread carefully, Lionel," Pamela said in a loaded tone. "The knee still works."

"I protected these people." Lionel sounded genuinely exasperated. "I made it possible for them to adopt their son. I kept their secret."

Martha slapped down a mug of coffee and a quart of milk in front of Lionel and returned to the counter to pick up her mug and Pamela's. Perhaps lines were not such a good idea after all. "You blackmailed us." She sat down next to Pamela, sliding the Pamela's mug in front of her.

Lionel laughed dismissively as he poured some milk into his coffee. "I offered your husband a simple business arrangement. He was free to decline."

"You destroyed our friends and neighbors."

Lionel set down the milk and picked up a spoon with a bewildered expression. "Mrs. Kent, you insist on couching all this in personal terms. This was business."

"These were people," Martha retorted. "Is this what you taught your son? That any sort of despicable behavior is acceptable as long as you call it business?"

Lionel raised an eyebrow, stirring his coffee. "Business is war, Mrs. Kent. A fight for survival. I taught my son to survive."

"Don't waste your breath, Martha." Pamela took a sip of her coffee. "He's not capable of understanding you."

"I'm surprised that someone with your background finds this concept so difficult to grasp," Lionel said, ignoring Pamela completely.

Martha felt herself stiffen. "My background?"

"Your upbringing, your education. You were obviously once destined to make your mark in this world."

Martha set her mug on the table very carefully. "I think we should change the subject."

"It must have been very difficult for you, coming from such a prominent family, to adjust to...this." Lionel gestured toward his surroundings with a pained expression.

"Mr. Luthor," Martha said calmly, "Have you ever had coffee poured down your pants?"

***

"You constructed this without informing me."

Lex got the bizarre impression that Eli was hurt. He stifled a sigh, turning on the lights as they descended the stairs from the pantry trap door to the passageway below. "You had enough to deal with. I arranged it when your team arrived to install the new storm doors. I thought it would be wise to have an alternate escape route."

Lex heard Pete mutter something about Jonathan's shotgun and ignored him.

"Very wise," Eli said in a subdued tone. "I should have arranged it."

Damn. This was a hell of a time for Eli to have a crisis of confidence. This was a hell of a time for Pete and Chloe to show up on their doorstep. This whole night was a hell of a time. "As I recall, you were slightly preoccupied with keeping me alive at the time."

"Nothing has changed," Eli said gruffly.

"Gee, Clark. This is really fascinating."

Clark sighed. "Chloe."

"Look at all the concrete. Isn't this fascinating, Pete?"

"Oh, yeah." Pete sounded positively surly. "I may die of the excitement."

"Look, you guys were the ones who said you wanted to know everything." Clark sounded at the end of his tether.

"What's to know down here? Unless this is where A.J. has his old boyfriends stashed."

Lex slammed his fist against the light switch of the alcove. "Meet Bessie," he said curtly, turning to lean against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He was somewhat satisfied by the blank expression on Pete's face as he stared open-mouthed at the dark, silent object in the alcove. Chloe put her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

"Bessie?" Eli shot Lex an inquiring look, apparently unfazed.

"Don't tell me you can't see the resemblance."

"She would skin you with knives and cook you," Eli said, his mouth twitching suspiciously.

Clark looked bewildered. "Who?"

"Bessie." Lex smiled. "She was supposedly a cook in the townhouse while I was growing up. But she never cooked anything and she never spoke a word. She just sat there in the kitchen, watching the rest of the staff." Lex cocked his head to one side. "One of yours?"

"One of mine." Eli laid a hand on Clark's shoulder. "You arrived in this," he said calmly.

Clark nodded, eyes dark. "My dad kept it in the storm cellar for years. When all this started, we thought it was safer to move it over here."

Nodding, Eli slipped past Pete and Chloe to enter the alcove, where he knelt beside the ship, drawing his hands across the surface. "It is beautiful. Your people value form as well as function."

"I don't know anything about my people," Clark whispered. "I don't remember anything."

"Arrived," Chloe said faintly. "Arrived?"

"The meteor shower," Pete said in a dazed tone.

"Yes," Clark said quietly.

"Jesus. Jesus God."

Chloe knelt beside Eli, touching the ship tentatively. "Does it...still fly?"

"No. Dad says it's never worked."

"Jesus God," Pete repeated.

"Problem, Pete?" Lex regarded him with considerable amusement.

"Jesus God."

"Look, there's a piece missing." Chloe touched a palm-sized indentation in the ship's surface.

Clark nodded. "It's always been missing."

"An octagonal piece," Eli said sharply, glancing up at Clark.

Lex saw Clark's eyes widen. "Clark? What?"

Clark turned toward him with a resigned expression. "Your father said that the piece of metal Karloff found in Baker's field is octagonal."

Lex drew a startled breath. "My father is certainly well informed."

Eli snorted. "I had wondered when you would notice."

"Jesus God."

Chloe shot Pete an exasperated look. "Pete, will you get off the Jesus God thing and look at this?"

"Jesus God, my best friend is a bisexual from Mars."

"It is imperative that we recover this fragment before the creature shows it to anyone with the inclination and power to take action against Clark." Eli frowned, one hand absently traveling across the ship's surface. "If he has not already done so."

"He might not show it to anybody," Clark said in a subdued tone. "Mr. Luthor said he was obsessed with it. That he took it to his bedroom at night."

Lex's stomach turned, the memory of Karloff caressing Clark taunting his mind's eye. "Obsessed," he repeated. "Yes."

"Lex. Don't." Clark was barely audible.

Clark's species must be telepathic. Lex refused to believe that his face was that easy to read. "I don't care if he sleeps with it under his pillow," he said, pulling himself together. "We're going to get it back."

"Jesus God."

"Security at the penthouse will have been heightened since my last visit." Eli rose, looking grim. "The access codes will have been changed."

"I'm certain my father will be more than happy to provide the information we need."

"I will see to this," Eli said sharply. "I still have contacts in corporate security. Any conversation with your father is unnecessary. And you setting foot in that creature's lair is out of the question."

"We may not have any choice in the matter," Lex said. "And I'm not sure that your contacts can be trusted at this point."

Eli's fists clenched. "I would sooner be hung from Lionel Luthor's rafters than see you do this."

"And here I am with no rope."

"This is a really bad plan, mastermind." Clark was white to the gills. "This is your worst plan ever."

"It isn't a plan." Lex curbed his exasperation with difficulty. "Yet. It's an idea."

"You are deranged," Eli snapped. "I have seen dead rats rotting in the sun with better ideas. Over my dead body you will do this."

Lex sighed. "You have an unnatural fascination with rodents, Eli."

"Jesus God."

Chloe rose, tearing herself away from the ship to walk toward Pete, peering at him in the dim light. "Pete? Are you okay?"

Eli's expression became stern. "This operation requires planning. It requires thought. Do not allow your father to manipulate you into action before you are prepared."

"Eli's right, Lex. You know he is." Clark was close to him, now, close enough to feel his warmth in the chill of the passageway. "Don't let your dad freak you into making a mistake."

"It's your life we're playing with, Jiminy," Lex whispered.

"My life is in good hands." Clark's warm fingers curled around Lex's hand; he was smiling.

Lex closed his eyes. "If my father makes good on his threat--"

"Then both of you are on a plane to Paris," Eli said flatly. "And I will deal with the creature's evidence myself, Alexander. I am not God, but I ask you to believe that Lionel Luthor will think I am by the time I am finished with him."

Lex chuckled and opened his eyes. Now Eli was sounding more like himself. "My father hasn't told us everything."

"I should think not. He is insane, not a fool."

Chloe's voice rose. "Pete, put your head between your knees."

Lex didn't spare the two a glance. "Karloff told me that he had some of Nixon's notes."

"I will find them and destroy them. There will be nothing left, Alexander. I am a thorough man."

"My father still has to be dealt with. He has to be distracted." Lex closed his eyes again, his mind racing through every possible scenario. "I--" He was cut off by a short trilling sound, and grimaced. "Eli. Who the hell is calling you at four o'clock in the morning?"

Eli whipped open the coat Lex was wearing and pulled his cell phone from the breast pocket, flipping it open. "Yes?"

Lex saw Eli's eyes widen. This was not good.

"It's Pamela," Clark whispered, his hand tightening around Lex's. "Your father is at the house."

Eli handed Lex the phone. "She wishes to speak to you," he said grimly.

Lex fairly snatched it out of Eli's hand. "Pamela? Are you all right?"

"Breathe, Alexander." Pamela sounded weak, but amused. "Everything is all right."

"Pete!" Chloe's voice was a squawk, and Lex turned, startled, to see Pete tumbling to the floor.

Clark had his friend in his arms before Lex had seen him move, but Pete was already coming to. Chloe knelt beside them, clutching Pete's hand as he looked up at Clark dazedly. "No antennae," Pete said weakly. "Tell me there's no antennae."

Clark began to laugh softly. "No, no antennae."

"That's good. Man, I couldn't have handled antennae."

Clark hugged him, and Lex found himself relaxing, for some bizarre reason.

"You have no idea," Lex said wryly. "Tell me what's happened." Eli leaned close enough to the phone to hear, scowling.

"You think he's lying."

Lex snorted. "Rarely."

Lex drew a sharp breath as he grasped what she was saying. "Pamela."

Eli actually began to chuckle. "Bravo. Well done."

Lex closed his eyes and sagged against the wall, relief warming him from the inside out. "Pamela. You're a genius."

"Thank you," Lex whispered, overwhelmed. "I can't...I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am."

Lex laughed weakly, blinking. "I'll read you the whole damn book. I'll read you a hundred books."

"I love you, too." Lex wondered why that was so much easier to say than it used to be. "I'll be there in an hour."

"Yes. Tell him to wait."

Lex smiled. "I know. I'll be careful. You rest, and I'll see you soon." He flipped the phone shut and turned around, his smile becoming a grin. "Now I have a plan."

***

Jonathan shoved his fists into his jacket pockets as he watched Lex's station wagon turn from the main road onto the lane, glinting in the orange light of sunrise. Under any other circumstances, he would have pulled the boy's chain about being reduced to driving a Saturn, but not today. Today he had to stop Mr. Death Wish from trying to get himself killed. Again. Jonathan sprinted a few yards down the lane to meet the car halfway.

Lex pulled over and turned off the engine as Jonathan leaned on the driver's side door, panting. "Morning constitutional, Jonathan?" He was smiling, but he looked like he hadn't slept all night. Neither did Clark. Jonathan's mind veered conveniently away from the observation. Eli emerged from the car, looking suspiciously haggard, and strolled around to stand between Lex and the house.

"You're not going to do this," Jonathan said, suppressing his instinct to demand what the hell had been going on. "We'll find another way."

"We have very few options." Lex sighed and got out of the car, then leaned back against it as if he were too tired to stand. "He has to be placated, Jonathan. The risk to Clark is too high."

"Pamela has--"

"Pamela has bought us some valuable time. But he'll regroup, Jonathan. He always does. The threat to Clark has to be removed permanently. If working with him will give him the illusion that we're allies--"

"Lex, he's dangerous. Not just to Clark. To you."

"Tell him, Dad." Clark's voice was weary as he climbed out of the car and walked to his father's side. "He won't listen to me."

Jonathan grimaced. "I'm telling him."

Lex was silent for a moment. "Jonathan, my father has a stockpile of meteorite ore." Clark blanched and studied the ground.

Jonathan stared at him blankly.

"We don't know how much. We don't know where it is. We have to find out, and it's a foregone conclusion that my father is the only one who has access to it."

"Ore. Ore?"

"He's been using it for years. Explains a few things, doesn't it?"

"Jesus Christ." Ore. Good God. If the radiation from the meteorite fragments made Clark sick, what would this stuff do? Jonathan felt his stomach turn over.

"I have to deal with him sooner or later," Lex said. "And I have a plan."

Jonathan suppressed a groan as he laid his hands on Lex's shoulders. "Son, no offense, but your plans stink."

"Thank you," Clark sighed.

Lex smiled wryly. "You haven't heard this one yet."

"I don't need to hear it. If it's yours, it stinks. Your plans always involve you making a goddamn target of yourself."

"Thank you!" Eli glared at Lex. "Yes! Even the farmer sees this."

"Eli." Lex shot him a quelling look.

"Like a windmill on a sand dune. Like a neon sign flashing 'shoot me, shoot me' in red letters ten feet high."

"Red isn't my color, Eli."

"I could shoot this sign on an outhouse door fifty yards from the road on a foggy night."

"Have you been out terrorizing the local outhouses again?"

"From a speeding car I could shoot this."

"Lex." Jonathan pulled himself together and shook the boy gently, ignoring Eli. "Don't let that bastard manipulate you. He didn't just let that information slip for no reason."

"Again, thank you!" Eli paced the width of the lane restlessly.

"Probably not," Lex said.

"And you know that his offer to help is a lie."

"Very likely. But playing along will distract him."

"Distract him from what?"

Lex glanced at the house. "We can discuss that later. When my father has left."

"Lex--"

"This is something I have to do, Jonathan."

Jonathan drew a deep breath. "Then you're not talking to him alone. I mean it. This is non-negotiable, Lex."

"I want you to be there." Lex was staring at the ground, now.

Jonathan swallowed. "Then I'm there." He pulled Lex closer. "We're all there, if you want us." He saw Clark curl his hand around Lex's, saw Lex squeeze it tightly.

Lex's pale face quirked into a smile as he looked up. "Thank you."

"He's watching us," Clark said softly, looking toward the house.

Jonathan tore his gaze from the gratitude in Lex's face to see a dark figure standing on the front porch. Lex drew a deep breath and turned toward Clark, his back to the house, and hastily brought Clark's hand up to give it a quick kiss before letting it go. Squaring his shoulders, he set off down the lane at a brisk pace. "I'll talk to him in the barn. I don't want him in your house."

"Good," Eli said grimly, taking up a position a few steps ahead of Lex. "Make the dog come to you."

"And for God's sake, stand where I can see you." Lex's voice wasn't entirely steady.

Jonathan put an arm around Lex's shoulders, keeping an eye on Lionel as they approached the house. "We will. If he tries anything--"

"It's a given that he'll try something. That's not what I'm worried about."

"Lex," Clark murmured. "You're stronger than he is."

"So you keep telling me. But at the first sign of a mind-whammy, shoot me."

"That's not funny, Lex."

"A mind what?" Jonathan demanded, unnerved.

"You won't believe him again," Clark said.

Lex's expression went bleak. "Don't overestimate me. Or underestimate him."

"I don't. We won't let him hurt you, Lex. Not in that way. Not in any way."

Jonathan shot a startled glance over Lex's head at Clark. The boy was as grim-faced as any soldier going into battle; he looked ten years older at that moment. Jonathan felt a chill. He didn't want his son to be a soldier. He didn't want...either of his sons to be soldiers. Jonathan swallowed. "Go on into the barn. I'll bring the son of a bitch in."

Lex nodded and turned toward the barn, but Jonathan grabbed his hand and held it. "Lex. All you have to do is say the word, and I will haul his sorry ass out to the road and kick it to the highway. Understood?"

Lex's taut face relaxed into a grin; he brought his other hand up to clasp Jonathan's. "Understood." To Jonathan's confusion, Lex was looking at him as if he'd just handed him his life back single-handed. The boy was hopelessly weird. There was just no getting around it.

Jonathan caught sight of Clark's brilliant my-dad-is-my-hero smile and Eli's raised eyebrows, and hastily turned toward the house, muttering under his breath. If Lionel Luthor so much as sneezed the wrong way, he was going to have his goddamn arms ripped off at the shoulder. Jonathan came to an abrupt halt as he realized that Lionel had left the porch and was striding toward him, face flushed.

"Where is he going?" Lionel barked.

"He'll talk to you in the barn," Jonathan said stiffly.

"The barn? Why?"

"Because he doesn't want you in my house any more than I do." He turned his back on the man and stalked in the direction of the barn. "This way." He had to deal with this bastard. He had to. For Clark. For Lex. But goddamn it, he didn't have to like it.

Lionel fell in step beside him. "My car will be here within the hour. The townhouse staff will arrive by noon."

"Planning to stay a while?"

"I thought it would be more prudent for Lex to stay at the mansion than to attempt to conceal him in Metropolis."

Jonathan actually laughed. "You think that Lex is going home with you?"

Lionel shrugged. "The mansion is where he belongs. He knows that."

"Lex isn't going anywhere he doesn't want to go."

"Of course not." Lionel paused. "Mr. Kent. I've never had the opportunity to thank you--"

"Don't thank me, Luthor. The last time you thanked me my home town was raped and pillaged."

Lionel laughed, but it had a nervous edge. "Don't you think you're exaggerating slightly?"

"The land poisoned, the people who worked it sick or dead or driven off? No, Luthor. I'm not exaggerating."

"Even if that were true," Lionel said in a mild tone, "I couldn't have done it without your help, could I?"

Jonathan stopped in his tracks, breathing hard. Lines. Count to ten. "No. You couldn't have. I'm your damn Judas-goat, and you're an idiot if you think I don't know it."

"Mr. Kent, it was a simple business arrangement." Lionel's tone of bewildered protest grated in Jonathan's ear. "This self-recrimination is completely--"

"Do you want to leave here with your arms attached?"

Lionel lifted an eyebrow. "That would be my first choice, yes."

"Then don't talk to me."

"Mr. Kent, I must thank you for protecting my son. If there's anything I can do--"

Unable to stand any more, Jonathan swung around and took Lionel by the front of his suit jacket. Lionel pulled back, startled. "Listen to me, you son of a bitch. You can fool your cronies and your bootlickers. You might even be able to fool your son. But you'll never fool me. I've seen you in the faces of every ruined family, every sick child, every day, for the past thirteen years. I've seen you." Jonathan shoved him away, barely managing not to put his hands around the man's throat. "Do you understand me?"

Lionel's eyes were narrow slits. "I understand you." His voice was deadly.

"I thought you might. Don't talk to me, Luthor." Jonathan turned away from him and strode into the barn. How that slime had managed to father a son like Lex was completely beyond his comprehension.

Clark and Lex were sitting on the tailgate of the truck, Clark murmuring something in Lex's ear. Jonathan grimaced; Clark was probably giving Lex a blow-by-blow of his conversation with Lionel. Lex caught his eye with a rueful smile, and Jonathan blew out a breath. Well, they had agreed to no secrets. Jonathan spotted Eli, leaning against the wall in Lex's line of sight. His arms were crossed over his chest, and Jonathan spotted the glint of metal under one elbow. Eli had his gun in his hand. For once, Jonathan approved. He walked over to stand beside Eli and watched as Lionel approached the boys.

"Lex," Lionel said softly.

"Dad." Lex's face was an expressionless mask. Jonathan hadn't seen that look on his face for a long time. He could remember thinking that it meant that Lex was cold and unfeeling. He knew better now. "I believe you wished to speak to me?"

Lionel glanced from Clark to Eli and Jonathan, frowning. "Could my son and I please have some privacy?"

Eli barked a laugh. "In your dreams," Jonathan said.

"I agreed to speak with you because you threatened my friend's life," Lex said coldly. "Privacy wasn't part of the deal."

Lionel shot Clark an apprehensive look. "I was desperate. These people wouldn't tell me where you were."

"The fact that they didn't hand me over to you when you tried to put them out in the street should have prepared you for the shock."

Lionel sighed. "Lex. I've made mistakes. Give me the chance to make amends."

"How?"

"I can help you." Lionel moved closer. "I can help Clark. We can work together, Lex. We can be a family." Jonathan stiffened as Lionel reached out to touch Lex's face.

Clark's arm was a blur as he seized Lionel's wrist. "Don't touch him," Clark rasped. He shoved Lionel back with sufficient force to make him stagger.

Lionel came back, clearly furious, fists clenched. "Damn it, Lex, this is ridiculous! Tell your friend to excuse us."

Lex lifted his chin and met his father's gaze squarely. "We've been through this before. I don't want him to excuse us. And if he doesn't want you to touch me, I suggest you don't."

Jonathan nearly laughed at the naked frustration in Lionel's face. "For God's sake, I'm your father, not your enemy!"

"The distinction has always escaped me. Tell me what you want."

"I've told you want I want. I want to help you."

Lex's lip curled. "Tell me what you want."

Lionel's gaze raked over him. "Why are you still wearing those rags?"

Lex glanced down at the flannel shirt and jeans he was wearing. "What, this? It's just a little something I threw together."

"You look like a dirt farmer."

Lex lifted an eyebrow. "You know, Dad, that's precisely the look I was going for." Clark laughed. Jonathan couldn't keep the grin off his face for the life of him.

"Don't let these people make you forget your place, Lex. Your position in society--"

"Your father," Lex cut in, his voice like knives, "was a petty thief. Your mother was cocktail waitress who turned tricks on the side." Lionel had gone white, his eyes wide. "They both died under suspicious circumstances when you were eighteen, leaving you the beneficiary of a double indemnity insurance policy which netted you six figures. Our 'ancestral home' was bought in foreclosure proceedings from an old man who had the blood of the Stuarts in his veins. The next time you feel inclined to give rein to your ill-founded snobbery in these people's presence, I might be tempted to remember a few more unsavory details."

Jesus Christ. Jonathan looked into Lionel's face and saw the truth of what Lex had said – and what he hadn't. Jesus Christ.

Lionel licked his lips nervously. "You haven't answered my question."

"You haven't answered mine," Lex said pleasantly. "What do you want?"

Lionel made a visible effort to control himself. "You're making this unnecessarily difficult. I want you to have what's rightfully yours."

"Oh, I already have what's rightfully mine. You really need to see to online security, Dad. Any high school hacker could have emptied those accounts."

Lionel smiled grimly. "You've been very resourceful. I wouldn't have expected anything else."

"Your faith in the effectiveness of my criminal tendencies is touching."

"I wasn't talking about the accounts. Your name, Lex. Your destiny as a Luthor. That's what's rightfully yours. That's what the replicate has stolen from you."

"With some rather spectacular and, need one add, felonious assistance on your part."

"I can only say I've made a mistake so many times, Lex."

"Good. Perhaps when you're done stating the obvious you'll tell me what you want."

Lionel studied Lex for a moment. "You've put LuthorCorp in a precarious financial position."

Jonathan felt his jaw drop. Jesus Christ. Money? After putting Lex through all this, the bastard was going to talk to him about money?

"One can only hope," Lex replied.

"Your particle accelerator research showed promise."

Lex chuckled. "Still trying to access the lab? I'll give you points for persistence."

"Your security measures are impressive."

"Thank you. I thought the C-4 booby traps were a nice touch."

"Very effective. Need I say that access to that facility would go a long way to restoring LuthorCorp's solvency?"

Lex's eyes narrowed. "You will never have access to that lab."

"Lex, for God's sake--"

"A good man gave his life to keep that facility out of your hands." Lex's voice went thick. "If you think I'm going to hand it over to you now, then you are profoundly delusional."

"This is your future we're talking about. Your legacy."

Lex shrugged. "If you say so."

Lionel's eyes widened. "If I say so? Have you lost your mind?"

"Frequently."

Lionel stepped closer. "I want us to work together, Lex. We can dispose of the replicate, and restore you to your rightful place. We can put LuthorCorp on a sound financial footing again."

"Lex," Jonathan cut in, unable to stand any more, "Just say the word."

"This is a private family matter, Mr. Kent." Lionel never took his eyes off Lex. "I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your mouth shut."

Lex went very still, and his eyes very dark. "Dad. The only one here who isn't family is you."

Jonathan smiled, leaning back against the wall. So. Lex had finally gotten it.

Lionel laughed, glancing uncertainly at Jonathan. "You can't be serious."

"These people risked their lives to protect me."

"And I'm grateful. If they want compensation--"

Before Jonathan could explode, Lex slid off the tailgate, his face flushed. "You're insulting them."

Lionel looked completely bewildered. "Insulting them?"

"They don't want anything from you except to be left in peace. They never have."

"Son--"

"Don't call me that," Lex rasped. "You've put these people through hell. You're still putting them through hell. If anything happens to Clark--"

Lionel spread his hands in what was no doubt supposed to be a reassuring gesture. "I've never had any intention of harming Clark."

"You are a lying dog," Eli said.

"Prove it," Lex said. "Keep your word. Help me destroy Karloff's evidence."

"If I do--"

"What do you want?" Lex's voice rose sharply. "Cash? Stock? You can have anything I own. Everything I own. Anything but the goddamn security codes."

Lionel's eyebrows rose; he glanced at Clark. "Clark must mean a great deal to you."

Oh, God. Jonathan saw Eli's posture shift slightly, saw Clark brace himself.

Lex instantly composed his features. "He's my friend."

"He means a lot to all of us, Luthor," Jonathan cut in hastily. Unable to stay still, he crossed the floor to lay a hand on Clark's shoulder. He sensed rather than saw Eli shifting position to keep Lionel in his sights.

"What. Do. You. Want." Lex's voice was low and dangerous.

Lionel's gaze traveled from Jonathan to Lex. "I want to be your father," Lionel said gently. "I want you to let me call you son. I want you to let me touch you."

Lex had gone white. "Done. Come back tonight and we'll discuss the details." He attempted to move past Lionel, only to freeze as his father wrapped both arms around him.

Something deep inside Jonathan screamed at the sight; he felt Eli shoulder by him to lay a rough hand on Lionel's shoulder. "Release him. Now."

Jonathan moved to rip those clutching arms away from the boy, but before he could catch hold, Clark had yanked one arm away and was holding it by the wrist, breaking Lionel's grip. "Go back to the house, Lex."

Lex nodded and walked away without looking back.

"Let go of me," Lionel hissed.

Clark didn't let go. He stared into Lionel's face as if he were looking at some diseased and dangerous animal. "I know what you are," Clark said in a voice Jonathan had never heard before. He sounded like a stranger. Like a soldier. "I know what you've done. If you hurt Lex again, there's no place in this world you can hide from me." Jonathan caught his breath as something bright and red flashed in Clark's eyes. Lionel's mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"Son," Jonathan whispered. "Let him go."

Clark swallowed and released Lionel, then followed Lex, walking as quickly as he could toward the house.

Eli leaned close to Lionel. "And when he finds you, I will kill you." He drew the barrel of his gun along Lionel's jaw line. Lionel recoiled, breathing hard.

"Eli," Jonathan said sharply.

"I...I know what's going on here," Lionel stammered. "I'm not blind."

Eli's face twisted. "You are blind in ways that sicken me."

Lionel pulled away from Eli and turned to Jonathan with fury and contempt in his face. "Do you really imagine that you can come between me and my son?"

Jonathan stared at him, startled. "What?"

"You won't. I'm all he has, and he knows it."

Eli barked an acid laugh. "Oh, yes. This you made certain of, that you bought, threatened or destroyed anyone who dared to befriend your son. Well done."

"My son did and does have extremely poor judgment when it comes to his choice of companions," Lionel said coldly. "I protected him."

Jonathan flinched; he had thought the same thing about Clark and Lex once. That he could have anything in common with Lionel Luthor made him want to puke. "We protect him now," he said unsteadily. Very carefully, he laid a hand on Eli's wrist and guided his gun arm down.

Lionel laughed, but it was a hollow sound. "This attempt to ingratiate yourself to Lex will net you nothing, Mr. Kent. You would be better off taking my check now, and bowing out before something unfortunate happens."

Jonathan made a mental note to break Lionel's kneecaps at the earliest opportunity. "Your money is no good here, Luthor."

"Oh?"

"Lex is part of my family."

Lionel stared at him blankly. "Part of your--"

"If you want to be part of his life, you're going to have to deal with it."

"He is my son."

"You know, you say my son the same way you say my car and my check. That's not how it works, Luthor. He's your child, not your property."

"Do not bother to explain this to him, Mr. Kent." Eli's tone was acid. "He cannot understand you. You will leave now, Mr. Luthor."

"I'm not finished talking to my son," Lionel said in a belligerent tone.

"If Lex says you're finished, then you're finished. You can wait for your driver out on the road. Don't show your face here again unless Lex invites you." Jonathan brushed past Lionel and strode toward the house before he could succumb to his temptation to bludgeon the bastard with the nearest available tire iron.

"Mr. Kent."

Eli caught up with him, and Jonathan slowed his pace, sighing. "Jonathan. My name's Jonathan."

Eli snorted. "'The enemy of my enemy is my friend?'"

"The friend of Lex is my friend," Jonathan said gruffly.

Eli smiled briefly, but his eyes were dark. "Be careful, Jonathan. You have done something he cannot endure. You have taken something that is his."

"I've never wanted anything Lionel Luthor has, Eli."

"Alexander loves you," Eli said softly. "He admires you. It is plain to anyone with eyes, and believe me, the dog is not blind in this respect. He will not tolerate this. Lionel Luthor is a jealous god, Jonathan."

"Yeah." Jonathan glanced over his shoulder to see Lionel standing just outside the barn door, watching them. The sight creeped him out almost as much as the fact that he understood what Eli was telling him. "I hear you."

***

There was nothing quite as disgusting as throwing up blueberry pie. Before Lex could fully contemplate this discovery, however, the toilet flushed, and all evidence of the past five minutes disappeared. A wet washcloth was shoved into his hands, and he buried his face in it, feeling Clark's arm go around him.

"Okay?"

Lex nodded, still hiding his face. He felt Clark move and heard the water running again. If there was anything more humiliating than hurling, it was hurling in front of somebody. Parading your weakness in front of someone who until now had labored under the delusion that you were strong. "Sorry."

"For what?" Clark sounded bewildered. "Don't be stupid, Lex." His hand was moving soothingly over Lex's back.

Lex drew a shaky breath, struggling for comprehension. "Is watching somebody puke being close, too?"

Clark laughed gently. "Yeah. It is."

"Close is an extremely complex and eclectic concept."

"Yeah, it can be complicated sometimes."

"I have doubts concerning the intrinsic value of watching somebody puke, Clark."

"Shut up and drink this."

"I assume this involves looking at you."

"Lex." Lex heard Clark set the glass on the floor, felt his arms going around him. "Come on, I've seen you sick before."

"Sick?" Lex lifted his face from the washcloth to meet Clark's anxious gaze. "Clark. I tossed my pie because I was scared. Okay? Do you get it?"

"I get it, Lex," Clark said steadily. "He scares me, too." He picked up the glass. "Drink."

Numb, Lex took the glass and swallowed half the water in one gulp.

"Slow down! You'll puke again." Lex gasped and nearly dropped the glass as someone knocked on the bathroom door. Clark tightened his grip around his shoulders, taking the glass from his hand. "Easy."

"Lex? Are you all right?"

Lex sighed. Jonathan. Perfect. His abject humiliation was now absolute.

"He'll be okay in a minute," Clark answered.

The door opened, and Jonathan stuck his head in, peering at them both with an anxious expression. "You sure?"

Lex felt the heat rise to his face. "I'm sorry. I wasn't...I didn't expect that from him. I thought he'd take the money, given the chance."

Jonathan opened the door all the way and to Lex's amazement, squatted in front of them. "Lex, why the hell are you apologizing?"

Lex stared at him in confusion. Even after all this time, the Kents and their weird alien ways could still confound him. "I let him get to me. I lost control."

Jonathan snorted. "Join the club." He searched Lex's face. "You do know we won't let him lay a hand on you."

Lex closed his eyes, ruthlessly stomping on his shockingly emotional response to the statement. "That was the deal."

"Screw the deal."

"The deal is what's going to keep Clark alive."

Lex felt Clark's arm tighten around him. "Lex. We'll find another way."

"There is no other way. He knows how important your family is to me now. This will distract him. I can play this game. We played it for years. I'm just...out of practice." Lex started as someone touched his face, and opened his eyes.

Jonathan had leaned close, laying his warm hand on Lex's cheek. "I'm glad you're out of practice. No boy should have to play that game with his father." Jonathan's touch was nothing like Lionel's. Jonathan's touch was like Clark's, and Lex was vaguely surprised that he felt no need to pull away. Jonathan smiled a little ruefully. "I've made very sure he knows how important you are to us, too."

Lex swallowed. "You don't understand. That's why he's doing this. That's why he said he wants to be my father. It's a territorial response."

Jonathan nodded, his eyes strangely bright. "The man doesn't deserve you, Lex." Lex felt the earth shift under him; unable to restrain the impulse, he leaned forward to press his forehead against Jonathan's shoulder. Jonathan's hand rested soothingly on the back of his neck. "Listen to me," Jonathan said in a rough whisper. "Whatever he says, whatever he does, I want you to remember that you are a son any sane man would be proud to have. Do you hear me?"

"Would you be proud?" Lex flinched, regretting the question the moment it left his mouth. Was it really necessary to be more pathetic than he already was?

"I am proud, son." Jonathan's hand moved over Lex's scalp in the same way Lex had seen him ruffle Clark's hair.

"Oh," Lex said faintly, wondering how many shocks he could take in one day. "Okay."

Jonathan cleared his throat, and Lex quickly pulled back, but Jonathan didn't let go. He was smiling. "You need some sleep."

Sleep. God, yes. "Yeah. Okay." Lex felt Clark and Jonathan lifting him to his feet. "But you need to know about--"

"You can tell us when you wake up. Make sure he sleeps, Clark."

"I'm on it," Clark murmured.

Jonathan tapped Lex's cheek, still smiling, and disappeared into the hallway. Lex heard him going down the stairs. "Hell," Lex said in his most flippant tone, desperately trying to recover his balance, "has frozen over."

Clark laughed and drew him out of the bathroom and down the hall toward his bedroom. "Don't even go there, Lex."

"Are you sure he isn't a clone? Give him the x-ray treatment, Clark."

"You know he cares about you. He has for a long time now."

"The strain has finally snapped him. I should have expected it."

Clark rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, the door to the guest room opened, and Martha appeared, holding a tray with two mugs on it. Closing the door behind her, Martha approached them like a woman with a mission. "You're going to drink this." She handed him one of the mugs.

Lex peered into the cup doubtfully. "I am?"

"It's chamomile tea. It'll settle your stomach and help you sleep."

"That's...really thoughtful of you, Mrs. Kent, but--"

"Martha. And don't even think about saying 'no' to me, Lex Luthor." Martha eyed him firmly. "Drink."

"Don't mess with her, Lex," Clark said drily. "She'll broom you."

Lex sighed and took a sip of the tea, subliminally aware that Martha and Clark were standing very close, forming a human cocoon around him. This was close, too. Lex imagined that he could very easily become addicted to close. It was better than any high he'd experienced in his Metropolis days. It was soul-warming.

And God, the tea was putrid. "Delicious," Lex said in a strangled tone, managing not to spit it out.

Martha raised an eyebrow. "It's not supposed to be delicious. It's supposed to make you feel better."

"I do feel better," Lex said, staring into the mug. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Martha."

Martha laid a hand on his cheek and lifted his face toward her. "You were very brave today." She kissed his cheek. "Pamela wants to see you, but don't stay too long. She needs to sleep."

"How is she?"

Martha hesitated for a second, and Lex knew what was coming. "She did too much yesterday. Her doctor is coming at eleven."

"I want her to have the best." Lex wondered why the hell he sounded so calm. "Cost isn't an issue."

"She'll have the best." Martha's hand rested on his shoulder. "Eli has arranged for the nurse to arrive just as soon as Pamela is settled at your place. Go say good night to her; she won't sleep until she's seen you."

Lex nodded wordlessly.

"And drink your tea."

Before he realized that he'd moved, Lex found himself with his arms around Martha, his face buried in her soft hair; he felt her free arm squeeze his waist. "It'll be all right, Lex," Martha whispered in his ear. "We'll get through this."

Lex straightened hastily and fumbled with the guest room door, blinking.

"Alexander?" Pamela was sitting up in bed, leaning back against some pillows, but Lex knew the moment he saw her that she should be lying down. He swallowed against the panic that rose in him at the sight. They had to have longer together than this. A better doctor. Some new treatment. Something. Pamela extended her hand, smiling. "Don't. I look worse than I feel."

Lex crossed the room and took the emaciated hand in his, sinking to sit on the side of the bed. He felt Clark standing close, his hand on Lex's shoulder.

"Drink your tea," Pamela said firmly.

"They're in on it together," Clark remarked. "Better drink it, Lex."

Lex took a quick sip. "You should be sleeping."

"I only stayed awake to talk to you. How did it go?"

Lex stared at the hand in his. "He's hooked."

"But?" Pamela's other hand raised the mug to Lex's mouth, and Lex swallowed obediently, unable to meet her gaze.

"He hooked me, too," he said finally. He felt Clark's hand tighten on his shoulder.

Pamela lifted his chin with one finger. "You're not hooked that easily."

Lex met her searching gaze. "He knows where all my buttons are, Pamela."

"Of course he does. He installed them. You have to think outside the buttons, Alexander."

Lex forced a laugh. "He's always been one step ahead of me, Pamela. Always."

"Not this time." Pamela folded her other hand around Lex's. "This time you have an advantage you didn't have before."

"Oh?"

Pamela's gaze traveled to Clark, and she was smiling. "You're not alone anymore, Alexander. Think outside the buttons."

Lex drew in a deep breath and kissed her hand. "I'll try."

"Go get some rest. You owe me three chapters tonight."

Lex grinned in spite of everything, and leaned down to kiss her cheek as he rose. "Slave driver."

Pamela chuckled. "Clark, put him to bed."

"Yes, ma'am." Clark was grinning, too.

"And make him finish that godawful stuff."

"I'm on it."

Clark steered Lex out the door into the hall, closing the door quietly.

Lex walked silently to Clark's room and stood by the bed as Clark shut the door behind them. Lex couldn't move. He couldn't see anything but that skeletal hand in his. Clark put his arms around him. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Lex closed his eyes and turned into the warmth of that embrace, his forehead resting on Clark's shoulder.

"All those years," Lex rasped. "All those years he kept me from her. And now--"

"I know," Clark whispered. "It's not fair. It's not right."

"She looks like my mother did right before the end."

"It's not the end, Lex. You still have time." Clark drew him onto the bed and knelt to pull off Lex's shoes. Kicking off his sneakers, he climbed into bed and pulled Lex back against his chest, flipping the covers over them.

Lex leaned back against him, breathing hard. "I love this room."

Clark laid his head on top of Lex's. "It's okay. Could use some stars on the ceiling, though."

Lex laughed raggedly and took another quick sip of the tea. It did help. Everything and everyone in this house helped.

Clark nuzzled him. "Lex. How long have you known about your dad's parents?"

"I hired a private investigator when I was seventeen." Lex curled his fingers around Clark's arm. "He found out more than I wanted to know."

"You should have told me that, too," Clark whispered in his ear. "Pamela's right, Lex. You're not alone anymore."

"It was ugly," Lex whispered back.

"I don't care. We're partners. You shouldn't have carried that all alone."

"Clark, how much ugly can you hear before you can't look at me anymore?" Lex cursed inwardly as his voice broke.

Clark curled himself around him, cradling Lex as if to fence out every human ill. "There's nothing you can tell me that will make me look away. If you can handle me nearly setting you on fire, then I can sure as hell handle hearing the truth about your father. Or anything else."

Lex silently thanked God that his car had crashed through a bridge guardrail and plunged into a river. He made a mental note to thank God for it every day for the rest of his life. "Their apartment building blew up with them in it. The cause of the blast was undetermined."

"You think he did it."

"You saw the look on his face."

"I will never leave you alone with him again." Clark's voice was like steel.

Lex closed his eyes. "That may not be possible."

"If I can't be there, then someone else will. We won't let him hurt you, Lex."

"There have been others."

"Yeah. I figured."

***

"This is the main entrance of the building." Martha watched Eli sketch a quick floor plan on the back of one of her recipe cards, feeling like she was in a bad action adventure movie. "Just inside the doors, there is a guard station. At least one guard is on duty there at all times. Sometimes there is more than one. The express elevator to the penthouse is here, twenty feet past the guard station."

"This is impossible," Martha whispered, appalled. "How on earth--"

Jonathan laid a hand on her arm. "Let him finish."

Eli shot an understanding smile at Martha. "It is a challenge. There is no corridor, no door, and no elevator car that is not covered by security cameras. Access to the express elevator is restricted by digital security code. It is a foregone conclusion that this code has been changed since I designed penthouse security, as well as the code to the safe in the penthouse."

"But Lionel will have the codes," Martha said desperately. "Won't he?"

"Possibly. But I am not inclined to trust the generosity of Lionel Luthor any more than is Alexander."

"Then how on earth--"

Eli held up his hand, his head cocked. Martha held her breath to listen. A car was driving up the lane.

"Somebody's coming," Jonathan said, striding to the living room windows.

"If it is Lionel Luthor, I will feed his skin to wolves," Eli said, joining Jonathan.

"It's the Ross' car." Jonathan shot Martha a bewildered look.

Eli watched the car with a strangely resigned expression. "Pete Ross and Chloe Sullivan."

Something in Eli's voice made Martha pull herself to her feet. "What makes you say that?"

"Because God is just," Eli said wearily.

Martha tried to catch Eli's eye, but he avoided her gaze. He had never done that before.

"No, it's just Pete," Jonathan said, clearly bewildered. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"He knows, Jonathan." Eli's voice was quiet.

"Knows what?" Martha wondered why on earth she was asking such a stupid question. 'Knows' could only mean one thing.

Eli turned to regard her gravely. "Everything. He and Miss Sullivan were at Alexander's house last night."

Martha groped for the table for support as her knees went wobbly.

"Everything?" Jonathan had gone white.

"Alexander and Clark insisted that they be told. And shown."

"Shown," Martha repeated faintly.

"They saw the ship," Jonathan whispered.

"They did."

Jonathan finally exploded. "God damn it, Eli! You're supposed to be a bodyguard! Didn't you try to stop them?"

"I did." Eli met Jonathan's gaze unflinchingly. "I tried to kill them."

Kill them. Martha covered her mouth with both hands.

A loud knock at the door broke the stunned silence, and Jonathan turned toward the door with a shell-shocked expression. Martha turned her back on Eli and sank into her chair, burying her face in her hands. He tried to kill them.

"Mrs. Kent--"

"Don't say anything." Martha refused to turn. He had nothing to say. Nothing. They were children. "Don't say anything to me, Eli."

She managed to look up in time to see Jonathan open the door. Pete was standing on the porch, blessedly alive, bouncing on the balls of his feet in a clearly agitated state. His clothes were rumpled, as if he'd been sleeping in them, but Martha's heart started beating again to see the boy in one beautiful piece. "Okay," he said rapidly, "Okay, I couldn't sleep. This can't go on, okay?"

"Pete," Jonathan said quietly. "Please come inside."

Pete bounded inside and Jonathan closed the door behind him. "Look. I know you're trying to keep Clark alive. We're on the same page, okay?"

Martha drew a breath. "Sit down, Pete."

"But this can't go on. Because this thing Lionel Luthor made is killing people, you know?"

"We know." Jonathan guided Pete to the kitchen table and gently pushed him into a chair. "Are you all right, son?"

"Me? Yeah!" Pete caught sight of Eli and grimaced. "Oh. You still here?"

"I am," Eli said gravely.

Martha laid a hand on Pete's arm, trying to brush her tears away. "We're so sorry, Pete. We had no idea this could happen."

"Mrs. Kent." Pete actually looked embarrassed. "It's okay. I'm cool."

"You're cool?" Jonathan's voice rose in astonishment. "Well, I'm sure as hell not!"

"Jonathan," Martha said unevenly. "Pamela. The boys."

Jonathan took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "My God, Eli. What the hell were you thinking?"

Eli was expressionless. "That any chance word spoken by these children could put your son on a dissection table, and my...Alexander dead or imprisoned," he said tonelessly. "I was not thinking clearly at the time."

"Not thinking clearly?"

"No shit." Pete glared at Eli, but to Martha's amazement showed no fear of the man. "Like we'd do anything to hurt Clark. I want to help, Mr. Kent."

"Just slow down, son." Jonathan eased himself into his chair at the table and leaned his head against one hand. "Give us a minute."

"Dear God." Martha touched Pete's face. They had come so close. So close to being damned. That Pete and Chloe could be involved in this war, let alone become casualties, was too much to stand.

"Really. We're okay, Mrs. Kent." Pete took Martha's hand awkwardly. "Not a scratch, I swear."

Martha pulled herself together. "Perhaps you should leave, Mr. Cohen."

"No," Pete said, in such a determined tone that Martha was startled. "Don't send him away, Mrs. Kent. Clark needs him. Clark needs everybody right now."

Jonathan met her gaze, and Martha knew that sending Eli Cohen away wasn't going to be an option. Perhaps they were going to be damned anyway.

"You need to send him to Metropolis," Pete continued passionately. "You need to tell him to kill that clone."

"Pete, no." Shocked, Martha folded her hands around Pete's. They were shaking.

"We are of one mind," Eli said.

"That's murder, Pete." Jonathan's voice was barely audible; his gaze didn't leave Martha's face. "Premeditated murder."

"He's killing people. He's trying to kill Clark. And we're the only ones who know. If we don't do something to stop him, then it's our fault if someone else gets killed. If Clark gets killed."

Martha found her voice. "We're trying to figure out a way--"

"Clark told us that this has been going on since December. Three people have died since then. A.J. said there might be more. Either that thing has to be killed, or he has to be locked up for what he's done."

"The police cannot be brought into this matter," Eli said sharply. "Alexander's good name--"

"I don't give a shit about that asshole's good name!"

"Pete. Calm down, son." Jonathan laid a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I don't want to calm down! This isn't right, Mr. Kent. If he's killed people, he should be in jail. If he's tried to hurt Clark, he should be in jail."

"We're not disagreeing with you, Pete." Jonathan sounded weary.

"If you put him in jail, then A.J. can prove who he is."

"If Lionel Luthor doesn't kill him first. The man's not going to stand by and let Lex get him indicted for a felony."

"Are you going to let this thing get away with murder just so A.J. can go back to eating caviar and driving his Porsche?"

"I'm going to do whatever I have to to keep my sons alive," Jonathan snapped.

Pete's eyes widened. "Your sons?"

Jonathan flushed. "I meant...Clark and Lex." Martha couldn't help smiling. "We can't murder this man, Pete, no matter what he's done. That makes us no better than he is."

"I'd settle for being no better than he is if it meant that Clark could sleep at night," Pete said darkly.

No. No, not that way. Martha squeezed his arm. "You don't mean that. You haven't thought this through, Pete."

"I haven't done anything but think about it for the past six hours. The Luthors have done nothing but hurt everybody they have anything to do with. Look at what they've done to this town, Mrs. Kent."

Martha flinched for Jonathan's sake.

"You're not telling us anything we don't know." Jonathan's voice was harsh. "That's not a license to kill."

"Mr. Kent--"

"Pete, you're coming in a little late on this to be passing judgment."

Pete sighed and slouched in his chair. "I didn't mean it that way."

"We've been trying to keep Clark and Lex alive and away from Luthor and his science project for five months now. The best we've been able to do is put out fires. We've had some close scrapes, and some of us have been hurt more than once. We haven't been sitting around waiting for anything. We have been under constant attack, one way or another, since the night Lex showed up at our door. If you have a plan to deal with the clone without making us murderers or Lex a target, we'd love to hear it."

Pete squirmed in his chair, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, no, I don't have a plan. But we need one. We have to stop him. He's killing people. He's killing our town."

"He's right."

Martha started at the soft voice, and turned to see Lex entering the kitchen, looking decidedly worse for wear. Clark was a step behind him, yawning. "You should both be in bed."

"You're right," Lex told Pete with a grim expression. Pete gaped at him, obviously taken aback. "Part of the drawback of being under a prolonged siege is the impact it has on one's strategic vision. I've acquired a classic case of tactical myopia."

Pete scowled. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I'm an asshole, my father's an asshole, and we've done nothing but try to destroy Smallville and everyone in it," Lex retorted.

"Put a sock in it, Lex." Clark sighed and dropped into a seat beside Martha. "We have an idea."

***

Eli rocked himself gently on the porch swing, smoking his pipe. It seemed the safest place to be, given the understandable and very correct ferocity of the lady of the house. Martha had refused to look at him as she and Clark had shepherded the Ross boy past Eli and back to his car, Martha walking between them as if Eli were a crazed fiend who would leap upon the boy with fangs bared. Eli would have left by now, if not for the knowledge that Lionel Luthor would be here by mid-afternoon. No force, not even that of the formidable Martha Clark Kent, would drive him from Alexander's side under those circumstances.

"He doesn't want to go."

Eli nodded without turning. If the farmer had intended to startle him, he must work on his technique. He had heard Jonathan's approach all the way from the kitchen, where Alexander was still feverishly tapping away on his laptop. Eli watched as Pete climbed behind the wheel of his car, shaking his head and arguing. "The young man is very devoted to Clark."

"They've been friends since they were four years old."

The edge in Jonathan's voice was scarcely a surprise. That there had been no hint thus far of the family shotgun had caused Eli considerable astonishment. Clark and Pete clasped hands through the car window, and Clark gave Pete's shoulder a playful slap. The affection in the boys' faces made Eli wish briefly for a shovel, that he might dig a hole in which to hide. A deep hole. In Mongolia. "I see."

Martha kissed Pete's cheek, and Pete pulled away down the drive toward the lane. Clark's arm went around his mother's shoulders as they turned back toward the house.

"Do you?" Jonathan's voice was low and dangerous.

Eli watched Martha and Clark climb the porch steps. Martha's ice blue eyes never left his face. Ah. Retribution was at hand.

"Clark, go get Lex away from that computer and make him rest," Martha said, coming to a halt beside Jonathan.

"Mom," Clark said. "Eli's not--"

"Do as your mother asks, cricket," Eli cut in. "Alexander needs you now."

Sighing heavily, Clark disappeared into the house. Jonathan leaned against the porch railing, fixing Eli with a blue stare of his own.

Martha crossed her arms over her chest. "Mr. Cohen, are you in the habit of shooting children?"

"Not recently."

Martha's eyes widened.

Eli met her gaze squarely. "I was a soldier by the time I was seventeen years old, Mrs. Kent. The first soldier I killed was even younger than I."

"We're not talking about soldiers," Jonathan snapped.

"We are now."

"No," Martha protested, white-faced. "They're not soldiers. They're not."

"I told you long ago that it would come to this. The choice between duty and life."

"Are you calling what you did duty?"

"It was duty."

"It was insane!"

Eli lowered his pipe to regard her grimly. "These things are not mutually exclusive, Mrs. Kent. You know this yourself, do you not?"

"That's enough." Jonathan moved closer as Martha closed her eyes.

"Do not misunderstand me. I do not defend my actions. I will carry the shame of last night to my grave. But you both must face what is coming."

"What is coming?" Martha whispered.

"You heard what Alexander and Clark intend to do. It is only the beginning."

"They're only--"

"There is no only. They have accepted their duty."

Jonathan leaned forward angrily. "They didn't say a damn thing about duty, Eli. Lex said--"

"Jonathan," Martha said in a flat tone, her gaze riveted to Eli's. "He's right."

Jonathan shot her an incredulous look. "It's a distraction. Lex said it was a--"

"Mr. Kent." Eli gentled his voice. "Some men are possessed by their fears. Others by their desires. Alexander is possessed by his ideas. And he has learned to be guided by his heart. Like your son." Eli noted with considerable annoyance that the hand holding his pipe was shaking. "You should have seen them last night, your sons. Like angels descending to shield the innocents from a monster."

"Eli--"

"The cricket held his friends in his arms, and Alexander stood there between those children and this madman and said that I must shoot him if I wished to harm them."

Martha moved to stare through the windows into the living room. Eli could see, out of the corner of his eye, that Alexander was lying on the sofa, his head in Clark's lap. Clark was bending over him as he spoke. Whatever he said made Alexander smile.

Jonathan's face was white now. "That...that wasn't duty."

"It was the highest duty," Eli whispered. "It was love."

Jonathan glanced through the window, eyes bright, and said nothing.

"They will protect the innocent. And the time will come when they must choose between an innocent life and a damned one. And the damned will die. They are soldiers, Mrs. Kent, whether they know it or not. It has already begun."

***

"I know you're not asleep, Lex."

Lex couldn't help smiling. "I'm not?"

"Don't bother trying to fake it. I've watched you sleep a lot. I know the real thing."

Lex opened his eyes to see Clark bending over him. He was worried. It made him look older than he was. Lex touched Clark's cheek gently and brought his smile back. "You watch me sleep?"

"Yeah," Clark said affectionately. "You drool."

Lex snorted, amused. "Liar."

"You drool all over the damn place."

"Luthors," Lex said with as much hauteur as he could ever manage in Clark's presence, "do not drool."

"Yeah, well." Clark bent closer, smiling. "You do lots of things Luthors don't do."

"Point taken. I nevertheless deny any and all drooling."

"You're punchy. You really need to rest before your father gets here."

"There's no time," Lex said quietly, stroking Clark's hair back from his face.

Clark glanced at the clock. "He won't be here for almost four hours, Lex."

"He'll be early. Very early. It's a simple and effective tactic when attempting to throw your enemy's forces into disarray. Disrupt the established timetable."

"Do you think he'll bring all the stuff you asked for?"

"Oh, yes. It's just more bait on the hook as far as he's concerned."

Clark surprised him with another smile. "Lex. You know what Dad said about being proud?"

"Have you found his stash yet?"

"I'm proud of you, too."

Lex swallowed hard, stomping on the inconvenient emotions that threatened to find voice. "Don't be. It hasn't worked yet. It's a long, long way from working, Clark."

"I'm proud of you whether it works or not."

Lex reminded himself that Clark was from another planet. "My father says that success is the only thing to be valued in any endeavor."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Lex heard himself laughing. "Surely not."

"It is."

"More stupid than not sorting laundry?"

"Not sorting laundry is fucking genius compared to that."

"Language, Clark."

Clark studied him for a moment with somber green eyes, and for the hundredth time Lex wondered what he saw. "Lex. Your dad. He's...crazy, isn't he?"

Lex closed his eyes, unable to withstand that gentle scrutiny. "I imagine the answer to that would depend on one's definition of sanity."

"Try your definition."

Lex groped for Clark's hand and found it, felt it curl around his. "I don't know what he is, Clark."

"I want you to be careful, mastermind." Clark was so close that Lex could smell the sweet coffee-scent of his warm breath.

"This isn't going to work if I'm careful, Jiminy."

"This could push him to the edge."

"The edge is where I want him. There's less room to maneuver there."

"If he has less room he'll be more dangerous. Pamela was right, Lex. He still has teeth."

"So do we."

Clark barked a rueful little laugh. "So we're still angels?"

"Absolutely." Lex yawned in spite of himself.

Clark sighed. "Lex. I promise I'll wake you up the second I hear his car turn into the lane. Sleep."

That Lex could feel even remotely safe at that moment was patently absurd. But this house, in this boy's arms, was the safest place Lex had ever found, or could possibly imagine. He felt Clark pulling Martha's afghan up to cover him and smiled, relaxing into the warmth.

***

Chloe started awake, certain she had heard something. Rolling over onto her back, she stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, wondering if her dad was coming upstairs for another round of this-is-unacceptable-behavior-young-lady. Chloe sighed as the litany echoed in her ears. Didn't she realize that both he and the Rosses had been worried sick? That they had had no idea where she and Pete were? That anything might have happened? That she and Pete might have been lying dead in a ditch somewhere for all they knew? That no decent sixteen-year-old girl stayed out all night and don't roll your eyes at me, young lady, you're not so grown up that I can't take you over my knee and so help me God you are grounded until you're twenty-one.

Chloe sighed again, more gustily this time. Yeah, Gabe had freaked. And he hadn't even tried to buy the cover story. Okay, so the old I-ran-out-of-gas routine wasn't exactly her best work, but what could you expect after the night she'd had? International assassins and psychotic clones and Clark in love with Lex Luthor – and don't think that wasn't going to stir-fry her brain for the next ten years – and spaceships and Clark as E.T. and Lex as the Count of Monte Cristo and Lionel Luthor as even more of an evil bastard than she had thought he was, which was pretty damn impressive.

Something rattled her window, and Chloe sat up in bed as she turned toward the sound. "Oh, God." Pete glared at her through the window, gesturing furiously for her to open it, but Chloe simply stared at him in disbelief. The idiot had climbed the trellis. He hadn't done that since he was twelve. What the hell was going on now? "Go away." Chloe fell back against her pillows.

Pete started rapping loudly on the window, and Chloe swore as she stumbled out of bed to open it. "Are you mental?" she hissed, hastily arranging her nightshirt.

Pete clambered through the window, looking entirely too cranky for someone who was about to have his ass kicked. "What the hell took you so long?"

"Do you have a clue how stupid you are? My dad freaked! I am grounded until I cash my first social security check! If he finds you in my bedroom--"

"Yeah, yeah, I got grounded, too. My mom wants to know how serious we are." Pete had the nerve to look smug.

"We," Chloe said in her most deadly voice, "are not serious."

Pete smirked. "My dad thinks I got lucky."

Chloe stared at him in naked horror. "You told him you didn't. You did not let him think--"

"And I think my mom thinks you got lucky."

Chloe's eyes narrowed. "If you so much as hint to anyone--"

"Who, me?"

"--that anybody got lucky last night I will pay Lugosi to shoot off your dangly bits." Pete started cackling, and Chloe smacked his shoulder hard. "Shut up! My dad is right downstairs, you asshole. What are you doing here, trying to get me sent to a convent school?"

"I went out to the Kent place to talk to Clark's folks." Pete stretched out on Chloe's bed. Without even asking. Chloe restrained a shudder as she imagined the look on her father's face if he should walk in. "I just couldn't take it. I couldn't sleep thinking about it. You know. Clone-boy out there knocking off who knows how many people on his way to Clark."

Chloe sighed and sat on the side of the bed. "I'm sure the Kents really appreciated that, Pete. Because they don't have enough worry about and all."

"They've got more to worry about than you think. Who's going to help them get clone-boy's stuff on Clark? Lionel Luthor. Who's going to help them pull clone-boy's fangs out of Smallville's throat? Lionel Luthor. Are you seeing a pattern here?"

"They can't possibly trust him."

"What difference does that make? He's going to be in on everything."

"Lex wouldn't be that stupid."

Pete turned his head to glare at her. "What, so you're a Lex Luthor fan, now?"

"No." Chloe glared back. "I'm just saying he's not stupid." She hesitated. "And that he loves Clark." She flopped backward onto the bed. She didn't have to look at Pete that way.

Pete groaned loudly, and Chloe smacked his leg, glancing nervously at the door. "You didn't fall for that. You didn't."

"He loves Clark," Chloe repeated quietly.

"He's using him. He's using him to get back at his father."

"No." Chloe kept her voice steady with an effort. "He loves him. And Clark loves Lex." She cleared her throat. "Just trust me on this one. Women know when somebody's in love."

"Jesus God." Pete looked disgusted. "Where were your special girl powers when we nearly got our brains blown out, huh?"

"I said we know when somebody's in love. I didn't say anything about deflecting bullets."

Pete snorted. "Great. So they're in love and everything's birthday cake and ice cream."

"They're in love and everything sucks." Chloe grimaced as her voice wobbled. "Could we talk about this later? Like never?"

Pete sighed and fell silent for a moment. "Sorry."

Chloe blinked and stared at the ceiling. "What for?"

"You know. Clark. The dress."

Chloe drew a shaky breath. "Clark is an asshole."

"Yeah," Pete said resignedly. "Major."

"I mean, he couldn't have waited until after the formal to be a taken bisexual alien?"

"The guy's got no class. Zero."

"Do you know what I spent on that dress?"

"If you want, I'll make A.J. wear it. We can take pictures."

"He'd be pretty in pink," Chloe said darkly.

"Just say the word, Chloe."

Oh, geez, Pete might actually do it. "No, that's okay. He might like wearing it."

Pete made an unattractive noise. "Good point."

"Are you going to ask Lana?"

"And get my head bashed in by the entire football team?"

"Maybe not. Lana and Whitney aren't as tight as they used to be."

"She doesn't know I breathe, Chloe."

Chloe sighed. "So we're both dateless. This is vile."

"Yeah. And dateless us get to watch Clark and A.J. coo at each other. Until Asshole Senior sells Clark to the highest bidder, anyway. This situation blows, Chloe."

"Clark's not getting sold to anybody. I'm not done making him suffer yet."

"You wouldn't believe the half-ass plans he and A.J. have come up with to get rid of the clone and snatch his evidence. And the Kents are going along with it. Clark is going to get too damn close to Lionel Luthor. They all are."

"They're desperate," Chloe said slowly, thinking. "They can't protect Clark without Luthor's help."

"He'll screw them over. You know he'll screw them over. And A.J.'s got the Kents wrapped around his little finger."

"Lex isn't the problem. His father is."

"His father's enough," Pete said glumly.

"But he doesn't know about us. We're the Kents' secret weapon, Pete."

Pete grinned. "You read my mind."

"Good. Here's what--"

"Oh, no." Pete's grin became a glare. "This time we go with my plan. I'm declaring equal time for special boy powers."

***

The doctor stayed in Pamela's room for over an hour, and Clark heard a whole lot of in the way of raised voices. It made him feel better. If Pamela was strong enough to yell at her doctor, then she wasn't on death's door step, that's for sure. It was almost 12:30 in the afternoon before Dr. Weiss left the guest room and stomped down the stairs, muttering under his breath.

"I take it," Eli said mildly, "That Miss Jenkins is holding her own."

"Miss Jenkins is holding everybody else's," Weiss snapped, struggling to close his bag and pull his coat on at the same time. "With a nutcracker."

"Ah."

"You owe me, Eli. You owe me big time. That woman is impossible. What was she doing yesterday, running a marathon?"

Lex stirred in Clark's lap and opened his eyes, looking toward the doctor with groggy expression. Clark lay a soothing hand on his forehead.

"She was committing felonious assault," Eli replied with raised eyebrows. "With praiseworthy effectiveness."

Weiss held up a hand, glaring. "Don't. I don't want to know."

"I find your lack of curiosity shocking. Your father would have demanded the tale."

"My father was almost as wicked an old devil as you are, Eli Cohen. Almost." Weiss strode toward the door, ignoring Eli's taunting smile. "She's to stay in bed. She needs to conserve her strength."

"David?" Eli's voice went soft.

Weiss sighed and glanced over his shoulder as he opened the front door. "I'll send Jacob over this evening. She wants to make some changes in her will."

Eli nodded. "So I hear."

"I'll be back on moving day. She must rest, Eli. It's imperative."

"She will," Lex said, before Eli could answer. He sat up, swinging his long legs over the edge of the sofa. "We'll see to it."

Weiss nodded and turned toward the door, only to have his path blocked by the looming figure of Lionel Luthor, who opened the storm door without so much as a knock and stepped inside.

"It is customary in civilized society to knock before entering another man's home," Eli said sharply.

Lionel assumed a sardonic smile and made a great show of knocking on the door frame. Clark squashed the satisfying image of crushing Lionel's head between his hands. Lex had been right. The bastard was an hour and a half early. "Won't you introduce me to your friend, Eli?"

"Dr. David Weiss, may I present Mr. Lionel Luthor." Sarcasm drenched Eli's tone.

Lionel didn't move out of Weiss' way. "Ah, yes, Miss Jenkins' oncologist. Tell me, doctor, is there any question that the lady is in full possession of her faculties?"

Lex rose to his feet, fists clenched, and Clark stood beside him, deciding that he'd kick Lionel in the balls before he squooshed his head.

"None whatsoever," Weiss said sharply. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Luthor, I have other patients to see."

"I would never stand between a physician and his patient. However, should you ever want to upgrade your clientele--" Lionel offered Weiss a business card.

"My clientele spits at the mention of your name," Weiss said in a low voice. "And so do I." Shouldering past Lionel, Weiss shoved his way through the storm door and stalked across the porch and down the steps to the drive.

"You do have a way with people, Dad," Lex remarked.

"An old friend of yours, I assume." Lionel glared at to Eli.

"His father and I served together," Eli replied in a mild tone. "You are fortunate that his son has taken an oath of healing. Tobias was the best man with a knife I have ever seen."

Lionel snorted and walked into the kitchen. "I trust you'll explain why all this was necessary." Clark maintained his composure with difficulty as Lionel seated himself in Jonathan's chair at the head of the kitchen table without so much as a by-your-leave, sliding his briefcase in front of him. "Obtaining this information was not a simple matter."

"You're lying," Lex said calmly, not moving. He glanced up as Jonathan and Martha descended the staircase. "If you know what Karloff takes to bed with him, you are certainly aware of his business activities, if I may use such an innocuous phrase to describe murder and mayhem."

"You're early." Jonathan's eyes narrowed as he noted where Lionel was sitting.

"My son seems to think the matter is urgent." Lionel met Jonathan gaze, seemingly unperturbed.

Lex broke the silence. "Mrs. Kent." He offered his hand, and Martha smiled as she took it, letting Lex lead her to a chair on the side of the far end of the table from Lionel. Jonathan snorted and took a seat across from her.

Lionel chuckled. "Chivalry is not dead. You've picked up some quaint habits, Lex."

"Oh, you have no idea what I've picked up." Lex's voice was ice as he sat down at the end of the table, facing his father. "The map and the list, please."

Clark stayed on his feet behind Lex, watching Lionel like a hawk. Lionel grinned as he opened the briefcase, glancing over his shoulder as Eli took up a position behind him. "I'm unarmed, Eli."

"A viper is never unarmed."

Lionel chuckled as he pulled some papers and a rolled map from the briefcase and slid them across the table. "You're not afraid of me, are you, Lex?"

"Terrified," Lex said in a bored tone, flipping through the pages.

Lionel frowned. "May I ask what pending foreclosures and waste disposal have to do with our agreement?"

"You said you wanted to be my father. Is this Pete Ross' father, Jonathan?" Lex slid the list in front of Jonathan as Clark caught his breath. God, not Pete.

"Yeah." Jonathan's voice was grim. "I didn't know he was in trouble."

"It's certainly a long list, Mr. Luthor." Martha regarded Lionel with palpable disgust.

"The administration of the Savings and Loan has been in the hands of the replicate for some time." Lionel's impatience was becoming obvious. "What does being your father--"

"He said you were running things," Clark retorted, not troubling to conceal the hostility in his tone.

Lionel shot him an icy glance. "Don't be absurd, boy. He wants you, so he told you what you wanted to hear. That's how the game is played, isn't it, Lex?"

Clark felt the heat rise to his face. Lionel knew. Or suspected. Or wanted to say anything that would rattle Lex. Clark shut his mouth.

"For you to be my father, it will be necessary for me to respect you." Lex's voice cut the air like a knife before Martha and Jonathan could give voice to the shock in their faces. "I have therefore decided to give you an opportunity to earn my respect."

Lionel's jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon?"

"Earn. My. Respect," Lex repeated distinctly, unrolling the map.

Lionel's eyes narrowed. "How?"

"Simple," Lex said cheerfully. "You're going to clean up the deplorable mess your suitable heir has made."

Lionel stared at him wordlessly.

"Well, most of it, at any rate. I don't expect you to raise the dead." Lex clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he studied the map. Clark moved to Lex's side and leaned over the table to look. It was a good way to hide his red face. "Old File-Save-As has been a busy boy."

Clark was horrified to see the number of places marked in red. "Those aren't all waste dumps, are they?"

"Every last one." Lionel's voice was harsh.

Jonathan ran a hand over the map. "Jesus Christ. They're scattered over half the county. If the groundwater's been contaminated--"

"That isn't your problem or mine." Lionel closed his briefcase a little too loudly.

"It is now," Lex said pleasantly.

Lionel tried to laugh. "You can't possibly be serious."

Lex raised his eyes to his father's face, and Clark almost winced at the menace in his face. "Do I look like I'm not serious?"

"Do you have any idea of the scope – of the cost of such an operation?"

"I have a rough idea, yes. And I imagine by the time you refinance all these mortgages it'll run to at least nine figures. To say nothing of the cost of litigation."

Lionel's eyes widened. "Refinance the mortgages?"

"Is there a problem?" Lex leaned back in his chair, and Clark straightened. Something in Lionel's eyes made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

Lionel instantly composed his features. "You've put LuthorCorp in a financially precarious position as it is. This could destroy us."

"Then I imagine you'll be forced to draw upon your personal resources."

"Not that I for one moment believe that LuthorCorp is as insolvent as you imply. Its assets are varied and vast. It has, for example, land holdings all over this county that if necessary could be sold at cents on the dollar. I'm sure the original owners would be glad to have them back."

Jonathan grinned broadly but said nothing.

"Lex, for God's sake, be reasonable. We can't possibly do this. We don't have the resources."

"You're lying," Lex said. "Please don't lie to me, Dad. It's not something I respect."

"I am not lying!" Lionel's fist hit the table, his face flushed. "If we're to maintain anything resembling a profit margin--"

"Scrap the profit margin."

"What?"

"Sell the jet and yacht fleets."

"We can't possibly--"

"Sell the house."

"The house?"

"We'll have the mother of all yard sales in the formal garden."

Jonathan barked a laugh, and Martha rested her chin in her hands, one index finger pressed firmly against her lips.

"All right, Lex, you've had your little joke." Lionel rose from his chair, his face twisted in anger, and Clark instinctively laid his hands on Lex's shoulders.

Eli appeared at Lionel's side, snatched the brief case away as Lionel grabbed for it, and laid a restraining hand on Lionel's shoulder. "Do not lose your temper, Mr. Luthor," Eli said. "Should your temper be the death of you it would be a great personal disappointment to me."

"In the spirit of family unity, I'll even throw in the funds I appropriated from the Biotech Division accounts." Lex remained in his chair, but Clark could feel the tension in his muscles.

"Sit down, Mr. Luthor," Martha said in her most formidable Mom-is-God voice. "Right now."

Lionel sank back into his chair, his gaze riveted to Lex's face. "I came here in good faith," he rasped, shrugging off Eli's restraining hand.

"As did I," Lex said.

"I came to discuss the elimination of the replicate and the retrieval of his evidence against your...friend." Lionel's pause before the last word was punctuated by a look that made no secret of his opinion concerning the nature of the relationship. Clark felt himself going hot again.

"We are discussing it." Lex made no move to pull away from Clark. "Do I have to spell this out for you?"

Lionel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Humor me."

"Very well. You will 'discover' Karloff's illegal dumping and his mishandling of the Savings and Loan. You will be suitably shocked. You will fire him immediately. You will cut him off from all LuthorCorp resources."

"You're insane," Lionel said faintly.

"Am I? When someone's beating you over the head with a stick, you have three options. You can stand there and take it, you can return the beating, or you can take the stick away. LuthorCorp is Karloff's stick, and we're going to take it away from him."

Lionel made a visible effort to recover. "Option four. You buy several hundred bigger sticks, hire some muscle and bludgeon him into red paste."

Lex raised his eyebrows as Martha rested her head in her hands, sighing. "I don't think you're quite getting into the spirit of this thing, Dad."

"The object of this exercise is to take this thing's power away, Luthor." Jonathan's tone was glacial. "His power to harm others. Not to kill him."

Lionel actually laughed. "You can never take his power away. He's a Luthor."

"He isn't anything of the kind," Martha said in a low voice. "He's an experiment that went terribly wrong."

"Did he?" Lionel grinned. "I've found him to be quite effective. What do you think, Clark?"

"I think Auschwitz was effective, too," Clark said.

Lionel burst into laughter. "Clark, Clark. You are your father's son."

"Yes, he is." Lex smiled thinly. "Laugh while you can, Dad. Because as long as your 'effective' heir has access to LuthorCorp resources, he can replicate your cloning research. No pun intended."

Lionel's laughter died abruptly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he has the records from Biotech Division. He obviously intends to hang his mad scientist shingle on the nearest lab, since he hasn't used them to expose you."

Lionel swallowed visibly. "How do you know he has them?"

"I know because I gave them to him," Lex said, his smile all knives and razor blades. The color in Lionel's face had drained away. "Gee, Dad, you're not looking so good. Would you like something for your stomach? I can highly recommend Mrs. Kent's chamomile tea."

"You didn't," Lionel said hoarsely. "You wouldn't. You would have nothing to gain and everything to lose."

"Oh, I had a great deal to gain, and I got it. I don't know why you're looking so shocked, Dad. It was a simple business arrangement."

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Lionel hissed.

"I take it I now have your full attention?"

"That thing is insane!"

"And very effective. Left any stray DNA samples around lately?"

Clark made a mental note to tell Lex how hot he was when he was kicking his dad's ass. Right before he tore off Lex's clothes and tackled him to the bed, that is, and kept him there for the rest of the weekend, doing unspeakably sexy things to him.

Lex tilted his head slightly to study his father's pale, grim face. "Of course, he may be spending all his lab time breaking new ground in the field of gene therapy, or developing some meteorite ore of his own. You may have a very healthy heir to deal with in the near future."

Lionel drummed his fingers on the table, trying to smile. "And if I tell you that I already have countermeasures in place to deal with this contingency?"

"Then I suppose," Lex said softly, "that it would all come down to how badly you want to touch me."

Jonathan stiffened; Martha closed her eyes. Clark resisted the urge to scoop Lex up and hide him somewhere, anywhere – anywhere that was far away from Lionel Luthor. Eli's gun hand twitched visibly.

Lionel's hand froze where it was; his eyes went wide and wild. "Don't you dare try to twist what I said into--"

"Yes?" Lex prompted when Lionel hesitated. "I'm sorry, did I misunderstand you?"

"I'm your father," Lionel snapped.

"You want to be my father."

"And all I have to do to earn that privilege is to destroy my life's work."

"Some men might consider their son their life's work." Jonathan's voice was thick and unsteady.

"All you have to do," Lex said, glancing at Jonathan, "is help me to undo some of the damage that your science project has done."

"By destroying LuthorCorp."

"We both know it would take far more than what I'm proposing to destroy that monster."

Clark glanced down at Lex in surprise. He'd never heard Lex call LuthorCorp a monster before.

Lionel looked genuinely aghast. "LuthorCorp is your future. Your rightful place."

Lex studied his father for a moment, then smiled. "I'll make my own place, thanks."

Clark let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Yes. Lex. He resisted the urge to hug the man.

If Lionel had looked aghast before, he looked absolutely beside himself now. "Your own place? You're a Luthor!"

Lex raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well. Nobody's perfect."

Jonathan shot Lex a wry glance and grinned while Martha pressed her lips together, the way she did when she wanted to laugh in church. Clark squeezed Lex's shoulders gently. God, when he got Lex back to the bedroom, the guy wouldn't know what hit him.

Lionel drew a breath and tried again. "LuthorCorp is your destiny."

Lex shrugged. "Whether LuthorCorp is part of my destiny or not remains to be seen."

"I'm all you have."

Lex laughed at the desperation in Lionel's face. "Look around you, Dad. I've traded up."

Lionel surged out of his chair, but Eli was immediately there to take him by the arm. "Again with the temper," Eli said pleasantly, shoving Lionel back into his chair. "You have a very short attention span this afternoon."

Lionel slammed his hands palms down on the table. "God damn it, Lex, what's happened to you? Have you no ambition in life whatsoever?"

Lex raised an eyebrow. "Dad, my ambitions would make you piss yourself."

"Don't let these people make you forget who you are," Lionel snarled.

"On the contrary, these people have done their utmost to help me remember who I am." Lex stared his father down. "I was understandably confused on the subject when I arrived."

"If you remembered who you were, you wouldn't be troubling me with dump sites and foreclosures. You would be formulating a plan to kill the replicate and resume your life."

"Not all of us can commit cold-blooded murder with such a blithe spirit," Lex said coldly. "If you remembered who you were, you would go to the authorities and prove that Karloff is a clone and a murderer."

Lionel's lip curled. "And be charged with a felony."

Lex smiled. "You see? We each have something we're unwilling to do, thus eliminating the most simple solutions. We are therefore left with less direct measures."

Lionel stared at him for a moment, then began to laugh. Clark was chilled by the sound. "Lex. Lex, I'm impressed. Perhaps this experience has been good for you."

Jonathan, evidently unable to stand anymore, launched himself out of his chair to stride into the living room, where he stared out the front windows, fists clenched.

"Good for him?" Martha exploded. "He nearly died!"

"Not Lex." Lionel was smiling. "He's a survivor."

Lex said nothing.

"All right," Lionel chuckled. "Fine. We'll play it your way for now. I'll earn your respect."

"When?"

"Immediately."

Lex nodded. "And Karloff's evidence?"

"Nothing could be simpler. Tomorrow evening, you and I will simply go to the penthouse and remove the items. The security guards know me, and I have the access codes. I assume you have a decent suit to wear?"

"And Karloff will just invite you in?" Clark demanded.

Lionel's smile didn't fade. "The replicate is a guest at the Mayor's country house for the next few days. They've become fast friends. I suspect your doppelganger has political ambitions, Lex."

"Good God," Jonathan muttered.

Lex didn't spare Jonathan a glance. "How many meteorites has he collected?"

"Enough to fill the penthouse vault."

Clark closed his eyes for a second. Jesus. No. Lex couldn't just walk into the lion's den with Lionel Luthor, whatever the plan had been. They couldn't let him go through with this.

Lex's voice remained perfectly calm. "We'll need enough lead-lined boxes to transport them safely and a dolly to move them."

Lionel sighed. "May I inquire as to the point of that exercise?"

"I should think the point was obvious."

"They're meteorites, Lex. They're embedded in the soil all over this county. He can replenish his supply whenever he feels so inclined."

"This will be more difficult once they're classified as a hazardous material."

Lionel leaned back in his chair. "And how exactly will this come about?"

Lex smiled and glanced at Clark. "I imagine some intrepid young reporter will publish what everyone in Smallville knows and no one talks about – that radiation from the meteorites is responsible for our little mutant of the week problem."

Clark couldn't help grinning. God, Chloe would eat this up with a spoon.

Lionel snorted. "The local authorities will ignore the allegations. They've had a decade to hone their denial skills."

"But now a prominent and powerful citizen will take up the banner. He will insist that action be taken, that the EPA be notified, that this hazardous material be removed and destroyed." Lex smiled at his father contentedly.

Lionel's eyes narrowed, his gaze shifted to Jonathan. "This is your doing."

"This is Lex's doing." Jonathan glowered at Lionel from the living room. "Cheer up, Luthor. You're about to become a hero. A champion of the people."

"And worthy of respect," Lex said archly. Clark laughed quietly in spite of himself.

"All right," Lionel snarled. "It will be difficult, but the two of us should be able to remove the meteorites."

"Oh, don't think for one second you're taking Lex in there alone." Jonathan strode back into the kitchen, face flushed. "In fact, there's no reason Lex has to go at all." Clark shot a grateful look at his father.

"His presence will allay any suspicions the security staff might have. I haven't been a frequent visitor recently." Lionel locked eyes with Jonathan.

"He's right, Jonathan," Lex said quietly.

Jonathan tore his gaze away to look at Lex. "I'm coming with you. I won't take no for an answer, Lex."

Lex was smiling. "I didn't think you would."

Lionel leaned back in his chair, his cold gaze never leaving Jonathan's face.

***

Pamela's thin hand rested on the page, blocking the words. "You know this by heart," she whispered.

Lex found himself unable to raise his eyes. It was too new, this being known so well. More people were starting to understand – trying to understand – than he had ever imagined could be bothered. It was part of being close, Clark would have said. It was also a pain in the ass. "I don't think about it as much as I used to," he replied in what he hoped was a matter-of-fact tone. The effect was rather spoiled when his voice wobbled in a shockingly undignified manner. He cleared his throat. "When Clark first brought me here, when I had a chance to stop running and think...."

"Yes. Thinking is always a mistake," Pamela said wryly, and Lex looked up sharply. "After my visit to the mansion, I did a lot of that."

"But you don't now." Lex's voice was harsher than he'd intended.

Pamela smiled. "No. I don't now." She studied him for a moment. "But you do."

"Sometimes." He couldn't lie to these people. It was absurd. "Please don't tell Clark, Pamela."

"Because he wouldn't understand?"

Lex laughed shortly. "Because he'd understand perfectly."

Pamela took his hand, nodding. "Is he...good to you, Alexander?"

Lex felt his jaw drop. "Good to me?"

Pamela's mouth quirked into a rueful smile. "Your mother would never forgive me if I didn't ask."

A hundred images of Clark cascaded past Lex's mind's eye. Good to him? "Pamela. He's... I... Good to me. My mother..." Lex started laughing helplessly. "I endangered his life, and he loves me. I endangered his family's future, and he loves me. I very nearly destroyed his relationship with his father, and he loves me. He's seen me commit arson, grand larceny and contemplate cold-blooded murder, and he loves me. I thought that kind of love was a fairy tale. He's made me believe it. He's saved my life. He's saved my sanity. He understands me like he's part of me. He's my goddamn conscience, Pamela. He's risked his soul to be with me. Good to me...isn't in the same universe with Clark. Clark is a fucking certifiable lunatic." His voice gave way, and he stared at Pamela's hand in his, clearing his throat and blinking.

"He sounds like a lunatic worth living for." Pamela was silent for a few seconds, stroking Lex's hand. "But I think I'd hear about a different Alexander if I asked Clark this question."

"Of course you would." Lex reined himself in. "He's a delusional windmill-charger with a lock on the rose-colored glasses market."

Pamela chuckled. "And you adore him."

Lex glared at her. "Luthors don't adore."

"Bull. Your mother adored you."

"And my mother left me." Lex tried to bite back the words and failed. "With him."

"Alexander, there were reasons--"

"Pamela, I've already had this conversation twice today."

Pamela's eyes narrowed. "I see. Are you afraid that you'll leave Clark with your father?"

Lex stared at her, his stomach doing extremely uncomfortable gymnastics. "I will cut my throat before I hand Clark over to--"

"I didn't ask you what you would do," Pamela cut in, her face grim. "Although it seems that you consider that option more often than you'd like me to think. I asked you what you were afraid of. And don't tell me that Luthors aren't afraid."

"You missed your calling, Pamela," Lex growled, ruthlessly squashing the panic that rose in him at the words. "You should have been a shrink."

"I am a shrink." Pamela watched his startled reaction with obvious amusement. "I did have a life before I decided to work for your mother, you know."

Lex struggled with the concept. "Did my mother know?"

"Of course she did."

"Did my father?"

"Not that I know of."

Lex closed his eyes. "You were her shrink."

"I was her friend," Pamela said gently. "And yours. I still am."

Lex nodded mutely, his thumb moving over the back of her thin hand.

"You won't abandon Clark, Alexander."

"You can't know that," Lex whispered. "I don't know that."

"Why not?"

Lex drew an unsteady breath. "Sometimes I...lose myself. I don't know who I am. I'm not the Metropolis party reptile. I'm not the lord of the manor. I'm not the suitable heir, destined for greatness. I'm not the player, beating my father at his own game. And when I see him--"

"Yes." Pamela looked somber. "Lionel spent twenty years making you lose yourself. If you hadn't had your mother's strength, you'd be a carbon copy of the bastard by now."

"That's what Clark says. He says the minute I start to play my father's game I lose."

"I knew I liked that boy."

"That game was all I knew. When I see my father, and I don't play, I feel...." Lex groped for the words. He had found that his vocabulary was strangely limited when called upon to convey his feelings. "Empty. In a mist and losing my way."

"But you don't always feel that way."

Lex tried to smile. "Not when I'm with Clark. When I'm with his family. Or even when I'm not with them. When I just know they're there. Then I have some idea of who I am. Or...who I want to be."

"Who is that?"

Lex laughed weakly. "I don't know exactly. Clark thinks...he thinks I'm brave. Strong. A good man."

"You are all those things."

"He thinks I'm some kind of hero, Pamela. When we read this--" He touched the book in his lap. "He tells me I'm El-ahrairah."

Pamela lifted an eyebrow. "The 'Prince with a Thousand Enemies'? It suits you."

Lex sighed. "Fine. I'm a rabbit. Eli will be delighted."

Pamela's expression became stern. "You're a leader fighting for the survival of your people."

"I have people?"

"You're not alone anymore. I'm going to keep saying it until you believe it, Alexander."

Lex fell silent as he considered the growing clan around him. Pamela was almost as annoying as Clark when it came to making him consider a situation in a new light. His people.

"The Kents need you, Alexander. You know what babies they are."

Lex snorted. "Yeah. I know. I knew they needed protection from the first time I laid eyes on them."

"Not just your protection," Pamela said gently, squeezing his hand. "You."

"Excuse me?"

"You. Your intelligence. Your compassion. Your courage. Your friendship and guidance."

"Have you been talking to Clark?"

Pamela refused to smile. "Alexander. Even if tomorrow goes perfectly, even if your father doesn't betray you, even if you find and destroy every shred of evidence about Clark's abilities, it won't end there. You know that."

"My mistake. You've been talking to Eli."

"I think Clark will always be in danger. Because the Clark I see cares about people and doesn't stop to think about secrecy or safety when someone needs his help. He's not going to change, Alexander."

"I don't want him to change," Lex said in a low voice. "I wouldn't be here if Clark weren't who he is. I admire who he is."

"The stronger his abilities grow, the more risks he'll take to protect others, and the more danger he and his family will be in."

"I know. I'm working on it."

"Alexander." Pamela caught his gaze and held it. "This isn't a problem to be solved. It's a life to be lived."

A life. Lex became vaguely aware that he was holding his breath, and released a gust of air from his lungs.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes." Lex did understand, and he nearly laughed. He'd been so preoccupied with getting his life back that he'd been oblivious to the one he'd made. Perhaps destiny wasn't the easy read he'd previously assumed.

"You have a choice to make."

"No," Lex heard himself saying. "I think I made that choice long ago."

Pamela took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Then those fears are just that. Fears. Lionel Luthor-induced nightmares. You won't hurt Clark, Alexander. You won't abandon him. It's not in you."

"It's in me. I'm a Luthor."

"You are Lillian Edouard's son. You are every ounce the man Clark thinks you are and a great deal more. Tell me, what could Lionel possibly say or do that would persuade you to betray Clark's trust?"

"I don't know what he's going to say or do." Lex looked away. "I've never known. That's the nightmare, Pamela."

***

"He looks like a criminal." Martha glared at Jonathan, folding her arms across her chest. "And that had better not be one of my good stockings."

Jonathan sighed, sinking to sit on their bed. "What exactly distinguishes a good stocking from bad stocking, Martha?"

"Mom, the whole idea of a disguise is to look like someone I'm not." Clark removed the stocking to reveal a pleading expression. "I thought this would be better than a ski mask."

"You are not wearing a ski mask." Martha paused a moment to rein herself in, her horrified gaze taking in her beautiful son dressed in black from head to toe. It made him look too old. It made him look like a soldier.

"It's just a precaution, Martha." Jonathan was too quiet. "We don't know what will happen tomorrow. Clark may have to...use his gifts where someone will see him." Jonathan wasn't looking at her.

Martha closed her eyes. That Jonathan of all people had accepted this possibility only threw fuel on her growing panic. This was happening too fast, and too soon.

"Dad and Lex are going in there with Lionel Luthor." Clark's voice was soft, and not entirely steady. "I have to be ready, Mom. Just in case."

"Of course you do," Martha heard herself saying. She could hear Lex swearing to her that Clark would have as much of a normal life as he could. The room left for anything normal in Clark's life seemed to be shrinking at an alarming rate. "But you don't have to be dressed in something that will get you arrested."

"Well, what the hell do you want him to wear?" Martha took some small comfort in the fact that Jonathan obviously hated this as much as she did. Probably more. "Tights and a cape?"

"I'm not going to get arrested," Clark said in his Mom-is-freaking-again voice. Calm. Soothing. "No one will even know I'm there."

Irritated, Martha decided that she had no intention of being soothed. If this day weren't freak-worthy then no day ever would be. "I'll think of something for you to wear," she said, turning toward the bedroom door. "Preferably something that doesn't make you look like a cat burglar or an assassin." She found herself in her son's arms before she had taken two steps.

"Mom," Clark murmured in her ear. "It's going to be okay. We can do this."

Martha leaned her forehead on Clark's shoulder and concentrated on not screaming. Not screaming was as far as her raw nerves would take her. "We have become the James gang," she said unsteadily. She felt Jonathan's hands rest on her shoulders.

"We're doing what we have to to protect our son," Jonathan said. "There's no other way, Martha."

"We were a normal family once." Martha blinked back tears impatiently.

"We still are." Jonathan bent to murmur in her ear. "We're...just having an abnormal day."

Jonathan wouldn't see it. It wasn't just the day. It was the end of one life and the beginning of another and he refused to see it.

"We aren't going to hurt anybody, Mom." Clark sounded scared for the first time.

"We are going to burgle someone's home."

"Luthor owns the penthouse, and he's letting us in. We're not burgling anything." Jonathan sounded as unconvinced as Martha felt.

"I don't want to hear legal technicalities right now." Martha pulled away from her husband and son and strode through the door into the hall without looking back.

"Mom--"

"Let her go, son." Jonathan sounded more tired than Martha had ever heard him. "She needs time."

Time. That's exactly what she needed. She needed the past decade back. She needed Clark to be her little boy, and her only worries concerning him to be that he might run a little too fast at recess. Martha passed the guest room and paused briefly, listening to Lex's soft voice as he read to Pamela. The sound of his voice was oddly comforting, and she wondered why. He was the cause of all this, wasn't he?

No. Martha continued on her way, trying not to clench her fists. Not Lex. Lionel. Lionel Luthor, world's most affluent sociopath, and his...spawn. They were the cause of all this. What good were lines in the face of the devil?

Martha fairly ran down the staircase and stopped, breathing hard. The living room was dark and silent. Eli was probably out on the porch, or prowling around the premises in full guard dog mode. Moving on an impulse she didn't want to understand, she made her way through the dark to the living room closet, yanked it open, and grabbed something she hadn't been able to so much as look at for months. Swinging the stock of the shotgun to her shoulder, she turned to look down the barrel at the soft moonlit scene through the living room windows. It all looked so normal.

"I trust you realize," came a soft voice from the dark, "that your husband left the weapon loaded."

"Yes," Martha said calmly, shifting her aim in the direction of the voice. Eli was sitting in Jonathan's recliner. "I'm very much aware of that, Mr. Cohen."

"A weapon should not be drawn unless one is prepared to use it."

"Oh, I'm prepared. Maybe I'll go into town and shoot some children. I haven't had any target practice for a while." Martha caught her breath as her vicious tone and her words came home to her, and she closed her eyes, lowering the shotgun. "Mr. Cohen--"

"I do not recommend children as targets. The nightmares dead children inspire are not easily forgotten." Eli's voice was calm, and Martha's tether snapped. She opened her eyes.

"Tell me, Mr. Cohen. Was there ever a time when killing people bothered you?"

"Oh, yes. A very long time."

"And when exactly did it stop bothering you?"

"Did I say it had stopped?" Eli's voice was like steel.

"But you'll do it anyway."

"Yes."

"For duty."

"Yes."

"Why haven't you killed Lionel Luthor for duty?"

"Because I swore to Lillian that I would not."

"Why haven't you killed the clone for duty?"

"Because an appropriate opportunity has not presented itself. Because Alexander has drawn his line at killing to remain sane. Because the cricket believes that such an action would undermine Alexander's sense of who he is."

"Which of those is your reason?"

"When I know, Mrs. Kent, you will know."

"Suppose I killed Lionel Luthor tonight," Martha heard herself saying in a cool tone. "I haven't made any promises. It would be simple."

"Yes. It is always simple."

"He's going to set a trap for Jonathan and Lex."

"Of course."

"He's probably conspiring with the clone."

"The evidence strongly suggests this."

"If I killed him--"

"Then the creature would inherit the Luthor empire, rendering him virtually unassailable. I would suggest that now might be a good time to count to ten, Mrs. Kent."

Martha stepped closer. "Do you know where the clone is right now?"

"Of course."

"If you told me, we wouldn't have to worry about this...person anymore. My family would be safe. They could go back to the way things were."

"They can never go back. There is no 'safe.'"

"There is if he's dead. Maybe Lionel was right. Maybe our priority should be eliminating the clone."

"This is a decision made in fear. You are not yourself, Mrs. Kent."

"Oh, I'm myself. And I already have blood on my hands. Does more matter?"

"You equate the killing of a man in self-defense to an assassination. You are mistaken; they are different hells entirely."

"That isn't hell." Martha clutched the weapon in her hands. "Hell is watching your family being kidnapped or tortured or killed."

"There are enough hells in this world to accommodate us all, Mrs. Kent," Eli replied harshly. "And while the hell you describe is particularly familiar to me, I tell you nonetheless that now is not the time, and you are not the executioner."

"Why not? You won't do it. My family can't do it."

"Your son would say that this course of action would undermine your sense of who you are. Alexander would say that crossing that line would result in madness."

"They're up in our bedroom now, Clark and Jonathan," Martha said shakily. "They're trying to disguise Clark. So he can use his gifts in front of people."

"Yes." Martha heard Eli rise and walk toward her. "It is a wise precaution."

"It's too fast. It's too soon. It's too dangerous." Martha felt the shotgun slip from her fingers to thud dully against the living room rug.

"It is all those things." Eli took her hands. "It is also necessary."

"For duty," Martha whispered, leaning forward to rest her forehead on Eli's shoulder.

"Yes."

"They're all going to die, Eli."

"I do not believe this." Eli's voice was very quiet.

"Why?"

"I have attempted to compute the probability that a ship hurtling through infinite space would crash land at the feet of Jonathan and Martha Kent of Smallville, Kansas."

"Eli--"

"The probability that they would be diverted from their journey home by a man babbling about his injured son."

"I don't--"

"The probability that eleven years later one son would be standing on a bridge just as the other swerved his car to avoid an obstruction in the road. The probability that Alexander, lost and starving, would later be found and cared for by the very people who had saved him as a child."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying that Alexander and Clark draw what some would call coincidences as nectar draws bees. I am saying that there are clearly other forces at work. I am saying that there are times for despair and times for faith. And I believe that this is a time for faith."

Martha freed one of her hands and laid it over Eli's breast pocket, lifting her head with an exasperated expression. "And a time for semi-automatic pistols?"

Eli lifted an eyebrow. "I have great faith in semi-automatic pistols."

"Eli."

"Faith does not preclude the necessity of common sense."

"I can't lose them, Eli." Martha heard her voice quaver slightly, and cleared her throat. "Any of them."

Martha felt Eli's arms go around her shoulders gently. "Dear lady," Eli whispered, "whatever you may think of me, do not imagine for one moment that I will allow harm to come to your family or mine. I will die before I allow this."

"I know that," Martha said wearily, and she did. "I do. But you're only one man, Eli."

Eli actually snorted. "So I have heard. Many dead men have said 'Eli Cohen is only one man.'"

Martha sighed. "You have your own plan again, don't you?"

"I always have my own plan."

Martha nodded, then stooped to pick up the shotgun. Turning, she walked back to the closet and put it away, then shut the door very carefully before she leaned against it and started to cry.

***

Lex felt the book being taken from his lap and some unusually strong arms cradling him from his chair until he was pressed against someone warm. He searched for the energy for a round of impressive obscenity, but it eluded him. Clark obviously was developing a fetish for carrying people. This problem needed to be addressed immediately; nevertheless, the strength to do so eluded him as well.

"You're good to him."

Lex swallowed at the happiness in that voice. He let his tightening muscles go limp again.

Clark turned toward Pamela. "When he lets me."

"Keep at it. He'll get used to it eventually."

Get used to it. Get used to Clark being good to him? Clark had never been anything else. Pamela had far to go in understanding the nature of this relationship. Lex felt Clark hit the light switch with his elbow and slip out of the room. Lex sighed, not opening his eyes. "You get off on carrying me, don't you?" he asked sleepily.

"Oh, yeah." Clark's voice was dry. "It makes me all hot and tingly." Clark carried Lex into his bedroom and closed the door with his foot. "I want to have your babies."

Lex snorted. "I knew you had a kink." He opened his eyes and tilted his head back to get a look at Clark's face. "What?" he said sharply. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

Clark tried to smile. "Nothing's happened. Just relax, it's after midnight."

Clark was staggeringly unconvincing. "Damn it, Clark, what's hap--"

Clark cut him off with a kiss, holding him tightly, making it last as long as he could. Lex, unable to resist and putting himself down for a maniac, put an arm around Clark's neck and kissed him back until they were both breathless. Clark lay his head against Lex's, breathing hard.

"Clark," Lex whispered. "Tell me."

Clark swallowed and let Lex's legs swing to the floor, still holding him close. "Mom is crying. She thinks we're going to die."

Lex flinched and turned toward the door, but Clark pulled him back. "Eli's with her. Lex, she...she got the shotgun out."

Lex drew a deep breath. Martha. What it must have cost her to even touch that gun again was beyond his understanding, but she had done it, and he was responsible. Drawing a steadying breath, Lex took Clark's face in his hands. "We're not going to die," he said as steadily as he could. "And your mother isn't going to shoot anybody."

"Dad's in his bedroom sitting in the dark. Lex. What's happening to us?"

"The Luthors are happening to you," Lex said bitterly. He pulled Clark close. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Clark. I can't think of any other way."

"It's not your fault. It's mine. You're all going through this for me." Clark's voice wobbled.

"Wrong." Lex glared at him. "We're going through this for you, and me, and our family, and our friends, and everybody in this radioactive anthill called Smallville in which destiny in her profoundly misguided wisdom has seen fit to deposit us." The fact that Clark alone was enough to justify a hundred times the risk needn't be discussed at the moment.

"Lex--"

"Do I have to remind you who set all this in motion?"

"Are we back to that bullshit?" Clark clutched Lex's shirt; he was beginning to look angry. "You'd better not be doing the death wish thing, Lex. I swear to God, if you make a target of yourself--"

Lex cast an exasperated glance at the ceiling. "Don't be absurd. No respectable self-serving criminal mastermind--"

"You're not a criminal and I'm beginning to think you've forgotten how to serve yourself." There it was, Clark sounding older than he was again. It seemed to be happening a lot lately. "You're the guy I want to get old with, and you're retarded, and I've seen you put yourself in the line of fire too many times to let you do it again."

"Get old with?" The rest of Clark's words faded to insignificance.

Clark's expression turned from anger to comic dismay; he started to redden. "Don't try to change the subject!"

"Was that a proposal, Clark?" Lex found himself fervently hoping it was.

"Will you stop being an asshole for five minutes and listen to me? My mom nearly walked out of here tonight to blow your dad away. My dad is sitting in the dark, and he won't talk to me. Twenty minutes ago I was trying on stocking masks." Clark paused to breathe, taking Lex's hand. "Lex. I'm scared. Nothing...nothing will ever be the same after tomorrow."

Lex fell silent, studying him. "Will you still want to get old with me after tomorrow?" He could barely hear himself.

Clark's face softened into a tiny smile. "Yeah. Okay. That'll stay the same. But everything else--"

"You're right," Lex cut in briskly. Moving right along. Nothing to see here. "We're going on the offensive. It won't ever be the same. But can we just sit here until Karloff gets bored playing Jack the Ripper and tries to get his hands on you again?"

"No, of course not. It's not that I think that there's anything wrong about your plan, Lex. You wouldn't do anything wrong."

"Don't be absurd," Lex said considerable irritation. The boy was impossible. "I'd do something wrong in a Gotham minute. I would do anything for you."

"Anything that's right."

"Anything."

Clark stared at him, still clutching his hand. "Lex--"

"Except cross that fucking line. I think." Lex covered Clark's hand with his free one, resisting the absurd thought that if he didn't, Clark might disappear. "I'm no model of moral certainty, Clark."

Clark held on tightly, green eyes fixed on Lex's face. "You're not going to give me to him," he said.

Lex pulled his hands out of Clark's grasp and backed away, shocked. "What?"

"You're not going to give me to your father. Or to Karloff. You're not going to--"

"Jesus Christ!" Lex felt himself go hot, then cold, as everything he had said to Pamela came rushing back. "Now you're eavesdropping on my private conversations with Pamela? I draw the line, Clark. That is totally--"

Clark had him by the shoulders, shaking him, before Lex had seen him move. He was angry. He was as angry as Lex had ever seen him. "Did somebody fucking drop you on your head when you were a baby? I would never listen in on you and Pamela, any more than you'd listen in on me and Mom."

Lex froze in confusion.

"God, you're retarded. I love you. I love you so much it scares me sometimes. I don't spy on you, Lex."

"I'm sorry," Lex whispered. Old habits were having their way with him tonight. "Clark, I'm--"

"You talk in your sleep. A lot. It's not hard to know what's on your mind. I know you like to think of yourself as Lex Luthor, Man of Mystery, but you're no damn mystery to me."

"Clark--"

"And if you think you're capable of strapping me to a lab table and going off to count your thirty pieces of silver--"

"Don't say that." To Lex's disgust, his voice wobbled.

"--then you are whacked. I don't know where the hell you got this idea that you're susceptible to Pete's non-existent mind-whammies, or that your dad is some kind of Svengali--"

"He doesn't have to be Svengali. He's my father. He knows my every weakness. He's cultivated them. He can manipulate me into doing things that I don't realize weren't my idea in the first place. You don't know--"

"Maybe it's time for you separate out which things your father manipulated you into and which things you did because you decided to play his game," Clark cut in. His voice was like steel. "Because he didn't manipulate you into everything you did, Lex."

Lex paused. Oh, touché, Clark. "No. He didn't."

"And there have been times when he's tried to manipulate you and it didn't work."

"Yes."

"He's not God, Lex. Or the devil. He's just a crazy, evil-minded son of a bitch who doesn't deserve his son." He sounded just like Jonathan. Lex studied Clark intently. God knew there were worse people he could sound like. "He wants you all to himself. He wants you to be exactly like him – he wants you to act as if you're part of him because he doesn't know where he stops and you start. He wants you to have no lines, and care about nothing but yourself, like him. But that's not who you are."

"Tell me who I am, Clark," Lex whispered.

Clark's anger faded away. "You," he breathed, "are the guy who took a bullet for me, and forgave me when you found out you never needed to do it in the first place. You're the guy who let some thug cut you to protect my family. You're the guy who saved us from losing our home. You're the guy who didn't even blink at the idea of having an alien for a friend. Or a lover. The guy who's never once looked at me like I'm a freak, even when I nearly set you on fire. The guy who's always trying to protect me from your big, bad Luthor self, no matter what it costs you. The guy who's always put my family first, no matter how much danger you were in."

Lex pulled himself together with difficulty. "I see. Has it ever occurred to you that all this might be a ruse to impress you and win your confidence?"

Clark actually laughed at him, and it occurred to Lex that there was a distinct possibility that his cover was blown. He was surprised to find himself remarkably unconcerned about it. "Oh, it worked, mastermind. You know what I was thinking when you were talking to your father today?"

"You were thinking? Oh, good for you, Clark."

Clark ignored him. "I was thinking how hot you were when you kicked your father's ass to Metropolis and back."

"It's good to know about this phenomenal ability of yours to focus in times of crisis."

"I wanted to take you to bed and not let you go." Clark's voice was becoming raspy.

"What in God's name gave you the idea that I'd want to go anywhere?"

Clark had Lex against the wall, kissing him, before Lex could draw another breath. Lex wrapped both arms around Clark's neck, urging him on despite the corner of a picture frame digging into his back, but Clark broke the kiss long before Lex was ready. "No more secrets, Lex," he panted.

"I was afraid to tell you," Lex muttered, staring at Clark's shirt. Some things were still hard to say. "It's the worst of the nightmares, Clark. The worst."

Clark nodded. "Yeah. I have those, too. Protecting me from ugly again?"

Lex laughed bitterly. "No. Don't attribute noble motives to everything I do. I'm not a hero. I didn't tell you because I was afraid I'd lose you."

Clark's expression went blank. "Lose me."

"I don't think I'd survive losing you, Clark."

Clark's eyes widened in horror. "Lex, for God's sake--"

"Oh, don't misunderstand me. I'm not making some melodramatic declaration of intent to shove my head into your father's wood-chipper. I assure you, Lex Luthor would go on his merry way."

"Lex--"

"But I don't think the person your family thinks I am...." Lex lost his voice and tried again. "I mean, the person I want to be--"

"That person is Lex Luthor," Clark whispered in his ear. "And I've told you before that nothing you tell me will make me look away. I'm not going anywhere, Lex. No matter how bad those nightmares get. And as long as we don't keep secrets from each other, there's no way your father or anybody else can shake us. Now repeat after me: Clark will not let me hurt him."

Lex barked a startled laugh; for a moment, he had an intuitive flash of Clark as prince in exile, born to command. For the first time, Lex wondered who Clark's birth parents were, and why they had sent their beautiful child so far from home.

"I'm not hearing anything, mastermind."

Lex raised his gaze to Clark's face, unable for the life of him to keep a smile off his face. "Clark will not let me hurt him," he repeated dutifully.

"And Lex will tell Clark whenever he gets these dumb-ass ideas about his evilness."

"Lex will tell Clark anything he wants to know."

"And whenever Lex starts thinking that his father is trying mind-whammy him, he will imagine the asshole wearing pink socks."

Lex started laughing helplessly. Grinning, Clark twirled Lex around and shoved him onto the bed, clambering onto all fours over him.

Lex reached up to take Clark's face in his hands. "Don't ever leave me, Clark," he whispered.

"Not. Going. Anywhere." Clark was like granite, immovable, unbreakable. He wasn't going anywhere. He'd heard the worst and he wasn't going anywhere.

Lex forced himself to breathe. "I... I swear I won't let anything happen to your parents."

"We won't let anything happen to our parents."

"We," Lex murmured as Clark bent to kiss him. "Got it."

"Tell me we're going to be okay, mastermind." Clark's voice was no more than a breath.

Lex smiled, starting to believe it. "We're going to be okay, Jiminy."

***

Martha had expected an explosion. She had almost wanted one; maybe she needed to be scolded like a child to snap out of whatever this was. But Jonathan hadn't exploded. He'd listened, and nodded, and pulled her into bed with him, and held her. He felt it, too, Martha realized, this feeling of being rooted to the present while the future bore down on them like a freight train.

"Lionel will never know how close it was." Martha pressed closer to Jonathan. "For both of them."

"I should have realized what was going on with you." Jonathan's voice was a rough whisper as he tightened his arms around her. "I should have been there."

Martha found herself thinking that she never wanted Jonathan to see her that way again. She never wanted anyone to see her like that. That the next time she got that way – and she knew there would be a next time – she was going to hide in the storm cellar as if a force five tornado was heading her way. "You're here now. Jonathan. Tell me. Have you ever thought about--"

"Every damn day. If you had seen the look on that bastard's face when he tried to touch Lex--"

"You don't think--"

"The hell I don't. He's an animal. Christ, I saw him look at Clark the same way. There's not a day gone by lately that I don't think about putting him down, and it feels like I get closer to it every day."

"But you don't."

"I don't." Jonathan sighed. "Yet."

"God," Martha said faintly.

Jonathan kissed her temple. "Luthor's not going to win. He's not going to tear this family apart, or turn us into murderers, or hurt the boys. He's going to clean up the mess that thing of his has made. We're going to get through this, Martha, and somehow we'll find a way to get Lex's life back."

Martha was silent for a moment. "Yes," she said finally. "We will. I just don't know who we'll be by the time we do."

***

Clark always dreamed just before dawn. They were rarely pleasant dreams, but Lex understood that phenomenon all too well. Clark may have been raised in paradise, but perdition had hung over his head every day of his life. Lex understood perdition. Holding Clark where he fallen asleep, on top of him, Lex caressed Clark's warm skin and stroked his hair. Usually when Clark started to grow restless and cry out, it was for Mom and Dad, and Lex's touch was enough to calm him. But tonight he called for Lex, and that touch was not enough.

Lex came fully awake at the anguish in Clark's voice. He couldn't understand most of what Clark was saying, but the despair with which he called Lex's name was more than he could stand. "Clark," he murmured in the boy's ear. "Clark. It's a dream. I'm right here."

Clark jerked awake with something as close to a scream as Lex had ever heard from him, and Lex wrapped both arms around him tightly. "I'm here. It's all right, Clark."

"Oh, God." Clark broke the embrace and sat up, sliding further away. "Oh, God. Lex. Lex." His voice was broken.

Lex sat up. "I'm here, Clark," he repeated in an alarmed tone. "It was just a dream."

"No. No. It wasn't." Lex didn't need to see Clark's face to hear the tears in his voice. "It was just like the graves. It was... I left you there."

"The graves are a dream." Lex fumbled in the dark until he found Clark's hand; it was hot and shaking. "And so is this." Whatever the hell this was.

"No! Lex. He had you. Your father. You were locked up. You were in a straightjacket."

"Sounds remarkably plausible as nightmares go."

Clark yanked him close; his voice was wild. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Lex, I didn't get it. I shouldn't have gotten on your case like that, but I just didn't get it."

"Clark." Lex managed to pry his hand free and take Clark's face in both hands, wiping the tears away. "Breathe."

Clark made a rather pitiful attempt at respiration, clutching Lex's shoulders. "You asked for my help." His voice was ragged. "You said you knew I could help you. You said I could trust you. You said they were going to hurt you, and I left you there."

Lex managed a snort. "This scenario has officially left the realm of plausibility."

"There were cameras and I was afraid. I left you there because I was afraid."

Lex drew a deep breath. "This did not happen, Clark. It will never happen."

"And then I couldn't stand it and I went back."

"Reenter plausibility stage right."

"But it was too late. They had you fucking strapped to a table, and they were putting something in your mouth, and they were going to fucking torture you, and I couldn't get to you, and it was all because of me--"

"Clark." Lex drew him in and kissed him. "Breathe. Breathe. It was a nightmare. It's over."

"Lex. You've got to believe me." Clark's voice rose in something akin to hysteria. "It's not a nightmare. It's something else. It's like the graves."

Lex rested his forehead against Clark's and said nothing. When was a nightmare not a nightmare, and just how long could denial prevail against Clark's emerging prescience? There was no comfort in it anymore, either for Clark or himself. "I know."

"And I was all over you for being afraid of handing me over." Clark laughed weirdly. "I didn't get it. I just didn't get it."

"Clark." Lex steadied his voice. "I told you I was afraid of my father. But that isn't what I fear most. My greatest fear is being my father. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Clark murmured, and Lex knew he did.

"Tell me what you're most afraid of, Clark."

"Hurting somebody," Clark said instantly, then uttered something between a sigh and a groan. "No. No, that's not true. I've been afraid that someone will find out about me and try to take me away. That I'd have to...hurt them, if I could. Kill them. Or maybe do something worse."

"Lionel Luthor-induced nightmares," Lex muttered.

"Lex, it wasn't a--"

"I believe you, Clark." Lex drew Clark back to the head of the bed and pulled Clark's back against his chest. Clark sighed and settled into the familiar position, his head falling back to rest on Lex's shoulder. Lex rested his head against Clark's. "I don't pretend to know what these...experiences of yours are, but--"

"Cassandra said--"

"If we accept Cassandra's interpretation, then you're Judas and I'm Satan. Do you think that's who we are?"

"No," Clark said. "But it's who we might be."

"Or might have been."

"What?"

Lex sighed. "Am I supposed to accept the fact that the man who told me to make my own destiny now thinks it's already made? That his own destiny is already made?"

"No." Clark's voice was fierce and quiet. "We make our own destiny, Lex." He paused. "What are you saying? That...that what I'm seeing is something that only might be? Or would have been, if--" Clark broke off. "Oh. Oh, Jesus, mastermind."

"Yeah. We're down the rabbit hole again, Jiminy."

"If your father hadn't made Karloff--"

"That's right. Daddy accidentally knocked over a cosmic domino. A cautionary tale in the dubious practice of playing God."

"That...that changed everything." Clark sounded stunned. "Everything. Even who we are. If you hadn't been here to help me fight being so damned scared--"

"You were brave from the first moment I laid eyes on you."

"I might actually have done it." Clark's voice dropped to a horrified whisper; Lex wrapped his arms around Clark's waist. "I might have left you. Left you to be--"

"Jiminy, don't we have enough trouble in this universe?"

Clark laughed feebly. "Yeah. Yeah, we do." Clark fell silent for a moment, but his breathing was erratic. "I never thought about what things would have been like if all this hadn't happened."

"Don't," Lex said. The possibilities were appalling; he seriously doubted he could shield Clark from that much ugly.

"I'll never forget you on that table. I'll never forget it as long as I live." Clark's voice broke.

"It never happened," Lex murmured into Clark's hair, caressing him, and thanking God he couldn't see what Clark could. "It never will. It's a ghost, Clark. A ghost of what might have been, that's all."

Clark drew a deep breath. "How much worse do you think things could have gotten?"

Lex closed his eyes. "If both of our worst fears had come true?"

Clark shuddered. "I withdraw the question." He clutched Lex's arm. "I know you've been through hell, Lex. But when I think of what could have happened-"

"Don't worry about it, Clark." Lex tightened his grip around Clark's waist. "I'll take the hell I've got."

"You can't be glad this happened to you." Clark's voice was soft with amazement.

"Glad? No." Lex pulled the covers over them and settled in close, smiling. "Just grateful."

***

"If I break my neck, I'll kill you."

Pete rolled his eyes. This was the worst part of doing anything with girls. Clark would have made this little trip down the trellis with no trouble at all. Chloe was doing more clinging than climbing. "Don't be a wuss," he hissed.

"If I break anything else, I'll kill you. And if my father catches us--"

"Let me guess. You'll kill me."

"My father will kill you."

The trellis creaked ominously, and Pete hastily scrambled down the rest of the distance and jumped off onto solid ground. "Come on."

Chloe shot him a truly lethal glare over her shoulder. "This is to get even with me for Scoobying Lex's house, isn't it?" She moved down the trellis with agonizing caution.

Pete assumed a suitably shocked expression. "Who, me? Try to get even for nearly having my damn head blown off? Why would you think that? Come on, Chloe, sometime this year would be good."

"I'm moving as fast as I can!"

"Man, you guys are predictable."

Chloe squawked and slid down the rest of the trellis as Pete whirled toward the voice. His unsteady vision rested on a dark haired young man in jeans and a leather jacket, shaking his head and tsking as if he were witnessing something in the nature of a fashion faux pas.

"And in broad daylight, too. The old man has you down already, and it's been, what? Less than twenty-four hours?"

"Who the hell are you?" Pete assumed his most intimidating posture.

"Name's Max."

"Max who?" Chloe demanded, picking splinters out of her hands with an irritated expression.

"Just Max." Looking amused, Max held out a cell phone. "Talk to Eli."

***

Jonathan saw the resigned look on Lex's face at the knock on the front door. God damn that son of a bitch to hell. Two hours early, this time. In the middle of supper.

"Tactics, Jonathan," Lex murmured, eyes half closed. "Maintain."

Jonathan laid a hand on the boy's arm as he rose from his chair. Yeah. Okay, the bastard was trying to shake them. Well, he was in for a little shock. Judging by the look on his wife's face, Lionel Luthor was about to get better shaking than he gave.

Martha rose from the table, carefully folding her napkin.

"Martha." Lex was barely audible. "Let me."

Martha gave him an odd little smile, touching Lex's cheek as she passed. "You boys finish your supper." Clark, half out of his chair, grimaced and fell back into it again.

Jonathan felt the boys' eyes on them and he followed Martha to the door. They were scared. Hell, he was scared. The only one who didn't look scared to him was Martha, and that was downright unnatural. Martha opened the door, and Lionel gave them one of his most sickeningly charming smiles. Jonathan suppressed the urge to knock those capped teeth down the bastard's throat. "Good evening, Mrs. Kent. Mr. Kent." He stepped forward as if to come inside, but Martha blocked the door.

"You're two hours early, Mr. Luthor." God, her voice was like ice. Like Everest. "You've interrupted our evening meal."

Lionel looked appropriately contrite. "I apologize, Mrs. Kent. I must have misunderstood--"

"My family are going to finish their meal," Martha continued as if Lionel hadn't spoken. "And you are going to wait outside."

She gestured toward the porch, and Jonathan was vaguely reassured by the sight of Eli, smoking his pipe and rocking gently on the porch swing. Eli watched Lionel with dark, sharp eyes. "Come join me, Mr. Luthor. It is a lovely evening."

"No, thank you," Lionel replied contemptuously.

"Perhaps I can entertain you with tales of the many men who have attempted to harm Alexander. I am certain you would find their fates enlightening."

Jonathan managed not to grin. Dirty Harry had his good points.

Lionel ignored Eli, and turned a supplicating gaze on Martha. "Mrs. Kent. Mr. Kent. I must speak to you." He lowered his voice and leaned forward. "Your son's welfare is at stake."

"Oh?" Martha stood facing him, for all the world as if Lionel Luthor were a salesman who had delivered some bad cow feed.

Lionel assumed a pained expression. "You can't possibly have failed to notice the nature of the relationship between Clark and my son."

"No," Martha replied evenly. "I can't possibly have failed to notice it. It's the only good thing to come out of this horrible mess you've made."

"Clark's private life is none of your business," Jonathan snapped.

"It's my business when Clark's private life is my son," Lionel snapped back.

Martha stepped closer to Lionel. "Lex's private life isn't any of your business either. You gave up that privilege when you threw him away."

"You don't know my son, Mrs. Kent. He uses naïve young men like Clark. It's happened again and again. I know he can be very charming, but he's incapable of any genuine feeling or attachment. He'll use your son until there's no advantage left to be gained, and then he'll abandon him."

"Are you sure it's Lex you're describing?" Martha asked coldly. "Because that's as accurate a description of your own behavior as I'm likely to hear outside a psychiatrist's office."

Eli cackled quietly to himself.

Lionel's face darkened. "I must say I'm shocked, Mrs. Kent. That you would be willing to endanger your son's well being for the unlikely possibility of financial gain--"

Martha's arm flung out across Jonathan's chest as he surged forward, stopping him in his tracks. "Let's come to an understanding, Mr. Luthor." Jonathan didn't recognize his wife's voice. "You're a sociopath, a liar, and a danger to Clark and Lex, and everyone here knows it. The last man to set foot on our land who fit that description found a bloody hole where his chest used to be. My aim has not deteriorated in the past few months, Mr. Luthor."

"On the contrary," Eli said pleasantly. "It has improved."

"If you harm either of those boys, don't imagine for a moment that I'll hesitate to kill you because you have a name in the world. You're a very small man, Mr. Luthor, and under those circumstances I would have no more qualms about ending your miserable life than I would any cockroach I found in my kitchen."

Martha turned toward the door, but stopped on the threshold to glance over her shoulder at Lionel's shocked face. "Oh. And for the record. It was the general consensus among the elite of Metropolis that Lillian Edouard was marrying far, far beneath her. I don't imagine opinions have changed much on that subject. You were and are upstart trailer-trash, and the only reason anyone in Metropolis had any business dealings with you at all is because you blackmailed them into it." Martha paused, blue eyes boring into Lionel's flabbergasted stare. "I trust we understand each other now."

Martha turned and stalked back into the house, and Jonathan followed her, slamming the door shut behind him. Martha stood in the middle of the living room, her face buried in her hands. Jonathan laid his hands on her shoulders, peripherally aware that Clark and Lex had left the kitchen and were standing in the doorway, motionless and silent. "Martha. What...what was that?"

"That was me," Martha replied in a weird monotone. "Trying on petty, bigoted and cruel. What do you think?"

Jonathan found himself speechless. This was what she had meant. This. He found himself unable to move.

"I'm sorry, Martha. I should have realized he'd start his divide and conquer campaign as soon as possible," Lex said unevenly.

"Don't apologize for him, Lex."

"I'll never let him set foot here again. When this is over--"

"Lex." Martha turned to him, tears on her face. "This will never be over. You know that."

Lex's mouth took on a grim set. "I made you a promise. I'm going to keep it. It's what Clark wants, and it's what we all want for him. Clark is going to come out the other side of this and have a normal life, whatever it takes." Jonathan had never heard the boy speak so passionately, and Martha had both arms around Lex before he could finish. Jonathan wrapped his arms around both of them, and Lex buried his face in Martha's red hair, eyes closed.

Clark laid a hand on Lex's shoulder, eyes bright. "Don't worry about my normal life. Let's just make sure we all come out the other side."

***

"That woman is impossible." Lionel swung away from the door to lean against the porch railing. "I am putting myself to considerable inconvenience to protect her son--"

"Such selfless compassion brings a tear to my eye," Eli cut in. Martha's brutal calling of the dog to heel had been startling and disturbing. Also immensely satisfying; Eli made a mental note to order the lady roses. "And to be rewarded with the unvarnished truth! Is there no gratitude in this world?"

Lionel glanced over his shoulder to regard Eli through narrowed eyes. "Tread carefully, Eli."

Eli snorted. "I will tread where I please. If you will play your puerile games with these people, expect no other treatment than that which you have received."

"I am not playing--"

"Do not insult me. Do not insult them. Have you not learned by now that they see you for what you are? That they are stronger than you? That your son is stronger than you? An army facing a superior force does not charge the center of the line, Mr. Luthor."

Lionel looked amused. "A superior force? Don't be absurd."

"Look inside." Eli gestured toward the door with his pipe. "Look, and see what you are facing."

Frowning, Lionel took a few steps toward the door to look inside. Eli watched with grim pleasure as Lionel's face darkened at the sight of his son in the affectionate embrace of his adopted family. Lionel turned away, flushed and silent.

"You have underestimated them from the beginning. You have made the cardinal error of imagining that their objectives are as base as your own. That they view Alexander with the same contempt that you do. That Alexander has felt himself deprived here. You are a fool. The Kents have given him everything he ever wanted from his own father, and more."

"What are you saying? That he doesn't want his life back? That he wants to live like a dirt-farming peasant while some imposter steals his life?"

"I am saying that you have nothing to offer him but access to his penthouse and the dismissal of the creature. He will have no use for you after that, since I am confident that he is not so foolish as to believe you will undertake a massive environmental salvage operation or refinance mortgages which you have no interest in holding. He will return to Europe with Clark, and you will never see him again."

"He's a Luthor," Lionel hissed.

Eli took a long draw on his pipe. Some moments should be savored. "I think not. I think your actions have ensured that he will never be a Luthor. I think he is a Kent. And I think his mother is laughing."

Lionel opened his mouth to respond, but the front door swung open and Clark appeared on the doorstep. "Everything all right out here?" he asked Eli.

"Everything is fine, cricket." Eli settled back in the porch swing, his sharp eyes observing Lionel's examination of the boy.

"Lex and Dad will be ready in a minute." Clark turned his gaze to Lionel; Eli noted a strange amber glow in the boy's eyes. "They'd better come back all right, Mr. Luthor. If anything happens to either of them--"

"I personally guarantee their safety," Lionel said in a subdued tone.

"And I personally guarantee you'll find your insides on your outsides if you do any double-crossing." Clark whirled and disappeared before Lionel could respond.

"His eyes," Lionel stammered. "He--"

"I should not inquire too closely, if I were you." Eli had no doubt the cricket would explain this new phenomenon at the most inconvenient moment possible. "Unless you have some morbid desire to view your internal organs."

"He's dangerous," Lionel muttered, turning away from the door.

"So am I dangerous. Showing you your internal organs would present no difficulty for me, I assure you."

Lionel shot a lethal look over his shoulder. "Your best interests are served by keeping me alive, and you know it."

"Perhaps. But I have been known to initiate action contrary to my best interests. It amuses me to confuse the strategically challenged among my adversaries; it is like pouring water into an anthill."

"You should be coming with us. You should be protecting me from my deluded son and that trigger-happy hayseed he's attached himself to."

"We have discussed this before. My presence in your party will arouse the guards' suspicions. You are not in the habit of associating with employees terminated under questionable circumstances. At any rate," Eli continued, forcing himself to lean back in his seat, "if I did come with you, it is the deluded son and the trigger-happy hayseed who would enjoy the benefit of my protection. And if anything happened to either of them, you would be making the acquaintance of your internal organs in a particularly spectacular fashion."

"Play nice, Eli." Eli turned to see Lex, dressed in a business suit and dress coat, and examined him with considerable surprise. He saw what the cricket meant, now. Even in those clothes, Eli would have known Lillian's Alexander at a glance. Something in the boy's face had changed. It was just as well that Lionel and Jonathan would be there to distract the guards' attention, despite Lex's uncanny ability to mimic the creature's mannerisms.

"What took you so long?" Lionel demanded, turning toward Lex. Eli nearly laughed aloud at the man's shaken manner. That this coward had sired Alexander continued to amaze him.

"I was saying good night to Pamela," Lex replied, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves.

"Have you spoken to her about the disposition of her estate?"

Lex's eyes narrowed. "The changes in Pamela's will are final and entirely her business."

"You don't really believe that these people will actually return your inheritance once they have their hands on it."

Clark appeared at Lex's shoulder, examining Lionel as if he were a new species of cockroach, and Lionel recoiled slightly. "Nice socks, Mr. Luthor."

Lex grinned and made as much to-do about adjusting his gloves as possible. Eli snorted; this was obviously some private joke between Alexander and his Hephaestion.

Lionel glanced at his feet in bewilderment. "I beg your pardon?"

"Socks. I've decided to invest Lex's inheritance in socks. I mean, people will always need socks, won't they?" Clark regarded Lionel with wide-eyed innocence.

Eli maintained his equanimity with difficulty, but Lex made no effort to conceal his chuckle at Lionel's glower. "You see, Dad? My fortune is in good hands." He lifted his gaze from his gloves to the limousine sitting in the drive; his amusement disappeared and his face darkened. "Must we make a spectacle of ourselves?"

Lionel looked truly at a loss; Eli managed, with difficulty, to restrain his smile. The dog's tactics were gauged for the son Alexander had been, not this stranger. "What spectacle? We always take the limo into town."

Lex turned to look at his father, pure contempt in his face. "You don't really imagine that anyone here is impressed by this tasteless little display."

"I haven't the faintest idea--"

"Tell John to take it back to the house."

"My vehicle is at your disposal," Eli said, observing Clark's frankly admiring smile. The boy was besotted.

"Thank you, Eli." Lex cast a quick, grateful look in his direction.

Lionel swung in front of Lex, prompting Clark to step closer. Lionel shot Clark an annoyed glance. "Lex, if we are going to work together, then this constant antagonism is going to stop."

Eli grimaced. If he hadn't known better, he'd think Lionel was trying to sound like the boy's father.

"Agreed," Lex said. "You will therefore cease to antagonize me by insulting my hosts."

Lionel looked genuinely taken aback. "Insulting?"

Eli tossed his keys to Lex, who caught them easily. "My car will do, Mr. Luthor. True, it does not scream, 'I am the great Lionel Luthor' to all passers-by, but it does have the advantage of having been thoroughly scanned for electronic devices of the obnoxious sort."

"Are you accusing me--?"

"Please, Dad. Don't embarrass yourself." Lex met his father's glare without flinching. "Tell John to take the car home."

Lionel stared back at him for a couple seconds, then turned on his heel and stalked down the steps. Eli watched Lex, sternly quelling his surge of pride. If only Lillian could see him now, this soldier prince. Perhaps she did. Perhaps it was she who had guided him here. The minor inconvenience of death would not prove an impediment to such a woman. Eli had learned long ago not to underestimate Lillian Edouard.

Despite all discretion, Eli could not help but watch Clark and Lex turn to each other. Clark lifted his hand, and Lex laced his fingers through Clark's, pressing palm to palm.

"Be careful," Clark said unsteadily.

"You too." Lex's voice was a whisper.

"Call me when you get to town."

"I will."

"And when you leave."

Lex began to smile. "Got it."

"And when you're back in Smallville."

"Yes, sir," Lex said, eyes bright. "Anything else, sir?"

"I'm grateful, too," Clark whispered. "Breathe, partner."

Lex's smile deepened as he slowly pulled his hand from Clark's. "Breathing. Right. I'm on it."

Eli tore his gaze from the two boys to see the limo disappearing down the drive toward the lane, and a thoroughly aggravated Lionel Luthor storming back toward the house.

"Go," Lex whispered, and Clark pulled his fingers from Lex's and disappeared into the house, face pale and set.

Eli heard Jonathan speaking softly to his son. Then he walked onto the porch, wearing what was no doubt the only suit he possessed, to rest his hands on Lex's shoulders just as Lionel was climbing the stairs.

"Lex. It's not too late to change your mind. Just say the word."

Lex smiled at the man with undiluted affection, and Lionel stopped in his tracks on the top step, staring. "Let's go," Lex said lightly.

Jonathan sighed. "Fine. You can ride shotgun." He drew his arm around Lex's shoulders and shepherded him past his father, giving Lionel an arch look. "If you'll excuse the expression."

Lionel muttered something in the nature of an inarticulate obscenity as he followed them toward the barn.

Eli chuckled grimly to himself. Such a joy that journey would be for Lionel Luthor. It was to be hoped that the dog would not bite too soon. That would be unfortunate. Eli watched as his sedan pulled out of the barn and proceeded at a sedate pace down the drive.

"Jonathan said they'd be back by breakfast." Eli rose as Martha ventured slowly out onto the porch, staring after the car. "Will they be back by breakfast, Eli?"

Eli stood by her side, watching Martha's white face out of the corner of his eye as her husband and eldest son turned onto the road and disappeared from view. "Faith tells me that they will."

Martha uttered a ragged little laugh. "And common sense?"

"Common sense tells me that I will do whatever is necessary to bring them home for breakfast."

"I know."

"Mrs. Kent--"

"Eli, for heaven's sake," Martha sighed, turning toward him. "Even Lex calls me Martha."

Eli turned to her, startled. "I did not wish to presume."

"My family's life is in your hands. Presume."

So. This was where the cricket had learned to forgive. He should not be surprised. "Martha. Max and Clark's friends will meet you at the far end of the formal garden at seven o'clock."

"I don't like involving them, Eli. They're children. And don't tell me they're soldiers, because we both know they're not."

"They are old enough to make the choice," Eli said. "They have chosen to help their friend. We will do everything possible to keep them from harm."

"If anything happens to them--"

"Faith, Martha." Eli felt absurdly happy to address her so familiarly. As if he had been adopted as well. It was a childish fancy.

"My faith is wearing a little thin." Martha's voice was very quiet.

"Let us speak of common sense, then. We need every hand. They are here. They are already fully apprised of the situation. They are inexperienced, but intelligent. And they can be trusted. Probably more than some of my own people."

Martha nodded. "I'm not used to thinking like a soldier."

"I know," Eli said gently. "I would take this burden from you if I could."

Martha actually smiled a little as she glanced up at him. "I know that, too. I'm glad you're with us, Eli."

If the lady had granted him eternal life and an inexhaustible supply of cognac and pipe tobacco, Eli could not have been more ridiculously pleased. "As am I." He glanced up to see Clark appear in the doorway, dressed entirely in black.

Martha sighed.

"Mom, it's the best I can do for now." Clark looked at her desperately, his fingers nervously working the nylon in his hands. "There's no time to come up with anything else."

Martha nodded wearily as she wrapped her arms around her son's waist. "I'll come up with something for next time."

"Next time?" Clark looked down at her, clearly startled, and Martha raised her face to meet his gaze.

"Yes," she said, in a voice that whispered to Eli of broken hearts and shattered dreams. "Next time." Martha laid a hand on his cheek. "Be careful."

Clark curled his hand around hers, his face drawn with anxiety. "I will. We're going to be okay, Mom."

"I love you very much." Martha pulled his head down and kissed his cheek, but before Clark could put his arms around her, she disappeared into the house.

"Mom?" Clark moved to follow her, obviously alarmed, but Eli caught his arm.

"Let her be, cricket. She will be all right. It is time to go."

Clark stared through the doorway into the dark house. "She's crying, Eli."

Eli slid his hand up to rest it on Clark's shoulder. "I know. This is not something she wishes you to see. Come, cricket. Show me Alexander's glass Porsche."

***

"The boy must have eaten something while he was in your care. All I'm asking is that you let me reimburse you."

Maintain, Lex had said. Maintain. The son of a bitch was trying to get him riled, and he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. Jonathan took one hand from the steering wheel to rub his shoulder. Damn thing was kicking up again. "I don't need your money. Lex earned his keep."

The shocked silence from the back seat almost made Jonathan grin. Almost. "What do you mean, earned?"

"I mean he pulled his own weight like a man, and I don't need your damn money."

"I am one mean son of a bitch with a vacuum," Lex remarked. "The dust mite population within my sphere of influence has been decimated."

"Vacuum?"

"Oh, yeah. And I can cook a killer chicken soup."

"Cook," Lionel hissed.

"Wash a mean dish, too. And laundry. I am an absolute genius with laundry, aren't I, Jonathan?"

Jonathan shot Lex a dirty look. Someday, if there was a God, Lex would have to wear pink shorts. "Yeah, nobody does laundry quite like Lex."

"It's all in the sorting," Lex said in a complacent tone. Jonathan idly wondered when Lionel was going to jump over the back of the seat. "Did you know that you have to sort laundry before you wash it, Dad? I'm telling you, it's an art form."

"You turned my son into a servant?" Lionel's tone was seething.

"It was my privilege." Lex's casual tone slipped, but returned immediately. "Think of it as vocational training, Dad. If Karloff whacks you first, I can always make a living as a maid or a busboy or--"

"You're a Luthor!"

"--a short-order cook. I think the name Luthor would look great on one of those little red name tags at Mickey D's, don't you?"

"You are a Luthor. How could you let these people force you to perform manual labor?"

Lex took a breath, and Jonathan could see just how close he was to losing it. He was pretty damn close to losing it himself. "I said it was my privilege." Lex's voice was calm, but his eyes were savage. "It was an honor to live in that house and my privilege to help in any way I could. It always will be."

Jonathan kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut. Lionel was saying something about exploitation and degradation, but Jonathan couldn't hear him. Jonathan vaguely recalled objecting to letting Lex stay. He vaguely recalled giving the boy hell at every opportunity. He wondered if he were still as much of a pigheaded asshole as he'd been then. He suspected he was. The quality of his coolness was definitely in question. If he weren't driving, he'd hug this pain-in-the-ass Luthor, with all his arrogance and smart mouth and dysfunctional behavior and zero laundry skills, hug him until he knew that the honor had been Jonathan Kent's.

But he was driving.

"--deprived you of your dignity!"

Lex leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. "Give it a rest, Dad, and I'll teach you how to add bleach."

***

Eli had listened to Lex's ecstatic descriptions of his travels with Clark with appropriate skepticism, but he was shocked to find that they fell woefully short of such a miraculous experience. He and the cricket moved so quickly that they seemed not to move at all; Eli had the bizarre impression that Clark was standing still with Eli in his arms while the world spun drunkenly past them. In minutes, minutes, Clark had come to a stop in the alley behind Luthor Tower, Lionel's high-rise of overpriced luxury condominiums, and Eli was staring stupidly at him, unable to speak.

Clark looked back at him anxiously. "Are you okay?"

Eli composed himself with difficulty. "Certainly not. One does not defy the laws of physics lightly. I fully expect divine retribution."

Clark grinned and swung Eli to his feet. Eli did his best to straighten, silently cursing his rubbery legs and adjusting his backpack. He suspected that he was not entirely vertical. Clark supported him until his head cleared, smiling kindly. "Lex was kind of wobbly the first time, too. You'll be all right."

Eli grimaced; obviously the cricket's definition of "all right" varied drastically from his own. Peering down the alley, he caught sight of something that had never been there before. He pulled Clark against the wall of the building, grateful they had come to a halt in the shadows.

"What?" Clark hissed.

Eli jerked his thumb in the direction of the security camera perched over the rear emergency exit. Surprises. How he loathed surprises. The device was stationary, and appeared to have a limited range, being set to monitor the area directly in front of the door. Nevertheless. Where there was one surprise, there were bound to be others. They were prolific breeders, like deranged rabbits and diseased mushrooms. As if fate were determined to prove his point, the door began to open. Eli stiffened and shoved Clark behind him, drawing his weapon.

The moment Mercy appeared, Clark forced Eli's gun arm down with a panicked expression. Eli didn't resist; he watched the woman with narrowed eyes as she emerged from the building and glanced up and down the alley. Drawing a single cigarette and a lighter from the breast pocket of her suit, she lit the cigarette, sending a plume of smoke into the air. "He knows you're coming," she said calmly, her back to the camera.

Eli relaxed slightly. "Of course he does."

"You're going to get yourself killed."

"And this concerns you because...?"

"Don't be an ass." Mercy almost, but not quite, turned to look at him. "I owe you. And I'm telling you again that you're on the losing side this time."

"I have faith, Miss Graves."

"Your boy would be better off if he gave up the Kent kid."

"You have no idea how profoundly mistaken you are."

"He's starting to go psychotic over it. If your boy were to hand the kid over, Lex would stop looking for him. Living the good life in Paris is better than being chopped up into dog food here."

Eli heard Clark's breath catch and grimaced. May it please God that there would be no noble impulses this evening. Eli had had quite enough of noble impulses. "This is not an option, Miss Graves."

"You want his little collection."

"I do."

"And that's all?"

"For the present."

Mercy dropped her cigarette and crushed it under her spike-heeled shoe. "There are cameras on every door to the stairwell, but not in the stairwells themselves."

"An unfortunate oversight."

"There's a camera and entry code access on the door to the utility room in the basement, but no security inside."

"Such sloppy work would not have been countenanced during my tenure."

"Lex is paranoid about being watched, so there's no electronic surveillance inside the penthouse, or in the express elevator. However, security for access to the express elevator is unbreakable."

"Is that a challenge, Miss Graves?"

Mercy grimaced, fixing her stare on the brick wall in front of her. "I don't want to know the plan, Eli. I don't want to know anything. If you're this determined to get your head blown off, do it now."

"Cricket, if you please," Eli said softly over his shoulder. He found himself swung off the ground and moving before he could draw another breath. He heard Mercy's gasp of surprise as they blurred past her and through the door. "Second door--"

"On the left, I know," Clark breathed in his ear, but they were already through it and onto the staircase. He set Eli on his feet, his face drawn with anxiety. "Do you think she'll tell anyone we're here?"

"If I had thought so, she would no longer be here."

Clark closed his eyes as if he were in pain.

Eli sighed. "Cricket. I give you my word that violence will be my measure of last resort."

Clark opened his eyes, but didn't look at him. "I guess that's going to have to be good enough. What about the blur on the cameras? Will they come check?"

"Of course they will." Eli shoved a pair of gloves into Clark's hands, settled the strap of his backpack into a more comfortable position and pulled Clark down the stairs toward the basement. "I imagine Miss Graves will have a few choice words for them regarding their malfunctioning equipment. Miss Graves is very effective with choice words."

***

"Try to remember who you are," Lionel said, as Jonathan pulled up to the curb in front of an entirely too familiar building.

Lex stared at the place that had once been his home, fighting an entirely new sort of déjà vu. No. Lex shook himself. This had been his residence. He knew where home was.

"You are not a cook or a housekeeper. You are--"

"Something you pulled out of a tank. I enjoy torture, mutilation, strangling women, and raping underage boys. My occupation is throwing families out of their homes and poisoning whole neighborhoods. I dress well, socialize brilliantly and have as yet unspecified political aspirations. I am, in short, the consummate suitable Luthor heir." Lex finished putting on his gloves and looked up to find both Jonathan and Lionel staring at him.

"How do you do that?" Lionel asked hoarsely.

Lex gave him a frosty smile. "When you've spent as many hours alone with him as I have, it's not a stretch. I'm a quick study when someone's got his hand on my dick. You should know that, Dad."

Lex cursed inwardly at the horrified look on Jonathan's face and shouldered open the door, ignoring the blare of a taxi's horn as the vehicle swerved to miss him in the fading daylight. God, Pamela was right; the man was a baby, probably more of a baby than his son. What in God's name had possessed him to say that? Circling the car, he opened Jonathan's door and gave him a hand out. It wasn't in character and he didn't give a damn. "Sorry," Lex breathed.

Jonathan, white-faced, hung onto Lex's hand a little longer than was necessary. "Say the word, Lex. We can call this whole thing off right now."

"No. We can't. And I have to be an asshole now." Lex squeezed Jonathan's hand before he released it, and yanked open the rear door. "Come on, Dad, it's time to strut your stuff."

Lionel emerged slowly, with a shell shocked expression that Lex had rarely seen on the man. Only twice, in fact. When Julian died. And his mother. Odd.

"Move it," Lex said coldly. "We have business."

"I didn't know," Lionel breathed. "I swear I didn't--"

"That's not our business. I realize the cognitive abilities start to slip at your age, but let's focus, shall we?" Lex turned toward the revolving doors, never more grateful in his life to have Jonathan Kent at his shoulder.

***

"Hold this," Eli commanded, tossing a small black box to Clark.

Clark, crouching next to Eli out of range of the utility room camera, examined it with considerable unease. "What is it?" he asked, not really sure he wanted to know.

"It is a signal device. Alexander will activate it when they reach the security desk, and again when the elevator has reached the twenty-fifth floor." Eli was assembling something from the pieces in his backpack.

"That doesn't give us much time to get the door open and find the sub-feeder."

"How fortunate that one of us routinely breaks the sound barrier."

"Eli, I don't even know what a sub-feeder looks like!"

"Do not be obtuse. It looks like a box with the words 'passenger elevator sub-feeder' printed on it."

Clark ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Couldn't we just, you know, turn all the power off?"

"Certainly we could. It would, of course, shout 'your building is under attack' to all who are interested in such things, and prevent my use of the freight elevator, but this should prove no difficulty."

"Eli."

"I will simply summon my army of pigeons to carry the meteorites away."

"I just thought it would be good to shut down the security system, that's all."

"I can think of no better way to attract the attention of the simple-minded than to deprive them of their toy. An elevator malfunction is an annoyance. A camera malfunction is an annoyance. The loss of an entire security system is a threat. Let us endeavor to keep them annoyed, yes?" Eli lifted the object he had been building to his shoulder.

It was only then that Clark realized that it was a rifle. "What the hell is that for?" he hissed.

"It is for the camera cable," Eli replied, taking aim.

Clark glanced incredulously at the cable that curled out of the body of the camera and disappeared into its bracket. "That can't be more than half an inch wide!"

"I am using my lucky silencer."

"Eli, you can't possibly make that shot. Let me take the camera out."

"I think we have had enough unidentified flying objects flitting past LuthorCorp security monitors tonight, cricket. It is time to give faith a rest and rely on common sense."

"Eli--"

"I blew the dog Nixon's head off with this rifle at a distance considerably greater than this. It is a very effective weapon."

Clark blanched. "Oh."

"Keep your eye on the signal, if you please."

***

Lex whipped off his gloves as he emerged from the revolving doors and crossed an annoyingly palatial lobby to reach the security station. One of the guards stationed there was huddling over a monitor, scowling, and Lex drew a small sigh of relief. It would seem Clark and Eli had made it this far. He slipped his right hand into his coat pocket and curled his fingers around Eli's little black box. "Am I interrupting anything?"

The guard straightened immediately, wide-eyed. "Mr. Luthor," he stammered. "We weren't expecting you until tomorrow."

"We apologize for inconveniencing you, Masters," Lionel said with pleasant menace, coming to stand at Lex's side.

Lex pressed the button and felt the device vibrate in his hand. "Is there anything I should know?"

"We got some weird images on the cameras near the emergency exit. I'm sure it's nothing," Masters added hastily. "Huffman is checking it out now."

Lex fixed the man with his coldest stare, noting a monitor over Masters' right shoulder go suddenly dark. "I hope for your sake there hasn't been a security breach on your watch."

"It's probably just a bad cable," Masters said, visibly leaning away from Lex and Lionel.

"I'll want a full report in the morning."

"Yes, sir."

"I have some pressing matters to discuss with my father and our business associate. I don't wish to be interrupted under any circumstances. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. You're not available."

Lex turned away toward the express elevator, grimacing. Oh, that man had been well trained. He was absolutely terrified. Lex tried not to imagine what Masters had seen to render him so sickeningly obedient. Jonathan fell into step beside him, his expression grim; he was no doubt wondering the same thing.

"Those cameras were only installed a month ago," Lionel growled as they crossed the lobby. "If they're defective I'll ship that factory overseas."

"Attaboy, Dad," Lex said, watching Lionel key in the security code. "Nothing like a proportionate response."

The elevator doors slid open and Lex stepped inside. Lionel gestured to Jonathan to precede him with exaggerated courtesy; Jonathan set his jaw and joined Lex. Lionel stabbed the one button on the panel and the doors shut.

"You know, someday somebody's going to beat your head in, Luthor," Jonathan said. "And I hope to God I'm there to see it."

Lionel ignored him; his entire attention was riveted on Lex. "I didn't know. I would never have allowed him to be alone with you if I had."

"Because beatings and starvation are standard operating procedure, but cigarette burns and groping are completely unacceptable." Lex kept his eyes on the floor display. Seven. Twelve. Seventeen.

The desperation in Lionel's tone grew; Lex wondered idly why the man was bothering. "I lost my temper. You know perfectly well I didn't intend to harm you. And I certainly wouldn't have allowed that thing to lay a hand on you if I'd known."

"Thanks, Dad. I'm touched." Twenty. Twenty-three.

Lionel exploded in frustration. "Why in God's name didn't you just tell him what he wanted to know?"

Twenty-five. Lex pressed the button. "Because you will have Clark over my dead body."

The elevator lurched to a standstill and the lights went out.

***

"Come. We do not have much time." Eli pulled Clark out of the utility room, glancing at his watch. It would not take long for the idiots in the lobby to check the utility room.

There was no time to reprogram the lock. Eli prayed that the delay would be enough. At least he would reach the penthouse before Alexander did.

"That's what I said," Clark grumbled. "And if we'd just knocked out the power--"

"Your vast experience in such matters tells you this, yes? I am honored by your advice." Glaring, Eli slammed the door shut. There were flaws in any plan, especially in one prepared at such short notice, and the last thing he needed was a Kansas farmboy to draw attention to them.

"We can't just let them walk in there. They'll just turn the elevator back on again."

"I will nevertheless be in the penthouse before Alexander arrives."

"By five minutes. What can you do in five minutes?"

"I do not believe you truly wish me to answer that question."

"We have to block the door or jam the lock or something."

Eli swung his backpack onto his shoulder, listening for the sounds of idiot feet against the concrete floor. "There is nothing to block the door with, and there is no time to reprogram the lock. We are wasting time, cricket."

Clark looked lost for a fraction of a second, and then his expression turned grim. "I can jam the lock."

Eli seized his shoulder with a stern expression. "No evidence of your strength must be left, or this will all have been for nothing."

"Not with my hands." Clark swallowed. "Just...get behind me."

"Clark--"

"This will only take a few seconds." The weird amber glow had leapt to the boy's eyes.

Eli drew a sharp breath and stepped back. He had been right. This was undoubtedly a most inconvenient moment, and there was no stopping the cricket now. "Hurry."

Clark turned toward the door, fists clenched, and nothing happened for a second or two. Precious seconds. "Clark, we must--"

A column of white-hot flame erupted between Clark and the door, so bright that Eli gasped and shielded his eyes. Ah. Another surprise. How lovely. This boded so well for the smooth implementation of tonight's work. The light and heat disappeared as quickly as they had materialized, and Eli moved instantly to the boy's side, laying a hand on his shoulder. Clark's eyes were closed, and he was breathing hard, but Eli saw no burns. "Are you hurt?"

"No. No." Clark swallowed convulsively. "Did I get it?"

Eli approached the door with some trepidation, and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the access panel. It was a fused, twisted lump of steaming metal, as was the bolt assembly and the door frame. The entire mass was a useless, molten mess. Very effective. Eli tried not to imagine the effects of this energy on human flesh. "Oh, yes," he said calmly. "You got it many times. It has surrendered unconditionally."

"Will it pass for a torch?"

"On casual inspection, yes." The boy had promise.

"Eli--"

"We must go."

"I'm afraid to open my eyes," Clark whispered.

Eli moved to stand beside him. "I have been afraid to open my eyes," he said gravely. "Every soldier has been so."

Clark opened his eyes very slowly and stared with unmitigated despair at the destruction he had caused. His eyes danced with fire, but it was dying. "A soldier," he said bleakly.

"Yes. But not alone." Eli put an arm around the boy. "Come. We must move quickly now."

***

"Pete. Pete!" Chloe hissed her frustration into the darkness, hugging the garden wall. This was the worst thing about doing anything with boys. They could never stick to a plan. If she and Mrs. Kent had handled this alone, they'd be home right now, eating chocolate and watching MTV.

"Up here." A soft giggle above her head made Chloe glance up. Pete was sitting on top of the wall with the nozzle end of a garden hose in his hand. He was grinning, and that was always a bad sign. "Check it out."

"Pete, what the hell are you doing?"

Pete sent a narrow torrent of water across the lawn toward the house, setting off alarm after alarm as it passed by the motion detectors. The idiot was laughing like looney toon.

"We're not supposed to stay in one place," Chloe hissed. "Get down from there!"

"Just one more." Pete changed the angle of his aim, and chortled softly as more alarms split the night air. Exterior lights flipped on, and the sound of agitated voices carried across the distance from the house.

"That's enough! Get down from there now." Chloe tugged on Pete's leg in annoyance.

"Okay, okay." Pete tossed the hose and jumped down from the wall. "Do you think they're getting tired of this yet?"

"Hell, no," Chloe snapped, dragging him through the archway to the far side of the wall and down the path that led to the far side of the house. "An alarm every other minute for the past half hour? I'm sure they're having a great time."

"If I were them, I'd give up."

"Not if you knew a co-worker was found hanging from the rafters, you wouldn't. You'd shoot at anything you saw. Which is why we keep moving, okay? Max was very clear on that."

"Oh, yeah, Max was clear. Max was also clueless."

"Pete--"

"He doesn't know what's going on, does he?"

"I don't want to know what's going on." The voice seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

Chloe gasped and jumped back against the wall as an undefined figure moved from the trees to block their path.

"Jesus!" Pete snarled. "Give a guy a heart attack, why don't you?"

"I have a very satisfactory arrangement with Eli," Max said calmly. "I don't ask him what's going on and he doesn't tell me. I think we're both better off that way. You stayed in one place too long."

Chloe started breathing again. "I told him--"

"Did Mrs. Kent make it into the house all right?" Pete cut her off with a dirty look.

"Like a pro. Of course, it always helps when the bad guys can't find their asses with both hands and a shovel. For a smart guy, Luthor hires a hell of a lot of idiots."

"Probably makes him feel superior." Chloe sniffed contemptuously.

"I suspect a repressed death wish, myself. Your first alarm emptied the place of rent-a-cops, and they left the damn door standing wide open while they ran around the lawn pointing their guns at each other. Mrs. Kent was in inside of two seconds. She knows what to do. Just keep up the noise. Here." Max held out what appeared to be a large cloth sack.

"What's this?" Pete took the bag and opened it. "Tennis balls?"

"You should be able to trip a few of the sensors with those. Just keep moving. Don't wait for the lights to come on. Got it?"

"But how will we know when--" Chloe stopped as she realized she was addressing thin air. "Holy shit."

"I hate it when he does that," Pete growled. "Probably learned that trick from Lugosi."

"I did," came Max's voice from the darkness. "I learned all my tricks from Lugosi. Move!"

Sighing, Chloe grabbed Pete by the arm and dragged him down the path along the wall. "Come on, Pete, let's go. And get a good grip on those balls."

Pete snorted with what sounded like indignation. "You know, for somebody who didn't get lucky you're sure making free with my private parts."

Chloe smacked his shoulder. "The tennis balls! God, you're never going to let this go, are you? I can see myself now, a permanent resident at Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows, eating gruel and going to confession three times a day."

Pete cackled softly, obviously enjoying himself way too much for a serious covert ops gig. The boy needed some serious attitude adjustment.

***

"This is absurd! It's inexcusable."

Jonathan winced at the sound of Lionel pounding his fist against the side of the elevator car. "Luthor, just calm down."

"I am completely calm," Lionel snarled.

"Oh, he is calm, Jonathan. You should see what the walls look like when he isn't."

Lex sounded totally at ease, although Jonathan suspected that the pitch dark and the close quarters unnerved him as much as they did Jonathan. At least Jonathan hoped so. Jonathan snorted. "Oh, he's a wall-puncher, is he? I should have known."

Lionel made a disgusted noise.

"Oh, yes. Craters and splintered paneling everywhere you look."

Jonathan leaned back against the wall. "Must keep his contractor busy."

"I've told him he should just hang some black light posters over the holes and have done with it."

"Grateful Dead?"

"Elvis."

"Maybe an evil clown."

"Now that is an inspired choice."

"That's enough." Lionel sounded furious. "Where the hell are the emergency lights?"

"Presumably wherever the rest of the power is. Make yourself comfortable, Dad." Jonathan grinned as he heard Lex slide down to take a seat on the floor. "Looks like we're going to be here for a while."

"You seem remarkably unconcerned." Lionel's voice went suddenly soft.

Jonathan slid down to sit beside Lex. Let the bastard try anything. Just let him.

"Oh, I'm very concerned. I may wrinkle my suit."

"Every moment of delay makes this absurd little chore more dangerous."

"How so? It's not like Karloff is around or anything."

Silence.

Jonathan heard the beep of an electronic device, and suddenly Lex's face was lit by the color screen of his PDA. His expression was unreadable. "Since you've expressed an interest in being my father, I've been doing some research in pursuit of a basis for understanding."

"The replicate is with the Mayor's party in the country."

"I've given this a lot of thought, and I think I have managed to diagnose your mental disorder with a reasonable degree of accuracy."

Jonathan fought for a straight face.

Lionel's tone became more agitated. "I am here in good faith, Lex."

"According to the five-factor model of personality for Narcissistic Personality Disorder, a patient with a Low Agreeableness factor displays the following characteristics."

"You are letting your paranoia run away with you."

"Cynicism and paranoid thinking. Inability to trust even friends and family. Quarrelsomeness. Exploitation and manipulation of others. Lying. Rudeness. Lack of respect for social conventions. Inflated and grandiose sense of self. Arrogance."

"Are you responsible for this power failure?"

"Is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, and brilliance. Believes he is unique and should only associate with other high-status people or institutions. Requires excessive admiration. Has unreasonable expectations of automatic compliance with his wishes. Is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others."

"I want an answer, Lex."

"If I may quote Dr. Wilhelm Reich, 'Everyday behavior is usually haughty, either cold and reserved or derisively aggressive. In behavior toward the love object, the narcissistic element always dominates of the object-libidinal, and there is always an admixture of more or less disguised sadistic traits.'" Lex looked up in Lionel's direction briefly. "Well. We know that one's dead-on, don't we?"

"Lex." Lionel's voice had gone hoarse.

Jonathan closed his eyes.

"'His narcissism expresses itself not in an infantile manner but in an exaggerated display of self-confidence, dignity and superiority, in spite of the fact that the basis of his character is no less infantile than that of others.'"

"Stop!"

Jonathan threw a protective arm across Lex's chest, but Lionel simply slid down to sit on the floor, silent. Jonathan could feel Lex's muscles quivering, like a horse that had been ridden too hard, and slipped his other arm around the boy's shoulders. Lex closed the PDA, hiding his face in the dark.

"This is how you see me?" Lionel rasped.

Lex said nothing.

"Everything...everything I have ever done was for you and your mother. For our family."

Jonathan grit his teeth to remain silent.

"You can't possibly see me this way. You're a Luthor."

Lex leaned against Jonathan, sighing.

"You can't."

***

Eli felt strangely out of breath by the time Clark set him on his feet outside the range of the camera that monitored the emergency door to the penthouse, even though he'd not run the fifty flights of stairs himself. The boy didn't appear to be affected in the least by his supersonic stroll from the basement to the penthouse level – not a drop of sweat or a hint of respiratory distress was to be seen. Oh, he'd been right about this one. He could do things with the cricket, if, of course, Alexander did not strangle him first. "Thank you." Eli turned to study the camera. It was the same model as the others. There was a numeric access code panel on the lock.

"Anytime." Clark pulled the nylon from his pants pocket.

"What are you doing?" Eli demanded in a hushed tone.

"There are two people inside," Clark said. "They both have guns."

Eli sighed. The boy could see through walls. Again with the surprises. Yet another night to bury in the desert. "We agreed that you would leave before the door was opened. You gave me your word."

"I lied," Clark said simply, pulling the nylon over his head.

"You will not set foot inside," Eli said. "Alexander will have my head on a pike if I allow you--"

"I'm not leaving you." His voice was like granite. "I'm not leaving anybody ever again."

What was this? Eli laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, bewildered but determined, and tried to speak as gently as the urgency of the situation permitted. "You are not leaving me, cricket. You are following the plan we agreed upon. Common sense dictates that a boy – a soldier – to whom meteorites are death does not stroll into a residence filled with them."

"There are two of them in there, and they know you're coming."

"I have known it would be so from the beginning."

Clark flipped up the mask to reveal an incredulous expression. "You knew--"

"When I become unable to incapacitate two armed people without assistance I will crawl into my grave with my black shame and die. I am what now? A retired grocer? A dentist?"

To his surprise, Clark gave him a wan smile. "I know you can handle it, Eli."

"As well you should."

"But I'm still not leaving you."

Eli closed his eyes and prayed for patience. "I need you outside on the street. I need warning should either the police or LuthorCorp security personnel arrive."

"You need me here more. We're wasting time, Eli."

"Alexander will stake me in the desert for the ants to eat," Eli said glumly. "The very vultures will laugh."

Clark rolled his eyes. "I told Lex a long time ago that I was going to have to start making the moves. He's going to have to get used to it. Do you think they know we're right outside their door?"

"Unless they are idiots of the first order."

"Are they?"

"No." Eli pulled a plastic container out of his backpack.

"I didn't think so," Clark sighed. He studied the backpack. "Is that thing bigger on the inside than it is on the outside?"

"Yes," Eli said, opening the container and removing a large ball of polymer clay. "Take this and throw it at the lens. Be sure of your aim."

Clark took the clay with a dubious expression, then smiled. "Oh. I get it." He gave Eli an odd look. "Why didn't we do this to the camera in the basement?"

"Because I was overwhelmed with a bloodthirsty desire to maim the camera in the basement," Eli snapped. "Throw!"

Clark tossed the polymer with such force that the camera rattled ominously in its bracket, but the lens was completely covered. Eli nodded in approval and stepped up to the access panel, but Clark laid a hand on his shoulder. "You wanted to prove you could do it," Clark said very softly.

He was a wizard, this one. A wizard with atrocious timing. "We have no time--"

"You don't have anything to prove to me. Or to Lex. Both of us trust you, Eli."

Damn him and his mind-reading and his trust and his absurd affection. It was no wonder indeed that Alexander had gone stark staring mad. "In case it has escaped your attention," Eli hissed, "we are engaged in a criminal enterprise with dubious prospects for success and a high likelihood that we will have vital body parts forcibly removed from our persons." Eli yanked Clark's makeshift mask into place. "If you must break your word and follow me inside, kindly concentrate on the matter at hand." He keyed in the security sequence and pulled the door open. The penthouse was completely dark.

"We trust you," Clark whispered. "Don't do anything crazy."

Eli grit his teeth and stepped inside; he was instantly aware of movement on his left. Whirling, he blocked an impressive blow, kicked his attacker's feet out from under him, and knocked his head to the floor with sufficient force to render him unconscious. A grating laugh nearby made him freeze.

"Well, damned if I haven't been infiltrated by the Mossad."

***

Martha clutched Lionel's laptop to her closely as she crouched under what used to be Lex's desk, restraining a sigh as the alarms went off for what must have been the twentieth time. Pete and Chloe were certainly doing a thorough job of distraction and confusion. And if this person sitting on the couch drinking Lionel's Scotch would stop drinking it and go get distracted and confused, she could finish being Ma Barker and go home to scrub the kitchen floor. Or make cookies. Or do laundry. Anything that was normal. The sound of approaching footsteps made her stiffen.

"Jesus Christ, Mark! Get off your ass and come help us!"

Mark barked a laugh. "Help you what? Run around like a pack of idiots chasing every false alarm? The system's defective, you asshole. How else do you think someone got in here to beat up on Luthor? I won't even mention--"

"Don't mention it. There's somebody out there doing this."

"Sure there is, Jake. Somebody's who's invisible, right? Maybe the ghost of Randy Atkins come back to haunt us. Oooooo!"

"Shut your mouth!" Jake's voice was a hiss. "Don't raise the fucking dead."

"You are a first class pansy-ass, you know that?"

"You know this system better than any of us. Will you just earn your paycheck for once?"

Mark sighed heavily. "Oh, all right. What a bunch of losers."

Martha let go a sigh of relief as Mark left the room. Waiting until his and Jake's footsteps were no longer audible, she crawled out from under the desk and went back to pulling every folder labeled "Kent" out of the file drawer.

***

"That's right, you tie her up tight. That's how she likes it."

Clark felt himself blushing. He opened his mouth to reply, but Eli shot him a quelling glance. "Say nothing. Is she secure?"

Clark nodded as he rose to his feet, feeling like he'd crossed about a hundred lines in one fell swoop. They'd just beaten up a girl and tied her up. What a couple of heroes.

The man in the dark stretched lazily, one arm coming to rest on the back of the sofa, his profile clearly visible in the faint glow of the city lights that lit the glass doors leading to the terrace. Clark was glad that was all he could see. "Put me down for an ass, Eli. You weren't the bird I was expecting."

Eli snorted. "I put you down for an ass long ago."

"You usually work alone."

"You know why I am here."

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

Eli moved closer. "You will give me your weapon."

"He has two," Clark said, edging closer. "One's in his jacket and one's strapped to his ankle."

"I said say nothing!"

"Clark," Luthor murmured. He chuckled, and Clark belatedly realized that the man was drunk. "Come into my parlor."

Eli's voice sharpened. "Your weapons. Now."

"Are you going to let him kill me, Clark?"

"He's not going to kill you." Clark grimaced when his voice shook. "We only want the stuff you have on me."

"So you're here to protect me?" Luthor's voice dropped to a seductive murmur. "I knew I could count on you."

"Enough." Eli strode into the room to stand over Luthor. "For the last time, give me your weapons."

"Oh, all right, all right." Luthor moved slowly to draw a pistol from his breast pocket and handed it to Eli. "You're making this so unpleasant, Eli. Clark and I have a lot of catching up to do."

"Clark. The ankle holster." Eli backed up, both his gun and Luthor's trained on the man on the sofa.

"Oh, yes." Luthor propped up his foot on the coffee table. "Come handle my gun, Clark."

Clark felt his face go hot; he stalked over to the coffee table and knelt to yank the velcro closure of the holster open and remove it from Luthor's leg. Clark tossed the holster to Eli.

"Was it good for you?"

Clark scrambled to his feet and backed away, grateful for the darkness. Luthor couldn't see how red he was. And Clark couldn't see that little piece of Lex.

Luthor sighed. "Now you're going to ask me where I keep my files on Clark."

"By no means. I have no time to listen to your lies." Eli took a step back. "Clark. Your eyes are better than mine."

Clark nodded and walked away, scanning furniture, walls and floors as he paced through the apartment; it only took a couple minutes. Kitchen, master bedroom suite, guest bedroom suites, exercise room, office, library. The place was huge.

"Would you like me to turn the lights on?" Luthor called.

It was nice, even though it was a little too stark and empty for his taste. He wondered if Lex had liked living here. He wondered if he missed it. Clark shook himself. Maybe Lex was right about his inability to focus in times of crisis. He returned to the living room to stand at Eli's side. "There's a compartment in the floor of the office."

Luthor chuckled. "The boy's good, Eli."

"There's another one in the wall in the library. And one in the floor of his bedroom."

Luthor had stopped chuckling.

"The big vault is...." Clark stared through the thick door in dismay. "Empty. It's empty."

Luthor made a sympathetic noise.

Eli appeared unfazed. "Are the others empty?"

"No."

"Open them and bring me what you find. Is his laptop on his desk?"

"Yes."

"Bring that as well."

"I hope you're familiar with the legal penalties for armed robbery, Clark," Luthor said sharply.

"I hope you're familiar with the legal penalties for murder," Clark snapped over his shoulder, striding back into the office. At least he knew the rest of Karloff's hidey-holes weren't empty. Squatting on the floor behind the desk, he felt carefully along the edges of the parquet floor until he found a small square section that moved when he pressed it. A segment about a foot square popped up, and Clark removed it quickly. In the recess below was a stack of files six inches high; Clark's name glared at him from high-gloss labels.

Clark seized the stack and pulled it out, resisting the urge to read them. Opening the file drawers of the desk he found more folders. His heart began to race. What was in these things? How could he have given this maniac this much ammunition against him without even realizing it? He opened every drawer, searching for the octagonal piece of metal that Lionel had described. It wasn't there. Forcing himself to breathe normally, he unplugged the laptop, piled it on top of the stack and moved to the library.

"So this is what the great Eli Cohen is reduced to." Luthor's voice grated in Clark's ear as he pried open the wall compartment. "Working for a deranged criminal as a petty thief."

"I am mortified to be so judged by a creature who strangles women and murders children in their hospital beds. Your disapproval wounds me deeply."

"What have they been telling you about me, Clark?" Luthor called, but he sounded amused. "You don't believe this paranoid drivel, do you?"

Clark gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to punch through the door of the well-concealed wall compartment. He found the opening mechanism and leaned away as the door swung open. A small stack of video tapes, most of them labeled with his name. Jesus Christ. What could be on these things? It wasn't as if he went around town carrying the family tractor or anything. Cursing under his breath, he ran to one of the guest rooms and stripped a pillow case from one of the pillows. Returning to the library, he dumped the tapes into the pillow case.

"I can't hear you, Clark."

"He has nothing to say to you," Eli said.

"Do you have any idea who this man is?" Luthor continued, undeterred. "He's a spy, a thief and a murderer, Clark. He's insane."

"The boy knows what I am," Eli replied with soft menace. "It is you who are ignorant. Pray that I do not enlighten you."

Luthor laughed, but there was not mistaking the nervous edge in his voice. "You won't kill me. Clark won't let you. Will you, Clark?"

Wedging the files and the laptop into the pillow case, Clark made his way back to the master bedroom, jaw set.

"Where are the meteorites?" Eli's voice was soft now, soft and dangerous.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"It would be a serious error in judgment to rely too heavily on Clark's scruples at this juncture."

"Oh? Isn't he here to hold your leash?"

Clark ripped up the floor over the compartment in the floor, not giving a damn about the damage. CDs. What could possibly...never mind. Clark shoved them into the pillow case.

"It is also a serious error in judgment to provoke me. The meteorites."

"And my motivation to answer that question would be...?"

Clark scanned the bedroom thoroughly – furniture, walls, floor, ceiling – and his heart began to sink. No octagonal shape. He ran from room to room, searching frantically, but it was nowhere. Nowhere. Lionel had said that Karloff kept it on his desk during the day and took it to bed with him at night. But it was nowhere. The sound of a blow froze him in his tracks.

"Reassess your motivation." Eli's voice was barely recognizable

No. Clark took off for the living room, not troubling to hide his speed, and caught Eli's arm as it was raised for another blow. "No. Eli. Not that way."

Luthor, holding a hand to his mouth, began to laugh. "You see? I can rely on his scruples. It's the only thing I can rely on."

Eli lowered his arm, his face grim. "You have everything?"

"No," Clark said unsteadily. "I can't find the piece of...metal. He must have it in something that's lead-lined."

Eli glared at him, and Clark realized his mistake. Damn. Damn.

"Mmmm, lead. Yes. What is it about you and lead, Clark?"

"You will ask no questions," Eli told him.

"Sure I will. My friend Clark won't let you hurt me again," Luthor said, smiling as he wiped the blood from his mouth. "If I were you, I'd start for the border now. Because when I contact the authorities--"

"I'm not your friend," Clark cut in harshly. "I gave you a chance to earn my friendship and you laughed in my face."

An odd expression crossed Luthor's face and it was all Clark could do not to wince openly. "Clark. Whatever our differences have been, I would never hurt you."

"Yeah." Clark lifted the pillow case. "I can tell."

"I didn't collect those things to hurt you. I collected them to keep them out of the hands of people who would. Out of my father's hands."

Clark closed his eyes. God, it sounded so plausible in that voice.

"Why do you think I moved the meteorites? I knew he'd raid this place eventually. If you'd arrived a couple days from now, all of the rest would have been gone, too."

"If you mean what you say," Clark said thickly, "tell us where the meteorites and that piece of metal are."

"Why? So that bastard who's fucking you can sell you to the highest bidder? No, Clark. If you want to hand him what he needs to sell you to some bioweapons lab, fine. Don't expect me to help you."

"You really believe that, don't you?" Clark could barely hear himself. He turned away, unable to look at that face anymore. It would be so easy to break his neck, if it weren't for that face. Maybe if he closed his eyes… Clark drew in a sharp breath. Jesus Christ.

"Clark. Leave." Eli's voice was stern. "Take what you have and go. I will find the rest."

"Eli, you can't--"

"I give you my word that I will not lay a hand on him."

Clark nodded silently and moved away.

Luthor's voice rose in panic. "Clark. He's going to kill me. You can't just leave me here with him."

Oh, God. Clark stopped in his tracks, his stomach turning over. Leaving him. He was leaving him.

"Clark," Eli said softly. "Please take Miss Graves downstairs and leave her where she will be found. I would not have her spend the entire night bound and gagged."

"He doesn't want any witnesses. Clark!"

"You spoke of trust, cricket."

Swallowing against the nausea, Clark left the living room and walked down the hall toward the emergency exit. Picking Mercy up easily, he slung her over his shoulder, pushed the door open and started to run, trying not to hear Luthor shouting his name.

***

Martha shoved her pile of folders into the canvas sack she'd slung over her shoulder and stepped up to the door of the vault. Illegal trespass. Petty theft. Now safecracking. Martha briefly imagined her mug shot appearing on America's Most Wanted and winced. She hated her profile.

Drawing a deep breath, Martha called her thoughts sternly to heel, and laid her gloved hand on the combination lock of the vault, praying that Eli was right, that Lionel wouldn't have had time to change the combination. She watched her hand turn the dial as if it belonged to someone else. Right. Left. Right. She felt more than heard a click from inside the mechanism. Letting that deep breath go, she opened the door to the vault. God, it was bigger than Clark's bedroom. But it was empty. Empty.

Eli had warned her it might be. Lionel Luthor wasn't stupid, and he wasn't about to store meteorites or meteorite ore in this house, where security had been breached more than once. Martha turned on her flashlight and stepped inside, quickly scanning the shelves, opening the drawers. They were empty. But just as she closed the last drawer, a rustling sound from inside the cabinet made her open it again. Bending over to peer inside, she saw one end of a roll of papers. Martha reached inside and took hold of the roll, hoping she wasn't going to regret being so thorough. Very carefully, she drew it out.

Unrolling the oversized, bluish-tinted papers, she saw some incomprehensible schematic drawings. On all sides of the drawings, in every inch of blank space, were handwritten notes. The words leapt out at her like wild animals. Particle accelerator. Meteorite composition. Induced radioactivity. Martha stopped reading, her hands shaking, and rolled up the papers again. There would be time to be terrified later. Right now it was time to leave, before Pete and Chloe ran out of diversions.

"All right. Come out of there."

Perhaps there was time to be terrified right now. Martha turned off her flashlight and shoved it into the sack.

"I said come out of there! You don't want me to come in after you."

Martha put her hands in her pockets and crouched on the floor. If the man had had a flashlight, he'd have turned it on by now.

"Okay, fine, asshole. If you wind up with your head blown off, don't blame me."

Martha considered the fact that she didn't like being called an asshole by a mouth-breather who made his living being a thug for Lionel Luthor. She considered the fact that he was probably one of the knuckle-draggers who had kept Lex locked up for three weeks in the basement of this pretentious pile of rocks. She considered that he was probably one of the cretins who had nearly killed Lex chasing him around the countryside in the dead of winter.

Given these considerations, she had no qualms whatsoever about pulling Clark's tazer from her bag, and, shoving it toward the approaching man's midsection, giving him a jolt that sent him sprawling, unconscious, onto his back. Martha was shocked at the sense of satisfaction that result produced. Well. Her broom wasn't black ops regulation. And it was better than shooting somebody. And he had fairly flown through the air to land on his ass, which was very entertaining. "This is not a toy, Martha," she muttered to herself.

Martha rose slowly to her feet, deactivating the tazer, and listened for any sounds of more guards approaching. Nothing. The only sounds were the shouts of the other guards as they ran to and fro on the lawn. Picking up the rolled papers, she kicked the guard's feet out of the way, stepped outside the vault and closed the door.

***

Jonathan nearly jumped out of his skin as Lionel lunged suddenly to his feet. He felt Lex's arm shoot out across his chest as if to shield Jonathan from attack, but Lionel didn't come any closer. Jonathan resignedly made a mental note to give the boy another hug.

"What the hell are you doing, Dad?" Lex asked sharply.

"We're not going to just sit here. There's an emergency hatch up there and we're going to use it."

"And then what?" Jonathan demanded. "We're between floors, genius."

"We have to try something. I'm not going to sit here in the dark like an idiot if there's a possibility we can get out of here. Give me a hand up."

Jonathan hesitated. Half an hour. Eli should have done his thing and gotten clear by now. It couldn't hurt to humor the bastard; they probably couldn't get out of here until the power was restored anyway. He started to rise, but Lex was on his feet first. "I'll do it."

Damned if the boy wasn't determined to put himself between his father and Jonathan at every opportunity. What did he think Lionel was going to do? Jonathan remembered Eli's warning and grimaced as he pulled himself to his feet.

"If you think you can manage to--" Lionel's voice rose to a startled squawk and Jonathan heard a rattle on the ceiling of the car.

"Sorry," Lex said pleasantly. "I misjudged the distance." Jonathan grinned broadly.

Lionel cursed under his breath and fumbled about on the ceiling. "I take it you've been working out."

"I've been working."

"I see." Lionel's voice was strangely subdued.

Jonathan heard something slide over head, and wondered at Lionel's restraint. No rants about the degrading nature of manual labor? The bastard was up to something. Maybe getting out wasn't such a good idea. "This is too damn dangerous, Luthor. It's going to be as pitch black in the shaft as it is in here."

"If you're afraid, Mr. Kent, by all means, stay here."

Jonathan flushed, but was steadied by Lex's taut laughter. "Let's wait until you have a gun to your head before we come to any conclusions about relative courage, shall we? Open the damn hatch."

"No offense intended," Lionel muttered.

Jonathan heard him grunt as the sound of squeaking metal echoed through the enclosed space, followed by a painful clang as the hatch hit the top of the car. Jonathan blinked in the dim light that filtered through the hatch. "Where the hell is that light coming from?"

Lex shoved his father upward, and Lionel braced himself on the edges of the hatch opening and pushed himself through to sit on the edge. Lex gave Jonathan a wry look. "Evidently our power failure is highly selective."

"It's coming from under the door on the next floor." Lionel stood up.

"Watch it, Dad," Lex said sharply.

If Lionel heard him, he ignored him; Jonathan heard the man's shoes scraping along the side of the shaft.

"Tell me he's not climbing," Jonathan said wearily.

"He's climbing." Lex's voice was its driest. "Do you mind, Jonathan?"

Jonathan sighed and laced his fingers together to give Lex a leg up. "Don't get yourself killed up there, will you?"

Lex grinned and stepped into Jonathan's hands. "I'll see what I can do."

Jonathan heaved Lex upward, surprised at the effort it took. The boy was heavier than he looked. Lex pushed himself through the hatch and lay on his stomach, leaning down into the car to offer Jonathan a hand.

"You've got to be kidding."

"I'm not leaving you here," Lex said.

Jonathan glared up at him. "There is no way you can pull me out by yourself, working man or not."

Lex smiled, then visibly started as a banging noise echoed through the shaft. He glanced over his shoulder and upward with an incredulous expression. "Dad, what the hell--"

"Open this door! Get us out of here now!"

"Goddamn it, Dad, get down here and help me!"

"I can hear somebody in the hall!"

"Then you can be damn sure they heard you," Lex snapped. "Get down here and help me get Jonathan out."

More pounding.

"Now!" Lex shouted. The pounding stopped, and Jonathan heard the scuttle of dress shoes against stone and metal, and a resounding thud as Lionel landed on the top of the car. "You really need to work on this tendency to panic in emergency situations, Dad."

Lionel's face appeared in the hatchway, flushed with exertion and anger. To Jonathan's amazement, he said nothing, but thrust his hand in Jonathan's direction. Jonathan sighed and reached up to grab both of the offered hands. He was surprised to be yanked off his feet and halfway through the hatch, landing on his stomach. Lionel yanked his hand away and immediately started to make his way up the five feet of shaft again, but Lex helped Jonathan into a sitting position. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Jonathan winced as Lionel started banging again. "Christ, Luthor, give it a rest, will you? If there's someone in the hall, they've already heard you."

"He seems rather anxious to get up to the penthouse," Lex said softly, meeting Jonathan's eyes. "I wonder why."

"I don't," Jonathan growled. "It's enough to know he wants to get up there so fast. Maybe you should stay downstairs."

"Jonathan, I'm shocked. You can't imagine that he has any malicious intent."

"I imagine he was born with malicious intent. He probably bit the doctor who delivered him."

Lex chuckled softly, but before he could reply, Jonathan heard someone shouting on the other side of the elevator door. "Mr. Luthor, is that you?"

"My employees are idiots," Lionel snarled. "Of course it's me! Open this damn door!"

"What the hell took you so long?"

"Took us a while to realize there was a problem with the elevators, Mr. Luthor. All the other power is fine." The elevator doors opened a crack, then yielded to the dirty hands that pushed them apart. The two security guards knelt at the edge of the shaft, taking hold of Lionel's arms and pulling him up to sit between them.

"Then I take it there has been a security breach." Lionel struggled to his feet and brushed off his suit.

The two guards rose with him, ignoring the two other men on top of the elevator car. Jonathan noted their terrified expressions with pity. Jesus. Wasn't there another job in all of Metropolis? Luthor couldn't own the whole town yet. "We're...not sure, sir," Masters faltered.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"The cameras didn't catch anything. But when Huffman here checked out the basement, the cable to the utility room camera was sliced through, and somebody took a blowtorch to the lock assembly on the door. It'll be a while before we can get in there."

"A blow torch," Lex muttered. "Now he's making moves at elevated temperatures. Great."

"Get them out of there," Lionel commanded, and strode off at an extraordinary pace.

"Luthor! Where the hell are you going?" Jonathan shouted.

Masters and Huffman knelt at the edge. "Can you climb up a little, sir?" Huffman leaned down to offer a hand. Jonathan grimaced and slowly started the short climb up the metal and masonry wall, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. He'd have to have that looked at, he supposed. It was getting to be a pain in the ass. The two guards grabbed his forearms and dragged him up the rest of the way and out into the corridor. Turning on his hands and knees, Jonathan saw Lex right behind him; he took hold of the boy's wrists and pulled him into the light.

"Thanks," Lex said lightly, brushing himself off. "Where did my father go?"

As if in answer, the sound of machinery echoed down the empty hall. Jonathan swore under his breath.

"Guess he's using the freight elevator," Huffman said in a puzzled tone, but Lex and Jonathan took off before they could hear any more.

"Son of a bitch," Jonathan panted. "What's he up to?"

"If I know my father, we'll find out soon enough." Lex sprinted ahead and around the corner, Jonathan on his heels. They barreled through a pair of swinging doors at the end of the corridor and staggered to a halt in front of the freight elevator just as Lionel was bringing the safety gate down.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Lex demanded, panting. "Open the gate."

Jonathan leaned against the wall, strangely drained by the short sprint. Damn it, he was too young to be old. Lionel studied Lex with an expression that made Jonathan's hackles rise.

"I have business upstairs, son," Lionel said in a bizarrely gentle tone. "It won't take long." He hit the penthouse button, and the car began to rise.

"We all have business upstairs," Lex replied. "And no subterfuge on your part will--"

"He'll never touch you again." Luthor stared down at Lex as the car disappeared. "I give you my word."

Lex backed away from the elevator, confusion in his face, and Jonathan put an arm around his shoulders, giving Lex a chance to catch his breath. "Stairs?" he asked finally.

Lex sighed. "Stairs."

***

"How long are we going to sit here?"

Eli swung his backpack onto the sofa beside him, his gaze never leaving Luthor's face. "That is entirely up to you."

Luthor regarded him with narrowed eyes. "You expect me--"

"I expect nothing. I am quite content to accept whatever the evening shall bring." Eli pulled a small black box from the backpack and laid it on the coffee table in front of him.

"What the hell is that?"

"You are extraordinarily inquisitive this evening." Eli sat back, making himself comfortable. This was not his method of choice. Indeed, this was as far from his method of choice as it was possible for him to imagine. "Where is your little souvenir from Baker's Field?"

"Am I supposed to be afraid of that little box?" Luthor's lip curled contemptuously.

Eli shrugged. "I assure you, it is purely decorative. The room needs that little something."

"I suppose you're going to tell me it's an explosive device."

"By no means. I loathe explosives. They are crude and indiscriminate. A man employing such a device is as likely to eliminate himself as he is the target."

Luthor licked his lips. "And you would never make a mistake like that."

"I have not thus far," Eli replied pleasantly. "But the future is always uncertain."

"It would be stupid to get yourself killed over some scrap metal."

"I could not agree more."

Luthor laughed harshly. "You can't possibly imagine I'm going to fall for this."

"Fall?" Eli removed his pipe from his breast pocket and lit it. "You anticipate a misfortune of some sort?"

"That damn box is empty and you know it."

"Feel free to examine it, if you wish." Eli sent a ring of smoke floating toward the ceiling.

Luthor shifted uneasily. "I don't think so. You promised Clark you wouldn't harm me."

"I promised Clark I would not lay hands on you."

Luthor stared at him for a moment, then looked away, looking distinctly less confident than he had a moment before. "What makes you think I still have this souvenir? Clark couldn't find it."

"You still have it because you believe it is the key to possessing Clark."

Luthor smirked. "I already possess Clark."

Eli snorted. "You are not so mad yet that you believe so."

"Don't fool yourself, old man. You saw the look on his face when he left."

He was a demon. "I saw. He loathes you."

"He's playing hard to get."

"You will never have him. You do not know him. That boy's heart could never be won by violence or extortion."

"It's not his heart I'm interested in," Luthor leered.

"It is. And I pity you."

"Shut up."

"Your vocabulary has already begun to degenerate, I see. It is as well you are put out of your misery now, before you become the drooling moron your creator intended you to be." Noting Luthor's hands were clenching convulsively, Eli glanced in the direction of the safe. "Tell me, when did you discover your supply of meteorites was missing?"

"Put that damn box away!"

"Obviously Mr. Luthor disapproved of the medicinal effect of your little collection. I assume he stole your unusual piece of jewelry as well."

"Lionel Luthor is a dead man."

"Perhaps. But not quite so dead as you are, yes?" Eli put his feet up on the coffee table and nudged the little black box with his toe.

Luthor blanched. "Lionel sent you to kill me."

"You insult me. Lionel Luthor sends me nowhere."

"What do you want?"

"Do not be tiresome." Eli glanced at his watch. The cricket's lightning had already bought them far more time than Eli had thought they would need, and it was still not enough. He had not anticipated so much resistance from the creature; it was not easily cowed. Soon Alexander would arrive, since rescuing Lionel Luthor and his spawn would no doubt be the top priority of the security team, and since Alexander would undoubtedly discard Eli's instructions and come to help. The business must be concluded now. "It is all one, I suppose. It will be destroyed along with everything and everyone else on this floor, so neither you nor your creator will derive any benefit from it. I anticipate--"

"I buried it out on the terrace." Luthor's voice was deadly. "In the hemlock pot right by the door."

"How appropriate." Eli reached over to pick up the box. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"You won't derive any benefit from it either. I'll have you dead by morning."

"Now, now. Let us not allow our disappointment to hasten us to rash commitments." Eli heard the freight elevator at the far end of the penthouse clang into place, and grimaced. Too close. He deactivated the bomb and set it carefully in his backpack. "I believe you have callers." Eli froze as the sound of hurried footsteps along the parquet floor. One caller. This was unexpected.

Eli swung to his feet and turned, raising his weapon, but before he could speak, Lionel Luthor burst into the room like the wrath of God, face red and eyes blazing.

"Stand still, if you please, Mr. Luthor," Eli said, assuming a position from which he could fire at both monster and creator. It was almost too much temptation to resist. But Lionel ignored him completely and instead charged toward his creature, who rose from his seat to back away with a startled expression.

"So what's up now, Dad? Where are--"

Lionel seized Luthor by the front of his suit jacket and swung him about to ram him against the nearest wall.

Luthor grabbed Lionel's wrists in obviously unfeigned amazement. "What the hell? Have you lost your--"

"You molested my son, you twisted animal." Lionel was barely audible. "You put your filthy hands on my son."

Luthor stared blankly for a moment, then burst into raucous laughter. "Oh, for God's sake! You don't have to do the enraged father bit for Eli, Dad. He's family."

"I am as silent as the grave." Eli wondered at his own restraint.

Lionel rammed him against the wall again. "You're finished. Do you hear me? Start running."

Luthor looked amused. "Aren't we a little late to be defending Junior's honor? I didn't even get the opportunity to fuck his unsuitable ass."

"You're fired. Your access to all LuthorCorp accounts will be terminated immediately. You will be evicted. Immediately."

Eli's eyes narrowed. What new game was this? Whatever it was, Lionel obviously intended to play it to the hilt. Perhaps these two monsters would kill each other, which would be a lovely night's entertainment, however inexplicable.

Luthor's amusement vanished. "What the hell--"

"At 9:00 AM tomorrow, I will announce to the Board that I have discovered your shocking program of illegal toxic waste disposal from Plant No. 3, and the gross mismanagement of the Smallville Savings and Loan."

"You really have lost it. You're out of your mind."

"You shouldn't have touched my son." Lionel's voice was thick.

Luthor's expression went ugly. "Oh. So that's it. That sweet piece of ass is Lionel Luthor territory." Lionel hauled back an arm and struck Luthor across the face with the back of his hand. Luthor shoved Lionel away roughly, his face twisted with rage. "You goddamn hypocrite. You didn't have any problem fucking him yourself."

Lillian would forgive him, Eli knew, once she understood the circumstances. An appropriate time and place must be chosen, so that Lionel Luthor could die as slowly as he deserved.

"I will kill you if you say another word," Lionel hissed.

"And all his screaming for you to stop didn't arouse your tender parental concern then."

Knives. It would be knives.

Lionel actually flinched. "I didn't know what I was--"

"You don't give a damn about him. You're just annoyed that I poached some of your private reserve Luthor ass."

Uttering something like a howl, Lionel threw a punch that connected squarely on Luthor's jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. Luthor aimed a kick at Lionel's crotch, but missed as Lionel stepped aside; his booted foot rammed into Lionel's thigh. Lionel collapsed on top of Luthor and started pounding him wildly with his fists.

Such opportunities should not be wasted. Eli slid the glass door open and stepped out onto the terrace. He strode swiftly to the first potted hemlock and examined the soil. A disturbance was clearly visible; Eli thrust his fingers into the loosened soil and dug down two or three inches. His fingers touched metal almost immediately, and clutching the object tightly, he pulled it from its hiding place. It was octagonal. He ran his hand along the inside of the large container. Yes. Lead lined. Not taking the time to examine his find more closely, Eli slipped it into his pants pocket and returned to the living room, shutting the glass door behind him quietly.

Luthor was on top now, raining blows on Lionel with the energy of a madman. Eli took a chair at a respectable distance, but with a clear view of the action, and lit his pipe.

***

"It's entirely my fault, Bill." Pete looked at Mrs. Kent in awe. Man. Could she lay it on when she had to. "I should have realized those three were up to something. Lord knows I've seen the signs often enough in the past ten years."

Gabe Sullivan sank into a chair at the Ross' kitchen table between Pete's parents. "Chloe was with Pete and Clark at your place?"

"Part of the time. They've been going on little jaunts all over the county, and I didn't catch them at it until tonight." Martha cast a suitably reproving look at Pete and Chloe, still standing by the door. It was good to stand by the door when Judge Alicia Ross had that look on her face. Pete found the presence of mind to look embarrassed and stare at the floor; Chloe hastily followed suit.

"I don't believe this," Bill sighed, resting his head on his hand. "Boy, what were you thinking?"

Martha pulled a folded piece of paper from her jacket pocket and began to open it. "Their hearts were in the right places. They've been making a map of LuthorCorp's illegal dumping sites."

"They've been what?" Gabe looked aghast. "There's no illegal dumping! I signed the contract with the waste disposal contractor myself, and--"

"And someone at LuthorCorp has a verbal understanding with someone at Heartland Waste Management, because it's piling up all over the county." Martha spread the map on the kitchen table. "I'm sorry, Gabe. I know this isn't your doing."

Alicia raised her gaze from the map to fix a thoroughly intimidating stare and Chloe and Pete. "Is this map accurate?"

"Yes, ma'am," Pete answered promptly, praying to God it was.

"Christ Jesus," Bill muttered. "There are dozens of them."

Gabe swallowed. "The groundwater--"

"I would be very interested to know where Lex Luthor is diverting the funds supposedly earmarked for the Heartland contract," Alicia said evenly. "And how much Lionel Luthor knows about all this."

"I can't believe Lex would do this." Gabe's voice was faint. "It's like in the past few months he's become a different person."

Pete managed not to laugh; Chloe stepped on his foot, shooting him fierce looks.

"We'll never know how much of this can be laid at Lex's door, and how much at Lionel's," Martha said quietly. Pete grimaced. Giving A.J. some wiggle room. When this guy could even put it over on a smart lady like Mrs. Kent, you had to know there was mind-whammying involved. "We all know Lionel pulls the strings at LuthorCorp."

Alicia smiled grimly. "True enough. And I suspect when this comes to light, an appropriate sacrificial lamb will be chosen."

"I need a lawyer." Gabe's voice was unsteady.

"You have a lawyer," Bill said gently, laying a hand on Gabe's arm.

"You may not need one." Martha's voice was soft. "When I finally discovered what these children were up to, I got so angry I called Lionel Luthor."

"He took your call?" Alicia asked sharply.

"Oh, yes."

"What's your secret?"

"I swore at the man who answered the phone," Martha said calmly. "And I told him Lionel Luthor was upstart trailer trash."

Pete laughed, but quickly suppressed his laughter as his mother shot him her "you're still in trouble" look.

"Interesting approach. I'll have to try that next time," Alicia said in a dry tone. "What did he say?"

"That he'd had no idea. That he was shocked. That he was going to fire Lex and deny him all access to LuthorCorp resources."

Gabe's mouth dropped open. "Jesus Christ. What--? Why...?"

"Who knows what his game is?" Bill sounded thoroughly disgusted. "But if he does what he says he'll do--"

"Don't hold your breath," Alicia put in.

"Then at least no innocent party will be blamed."

"He also said that LuthorCorp would foot the bill for the cleanup."

Stunned silence reigned for several seconds.

"Martha," Bill said very slowly, "Have you ever considered a career in the legal profession?"

***

"Almost there."

Jonathan grimaced, forcing his leaden legs to keep moving by sheer force of will. "Do me a favor, Lex. Stop saying that."

"Sure. But we are almost there."

The smartass didn't even sound winded, for Christ's sake. It was goddamn unnatural. Nobody was that young. "You've been saying that for the past ten flights."

"Only one more to go." Lex grinned at him as he turned the corner in the staircase, then stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide. He extended an arm, waving Jonathan back down the stairs. "Good evening, Miss Graves."

"Tell Kent to get up here where I can see him."

Aw, shit. Jonathan sighed. What was she doing here? Why the hell couldn't just one of Lex's plans ever go off the way it was supposed to?

Lex was pale; that crazy woman probably had a gun. "Jonathan, go back downstairs."

"Yeah, right," Jonathan muttered, pulling himself up the last few stairs and around the bend.

Mercy Graves was sitting on a step in the middle of the staircase. She was bruised and disheveled, and was holding a very convincing piece of firepower in her hand.

"I don't believe you two have met," Lex said grimly. "Jonathan Kent, Mercy Graves."

Mercy barely spared Jonathan a glance. "Charmed." Jonathan contented himself with glaring.

Lex lifted an eyebrow. "Rough night?"

"Any night I have hand-to-hand combat with Eli Cohen is a rough night."

"I would imagine so."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Luthor? You must have known Lex would find out about your little visit. You must have known he'd be here."

Lex shrugged. "It was a possibility."

"So you just drag that old man--"

"I assume we're talking about the old man who just kicked your sorry ass?"

"I really don't recommend pissing me off, Luthor."

"Just wanted to be sure we were talking about the same helpless invalid. I didn't drag Eli anywhere. You know him better than that."

"He's still up there."

Shit. Of course he was. After all, Eli had assured them he would collect everything and leave by the freight elevator. It only stood to reason that he was still up there screwing around. Jonathan stifled a sigh.

"He's going to get himself killed," Mercy grated. "If my boss doesn't do it, your father will."

"So why aren't you up there helping him, then?" Jonathan snapped.

"Helping him do what? Make a target of himself over a kid who'll wind up in a lab as soon as Lex is bored with him?"

Jonathan stiffened.

"That isn't Clark's future," Lex said in a low voice. "Count on it."

"You're going to toss Eli off this sinking ship of yours, or I am going to blow both your heads off and give them to Lex on a silver platter."

Lex actually laughed. "I'm going to toss Eli? Eli Cohen doesn't get tossed, Miss Graves. Eli is never anywhere he doesn't want to be. If you know Eli at all, then you know that."

"You're going to get that crazy old man out of there before he becomes collateral damage," Mercy said in a steely tone, as if Lex hadn't spoken.

"Well, where the hell did you think we were going?" Jonathan growled.

"I think you were going to help yourself to Lex's little Clark Kent collection, and you didn't give a damn who died helping you."

"The view from your high moral ground must be stunning," Lex said drily.

Mercy fixed her gaze on Lex. "I owe him," she said in an icy tone. "So do you."

"Thank you, Miss Graves, I am and always have been perfectly well aware of that."

"He's up there with Lex and Lionel now. Alone. Your boy took all the goodies he could find and bugged out on him."

Jonathan felt strangely queasy. "Clark was in there?" Clark was supposed to have brought Eli here and left immediately. Immediately. Jesus H. Christ. He shot Lex a wild glance, but the boy's grim expression didn't change. Lex wasn't surprised, Jonathan realized. He wasn't happy, either – but he wasn't surprised. God damn it to hell, it was time to have another long talk with the would-be commando in his mother's stockings.

"Why didn't Eli go with him?"

Mercy glared at Jonathan. "I can only assume that all his objectives were not fulfilled."

Lex swore softly. "Something's missing. Damn him! I told him not to stop for anything." Jonathan blinked as Lex's left arm suddenly extended in Mercy's direction. There was a gun in his hand. Of course there was a gun in his hand. The boy had been spoiling for a fight. "Out of the way, please."

"Lex," Jonathan said as steadily as possible. "Put that away."

Lex and Mercy stared at each other for all of three seconds. Then Mercy snorted and lowered her weapon, stepping aside. "Taught you that one, did he? Not bad. You have the code?"

"No." Lex ran past her. "I walk through walls."

"Taught you that one, too?"

Jonathan, sprinting after Lex, could have sworn the woman was actually amused. Jesus H. Christ, the people he'd had to deal with since Clark had brought this improperly socialized puppy home. Turning the corner of the staircase, he forced his aching legs up the last flight, noting something that looked like Play-Dough covering the lens of the security camera. Eli had left a trail of bread crumbs behind him; Jonathan could only pray that there weren't any bodies among the crumbs.

Lex switched his weapon into his right hand and keyed the security code into the panel, then shoved the door open. Jonathan managed to grab his arm before the boy could take off again. "Wait," Jonathan hissed. "Listen."

The sound of blows being exchanged, shouting men, and breaking glass were clearly audible. Lex took off down the hall in the direction of the sounds, but a familiar voice brought both him and Jonathan up short. "Ah! Alexander! Jonathan. Do come in."

Christ in a cathouse. What was the old devil up to now? And how the hell did he know who was standing in the hall? Jonathan grimaced. Maybe it was better if he didn't know. He heard Lex sigh loudly and saw him shove his weapon into the breast pocket of his coat, then move at a more natural pace down the hall. The corridor opened into a huge living room, luxuriously appointed, with plate glass windows that offered a magnificent view of the Metropolis skyline. So this was where Lex had lived before he came to Smallville. Jonathan didn't like it. It was cold. It was pretentious. It smelled of Lionel Luthor.

Eli, sitting in a comfortable chair in a far corner of the room, nodded to them as they entered, taking a prolonged puff on his pipe. Jonathan barely spared him a glance; his gaze was drawn to the two figures struggling on the floor between the two sofas -- as if anybody with one ass needed two sofas. Black Lagoon Boy was sitting on top of Lionel, shouting obscenities as he pummeled him, and Lionel was giving as good as he got, spitting insults with every blow.

Lex regarded them with raised eyebrows for a moment, then glanced at Eli. "Uncle Eli."

"Sasha?"

"There appears to be an aggravated assault taking place in my living room."

"There is indeed. It is very entertaining. It is better than a monkey cage."

"It's also not why we came here tonight, entertainment factor notwithstanding."

"You were not to come here at all," Eli replied archly, glaring.

Lex ignored the remark. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"I did."

Luthor paused in his attack on Lionel to stare at Eli. "Give it back." Lionel lay relatively still, muttering. He appeared to be semi-conscious.

Eli rose to his feet, shoving his pipe into his jacket pocket and drawing his weapon. "I think not." Picking up his backpack, he strolled across the room to stand beside Lex. "It is time to say good night."

To Jonathan's astonishment, Luthor lunged toward Lionel's chest and ripped a pistol from Lionel's breast pocket, then brought it to bear on Eli. "Give it back now."

Fucking Luthors were always armed to the teeth. It was a wonder they hadn't all started awake some morning and wiped out the entire family by accident. Of course Lionel had a goddamn gun. Jonathan grimaced at the number of lost opportunities to take it from him.

"Oh, this is too sweet," Eli murmured. His voice was almost a purr. "You offer me your life as if I would not take it. I am not Clark Kent." His aim was steady, and Jonathan held his breath, not sure what he was hoping for.

"Eli," Lex said quietly. "Take that thing out of here. Take it to Clark now. And if you can get him someplace safe, do it."

"You will come with me."

It wasn't a question, and Jonathan approved heartily. That thing holding a gun anywhere near Lex twisted his stomach into knots.

Lex shook his head. "He'll follow us if we all leave."

"I'll follow you and I'll fucking kill you."

Jonathan had no trouble believing him; Luthor looked every inch the murderous lunatic.

"Security will make a social call sooner or later," Lex continued, his gaze never leaving Luthor's. "You can't be found here, and that object can't be taken. Go, Eli. Take Jonathan with you. I'll be fine."

Jonathan actually laughed.

Eli snorted.

"Clark's alone down there," Lex said in a strained voice.

Jonathan exchanged a glance with Eli. "You go. As soon you're in the clear, we'll leave."

Luthor rose to his feet. "None of you are leaving."

Eli raised an eyebrow. "Do not be absurd." Without warning, he fired one shot.

Luthor went down, dropping his gun to clutch his wounded thigh, howling. Jonathan managed not to feel a surge of unsullied glee. Glee would make him a really sick guy.

"Damn it, Eli," Lex snapped. "What did I tell you--"

"Now I will leave," Eli said. "Calm yourself, Alexander. It is only a flesh wound. Allow me ten minutes to evade security and reach the street. Then follow me. If you are not on the street in ten minutes, I will be back to shoot someone else."

Lex sighed. "Get out of here. Before I start giving you flesh wounds."

Eli grinned and turned toward the entry hall. "Ten minutes."

"Move."

"Call an ambulance," Luthor hissed.

"Sure," Lex said pleasantly, as Eli's footsteps retreated down the hallway. "As soon as I'm back in Europe."

"You prick. I'm bleeding to death!"

"Uh-huh. How's that working for you?"

Jonathan couldn't restrain a grin, or a sigh of relief as he heard the gate on the freight elevator come down. Eli was on his way. Soon this night from hell would be over.

"Kick that gun over here." Lex took one step closer.

"I can't," Luthor snarled, still clutching his wounded leg. His pants leg was soaked with blood.

"Maybe we ought to, you know, apply a tourniquet or something," Jonathan said hesitantly. Damn, but that was a lot of blood.

"It looks worse than it is." Lex's voice was like flint. "I said kick it over here!"

"I'll get it." Jonathan strode around the sofa and bent down to pick up the weapon.

Jonathan found a bloody hand around his throat and the gun shoved up under his chin before he knew what was happening. Christ. Suckered. He'd been suckered by Lionel Luthor's pet monster. He tried to pull away, but Luthor's thumb started to press against his throat and he gagged.

"Let him go." Lex's voice was rough and wild. "Let him go or I'll--"

"You'll do as you're told." Luthor staggered to his feet, then shifted his grip on Jonathan's throat to stand behind him. Jonathan could feel the muzzle of the gun pressing into the skin behind his right ear.

"What do you want?" Lex was white to the gills.

"I want to end this." Luthor dragged Jonathan back toward the windows.

"No," Lionel said faintly from the floor. "I don't want--"

"Shut up! Drop your gun, Alexander."

Jonathan drew enough breath to speak. "Lex. Leave right now. Turn around--"

Luthor's fingers dug into his throat again, and as Jonathan struggled for breath, he watched Lex toss his gun away, his face an all-too-familiar mask. Oh, God. Oh, God, not the death wish.

"We're going out on the terrace for a little walk," Luthor said in a weird, strangely gentle voice that raised the hair on the back of Jonathan's neck. He drew in a deep breath as Luthor's hand left his throat. He heard the glass door sliding, felt the chilly spring air touch his skin.

Lionel rolled over onto his stomach, made an effort to rise, and fell to the floor again. "I don't want this. If you're trying to curry favor--"

"Oh, those days are over, Dad."

"You'll get nothing from me. Do you understand?"

"You are irrelevant."

Lionel fell into an obviously shocked silence.

"This is for me." Luthor stepped outside onto the dark, cold terrace. "Come along, Alexander."

"What...what do you want him for?" Lionel stammered.

Jonathan was horrified to see Lex obey, jaw set and eyes narrow. "Lex, get out. Just--"

"Guess, Dad. Guess what I want him for."

Lionel started breathing heavily. "No. No! Lex, what are you doing?"

"Which of us are you talking to, Dad?" Lex asked expressionlessly, approaching the door to the terrace.

"There's only one of you. I'm telling you to leave. Leave right now. Lex!"

Lex stepped through the door onto the terrace.

"I think we've heard enough from him," Luthor grated. "Close the door."

Lex closed it behind him.

"All that ambivalence gets tiresome after a while, doesn't it?" Luthor continued to back up, limping heavily but not loosening his grip on either Jonathan or the gun.

"You develop an immunity to it eventually," Lex said in his strange monotone. "Or you move on."

Luthor laughed in Jonathan's ear; the sound grated again Jonathan's eardrum. "And you've moved on. Got yourself another daddy? I can't say much for your taste."

Something in Lex's eyes flashed. "Jonathan Kent is worth a hundred of us."

Jonathan tried to say something, but found his voice unwilling to cooperate.

"Your standards have obviously suffered an irreparable blow. Undoubtedly the sad result of consorting with the peasantry." Luthor pulled Jonathan out of the shelter of the penthouse onto the open terrace; Lex followed like a man in a trance. The wind began to bite.

Jonathan tried to keep his breathing steady. This wasn't going to end well. He tried to remember if he'd told Martha he loved her today. He tried to remember if he'd hugged Clark.

Lex came closer, his face drawn. "This is between us. He has absolutely nothing to do with--"

"He does." Luthor shoved Jonathan down onto his knees. "He's kept us apart. He's kept me from Clark. He's kept me from what's mine."

"Lex and Clark aren't yours," Jonathan wheezed, finally finding part of his voice. "You can't own people, you bastard."

Luthor laughed softly. "He really believes all that shit, doesn't he?"

Lex's gaze rooted to Jonathan's. "He does. And so do I."

"Lex," Jonathan cursed as his voice broke. "For God's sake, just go. Please."

"Don't be ridiculous. He's not going to leave surrogate daddy all alone with this monster, are you, Alexander?"

"No," Lex said flatly. "I'm not."

"And if he runs, I'll shoot him in the back." Luthor's voice was jarringly pleasant.

"What do you want?"

"I want what's mine. Tell me, Alexander. Do you believe a man can fly?"

Jonathan closed his eyes. God, what a way to die. It occurred to him that Clark was down on the street, right in front of the building; he would see what was left of his father after a fifty-story drop. God Almighty. Maybe Eli had sent him home. Maybe.... No. Clark wouldn't leave until he knew they were safe. He was down there now, expecting to see Jonathan and Lex crossing the street to him with smiles on their faces. God. God.

"You have nothing to gain by killing this man." Lex's voice was thick and unsteady.

"That point could be debated. Nevertheless, I wouldn't kill Jonathan Kent if it could be avoided. That would please Daddy too much."

Jonathan drew a sharp breath and opened his eyes. Lex was nodding, an odd little smile on his face.

"Do it," Luthor said in a loathing tone. "As much as it would pain me to please Lionel tonight, I'll blow the farmer's head off if you don't."

"Jesus Christ," Jonathan said faintly, finally getting it. This was worse. He hadn't thought anything could be worse. "Lex, he'll do it anyway. He's insane. You know he's insane." But Lex was already moving toward the waist-high brick and flagstone-topped wall that lined the edge of the terrace. "Lex!"

"Pathetic." Luthor's voice was harsh with contempt. "Daddy may have a few screws loose, but he knew you for what you are, didn't he?" Lex hoisted himself onto the top of the wall; Jonathan could see him shaking from where he was, nearly twenty feet away. "Weak. Constantly needing attachments. Letting your emotions rule you."

"I wouldn't make that argument if I were you," Lex said acidly, straightening and turning toward them. "Considering what's happened here tonight."

"Do it!"

"A shocking emotional display and a complete abandonment of any forethought or strategy. As a Luthor, you make a damn good hairdresser."

Luthor shoved the gun so that the muzzle dug into Jonathan's temple. "Last chance."

"Don't." Jonathan wanted to say more. He wanted Lex off that ledge. He would have done anything to get Lex off that ledge. He would have done anything to have his chance for that hug back.

Lex met his gaze. Jonathan could have sworn there was a ghost of a smile on his face. "Tell Clark," he said in a voice barely above a whisper, "that I wasn't afraid." He closed his eyes, extended his arms and fell backward into the dark.

Jonathan was vaguely aware that he was screaming, that someone else nearby was screaming, that Luthor was laughing, his voice booming into Jonathan's ears like thunder. "And all because a stupid shit-kicker didn't know a simple ruse when he saw one. Thanks for your help, Jonathan."

Jonathan leaned over to press his palms against the cold flagstone, knowing he was sobbing and not giving a damn. He could hear Luthor limping away, he could hear a woman's voice, he could hear the terrace door slam shut. And then there was nothing but his sobs, the strange babbling from someone nearby, and the spring wind.

***

"What's taking them so long?" Clark almost hit the dashboard of Eli's car, and stopped just in time. Eli probably had a machine gun in there or something. "Something's wrong, Eli." He stared through the windshield at the few passers-by, hurrying past in the harsh light of the street lamps.

Eli sat very still for a second, then shoved open the driver's side door. Clark opened his door and ran around the front of the car to stop Eli as he started to cross the street. "Where are you going?"

"I am going to feed my cat." Eli managed to pull his arm free. "Do not be absurd, boy. Stay here."

Clark blocked him again. "You're not going back in there. How many LuthorCorp security guards have we seen show up in the past five minutes? Even you're not that good."

"There are several hundred members of the Syrian counterintelligence community who would differ with you. If you would please--" Eli broke off at the sound of sirens. "As you see, policemen have an annoying habit of being exactly where one does not wish them to be. This constantly forces one to improvise."

Clark's stomach clenched. Every instinct he possessed told him that something was horribly wrong. He stared desperately at the top of the building across the street. Lex and Dad were up there with Lionel and Karloff. A wounded Lionel and Karloff, but still...they were Luthors. That's what Lex would say. Luthors. Something terrible was happening. Eli was trying to press the car keys into his hand, and saying something in a harsh, urgent tone, but Clark couldn't understand him. Something was... Someone was...falling.

The figure above was almost invisible with distance, no more than a dust mote against the stone monolith whose lighted windows revealed the wind whipping the man's clothing as he plummeted earthward. Clark couldn't see his face. He knew who it was anyway.

Clark screamed Lex's name as he ran across the street, faster than he'd ever run, and jumped. He could jump high. He had jumped over the barn once, even though Dad had given him hell for it. He could jump high enough to catch Lex before he was hurt. He could do that, he was doing it – he was slicing through the night air so fast that he couldn't feel it against his skin, covering the distance between the ground and the falling man in a matter of seconds. Lex fell limply into Clark's outstretched arms, ice-cold and eyes closed.

Chanting Lex's name, Clark held him close, kissing his face frantically. Cold, so cold. He was colder than when Clark had pulled him from the river. Clark took Lex's mouth with his, breathing into it as he kissed him, and Lex stirred slightly in his arms. Clark kissed him again, harder this time, and Lex started to kiss him back, his left arm rising to curl around Clark's neck. His mouth was warmer. He was breathing. His heart was beating. Clark could feel all of it. He could feel Lex and nothing else. Nothing else mattered.

When Clark finally lifted his mouth, he could see Lex smiling, even in the strange dark that had enveloped them. "Clark," Lex murmured, touching Clark's face. It felt as if he were wiping off something wet. "Breathe."

"Lex," Clark stammered. "God. Tell me you're all right."

"I'm all right." Lex's voice was oddly weak. "I don't think I'm supposed to be, though."

"Lex--"

"I think I'm supposed to be street pizza."

Clark buried his face against Lex's cheek, choking back the disgraceful impulse to cry like a girl. "No. No. You're supposed to be right where you are."

"Okay."

"I've got you, Lex."

"Which begs the question of who's got you, but I'm feeling a remarkable lack of curiosity at the moment."

He was delirious. Or in shock, or something. Clark kissed his cheek.

"I should have known," Lex whispered. "I should have known you'd find me."

"Damn right you should have known," Clark snapped.

"Language, Clark."

"You knew I was right outside waiting for you."

"I thought Eli might have taken you someplace safe. He should have taken you someplace safe."

"I told you I'd never leave you."

"You did." Lex cleared his throat; his voice grew a little stronger. "Destiny once again takes a hand."

Clark held him tighter. "Jesus, mastermind, for once will you just shut up about destiny?"

"I think it highly unwise to badmouth destiny at this juncture, Jiminy." Lex nuzzled him gently.

"I think it highly unwise to fall off of buildings, retard, but what do I know?"

"Clark."

"Yes?"

"I think we missed our floor."

He was delirious again. But there was a wry humor in his tone that made Clark pull back to stare into Lex's face. "Excuse me?"

Lex wrapped his other arm around Clark's neck, smiling, but Clark could feel the tension in his body. "Just look down for a second."

Clark glanced down to find himself looking at a marvelously detailed model of Metropolis at night. He could see every tiny detail: the miniature cars moving through the streets, the twinkling street lamps, the ghostly glow of lit windows among the city's towers. It took him quite a few seconds to realize where he was. He felt himself begin to slow, to wobble uncertainly. "Oh, God," he said faintly. "God. Lex--"

Lex took Clark's face in his hands. "Close your eyes," he said firmly.

"Lex--"

"Close your eyes now."

Clark swallowed and closed his eyes.

"We're at home. We're in our room."

Our room. Clark smiled in spite of himself. "Under the stars."

"So close we could touch them." Lex's chuckle steadied him. "But now--"

"That asshole Eli Cohen with his sex radar--"

"Is calling me to tell me I'm a deranged rodent who has no business making love to a...beautiful alien prince." Lex's forehead rested against Clark's cheek.

Clark started laughing helplessly. Lex was delirious, all right. "Yeah. Right. Did you hit your head on something before I got to you?"

"You're stifling my creative flow, Clark." Clark could hear the smile in Lex's voice. "So we have to land."

"Without falling on our asses."

"Always a sound strategy."

"Still got that faith?"

"I'm hanging a mile high in the sky with a man who's drop-kicking Newton's Universal Law of Gravitation and you're questioning my faith?"

"Okay, okay."

"Can you open your eyes?"

Clark opened his eyes, relieved to see Lex smiling back at him. Jesus. It was official; nothing freaked this guy. Clark kissed him. Hell, maybe it would rub off.

Lex kissed him back gently, then pulled away. "We need to get back to the terrace. Karloff was with Jonathan. He had a gun." Lex's voice was too calm.

Clark let out sharp breath and glanced below him, scanning the rooftops frantically for the Luthor Towers terrace.

"There." Lex pointed downward and slightly to Clark's left.

Clark spotted the flagstone terrace and the two tiny figures huddled on its surface; he took a deep breath and started to descend.

***

He had grown too cocky, too complacent, Eli realized. In his rightful mind, he would never have left Alexander alone with his father and the creature, however badly injured they might have been. In his rightful mind, he would have blown both their heads off before Alexander and Jonathan had arrived. Eli crossed the street briskly and stood before the revolving doors to Luthor Towers, waiting impatiently for the approaching police to arrive.

So. The cricket could fly. Why not? That Clark Kent was seemingly unbound by the laws of physics was surely an act of Providence, for nothing else could have saved Alexander from that fall. Eli called his unruly stomach to heel. The few passers-by had cast startled glances toward the black blur that had sped across the street and into the air, but had gone about their business, shrugging. Imagination. Optical illusion. The human mind dismissed what it could not understand or accept. They would forget it by morning. Eli would not forget. He would have whoever was responsible for that fall. He would have them very slowly, and Alexander and Clark would never know.

Two patrol cars finally rounded the corner and came to a screeching halt in front of Eli, who crossed his arms across his chest and glared at the officers as they emerged. "You stopped for coffee, yes? A doughnut, perhaps?"

An officer with sergeant's stripes on his arm leveled a steely look at Eli, which Eli returned with interest. "Who are--"

"My name is Eli Cohen. I am a security consultant on Mr. Luthor's staff." Eli turned and shoved his way through the revolving doors. "Mr. Luthor and his son have been attacked. They require medical assistance."

"Paramedics are on the way." The sergeant fell dutifully in line behind Eli, and the rest of the officers followed suit. Eli managed to conceal his satisfaction. Policemen were so simple to manage.

As the group approached the security desk, Eli was amused to note that all of the security guards that had been called in seemed determined to remain in the safety of the lobby. They were all staring at monitors and shifting uneasily from foot to foot. "You gentleman have taken up knitting?" Eli barked in a tone that made the gaggle of nervous men stiffen in attention. "Am I to receive a report or a ski cap?"

"Mr. Cohen," Masters stammered. "I didn't realize--"

"You are not paid to realize. You are paid to protect this building and its occupants. Instead, you have allowed an obviously desperate criminal not only to enter the building, but to evade your notice long enough to gain access to Mr. Luthor's residence and assault him. You were attempting to confuse this criminal, yes? For he could not possibly have imagined such incompetence from trained professionals."

Masters' mouth hung open.

"Where is Mr. Luthor?"

"He's...he's in the break room. Huffman and his bodyguard are with him. He won't tell us what happened, just keeps yelling for a doctor."

"And Mr. Luthor, senior?"

"He's still up on the terrace. He wouldn't come in. He's in some kind of shock or something – he looks a little beat up. Him and his, um, business associate. They won't leave. Won't even talk to us."

Damn. Eli turned to the sergeant, who was scribbling into his notebook. "If I may, Sergeant, I would like to have a few moments with Mr. Luthor and his father. We have known each other for many years, and I am certain I can persuade them to be more communicative." Eli longed for a set of brass knuckles.

The sergeant nodded and glanced at Masters. "Have you determined the point of entry?"

"Of course they have," Eli snapped. "What do you imagine they are all gawking at here? When do you expect the forensics team?"

"Within the hour."

Eli fixed Masters with his most intimidating glare. "You will assist these officers in every way possible. You will assign men to take them to every point of failure in the security system."

"Yes, sir." It was little more than a squeak. "If this guy is still in the building, we'll find him, sir."

Eli snorted as he turned toward the guards' break room. "In light of your impressive record thus far, I should make no rash commitments."

***

Lex breathed a sigh of relief as his feet touched the stone floor of the terrace, his gaze rooted on the blond man huddled a few feet away. Coming to terms with the concept and ramifications of unaided flight somehow seemed trivial in the face of that image. There was no sign of Karloff, but Lionel was sitting in deck chair, staring into space. He turned to look at them as they landed, but no reaction touched his face. Lex grimaced; no doubt Lionel would get over the disappointment soon enough. Lex crossed the terrace behind Clark, amazed and unspeakably grateful that Jonathan was still in one piece. Why Karloff had left him alive Lex couldn't imagine.

Clark knelt beside his father, putting both arms around him. "Dad. Dad, are you okay?"

Jonathan raised his face, and Lex was shocked to see tears on the man's ashen face. Tears. For him. That wasn't.... It had never occurred to him that Jonathan would actually...grieve. "I'm sorry, son," Jonathan said thickly. "It was my fault. It was--"

"Dad, he's okay. Lex is okay."

Jonathan either didn't hear Clark or didn't understand him; he laid his head on his son's shoulder and said nothing, as if the life had been beaten out of him. Unable to stand the sight, Lex stumbled to Clark and Jonathan on unsteady legs to kneel beside them. "Jonathan. I'm right here. I'm fine."

Jonathan raised his head at the sound of Lex's voice and turned to stare at him blankly.

"It wasn't your fault." Lex briefly wondered if Jonathan understood a word of what he was saying. He looked like he was in shock.

"It's all right, Dad," Clark breathed, looking at Lex with the same amazement. "I...I caught him."

"Caught him," Jonathan repeated in a stunned tone. "Caught him?"

"I know," Lex said lightly. "It's a bad habit he's picked up, you really should speak--" Lex found himself being hauled him into Jonathan's arms, one arm firmly around Lex's shoulders, the other resting on the back of his head. Lex felt himself being rocked, and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Jonathan's waist. This was undignified. This was absurd. This was...close. "I'm all right," he said hoarsely, and his voice gave out.

"Thank God." Jonathan's voice was broken. "You idiot. You damned Luthor idiot. Don't you ever do anything like that again, do you hear me? You are not expendable. Not to me, not to anyone else in this family. You are absolutely irreplaceable."

Irreplaceable. Lex struggled with the concept.

"Lex, what the hell did you do?" Clark's voice was low.

"That goddamn death wish has got to go," Jonathan continued breathlessly. "We can't do without you. We need you. We love you. Do you understand me?"

"I don't want to die, Jonathan," Lex whispered, resting his forehead on Jonathan's shoulder.

"Good."

"I don't want any of you to die, either."

"I know, son."

"He would have done it. You know he would have done it."

"Who would have done what?" Clark demanded.

"He jumped." The voice was perfectly calm. "The replicate put a gun to your father's head and Lex jumped."

Lex jerked his head up, but made no effort to escape Jonathan's embrace. Clark rose quickly to his feet and spun around to face Lionel, but Lionel hadn't moved from his chair. "And I suppose you just stood there," Clark said with open contempt.

"He could barely move," Jonathan wheezed. "Nothing...he couldn't have done anything...."

Lex pulled back enough to get a good look at Jonathan's face. He could feel the clammy touch of the man's skin, see its alarming pallor. "Jonathan," he said sharply, "Are you having trouble breathing?"

Clark instantly turned back to his father. "Dad?"

"It's...it's just my shoulder again." The pain in Jonathan's face was obvious.

"Christ," Lex whispered, meeting Clark's anxious gaze. He'd seen these symptoms too many times not to recognize them. He saw Lionel haul himself out of his chair to stare at Jonathan. Lex pulled himself together. "Clark. Go inside and dial 911. Tell them your father's having a heart attack."

Clark drew a shaky breath, but before he could move, Lionel was at his side, laying a hand on Clark's shoulder. Clark shrugged him off angrily.

"I'll handle it," Lionel snapped. He pulled his cell phone out of his breast pocket and flipped it open, hitting two keys as he did so.

"What the hell are you doing?" Lex found himself painfully aware of Jonathan's every labored breath.

"Shit," Jonathan muttered. "Martha is going to kill me."

Clark sank to his knees, taking his father's hand. "Dad, don't talk."

"Zimmer, you have five minutes to get to the penthouse," Lionel snapped into the phone, meeting Lex's gaze.

Lex drew in a sharp breath. The chopper. Yes.

"Did I ask you how difficult it was to land here? Radio ahead to Sisters of Mercy and tell them I'm bringing in a cardiac patient. I want their top surgical team standing by. There are to be no delays and no questions."

"If he thinks," Jonathan said through gritted teeth, "that I'm getting into a goddamn LuthorCorp helicopter--"

"You are getting into a goddamn LuthorCorp helicopter. You'll get into it and you'll like it. Do you ever stop talking?" Lex tightened his grip on Jonathan. Jonathan wasn't going to leave. He wasn't.

"Five minutes." Lionel hung up and dialed another number. "Dominic. Call the Board. Tell them there's a meeting at midnight in my office. I really couldn't care less whether they like it, Dominic. Their opinions are irrelevant. Midnight. And I want you to suspend my son's access to LuthorNet and all LuthorCorp accounts. I want him locked out of everything, do you understand? And call the Smallville house. Have the other chopper go to the Kent farm and pick up Martha Kent. Tell the pilot to bring her to Sisters of Mercy. Her husband is a patient there."

"My wife isn't getting into any goddamn LuthorCorp helicopter either!" Jonathan's face twisted in pain.

"Dad, calm down." Clark's voice broke.

"Jonathan, shut up." Lex slid behind the man and eased him back against his chest. He could hear rotor blades. Move. For God's sake, move. "Shut up and try to relax."

"I will not--"

"They charge extra to carve 'pigheaded hick' on a gravestone, Jonathan, and I'm not paying. You're going to survive this whether you like it or not."

To Lex's amazement, Jonathan laughed weakly; he fumbled with his free hand until he found Lex's arm and squeezed it; he tightened his grip around Clark's hand. Clark was breathing too hard; his eyes were bright. Lex lowered his head until his cheek was next to Jonathan's, uncomfortably aware of Lionel's dark gaze taking in every detail.

"Lex. Just in case."

"No. There is no 'just in case.'" Lex could see the lights of the chopper. They were moving at an agonizingly slow pace.

"You have to take care of them. Please. Promise me."

Lex closed his eyes. "Sure. Until your little vacation is over and you decide to come home and work for a living."

"Lex--"

"I promise," Lex whispered, giving up. "Always. You know that."

"Clark."

"Yeah, Dad." Clark's voice broke.

"You take care of him. He's a mental case. And mind your mother."

"Dad..." Clark buried his face in his father's hair.

"I'll be all right, son. It's...just in case." Jonathan's voice was nearly drowned out by the sound of the chopper, angling in awkwardly to set down at the far end of the terrace. "Tell your mother I'll be all right."

"Clark," Lex said unsteadily, and Clark lifted his father into his arms and carried him toward the waiting helicopter.

"Give the old man a hand, Lex?"

Lex turned to give Lionel an astonished look, then grimaced. Lionel was a mess; he had a black eye, a bloody mouth and was bent over slightly as if it hurt him to stand upright. Gritting his teeth, Lex took Lionel's arm. He felt Lionel lean against him, felt him clutch his arm too tightly for comfort. Lex locked his gaze on Clark lifting Jonathan into one of the two passenger seats. Two. Son of a bitch.

"I'll call you an ambulance," Lex said, turning to Lionel sharply. "Clark has to go with Jonathan."

"Don't be absurd. I need help, Lex."

"I'll drive you to Sisters of Mercy myself."

Lionel came to a halt and stared at him. "What the hell do you think I'm going to do? Strangle the man?"

Lex watched Clark buckle Jonathan into his seat. "Wouldn't you?"

Lionel ignored the question. "Can Clark ensure that his father receives the care of the best surgical team and cardiac care unit personnel? Can he make the financial arrangements?"

Lex hesitated.

"Every second you delay is reducing his chances of survival."

Lex set his jaw and propelled Lionel around the helicopter to help him into the second passenger seat. His gaze met Clark's through the open doors, and he knew from the look on Clark's face that he'd heard everything. Clark touched his father's face and closed the door. Jonathan's eyes were closed; he seemed not to notice.

Lex leaned forward to be heard over the rotors. "If anything happens to this man, I will make you pay for the rest of your miserable life." Ignoring Lionel's astonished look, Lex slammed the door shut and ran around the front of the chopper, signaling to the pilot. Taking Clark by the hand, he pulled him away to a safe distance as the helicopter lifted from the terrace, tilted ominously, and took off against the night sky.

Lex watched the lights as the roar of the machine faded into the distance. Then he looked at Clark.

"Are you up to it?" Clark asked soberly.

Lex nodded, wondering if he was. "Are you?"

"Yeah." Clark swung Lex into his arms.

Lex gave Clark his best pained expression. "Another excuse to carry me, right? Don't think I'm not on to you."

"Just deal, mastermind," Clark replied with a hint of a smile, which was everything Lex had wanted. "Ready?"

"Hell, no." Lex wrapped his arms around Clark's neck. "Go for it."

Lex nearly gasped aloud as his glass Porsche took off across the terrace, vaulted over the wall, and plunged into a freefall into the dark below. "Clark!"

"I've got it," Clark breathed in his ear, leveling out, gaining altitude. Gaining speed.

Lex started breathing again, ruefully realizing he should have been more careful about what he'd wished for. Well, it was too damn late now. Some instinct told him he'd better get used to this, and fast, even if it was as far from skinnydipping with altitude as he could imagine.

***

"Get out of here," Luthor snarled as Eli drew up a chair. His leg was propped up on a chair and tied up with dishtowels, and Huffman was hovering over him with more, babbling about paramedics and flesh wounds.

Ignoring the absurd request, Eli seated himself, nodding pleasantly at Mercy as she came to stand at Luthor's side. "Leave," he barked at Huffman, who disappeared with an air of palpable relief.

Luthor attempted to straighten in his chair, grimacing. "I don't believe you had the gall--"

"Dispense with the histrionics, if you please. We have business to discuss."

"We have nothing to discuss!" Luthor made a dismissive gesture with one hand, and something caught Eli's eye.

Eli seized Luthor's wrist to stare at the ring of green stone on his ring finger. "Ah," he said calmly. "I see my original supposition was in error."

"Hands off, old man," Mercy snarled, knocking Eli's arm away.

"Lionel Luthor has not taken your supply of meteorites," Eli continued, studying Luthor as a scientist might study a worm.

"I never said he did. You heard what I told Clark."

"Oh, yes, I heard. You sent them away to protect him."

"That's right."

"You lie. You protect no one but yourself. What happened on the terrace?"

Luthor's eyes narrowed; a smile twisted his mouth. "Seems your boy tripped on something. Hope you didn't park on this side of the street, Eli. The mess, you know. They're probably scraping him off the sidewalk with shovels as we speak."

"He is alive as we speak. Alive and unharmed and planning his vengeance."

Luthor's smile faded. "What?"

"As am I. Did you really think it would be so simple? Did you imagine that we would not anticipate this attempt? You are an idiot."

"He jumped," Luthor stammered. "I didn't lay a hand on him."

Eli laughed. "Of course he did. Because Alexander has nothing to live for, yes? You are wrong. He has your death to live for."

"I didn't push him."

"While I do not doubt for a moment that under normal circumstances Lionel Luthor is fully capable of throwing his son from a building, the fact remains that he was barely conscious when I left the penthouse."

"I didn't--"

"It is also clear that you are ignorant of certain vital facts. Would it interest you to know that Pamela Jenkins has willed her entire estate to Clark Kent?"

Luthor's mouth dropped open, but no sound emerged.

"Eliminate reliance on that resource from the formulation of any future plans. Should any harm befall Alexander or Clark, that fortune devolves upon the Kent family, not upon Lionel Luthor, and as such is irrevocably lost to you."

"She can't do that," Luthor said hoarsely.

"Oh, she can. And she has. I myself witnessed the will. You would do well to reconsider your tactics, monster. Given your creator's decision to ban you from LuthorCorp, your income will be significantly reduced. It will be barely enough to maintain yourself in the style to which you have become accustomed, let alone to indulge in any dubious research projects."

Luthor's start was slight but noticeable, and Eli smiled grimly. So this supposition was correct. He would give much to know what twisted plans the creature had for those damned stones. "Know this. Your blood is mine. Vigilance will not save you. Strength will not save you. Skill will not save you. You are already dead."

Luthor's face was white; he licked his lips. "We should come to an understanding, Eli."

"We have. I understand that I am going to kill you, and you understand that you are going to die." Eli rose, glancing at Mercy. "I suggest that you maintain a healthy distance from this creature, unless you wish to become collateral damage."

"Worry about keeping yourself alive, old man," Mercy said coldly.

The door to the break room burst open, and Huffman reappeared, jabbering to the paramedics as they wheeled their gurney into the room. Eli rose from his chair. "I will leave you in these gentleman's competent hands. I have a few words for Mr. Luthor, Senior."

"He's gone," Huffman said excitedly. Eli briefly reflected upon the possibility that this was the most exciting night of this idiot's pathetic life. "His chopper came and took him and his business associate off the terrace. Elliott heard it landing, but by the time he got onto the terrace, it was already heading across town."

Eli swore silently. There was not enough desert in which to bury this night. The Sahara could not bury it. "Did the pilot contact security before landing?" If Lionel Luthor had abducted Jonathan Kent, this nightmare was only beginning.

"Oh, yeah. Medical emergency, he said. They're headed to Sisters of Mercy."

Medical emergency. If it were true, Eli could think of a dozen scenarios to explain it, all of them unpleasant. If it were a ruse, there was only one scenario, and it was fatal. Damn Lionel Luthor to death and darkness.

"I must speak with Mr. Luthor immediately." Eli brushed past Huffman and pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket as he strode out the door, ignoring the creature's bellows for him to return. Praying his lack of judgment had not led to yet another disaster, he dialed the main number for Sisters of Mercy hospital.

***

Martha knew that she would stop shaking once she got home. Once she had a nice cup of tea. Once she had forced herself to forget what was sitting beside her on the passenger seat of the truck. At least Pete and Chloe had come away from all this with nothing more serious than suspended sentences at the hands of their disapproving, if secretly proud, parents. One mercy in a mercilessly long night.

Sighing, Martha turned into their lane, longing to see the lighted windows of her house. She didn't. There was something sitting in the field in front of the house, something big and loud and bright that blocked her view. Peering ahead, she caught sight of the LuthorCorp logo on its side. A helicopter. A LuthorCorp helicopter.

A thousand scenarios bombarded her mind at once, and all of them were nightmares. Put