Outcome

It'd all be a lot easier if he were a son of a bitch, if his father were a gay-hating, homophobe who just... hates.

But he isn't.

He's a decent sort who while uncomfortable with the idea, lets people's actions speak for themselves. He just has a very large blind spot when it comes to the Luthors.

The scent of gunpowder and burnt flannel is still strong in the car, overpowering the leather smell of the interior and blandly pleasant scent of a professionally detailed car.

They're just sitting on the side of the road; Lex had gotten them off the farm in minutes, but once clear, he pulled over and now just... shakes.

In retrospect, fooling around in the barn wasn't the smartest thing they could have done, but they were young and in love and invulnerable. Well, Lex now knows Clark is, but Lex wasn't... isn't.

They hadn't heard the red door opening or the sound of boots on the steps as Jonathan entered the barn; they had been too busy, too occupied -- shirts open, fingers sliding over skin, touch not something either one of them could ever get enough of. Clark had had one hand on the back of Lex's head, the soft, hairless skin enticing him, calling for his touch. His other hand had been tweaking hard nipples, low murmurs of need between them when they stopped kissing long enough to draw breath. Lex's hands had just stroked down, his fingers sliding under the waistband of Clark's jeans when the sound of the shotgun cocking had penetrated their haze.

Looking up, they had seen Jonathan, his anger directed at Lex, and Clark could almost feel his father's disappointment in his son being shoved aside, until he dealt with the one he considered a threat. Lex had spoken to his father, his voice low, soothing. Clark had chimed in, telling his father he was in love, that Lex was good for him.

But Jonathan wasn't listening. Maybe he couldn't. He hadn't meant to fire the gun. Clark knew this; was holding onto the knowledge like the security blanket he had when he was four. He knew it. Had to know it.

"He didn't mean to," Clark repeats again, his hand holding on to Lex's, their fingers entwined. He can hear Lex's heart beating, his breathing still not steady.

Lex is silent, he doesn't like to be scared or vulnerable, and he's been both too many times recently. Lex is a control freak; Clark knows this, and if he weren't so deep in love he'd be driven insane by it.

For all that, though, it was Lex who said 'love' first, right after 'fuck' and various names for god. They've been together now for five months and have had sex by Clark's counting almost two hundred times. Clark's traced that smooth skin to the few places that wisps of hair grow on that pale body; he knows exactly what will make Lex scream, swear, and cry.

"Lex, he really, really didn't mean to," Clark repeats; he's almost convinced himself, but he needs to know Lex believes him. Them. Father and son.

Lex finally turns to look at him across the console of the Porsche. His eyes are huge, the blue dark enough to be a bruise. "Do you have something to tell me, Clark?" Lex looks at the tiny, fading red marks on Clark's skin, the pockmarks the shotgun pellets have left on his red flannel shirt.

"If I said no?" Clark asks as he reaches up to cup Lex's cheek in one large hand.

A laugh, definitely on the edge of hysteria, fills the car.

"Lex? Calm down, please?" Clark looks in concern as Lex makes this little choking noise and leans so his cheek is resting against the cool leather of the headrest, still facing Clark. When Lex is breathing again, Clark leans forward, his mouth hard, getting the same in return. He knows the minute that Lex remembers the last five months, the words spoken in the dark of his bedroom at the castle on those nights that Clark slid through the night to his door. The kiss is frantic by the time they pull apart.

"He shot at me... at us," Lex breathes.

"He lost control," Clark admits, being honest in this. The memory of his father and the gun, and he *knows* his father's fingers had to have slipped. The sight of the shell bursting, the pellets heading straight for Lex. Pushing Lex out of the way and turning into the shot; the tickle as the shot impacted, burning through the placket of his open shirt and bouncing off the bare skin of his chest.

"You're fine?" Lex looks at him, one hand finally stroking, reaching up to run through Clark's hair.

"I'm okay, Lex."

"You shouldn't be."

"I am."

Lex only nods, willing to accept the impossible because the alternative is unthinkable. The cell phone on the console begins to ring, and Lex checks the caller ID. "It's your number," he tells Clark, giving him the option.

"Not right now." Clark hates to do it, but he can't. Not just yet. He's not ready to deal with this part of the reality.

"Okay."

Lex turns and starts the car, and signaling, pulls out onto the fairly deserted road. It's been less than twenty minutes now, since Jonathan Kent tried to shoot his son's lover in the haymow of his barn.

But he didn't mean to, Clark thinks, even though he doesn't want to think at all.

The phone rings again, and Lex picks it up, and after letting it ring twice more, answers it. "Lex. Yes. I'm fine. I ... know. He's right here." He hands the phone to Clark, who looks at it for a moment.

"Hello?"

"Clark, are you all right?" It's his mother's voice. The panic is loud and clear, frantic, desperate.

"Yes."

"Clark, your father's in shock. He didn't mean to, you know that?"

"I know." No one has meant any of it; he didn't mean to fall in love with Lex, or Lex with him. Didn't mean to be one more kind of different. All part of the unending, unintentional disaster that is Clark Kent's life in Smallville.

Lex takes the phone from him, and Clark barely listens as his lover asks his mother to meet them at the castle. He knows his father will be there too, because his father, first and foremost, believes in confronting difficulties. That's his way.

Sometimes, the shotgun just goes off.

Lex leaves the gate open as they drive up to the house, where Lex kills the engine and they sit.

"Clark?"

"He didn't mean it."

Lex's eyes are calling him a liar. And he is, about so many things. But not this. His father did not mean it. Couldn't . If he did, there's no safe place left for Clark, even if he has Lex.

"It's not your fault, Clark."

Of course it isn't. Is it? One more weird thing in the life of the weird -- alien -- boy. Disaster precedes and follows him, but it's not his fault.

"It's not," Lex repeats, and breathes in deeply. His eyes meeting Clark's, he lies. "It's not even your dad's." And Clark relaxes. Loved enough for a lie. "Come on," Lex says, opening his door.

Looking down the lane, Clark sees the blue truck coming up the drive, his mother behind the wheel, his father hunched in on himself on the passenger side. Lex turns to face him, and begins to button up Clark's red flannel shirt, ignoring the little burns as he does. Finished, he checks his own shirt, then turns as Martha parks the truck.

His parents on one side and Clark stays next to Lex. His father looks like his world just ended. His mother's looking like the personification of desperation. And Lex looking like he's steeling himself to be lied to again.

Clark turns to Lex, but not away from his parents. "Can we go inside?" Lex nods and leads the way, never quite turning his back on Jonathan.

They go into the castle, down the long stone halls.

It's time for truth, hopefully for understanding.

Clark breathes in, and turns to look at the three most important people in his life. "It's nobody's fault," he begins.

With a lie.

It really is his fault. He got the gun; he shot the gun.

Inside, deep inside, Jonathan Kent is laughing hysterically. Maybe it is his fault for not letting Clark play football.

Martha's words as she drove the truck up the drive, surrounded by the well-manicured grounds of the Luthor Estate, echo in his mind. 'He's your son, Jon. If that doesn't make the difference, you need to say so now.'

It does, of course, make the difference. This is his son. No qualifications about that, ever. It's just accepting is so much harder. Because of whose son Lex is.

Because Luthors can't be trusted.

As they settle into the leather sofas in Lex's office, Clark takes his place at Lex's side, and Jonathan is bright enough to figure out what he's being told without words. His son trusts *this * Luthor. And despite his rage, Jonathan remembers Clark using the word love.

Lex looks over at them and Jonathan knows he can see right through him. Meeting Lex's eyes, Jonathan tries to figure out where they can go from here.

A servant of some variety brings in a tray with coffee and cookies on it. Jonathan wonders about the cookies; wonders how much time his seventeen year-old son spends here that his favorite cookies appear unasked for on a plate. Martha leans forward and pours, black for Clark, cream for Lex, black with five spoons of sugar for Jonathan and unusually, a spoon of sugar for herself.

Martha begins. "This was all an unfortunate thing..."

Lex snorts softly. "I'd say so."

"Lex..." Clark strokes the back of the hand that isn't holding Lex's coffee cup.

"Okay." Jonathan wonders if Lex realizes he's breathing in sync with the stroke of Clark's hand on his.

They're quiet for awhile, until Clark starts to fidget and Lex just looks at him, his expression open, in a guarded type of way. Clark seems to understand the question, even unasked. "Alien."

"Meteor shower?"

"Yes."

Lex nods. Almost two years of mutants and other things have made him a bit more... accepting of the weird and the strange that Smallville has to offer. "Who knows?"

"Mom. Dad. You."

Lex nods, willing to be third in this. Maybe, Jonathan thinks, what matters is that he's counted at all. "You didn't mean to shoot me."

Jonathan looks into to blue-gray eyes, finally ready. "No." A lie?

Lex smiles softly. Accepting the lie.

Jonathan wonders how many lies Lex has had to accept as Lionel Luthor's son. It makes him feel like an abuser.

Clark's eyes are still wide, still dark with confusion and pain, all Jonathan's fault, all his responsibility. Maybe this is normal for Clark. A man, not a woman. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking and justification for not being understanding and getting his gun.

He wonders if what his son feels is that same... call that he felt the day he saw Martha on campus, the thrill he felt when she approached him for his notes, leaving him hoping to get at the least her phone number. Getting all his dreams instead, everything he's ever wanted or needed in the redhead sitting next to him.

They haven't spoken much and the lies and the truths in the room have mingled, shifted, changed. Martha is next to him, and Jonathan knows without asking that what matters to her is her son, his happiness. She's always liked Lex, generally takes his side when Jonathan rails against him, and apparently it wasn't just about Lex when she did that, but about Clark, too.

Lex will accept the lie.

But Jonathan, looking at his son who sits at his ... lover's side, their fingers threading together, will have to accept this truth. Will have to learn to trust the man his son has chosen to trust with his heart.

Sitting next to his wife in a Kansas castle, the scent of buckshot still in his nose, as four people decide without speaking to make lies truth, Jonathan Kent's world shifts.

Two Years Later

"I think that's it."

Lex looks around the room, taking in the texts, the books, the computer. "Yes, I think we've got all your stuff in."

Clark follows his gaze around. "Yeah. This is great, Lex."

Their new living space is the penthouse of the newly constructed LuthorCorp Towers. Lex considers it amusing to live here, but Clark knows he secretly adores the modern structure. The lap pool outside on the terrace had cemented the deal.

"Ready to go?" Lex asks him as they leave what will be Clark's study.

Clark nods and grabs his backpack; only a bit of homework to do this weekend, but he's glad they moved him in today, instead of waiting until Sunday. Grabbing his coat from the closet on the way out the door, he follows Lex to the elevator. They get into the Ferrari and Lex eases the powerful car out of the garage and onto the streets of Metropolis.

They're quiet for the first leg of the trip, listening to music, Lex driving, Clark watching the city fade into the fields.

"Lex?"

"Hmm?"

"How did your dad take it again?"

"Umm. Threatened me with disinheritance. Then death. I think there may have been mention of a flogging. Then Maggie came in and gave him this look."

"Do you like her?"

Lex nods and smiles at the thought of his father's new wife and former secretary. "I think she scares him. It's great."

Clark shook his head. "But he's not going to do anything to you, is he?"

Lex considers the question then shakes his head. "No. He's not overly surprised, just annoyed in general, I think. But Livia is too young to take over for me, and the doctors told him he needs to step back. So, he doesn't have much of a choice. Which, I think, is what bothers him the most."

"Good to know he can't replace you with a four month old."

"I thought that, too."

The rest of the drive is spent talking about things they need to get for their new place, things they want to do next weekend in Metropolis. They share complaints; Lex about his new position in LuthorCorp, Clark about his professors at Metropolis University. It isn't until they reach the city limits of Smallville that the conversation turns serious again.

Lex looks out the windshield and at the Kent fields as he heads toward the drive. "You ready?"

"Not really."

"Okay then," Lex says, parking Ferrari in front of the house.

Martha meets them at the door, and Clark hugs his mother, glad to see her after a month away. She hugs Lex, as she always does, and he squeezes her quickly.

"Jonathan will be here in a minute and supper's ready, why don't you go clean up?"

They head to the downstairs washroom and Clark looks at Lex, who looks just a bit nervous. There is, of course, nothing coincidental about arriving at supper time, when the only available weapons are a fork and a knife. Lex must figure he could take Jonathan if he was armed only with those.

"It's going to be okay, you know."

"Just keep saying that, Clark."

"Okay." Clark grins as Lex narrows his eyes and frowns at him.

Emerging from the washroom, they almost run into Jonathan. He greets them both warmly, evidence of two years of coming to terms with this reality. They let him by to wash up and help Martha to bring the meal to the table from the kitchen.

The conversation is about what's happening in Smallville, which is very little, strangely enough. Other conversation is about passing food, please and thank yous.

They're eating pie when Clark looks at his parents. "I've moved in with Lex."

Jonathan puts his fork down, and Martha looked from Clark to Lex to Jonathan.

"I see. When?"

"We moved in today. The new LuthorCorp Towers building." Clark looks at his mother, a silent appeal. "It's very nice."

"I'm sure it is," Martha chimes in.

"I suppose this was just a matter of time," Jonathan says softly.

Lex nods, putting his fork down with a bite of pie untouched. "It really was."

A few minutes of silence end as Martha starts pulling Clark into talking about his classes again. After the dishes, Jonathan excuses himself and goes outside. Leaving Lex with his mother, Clark follows his father to the corral.

"Are you mad?"

"No," Jonathan shakes his head. "I've been expecting it, actually. You didn't leave him, he didn't leave you." The light is fading into the west as he turns to face Clark. "You got lucky, son. Doesn't always happen the first time."

"You're okay with this?"

"I'm... okay with you. With Lex. I'm getting to be okay with the rest of it. It all just takes some time."

"That's all we can ask," Lex says, coming up to join them where they're standing at the wooden fence.

The sun is down when Martha calls them back into the house, her face breaking into a relieved smile when they come in together.

One Year Later

"Dad?"

Clark looks at his father, sitting on the terrace of the penthouse as he lands. The cape settles behind him.

"Nice outfit. Very low profile."

"It keeps attention off my face. Where's Lex?"

"He saw you coming and went to get me a drink, I think."

Lex walks through the open terrace doors and smiles, handing Jonathan a scotch. "I thought your dad might need a little something."

Jonathan shakes his head silently and drinks deeply.

"Where's mom?"

"Inside, freshening up. When were you planning on telling us?"

"Soon. We wanted to see if it'd work. The whole secret identity thing."

"Ahh."

"Clark?"

"Hi, Mom."

Lex hands Martha the gin and tonic he's holding in his other hand. She nods a thanks and downs the drink. "Clark, that's a very... interesting outfit."

"It's the ugliest thing this side of anything, but it's for the distraction value, not a fashion statement," Clark says impatiently. Why does everyone think he *likes* wearing this thing?

"People tend to look at the outfit, especially the tights," Lex adds, completely unhelpful as far as Clark is concerned.

"So, you help people?"

Clark nods at his mother. "I have all these things I can do. I can help when others can't."

Jonathan looks at his son with concern. "You can't help everyone, though, Clark." Lex looks at him with approval; he's hit on Lex's major problem with the whole thing.

"But if I don't help those I can, then what does that say about me?"

Martha and Jonathan exchange glances. "We're proud of you, son. We're just... worried."

Lex looks relieved, and Clark feels the same. He knew they'd worry, but that they accept yet another part of his life, another part of his weird, alien, gay, Luthor-loving life... that's what matters.

"Why don't you change, Clark? Then we can get a late dinner." Lex asks and Martha and Jonathan nod their agreement. Clark heads into their rooms, already pulling the cape off the collar. When he turns to head to the shower, Lex is behind him, and Clark pulls him into his arms.

"I'm proud of you too, you know."

"Yeah, I know. It's better that they know, isn't it?"

"Yes. It will make your mind rest easier, Clark. And I really don't think the costume would have fooled them," he teases.

"We can wait until tomorrow to tell them about the Fortress, can't we?"

Lex laughs softly. "We probably should. One shock a day and all."

Clark lowers his head for a kiss, opening his mouth and Lex is there to meet him, stroking the soft skin at the small of his back. Breaking the kiss, Lex hugs him tightly. "I need to get back to your folks."

"Okay. I'll be out in a minute."

Lex watches as Clark zips into the bath, the water pressure the only thing limiting his speed. Leaving the room, he goes back out to talk with the Kents, glad that they know that the person keeping this part of the world safe is their son.

Ten Years Later

Justice had been surprisingly swift.

It had been only a matter of five days for Lex to be convicted. It had taken only three hours, on evidence so circumstantial that even Lois said she wouldn't have pursued a story on, for the jury to return. Clark had testified on his behalf, of course; stood behind him in a closed courtroom for the sentencing, held his hand where the only other reporter in the room, Lois, could see. Lex had been too shell-shocked to tell him not to. It had taken all his strength not to grab Lex and speed out of the courthouse when the sentence of ten years was handed down.

Lex would be in solitary at Metropolis Penitentiary until tomorrow; even Lionel's influence couldn't stop his transfer to the general population. Which is saying something, because Lionel Luthor still has the money and power to do almost anything.

So there's something else going on.

Driving the Porsche out the Penitentiary lot, Clark looks back at the imposing building. Parking along the side of the road, he looks again, this time using x-ray to confirm that Lex is back in his cell, alone. He commits the number of guard towers to memory, the height of the razor wire, the pattern and frequency of the electricity flowing through it.

Before the guards can come over and tell him to move, he starts the car again, pulling out and picking up speed, flying down the highway, taking the loop through town. Turning off at the west exit, he heads toward Smallville.

His father is in the barn when he pulls up to the house. His mother's car isn't in its usual spot near the gate. Getting out, Clark can hear the familiar whine of the table saw. Moving to the workshop part of the barn, he waits, somewhat impatiently, for his father to finish the cut.

"Dad?"

"Clark?" Jonathan Kent looks at him, not really surprised to see him, concern in his eyes. "What are you doing here, Son?"

"We need to talk. Where's Mom?"

"She called just a bit ago, she should be home soon. What's up?" His father keeps busy, Clark notices, putting the saw away, moving the wood he had been cutting. Cleaning off surfaces that already shine.

"I'd like to talk you both at once, if that's okay."

"Sure, Son." Jonathan removes the plastic goggles and takes off his thick leather gloves. "Come on, we'll go up to the house."

They're drinking coffee when Martha comes in the door, a smile on her face as her eyes find Clark. "Clark, what are you doing here?" He's already out of his seat when she throws her arms around him and hugs him tightly, just a bit more than usual.

"I wanted to talk to you guys." Martha puts her purse and library books on the counter and hangs her light jacket on the pegboard, giving him a curious look. "Can we go into the living room?"

"Of course." Martha takes the cup of coffee Jonathan holds out for her and leads the way into the living room, settling on the couch. Jonathan takes his place next to her, leaving Clark to take one of the facing chairs.

"I'm... no - Superman - is going to talk with Carson in the morning. If he doesn't agree, we'll be disappearing for a bit." Neither of his parents seems to be particularly surprised; his mother just nods, his father looks resigned. Clark doesn't know if he wants to take that as a testament to their acceptance of his relationship with Lex, or if they had just expected that someday he would use his powers to his own advantage. "He's not guilty. And he's being put into the general population."

"Clark..."

Clark stares at his father. "He's never done anything like that. He'd never hurt anyone like that. The only other thing that was anything like this was the sludge that Amanda's brother dumped in the east pasture, and you know he didn't have anything to do with that. Lex doesn't mind taking over a company or two. Cheating rich people out of some money, fine. But he'd never dump chemicals that would hurt anyone, especially children. You know that."

Jonathan has the grace to stare down into his coffee cup as his weather worn face reddens. "You're right. He's never done anything like this."

"What are you going to do, Clark?" Martha asks as she puts her empty cup on the table and looks at him.

"I can't tell you. Someone may make the connection, and I don't want you guys in trouble."

Her eyes narrow, and Clark has the feeling she already knows exactly what he is going to do. For some reason, he's waiting for her to tell him to be sure to wear clean underwear under his tights. She doesn't, though. She's always practical, always liked Lex, so she's already off the couch and heading to the kitchen. "Jonathan, you and Clark go get enough food for them for a few days. It'll make things easier for a bit." And to Clark's everlasting relief, his father gives him that manly slap on the shoulder as he gets off couch and leads the way to the barn.

Two hours later, supplies stored, Clark's back in the Porsche, driving to the Metropolis penthouse he and Lex have shared since Clark's sophomore year in college. His phone rings, the Mighty Mouse theme song filling the leather cabin of the car -- Lex's little joke. Lex's plays the Dudley Do-Right theme -- Clark's little joke.

"Kent."

"Smallville, you were right."

"Lois?"

"Who else? Have you ever heard of CDR Hawk Industries?"

"No, why?"

"From what I can tell, they've started pushing into some of LuthorCorp's holdings. They're pretty shadowy. They took over Mexin pharmaceuticals with some rather questionable methods last month."

"I've never heard of them."

"Okay. Where are you?"

"I'm almost back to Metropolis. Can you stop by my apartment? I need to talk to you about something."

Lois snorts in that elegant way only she can. "Apartment, Smallville?"

"Please, Lois?"

"Okay, okay. I'll be there in an hour or so."

"Thanks, Lois."

"You owe me, Kent."

"I know," Clark says to the dead air of the disconnected call, folding the phone and throwing it back on the passenger seat.

It's just after midnight when Superman settles into the fork of a tree, about a mile from the Pen. Drinking coffee from his thermos, he watches with the x-ray as Lex paces in his little cell. Clark's heart contracts painfully as Lex throws himself down on the uncomfortable looking cot and curls in on himself, trying to sleep.

The metal thermos squeaks as it's crushed in one large, super-strong fist.

At six am, Clark watches as Lex wakes, turning the x-ray off while Lex uses the toilet in the cell. When he looks again a few minutes later, Lex is reading, and it's only by the beat of his heart that Clark can tell he's nervous, exhausted by the lack of sleep.

With one last, long look at his lover, Superman rises into the air, heading for the home of Robert Carson, head of the Kansas Appeals Court. Carson has always been said to be tough but fair, and all the research that Clark and Lois had done on him last year, when he was sworn in, had borne that out. Superman had saved his life a few months later, when a disgruntled defendant attempted to bomb the courthouse.

Fastening his cufflinks as he walks into his office, Judge Robert Carson feels a presence. The large frame sitting on his sofa surprises him, but the uniform --blue and yellow and red, soothes his shock. He's still not happy about his uninvited guest, but he's willing to grant Superman some leeway.

"Superman?"

"Hello, your Honor." After they shake hands, Carson takes his chair, while Superman moves to the chair across from the desk.

"What can I do for you?"

"I'd like for you to remand Lex Luthor to my custody until his appeal has been processed."

"You know I can't do that."

"Your Honor, I have reason to believe that he will be harmed if he is put into the general population."

"I don't think..."

"Your Honor." Superman looks straight at him, but Carson doesn't flinch. "I cannot allow him to remain in custody if I do not trust the people guarding him."

Running a hand through his hair, Carson unconsciously follows the gray streak in the black. "Superman, it's not a matter of what you want or are willing to accept. It's a matter of law."

"The law has already been circumvented. It's now a matter of justice."

Brown eyes meet blue. "Are you planning on breaking him out then?"

"He's not guilty. It's a question of saving him now," Superman replies, avoiding the question.

Carson closes his eyes and tries to figure out what to do. He knows the powers Superman holds, knows that nothing can stop him. But he also can't just do what the alien superhero wants, not publicly anyway. Not without proof of Luthor's innocence. "You need to think about this very carefully, Superman."

"I have."

Nodding, Carson opens a file. "You have someone looking into the situation?"

"Ross, Ross and Fordman is handling the appeal, and they have investigators looking into the jury tampering, as well as the original witness testimony."

"Good enough. I can't suspend the order to move him without a proceeding. And he'll be put into general in a few hours."

"And if they know, they'll act right away."

"I'm afraid so."

When Superman stands, Carson follows suit, watching as his uninvited guest walks to the French doors. "Thank you, your Honor, for at least looking into the situation."

"What are you going to do?"

"I think it's best for both of us if we forget you asked that, don't you?"

Carson nods, tracing the gray streak again as he watches Superman rise into the sky, his red cape fluttering in the breeze. Turning back to his desk, he picks up the phone and dials his office. "Jake, the appeal filed on the Luthor case?" he says when he reaches his clerk, "Put it on top and be sure to check out the judge. I'll be in soon."

The Penitentiary is in sight within a few seconds of leaving Carson's house. Landing at the front gate, Superman - Clark - feels his world shift.

"Superman?" The guard at the front gate looks incredulous at the figure before him, and Superman wants to smile, would, if things weren't so dire.

"Yes," he looks at the ID badge on the man's uniform jacket, "Mr. Gressner. Could you call the warden down here for me, please?"

"Sure, just a sec." Gressner keeps looking over his shoulder as he makes the call, as if he still doesn't believe that Superman is standing there.

Superman listens to the conversation as the guard calls the warden down. He smiles confidently, trying to keep everyone as calm as possible by his arrival. He uses x-ray again to confirm that Lex is still in his cell in solitary.

"Superman, what can I do for you?" Warden Miller is a large man, but still good looking, in a way. His smile is honest, sincere.

"I'm here to take custody of Lex Luthor."

The warden's face clouds. "I haven't gotten any paperwork to that effect, Superman. Indeed, he was to be taken out of solitary today."

"I know. I don't have any paperwork."

The warden stares at him. "But..."

"I have good reason to believe that someone is going to try to kill Lex Luthor. I cannot allow that. Now, you can bring him here, and I will take him into custody, and you will have my word that he will harm no one. Or, I can get him myself, which, even if done in the simplest way possible, would still lead to property damage and no doubt, injury to someone here."

The warden blinks slowly, processing the information.

He looks to the foot thick stone walls, the wire, the armed guards, then back at Superman. Knowing that none of those things could possibly make a difference, he makes a decision. Turning, he addresses the man who had followed him from his office. "Jeffers, have Luthor brought up here."

"But Warden!"

"Jeffers, you don't fight a battle you've already lost. If Superman says that he's going to take Luthor, he will."

"Warden..."

"Jeffers, now. And make sure you have a few guards with you, just in case someone's stupid enough to try something."

"Yes, Warden," Jeffers says sullenly, glaring at Superman.

They watch the man leave. "This isn't legal," Miller tells him.

"I know, but there wasn't a choice left me."

Neon orange has never been a good color for Lex. And the leg shackles and handcuffs lack the charm of the fur-lined sets that reside in the toy box in their apartment. The look on Lex's face when he catches sight of Clark - Superman - waiting with the warden is priceless. Panic, fury, and hope war on his smooth face with a desperation that makes Clark want to cringe, but they disappear quickly, leaving only a look of annoyed disdain.

"Superman?"

"I'm taking you into protective custody, Luthor."

"Oh, lovely. More prison. I don't suppose you've talked to my lawyers?"

"As a matter of fact, I have."

Lex sighs. "Fine. Let's go." He looks for a car, and seeing none, stares at Superman in disbelief. "Oh, no. None of that flying stuff."

"I'm afraid so, Luthor," Superman replies as he lifts into the air, pulling Lex by the back of his prison uniform, like some demented cat holding its kitten by the nape.

"Just peachy," Lex shoots back, the sarcasm almost a physical presence, as they rise into the clouds, the Pen and Metropolis fading beneath them.

When they are above the clouds, already somewhere above Iowa, Clark pulls Lex into his arms and kisses him, quick and deep. "Are you okay?"

"I'd be better if we were in a plane. But yes, I'm glad to be out of there."

"You should rest, Lex. I know you didn't sleep well last night."

"Ahh. I thought you would be out there."

"I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to you if I could help it." Lex nods and closes his eyes against the wind and the cold of the air, burying his face in Clark's neck as they fly.

Clark can't fly as fast as he wants to with Lex, whose body isn't equipped to handle such a trip, but they reach the North Pole in less than half an hour. Part of the crystalline surface on top of the Fortress of Solitude opens as it senses Clark's presence. Flying down, he lands gently, Lex still sleeping in his arms as he moves to the living quarters. Ignoring the huge, shell-shaped bed for the moment, he places Lex in a large butterfly chair, tucking a blanket around him, even though the fortress regulates the temperature to human normal.

Staring at Lex, he takes time to notice the circles that have just begun to form under his eyes, accentuated by the garish orange of the prison issued uniform. While he is uncomfortable with the line he has crossed, he knows he's done the only thing he can. Leaving Lex to rest, Clark returns to the main room of the Fortress. He activates the highest levels of defense and invisibility, then returns to the living space. Sitting in a matching chair, he watches Lex sleep, knowing however difficult the repercussions will be, he has done the right thing.

Clark wakes to find the blanket he had covered Lex in on top of him, and Lex muttering in the bathroom. "Lex?"

"Clark, how exactly does the water here work?"

Getting up, Clark stretches and joins Lex in the little room, unfastening his uniform, kicking it off into the corner where Lex's orange prison issue lies crumpled heap. "I need to warm some of the water up, then it will go through that and into the shower. Get in."

Lex nods and enters the stall, just big enough for two. Clark uses his heat vision to warm the water in the reservoir and tells Lex to turn the water on as he joins him. A few seconds of testing and they are standing, in the deepest part of the North Pole, in a comfortably hot shower.

They wash quickly in deference to the situation, lathering and rinsing off, helping each other, but keeping the playfulness to a determined minimum. Leaving the shower, they dry each other off while standing on a blue looped rug, finally, now, taking the time to kiss and fondle.

Clark's large hands surround Lex's hips, holding their bodies together, moving to trace down his lover's spine, as he leans in to capture hungry lips. Tasting Lex, pulling him closer, hungry for him - his mouth, his skin - until the need for air forces them apart. His dark hair still damp and curling, he leads Lex back into the bedroom, pulling him close for a deep kiss, then retreating. A slow tease that's more of a promise.

Lex takes in the strangely shell-shaped bed, the silver and white sheets and comforters. Plush and deep like a feather mattress. Smooth like silk. Shiny as a brand new nickel in a whorehouse. He grins at Clark, but doesn't say the words, but they both know he's thinking about Kryptonian ideals of romance and sex.

"Shut up," Clark whispers against his lips as he pushes Lex down, following him as they sink into the soft mattress. Lex complies easily enough, his tongue brushing along Clark's as his fingers card through dark hair.

Breaking the kiss, hard against each other, they finally relax. Clark buries his face in the crook of Lex's shoulder and just breathes in his scent. Understanding, gentle hands pet his hair, and he twists just a bit to be able to kiss the soft strands. Skin touching skin, nothing between them; soft, clean sheets beneath them and nothing to remind them of the last few days, Clark starts to kiss his way up Lex's neck. Gentle bites and soothing licks until they're face to face again, Lex's hands never leaving his skin, his hair.

"I need." Lex doesn't need to say anything more than that, it encompasses everything they are, mean to each other. It's the absolute essence of who they've become over the years they've been together.

Proof that Clark's been thinking about bringing Lex here again, there's a little squeeze bottle in the compartment below the bed. It's cool, but not cold and Clark warms the lube in his hands, leaning down to nip at the hard, flat nipples that taunt him. Lex shifts and opens his legs wider, and he can't help but play.

His expression is too tight for a smile, but Clark's eyes never leave Lex's as he leans back and traces a slick finger down from the hollow of Lex's neck, stopping to circle one nipple, then the other. He doesn't linger long, just enough for Lex to lift his hips from the mattress in a fervent demand. It's not as much torment as torture when Clark runs a finger over his navel, wrenching a wordless groan from his lover.

At the sound Clark can't help but lean back in for a kiss, sucking Lex's tongue for just a second before moving back again to glide his hand over the length of Lex's cock. The leaking pre-come mingles with the lube at the head, and Clark massages them both in, smiling viciously at the tremors it sends through Lex, feeling the ache as they slam through his own body as if he were already inside.

Determined now, need and want riding him, Clark traces the underside of Lex's cock, tickling his balls until Lex cries out. Then beyond, the sensitive strip of skin and from there it's just a second until he's sliding a finger inside. It's easy, but it's not a time for easy, and Clark moans as Lex surrounds his cock with more lube and demands without words that he come inside.

So he does.

Pushes slow, gets inside, where it's tight and hot and Lex can't help but respond by wrapping a leg around his hips and trying to pull him deeper.

They're breathing loudly and speaking without actual words as Clark moves until he's on top of Lex, his weight pressing his lover deeper into the soft mattress, his hands framing the naked skin of Lex's skull, lightly stroking the shells of his ears. Knees and elbows bearing most of his weight as he thrusts and slides, friction good, being inside and around, better. Lex's hands are all over Clark, shoulders, down to his ass, pulling him closer, pressing and pushing until the angle is enough to hit the prostate more often than not. Lex is hard between them, and their bodies, soft with sweat are so close, so tight, it's as much of a taunt as a stroke.

Clark cradles the bald head between his hands and obliges as Lex threads his fingers through dark hair and pulls him down, breath hitching as Clark swallows his cry, coming as lightening runs its course down his spine and into Lex, dissolving all that separates them. Clark flexes his hips to press against Lex's cock, the pressure enough to push his lover over, and the heat of it burns like soft fire as Lex comes between their bellies.

Lex is all around him; his legs holding Clark in, his arms tightly wound against the muscled back. He opens his eyes, but Lex's are still closed as the aftershocks continue. Clark loves to watch him after, when it's all about them, when it's still all raw need and naked emotion. Resting his forehead against Lex's, Clark kisses him, softly, just little busses. Smiling in between the kisses, Lex captures him in a kiss as he pulls out.

They move until they're comfortable, Clark spooning Lex, his bald head resting on Clark's arm. No words are needed as they fall asleep.

It never, ever fails, Clark thinks as he wakes. He always ends up on the wet spot. It means that Lex is sleeping on top of him, which is nice -- but still. There's the principle of the thing. Waking on the wet spot should be a fifty-fifty proposition, damn it.

"Forget it," Lex says, his eyes still closed. "You don't get to rant about it."

"Lex..."

Lex grins and kisses him instead and Clark has to admit he's easy, because it's not a big deal anymore.

After showering together and a shave for Clark, they eat, Clark cooking steaks while Lex prepares vegetables from the farm. Lex grins at the food, thanking Martha silently; two days of prison food had been enough. The coffee maker and cook top work off the generator in the corner because Clark's yet to figure out how to convert the Fortress' power supply to AC compatible.

Opening his laptop, Clark boots up the sat connection, pulling up the online version of the evening news. It's just a few seconds to upload a press conference from Judge Carson's office.

"Is this a prison escape?" A reporter is yelling the question at the Judge.

"We are considering it a change in custody," the Judge replies, skirting the truth, but not quite telling a lie. "Three prisoners were found with weapons, two have confessed that they accepted payment to kill Mr. Luthor as soon as he was moved to from solitary."

Clark looks at Lex, who reads his expression correctly. "You saved me, Clark. Nothing happened. Just breathe," he tells his lover, moving behind him and rubbing the muscles of his broad back through his robe. "Just breathe." When Clark relaxes, Lex moves back to the computer. "I wonder what this did for the stock." He minimizes the press conference and boots up the NASDAQ. "Hmm. We're down, but not badly."

"Your dad?"

"Probably."

Lex maximizes the press conference again as his father takes the podium. Lionel looks older, has since they day five months ago when Lex was first charged.

"Mr. Luthor! Mr. Luthor!"

"Yes, Ms. Lane?"

"What are your feelings tonight knowing that Superman foiled a plot to kill your son, even if you don't know where Lex Luthor is?"

"I am relieved that Superman saved my son from the plot on his life. As I have maintained since day one, my son and the company bear no responsibility for the chemicals found in the Madrien Heights housing community. I am looking forward to the day, which will come soon, that my son will be exonerated and can return to the helm of the company."

"Wow."

Lex nods as he takes a drink of his coffee, staring at his father as he leaves the podium. "Maggie must have threatened him with never seeing Livia again," he jokes, referring to his stepmother and half-sister.

"Lex..."

"She probably threatened to rip his balls off too, if he tried anything."

Clark nods in agreement, remembering the snide arguments at the dinner table one Thanksgiving until Maggie had stared down both male Luthors and informed them that the whole Borgia thing wasn't as sexy as they must be thinking.

Getting himself another cup of coffee, Lex turns to Clark. "Files?"

Clark uses his cup to point in the direction of a number of white office boxes. Clearing the table off, they start going through both hard and soft copy files, looking for any mention of CDR Hawk Industries.

Lex looks up from his computer. "I think there may be something here," he says, pointing to a listening of a subsidiary holding. "They, whoever the hell owns the thing, got in with Engenic research."

Clark reads information on the screen. "That has to be it. But what are they trying to do?"

"Well, aside from framing me for the attempted murder of two children and industrial pollution and destroy my company, who knows?"

Clark crosses the room, picking a sat phone out of a box with five of them in it, and starts to dial. "I think we need someone who can help." He's not surprised when the call is picked up immediately.

"Smallville?"

"Yes. Do you have anything for me?"

"Not enough, unfortunately. I've not been able to track down who owns CDR Hawk, but they seem to be bottom feeders. A shell of a shell of a shell. They've been picking off companies, but nothing really big."

Clark shakes his head in reply to Lex's raised eyebrow, getting a frown in return. "All right. I'll call back in a few days, okay?" he tells Lois.

"Sure," she responds, and Clark can hear her lighting a cigarette before she disconnects the call.

"Basically, she doesn't know anything yet," Clark tells Lex, who sighs in annoyance.

"Okay, let's look at this from the top, again." Lex sits back at the computer and they start all over again.

A day later, they're a bit closer, finding a few subsidiaries of CDR Hawk and getting a better idea of the financial picture of the company.

"God, Clark, it's freezing out there," Lex complains as they re-enter the fortress, having taken a bit of a walk outside.

"It's the Arctic Circle, Lex."

"Thanks for the update." Lex is already in the bedroom, stripping down. "Warm water?"

A few hours later they're back at their computers, notepads sitting beside them, coffee cups full. Lex is wearing silk pajama bottoms and the flannel shirt that Clark had been wearing before they had gone out on their little hike. Comfortable, but slightly scratchy, the fabric retains the clean scent of Clark's body. Clark's worn and faded jeans are clinging to all the right places, distracting Lex.

He aimlessly scribbles on his notepad. 'Clark', 'Larck'. It wasn't very anagrammy. He sighs and writes CDR Hawk. 'Draw Hck', and frowns.

"What?"

"Just anagramming. CDR Hawk makes 'Draw Hick'," he says, adding the i. Blinking, he stares at the pad. "Clark?"

"Yeah?"

Sitting up in his chair, Lex crosses out 'Draw Hick', and as Clark comes to stand behind him, writes out, 'Hardwick', crossing off the letters in CDR Hawk as he does.

"Holy shit."

"Yeah," Lex replies, and grabbing one of the cells from the box, starts to dial. "Pete? I need you to find me the location of one Victoria Hardwick. Superman needs to pay her a visit. We should be back in town in a day or two. I'll call back."

"I told you. You should have never played chess with her."

"That really helps. Thanks, Clark."

"Sorry." Returning to his chair, Clark turns it around, straddling it, resting his chin on his hands. "Now what?"

"I suppose you won't let me have her maimed?"

"Ummm, as much as I'd like to..."

"That's what I thought." Grabbing another cell out of the box, Lex dials a different number while Clark watches with interest. "Dad? Yes, I'm sure the lines are monitored too, Dad. Dad. Shut up." He frowns at Clark, who hides his grin behind his hand. "It's Hardwick. Yes, of course I'm sure. Well, you slept with her too. Maybe she's getting back at you. Well, I don't know, Dad. I'm on the lam. Maybe you should talk to the authorities." Rolling his eyes, Lex unclenches his fist. "I'll call back in a bit, yes." With a sigh, he disconnects the call and looks pensively at the notepad.

"Are you okay?"

"I can't believe this. And I thought my father held grudges."

Standing, Clark walks toward the bedroom. "I'll get dressed, you call Pete back. Let's get her before she tries to fade away."

Nodding, Lex starts to dial.

The bright lights of the television studio reflect off Lex's head, giving the make-up lady fits. Superman doesn't need any make-up, of course, which, to his amusement, makes both Lois and Lex gripey.

It's been a long week; the court proceedings, dealing with both sets of parents, placating the company and the shareholders. LuthorCorp stock is rebounding from its low at a fast pace and has announced a fund to clean up Madrien Heights, even though it has now been proven not to be their responsibility. Another fund had been quickly endowed to pay the medical expenses of the two children injured.

Things speed up as it gets closer to airtime. Lex is calm and Clark tries his best to adopt the same facade.

And it's showtime.

"I'm Lois Lane, and this is Metropolis Tonight," Lois says, addressing the camera. "Tonight we have Lex Luthor and Superman, who were in the center of a controversy in the last few weeks. Earlier this week, Mr. Luthor was cleared of any wrongdoing, both personally, as was his company, LuthorCorp." Lois pauses for a moment, then continues. "The case was made even murkier when it was discovered that a prisonyard assassination attempt was foiled when Superman assumed custody of Mr. Luthor." Turning to Lex and Clark, she addresses a different camera. "Mr. Luthor, can you tell us what was behind this plot?"

"Business, unfortunately," Lex says smoothly. "A long-forgotten rivalry between LuthorCorp and Hardwick Enterprises. I can't say that much, due to forthcoming litigation. LuthorCorp is filing a lawsuit against the Hardwick's company, CDR Hawk. Our corporate lawyers, Ross, Ross, and Fordman are also working pro bono for the families of the two children poisoned in this matter."

"What about you, personally? Victoria and Henry Hardwick are now being held without bail under federal charges, and even with the testimony of two accomplices, they might get off. They bribed two jury members and a judge, which sent you to prison. That must provoke some kind of reaction, even if the final outcome of the matter was positive."

Lex laughs softly. "That's a matter for the criminal courts, and now that the shortcomings have been revealed, I'm certain that justice will prevail. I'm just glad to have had the conviction overturned and to be free to go home tonight. I'm certain that the Hardwicks will get exactly what they deserve."

Turning to Superman, Lois takes a sip of water before asking him a question. "Superman, how certain were you that Mr. Luthor was innocent?"

"I had no doubts."

"But how do you know?"

"I've known Mr. Luthor for a long time."

Lois smiles, and Lex stiffens in his chair at the gleam in her eyes. "It's said that you knew because your relationship with Mr. Luthor is very... personal." Lex feels a hand take his, squeezing gently. "What do you say to that, Superman?"

The uniform -- the tights, red shorts, and boots don't exist as Clark and Lex look at each other. At Lex's nod, Clark turns to Lois and the camera.

Taking the glasses out that he wears as Clark Kent, he puts them on for the world to draw its own conclusions about. "Yes," he says, speaking truth, a smile in his eyes, behind the lenses.

And the world shifts.

© EAS, April, 2002

Disclaimer: All canon based Smallville characters belong to WB and/or DC Comics.
I am making no money, just enjoying playing in the sandbox.

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