Fragile

Title: Fragile (aka. The 33.1 Chronicles - Raptor)
Pairing(s): Clex.
Spoilers: up to Season 5 'Fragile'
Category: episode-related, drama, romance
Rating: PG
Summary: A re-write of 'Fragile.' While Clark finds himself the unexpected guardian of a young girl with a frightening power over glass, Lex becomes involved in the tracking of a mysterious and deadly reptilian woman with murderous designs on Jonathan Kent. All of which proves a rather unhappy distraction from Clark's tentative attempts at flirting with his friend.

The stack of papers fluttered briefly in the crisp night air, forcing Lois to adjust her hold, a sigh of frustration escaping her lips. Such was her focus on them, she almost missed Jonathan Kent as he stepped out of the cab onto the Metropolis sidewalk. His attire was an odd mismatch of faded farmyard jeans and clean white shirt, the creases of which suggested it hadn't been ironed. He carried a large executive briefcase with a black jacket slung over it, and after paying the cab driver he paused beneath a streetlamp to slip the jacket over his shoulders. The movement fortunately caught Lois' attention and she stepped out quickly from the hotel entrance she'd been standing in.

"Mr. Kent!" she waved, curling ponytail and the belt of her stylish brown coat flapping behind her. "The hotel's this way."

Jonathan turned at the sound of her voice and broke into a grateful smile.

"Lois, it's good to see you," he nodded as she stopped in front of him, booted feet clicking smartly against the sidewalk. "This way you say?" He pointed towards the building behind her and Lois nodded with enthusiasm.

"That's it," she agreed, already breathless, though more from mental exertion than her physical run. "Just follow me, I've got everything sorted." Spinning round, swift enough to rustle the papers, Lois began stepping back the way she'd just come, Jonathan behind her.

"Thanks again for agreeing to help out at such short notice, Lois. I really appreciate it," the Senator insisted as they walked. "With the conference committee fitting me in last minute like they did, I've been busy enough with my speech let alone the mountain of other paperwork I have to get through. There just hasn't been time to arrange things, or learn the schedule. I barely even have any formal clothes clean, just this shirt and a pair of pants in my briefcase."

"Mr Kent, honestly, don't worry about it," Lois insisted. "I'm always happy to help out my favourite Senator." The two of them stopped to share a companionable smile outside the hotel's flash revolving doorway. "Besides," Lois continued, lifting her head with a proud grin. "My father's an army general, remember? If there's one thing I'm good at it's following a schedule. I've got it all planned..." she rifled through the papers a moment then grabbed at one with a cry of triumph. "Okay, so you're booked here until nine o'clock tomorrow evening," she read, flicking immediately to another page for reference. "And your speech tomorrow is at seven thirty. It's tight, but that should give us enough time to move out providing we come straight back when you're done. The actual conference starts at nine, but we should probably get there at eight thirty just to be safe and..."

"Lois," Jonathan muttered, face clouding as Lois continued listing off a string of times his mind was most definitely failing to grasp. "Maybe we could go through this later?"

"What?" Lois answered, distracted, eyes still on the pages. "Oh, yeah sure. I've got a full briefing planned for after dinner, which is at—"

An unexpected, overly violent gust of wind rushed across them and threw the would-be-organiser backwards, scattering the carefully ordered papers about her face and shoulders.

"Oh god..." Lois tottered a bit, before crouching down to grab the hallowed items as they fell. "I knew I should have brought a clipboard. Mr Kent, would you mind...?" The polite query trailed off when Lois looked up to find Jonathan Kent conspicuously absent, briefcase rocking lightly in the space he'd previously occupied. "Mr Kent?" Lois called, eyes narrowing.

An unpleasant thud from round the corner had the ex-army trainee on her feet in an instant, and Lois left the papers without a second thought, hurrying passed the revolving doors to the darkened street on the left. Against the hotel's side-wall, a large, dark shadow had a seemingly unconscious Mr Kent pinned up by the neck.

"Hey!" Lois yelled, anger blocking out fear.

The shadow turned its head, shifting enough to place its profile in the light, and Lois couldn't prevent a gasp, eyes widening in shock. Before her stood a young woman, short black hair, army coloured top and pants, generally unremarkable—if you didn't count the dark green tone of her skin, the reptilian stripes on her face and arms and the long, brown talons protruding from her fingers. Sharp, amber-coloured eyes flicked Lois up and down.

"Leave now, and you won't get hurt," the woman instructed, voice rough and deep. Lois swallowed.

"Okay..." she muttered, nodding slowly to calm herself down. "And, ah, that man you've got pinned to the wall?" Lois pointed tentatively to Jonathan's limp form, relived to find none of the woman's menacing claws had actually broken the skin.

The woman's eyes hardened, bright flecks of red circling her diamond shaped pupils.

"I can't... he is..." She hissed, straining her neck back awkwardly. Lois noticed a thick, metal band around it—like an elaborate chocker, or maybe a collar. The woman's head circled slowly back down, flexing in a seemingly impossible manner. When her eyes met Lois again the pupils were completely crimson. "Must. Kill. Jonathan Kent," she intoned monotonously. Lois' expression hardened.

"Yeah, see, I can't let you do that," she stated firmly. The woman's dark green lips pursed in a calculating frown.

"Secondary target acquired," she said in the same lifeless tone. Lois had just enough time to recognise that as probably not a good development, before the woman was rushing towards her, Jonathan slipping to the ground as the grip on him vanished.

Lois managed to dodge the initial charge, and her combat training was good enough to keep the sharp swipes to her head successfully blocked, but as the woman spun round and Lois readied for a spinning kick, the feisty brunette was taken by surprise when a thick, green striped tail wacked her round the side of the head. While trying desperately to blink away the white spots now clouding her vision, Lois was oddly comforted by the thought that an unexpected event like that could hardly constitute a flaw in her technique—because really, who could have predicted a tail? A strong hand gripped her neck and Lois felt her legs start to dangle as they left the ground. The white spots turned an instant, heavy shade of black.

The mysterious woman began tightening her grip, but before she could execute a deadly snap on the other girl's neck a heavy body hurtled into her with a muffled "meow." Lois fell to the floor as the two figures tussled—red diamond eyes meeting yellow; thick brown talons scratching pointed fingernails. Flipping the woman on her back, the other figure leaned over—clawed hands on her shoulders, matted shoulder-length hair trailing down his face.

Two others hurried up behind him. A young man with dirty blonde hair, decked unobtrusively in black hoodie and jeans, and an athletic-looking woman in black Tee and leggings, hands encased with fingerless gloves.

"Looks like Paul's got the threat covered. Bobster, check out the guy, while I see to the girl," the woman instructed, crouching by Lois and checking her pulse, her own jet black ponytail pooling across her shoulders.

Bobster gently placed Jonathan against the hotel wall and touched two fingers to the older man's neck. His nod at also discovering a pulse quickly turned to a head tilt.

"Hey, wait a sec. Phoenix, I know this guy," Bobster muttered. "This is Senator Kent, Clark's father."

Phoenix was laying Lois back into a more comfortable position and spoke without turning round.

"Well, then for god's sake don't let him wake up and see us," she yelled. "If he tells Clark about the rescue, it'll get back to Luthor for sure and these nightly jaunts are way too much fun to stop now!"

Just then, the prehistoric assassin pushed long, powerful legs against her captor's chest, each foot bearing two open claws instead of shoes. The talons dug deep into Paul's skin, making him howl in pain as the force pushed him backwards to the empty space between the couples behind.

"Um, guys?" he muttered, weakly pulling the torn fabric of his ill-fitting shirt. "The rescue's not exactly over yet, and in case you hadn't noticed? The attacker's not exactly human."

Phoenix and Bobster whipped their heads round in time to see the woman flip efficiently onto her feet, eyeing them both with menace.

"Woa," they muttered in unison—Bobster scrambling up nervously while Phoenix pulled a switchblade from the side of her right boot.

"One, two, three new targets acquired," the woman intoned, staring at each of them in turn.

"Well, shit," Phoenix whispered, jumping to her own feet as the woman charged.

"Yikes!" Bobster yelled, holding up his hands—suddenly, there was a slim brick wall inches before their attacker.

The woman crashed into it helplessly, and while it didn't seem to leave her especially damaged she did pause, vivid red eyes blinking in confusion. The hesitation was more than enough for Phoenix, who slipped passed the wall and grabbed the woman quickly round the neck, knife held threateningly beneath her metal collar. The woman started at the change in situation, a touch of honey creeping back to her eyes.

"What happened?" she asked as the wall before her melted, revealing a tentative Paul and Bobster stepping towards them.

"You chose the wrong type of people to mess with," Phoenix muttered, lips curving upwards in a joyous, predatory grin. "Nice necklace by the way. I'd advise you to tell us exactly who you are and what you're up to, or I might just rip it off. Along with the rest of your neck."

Bobster and Paul shot each other a dark look—obviously not relishing the violence as much as their companion.

Taking a deep breath, the woman seemed to gain some form of inner command, making her eyes fully amber once more. She turned them slowly to Phoenix.

"Do it then, if you're going to," she said, thick voiced lowering. "Just make it quick."

Phoenix frowned, her own hazel eyes locking on the diamond ones, and then suddenly she was loosening her grip, backing away with a gasp.

A snarl and tensing of fingers was enough to signify danger to the two men now beside her and a hefty baseball bat appeared in Bobster's hands. A short flick of his wrist and the imaginary wood hit the woman's temple with a loud smack—she crumpled instantly to the ground. Barely a second later the bat had vanished and Bobster put a hand to his head, grimacing.

"Ouch. I do not like conjuring weapons, the follow through is damn difficult," he stated irritably. "Why the hell did you hesitate like that?"

His eyes narrowed at Phoenix, who shook her head in contrition—face wrinkled with a sorrow beyond the situation, and her character.

"She was afraid," the empath whispered, staring at the fallen figure with a kind of curious awe.

"Maybe it was cos we're such an intimidating team, yeah?" Paul suggested brightly. The others shot him a pair of equally withering looks and he licked nervously at the back of his hand before rubbing it a couple of times over his nose.

"No, it wasn't us," Phoenix insisted, shaking her head. "It was like, she was afraid of herself. Like she wanted to die... I think she's in trouble, she needs help."

"Some kind of mind control maybe?" Bobster wondered aloud, turning a now vaguely sympathetic gaze of his own to the unconscious woman.

"Maybe..." Phoenix agreed, wiping a hand over her eyes to try and dispel the foreign emotion still coursing through her.

"So, how do you think we can help?" Paul asked with a shrug.

"We could take her back to the facility," Bobster replied. "I mean, it's what it's for, right? Helping, unusual kinds of people."

Paul sucked in his bottom lip, worried, the move exposing his extra sharp incisors. "I dunno. I don't think the Boss'd take too kindly to a mutant as aggressive as she is. You know he kicks you out if you're too violent," he argued. "Besides, we'd have to tell him how we found her, he'd find out about us... meow." The last sound accompanied a nervous, involuntary twitch of his nose.

"Kid's got a point," Phoenix stated, looking up—tone significantly more collected and serious now. "We might get away with saying we found her, but Luthor likes to push. We take him a murderous mutant and he finds out Jonathan Kent was attacked tonight, he might just connect the dots, and once he does that it's only a matter of time before he finds out about our other escapades."

"So, what do you suggest we do? Just leave her here?" Bobster queried, flailing his arms in a short burst of anger.

"There is another option," Phoenix stated, flicking cool eyes over the two men, lips quirking in a shadow of her former excitement. The others frowned at her, questioning. "We take her back... and just don't tell." Bobster raised his eyebrows.

"Oh yeah. Sneak in a murderous mutant without authorisation. The Boss'll love that," he muttered sceptically.

"Just until we find out what's wrong, and get a better story," Phoenix amended. "Then we can come clean about her, no problem."

"What if we get caught?" Paul asked, forehead furrowed, nose still twitching.

"We just make sure we don't," Phoenix responded. "We've managed it so far, right?"

She flicked her gaze rapidly between the two of them, eyes sparkling with an almost childish amount hope. Eventually Bobster's mouth spread into a matching grin and he shrugged his agreement. Paul's face still clouded, but a sharp tilt of the head proved his equal submission to the plan.

When Jonathan awoke groggily ten minutes later, the street was empty save for an unconscious Lois.

"Lois?" he called, moving slowly towards her. This is getting to be a bad habit, he thought vaguely, blinking away the all too familiar feeling of disorientation. At least his chest lacked the painful tightness of last time—apparently his heart had survived this attack unscathed. "Lois?" he repeated, kneeling beside the girl now with a hand on her shoulder. Lois turned her head, eyes opening with a small moan.

"Mr Kent?" she muttered thickly as the world came back into focus. A few seconds of wooziness and then her eyes widened. "Oh god, where is she?" She sat up in panic, raising a hand soon after to her pounding head. Jonathan placed a steadying hand on her back.

"Steady," he muttered, taking her desperate query as delusion. "From the look of it we were both attacked. Muggers I suspect, there's a lot of them round here," he explained, voice heavy with unwanted experience.

"No, no, it wasn't muggers," Lois insisted as he helped her up. "I saw her. She was, she was like, this big, lizard, thing." Her arms waved in a wild, but ineffective gesture of explanation and Jonathan frowned at her in concern.

"Big, lizard thing?" he repeated, disbelieving. "Lois, I think maybe you hit your head a little too hard." Lois shook said head violently.

"No, Mr. Kent, I didn't imagine it," she pleaded. "She was green, with these dark stripes, and she had a tail. I swear if it wasn't for the tail I could've taken her." She nodded, sombre eyes shining with self-blame at her failure. Jonathan gave a slow, pacifying nod.

"Maybe we should get you inside," he said, reaching a hand to her shoulder. Lois accepted the touch with a sigh.

"You think I'm crazy," she stated.

"No, no of course not," Jonathan assured her. "But you have to admit, attacks by giant lizards aren't exactly the norm for industrial towns. Most likely we were jumped by a couple of thugs looking to score a few bucks. Are you missing anything?" Although he'd asked her, Jonathan began looking round himself, eyes flashing with mounting anxiety. "Wait. Where's my briefcase?"

"Um... last I saw, it was outside the hotel, round the corner there," Lois answered quickly, responding to the urgency of the tone. Jonathan turned, suddenly restless.

"I'd better check it's still there, it's got my speech in..." he muttered. There was a beat of silence. Then a few lines of guilt crossed the Senator's face and he turned back to Lois again. "Are you okay? I mean, if you want me to stay while you rest a while...?"

"Mr. Kent, it's fine," Lois interrupted with a wave of her hand. "I just got a bump on the head, I'll be alright. Go check on your speech, I'll catch you up."

Jonathan nodded thankfully, flashing her a quick smile before hurrying round the corner. Lois' own smile faded the instant he left, face clouding instead with confusion.

"I can't have imagined it, can I?" she muttered under her breath. A careful look round the street indicated nothing out of the ordinary, though, and the flat pavement slabs gave no sign of the struggle so recently executed upon them. Lois was just about to give up and write off her experience as delusion after all, when the wind brought a flash of grey fabric to her attention—one of the ripped pieces from Paul's shirt. Crouching down, Lois picked up the small square of material with a gentle pinch to the corner, not wanting to damage it. Her eyes narrowed as a familiar embroidered image stood out against the grey—the unmistakeable purple and black LuthorCorp insignia.

Back in Smallville, the rest of the Kent family had troubles of their own. Jonathan's quick and unexpected departure had seen him leave without collecting an important proposal addressing needed changes in the Kansas foster care system by Naomi Parks. Not wanting to disturb her husband with it that evening—he was already incredibly stressed about the speech he had yet to complete for the next day—Martha had sent Clark to pick up the report, intending to look over it herself to save Jonathan some time. Instead of the simple collection of papers expected, however, Clark's arrival at Naomi's revealed a tragedy no one could have anticipated, and he and his mom were now watching a young, pigtailed girl on their living room sofa while Clark finished making his statement to the bespectacled sheriff.

"I found Naomi in the kitchen, there was glass everywhere..." Clark shook his head, recalling with a shiver the woman's mutilated body, the slithers of glass and broken mirror embedded in her chest like a sick parody of a pin cushion. "What kind of person could commit such a brutal crime?"

The sheriff shrugged his ignorance, closing his notebook with a mournful sigh. "Well, whoever it was, the sound of your truck probably scared them off," he theorised.

All three of them paused to gaze sombrely at the girl, each facing the same anxious fear—the thought that if Clark hadn't arrived when he did perhaps the child before them would have been a chilling second victim of Naomi's unknown murderer. The thought seemed to rouse the sheriff into action and he made to leave. Martha put a motherly hand on his arm—unlike the town's previous, hard nosed, middle-aged Sheriff Nancy Adams, this was a young man, not much older than Clark and obviously equally effected by the violent crime, Martha's heart went out to him.

"Thank you for letting Maddie stay with us tonight, Sheriff," she said, voice soft and kind as she lead him to the kitchen door. "After all she's been through, there's no reason she should be spending the night in some shelter." Martha sincerely hoped taking Naomi's foster child into her care for the night would benefit the sheriff too, saving him the trouble of finding somewhere to keep the young girl.

"No problem, Mrs. Kent." The man flashed a grateful smile as she opened the door for him. "Child services will come by tomorrow to check in."

"Okay, good. Thank you," Martha nodded as he left. Clark came up behind her as she shut the door and Martha shook her own head in imitation of her son's earlier gesture. "It makes no sense. All Naomi wanted to do was help people. She was a foster parent. She used to run a youth centre..." Martha trailed off, words adding little to her understanding, and the two of them looked back to the young girl through the kitchen's archway—she was now bent over the living room table, engrossed in an elaborate pencil drawing.

"You know, Maddie hasn't said a word since she got here," Clark noted in concern, recalling too the painful silence the young girl had maintained during the truck ride back to the farm—shock perhaps?

"Naomi told me she hasn't spoken since she was three years old," Martha explained quietly, prompting a questioning gaze from her son. "That's when her birth mother was killed."

Clark looked down with a soft nod. "Can't blame her," he said. "She's been through one tragedy after another."

"Countless foster homes..." Martha agreed, forehead creasing as a new thought struck her. "I should call Lionel in London," she stated, somewhat out of the blue to Clark, who turned to her in surprise, eyes darkening.

"Lionel?" he repeated, a little sharper than intended—although not a full-time participant in his father's Senatorial work, it hadn't escaped Clark's attention how involved Lionel Luthor had been in it lately, nor how close he and Martha were becoming. Clark didn't like it one bit.

"Naomi used to run his children's foundation," Martha explained, oblivious to Clark's inner distress. "I really should let him know what happened."

"Well, maybe you should wait a bit," Clark tried, hoping to get her mind off the other man, but Martha shook her head dismissively.

"No, no, it'll only take a minute," she insisted, hurrying away to a telephone. Clark frowned at her retreating form, but the movement of Maddie's arms over her A4 sheet of paper distracted him and Clark realised there was a larger concern to face right now than his mother's opinion of Lionel Luthor.

Slipping on a small smile, Clark stepped slowly through to the living room—at a time like this, the last thing Maddie should be was alone.

"Hey Maddie, what you drawing?" he asked, moving to a cushioned easy chair beside her. Predictably the girl said nothing, continuing to run her pencil quietly along the page.

Leaning over Clark found the picture to be a large, spindly tree with an elaborate array of thin, leafless branches and a thick, black trunk. The bottom branch housed a tatty looking bird with a black beak—a raven perhaps? It really was a remarkable drawing for an eleven year old, if a little depressing.

"You're quite the artist, aren't you?" he said, genuinely impressed.

Maddie ignored him, running the pencil over and over the already heavily shaded tree trunk. The act didn't seem particularly healthy to Clark and he sucked his lip thoughtfully, trying to think of a way to bring the kid out of herself, even for a moment. The corner of his mouth quirked as an idea emerged—if there was one thing he was good at, it was being dorky, and if there was one thing kids loved, it was adults acting inferior to them.

"You know, I'm an artist too," he said, performing an exaggerated raise of his eyebrows when Maddie failed to respond. "What, you don't believe me?" He gave an overly large sigh. "Alright, well I'll just have to prove it to you then." Grabbing a pen and sheet of paper from the collection on the table, he pulled the items onto his lap. Maddie's eyes followed the movement and she turned to him slowly, mouth set in a sad line. "Now, prepare yourself," Clark insisted, ignoring the lack of enthusiasm from his audience and holding the red pen dramatically above the page. "Because this is gonna be a self-portrait, and you might not be able to tell the difference between this, and an actual photograph."

He scribbled for a few seconds while Maddie watched, obviously sceptical, and when he turned the sheet over it displayed a roughly drawn stick man, two dots serving for eyes and a wide curved line forming a smile. Maddie raised her eyebrows unimpressed, and looked from the 'portrait' to the man above it. Clark gave her a sideways look, as though questioning, then broke into a wide, practiced smile—acknowledging both the joke and Maddie's clearly superior talent.

The girl rolled her eyes at the obvious ploy. But a dorky Clark had undeniable charm and after a second her lips curved slowly upwards, making her whole face brighter.

Clark shared a companionable breakfast with Maddie the next morning that made Martha's heart swell—caring about children as much as she did, it was a particular joy to see her own son get on so well with them. Despite his obvious growing affection for the girl, though, Clark begged off babysitting duties for the rest of the day, claiming he had important classes to attend. Not wanting to hamper her son's education, Martha easily agreed to take the day off from the Talon so she could watch Maddie, and Clark beamed sunshine at both of them before hurrying away.

Clark knew his mom would be more than happy having a young child to fuss over again, so felt only a slight twinge of guilt at his lie—because in truth, he had barely any classes that day. What he did have, that didn't seem such a justifiable excuse, was a lunch date with Lex he wasn't going to let anything disrupt, not after he'd spent so long orchestrating it—suggesting it casually at first, carefully repeating it the next morning, then finally prodding Lex into setting a time the next afternoon. The older man even promised to chose the venue, which Clark hoped now wouldn't turn out to be too fancy, considering he'd left home in just a traditional red plaid shirt and jeans. He pondered going home to change, but decided that might make Martha suspicious, and discussing his newly discovered sexual orientation and attraction with his parents wasn't something Clark had planned for the near future. Lex had never seemed too bothered about his choice of clothes anyway.

To Lex, of course, it was just lunch, and not a date—Clark didn't want to suddenly blurt out the desire to start dating his male best friend in case Lex got embarrassed, or worse, disapproving. No, he needed to move cautiously, test the waters, survey the land, look before he leapt. In fact, thanks to his father, Clark had a list of many good platitudes detailing why he was moving so slowly, which were almost enough to convince him it wasn't because he was nervous. In any case, from 1pm onwards he'd be spending a solid hour, at least, alone with the man he loved, whether it lead to anything or not, and Clark was sure that could only be good, right?

By 2.30, Clark and Lex were both walking briskly towards the LuthorCorp building elevators. Lex pressed the call button quickly, then found a seemingly fascinating piece of dust on the collar of his black shirt to keep him occupied until the elevator arrived. Clark, meanwhile, rocked lightly back and forth on his heels—hands in his pockets, eyes focusing anywhere accept the man next to him. They continued to avoid eye contact all the way into the elevator, but once Lex had performed the usual 33.1 security protocol and the doors were closed, they seemed incapable of continuing the evasion.

Backs straight, hands clasped neatly behind them, the two men turned their heads tentatively towards each other until their eyes met in the briefest of glances. They immediately burst out laughing.

"God, Clark, I still can't believe you did that," Lex gasped between chuckles, shoulders shaking with amusement. "And the waiter's face. I'll bet anything he's talking to the press right now. I can just see the headlines." Laughter subdued a little, Lex raised a hand before him, tracing imaginary words. "Lex Luthor poisons Senator's son. It'll be the scandal of the year."

He turned to Clark gleefully, smile open enough to reveal a row of shining white teeth.

Such an obvious, easy display of joy, so rarely seen in Lex, was more than enough to curb Clark's own laughter, leaving a wide, affectionate, slightly wondrous smile.

"Well, you brought it on yourself," Clark insisted with a shrug. "If you will neglect to mention little details like the food we were eating was toxic!" He raised his eyebrows in mock accusation and Lex shook his head, attempting to purse his lips at the charge, but failing entirely as they curved unbidden into a tightly closed grin.

"Clark, everyone knows blowfish skin is poisonous," he protested.

"Okay, overlooking the obvious flaw in that statement," Clark responded, holding a hand up in defiance. "Not all of us common folk know what blowfish look like."

"I told you which dish it was," Lex insisted, glinting with mischief as he leant back against the elevator wall, arms crossed.

"Yeah, in Japanese," Clark smiled back. "Like you ordered the rest of the meal in. Impressive by the way, very fluent." Clark cocked his head in an appreciative manner, but a light shrug was the only acceptance Lex gave the compliment.

"I dunno, when it comes to impressive displays, I still think you stole the show," the older man grinned. Clark gave a dismissive chuckle.

"I hardly think the ability to eat toxic seafood really compares to speaking an exotic language, Lex," he said, trying not to visibly shiver at the memory of Lex's cool voice shaping the strange, foreign and somehow unbelievably attractive phrases. So. Hot.

"This coming from the man who speaks a language not even of this Earth," Lex countered, resting his head against the elevator's dull metal.

"Yeah, but it's not like I spent any time learning it," Clark argued, a little more serious. "It just sort of, downloaded. You put time and effort into your skills, mine are just, there. That's not really so impressive." His lips still curved at the other man but they were a shadow of Clark's former joy. A dulling of his eyes betrayed the sincerity behind his claim. Lex lifted his chin, blue eyes seeming to look down at Clark intently.

"You always put yourself down like that, I don't get it," he said, eyes dark now with familiar curiosity. "If I could do what you can, I'd be ecstatic." Lex's now fully stilled lips quirked to the side in a gentle smirk. "I'd take any excuse to run across the world, or leave myself secret messages in Kryptonian."

Clark hummed a little at that, smile brightening at the pure, childish excitement on Lex's face. Lex grinned back and they shared a quiet, happy moment—until Lex's gaze intensified, making Clark's heart beat faster.

"It's like, you're not just hiding what you are, you're hiding from what you are," Lex said quietly, holding Clark in a thoughtful stare that might have been uncomfortable a week ago, but now just made Clark desperately excited—because this was Lex seeing him, understanding, penetrating, closing the gap between them in a way no one else could, in a way Clark didn't want anyone else to. He had to breathe deeply before responding, tearing away from the other man's eyes, their deep blue threatening to engulf his power of speech.

"I guess there's a lot of things about me I've been afraid to face," he admitted. "But, ah, I think I'm finally starting to figure myself out."

Lex lifted his head and shoulders from the wall in a muted start of surprise at the sudden confidence in the face now raised to his. Clark's calm smile and searching eyes begged a question, but before Lex could form one the 'ping' of the elevator broke the moment. The two of them turned automatically to the opening doors, staring into the empty corridor behind them. A second passed. Then Clark looked down with a blush. Even while Lex smiled at the familiar sight, he was running a hand self-consciously against his neck, plagued by an odd, inexplicable feeling of embarrassment himself.

"So, I better go check on those tests," he muttered, moving the hand from his neck to point down the corridor. "Why were you coming with me again?" he asked over his shoulder as he stepped through the doors.

Behind the other man's back Clark's mouth opened and closed ineffectively for a few seconds as he searched for a suitable reply. I wanted to spend more time with you? Too needy. The tests sounded interesting? Too unbelievable. I hoped I'd get a chance to kiss you again? Um, no.

"Oh, I just... wanted to catch up with the guys, you know," Clark shrugged eventually, hurrying out of the elevator as the doors began to close. Lex turned to flash him a quick smile.

"Well, you know where I am if you need me," he stated before turning briskly down the corridor, heading for one of the military labs.

Damn, Clark thought as he watched Lex leave, trust me to say the only excuse that takes me away from what I want. Because if he really was intending to 'catch up with the guys' he'd now have to head to games room.

Clark's disappointment started to fade as he continued to look over Lex's retreating form, however, gaze moving past the taut fabric on his shoulders down to the loose creases at his lower back and the smooth, tight, rounded curve of his thin cotton pants and... I wonder if Lex is hairless all over?

The edge of Clark's vision was already coated with the green glow of x-ray before a familiar heat behind his eyes provided a much needed distraction. Clark looked away immediately, eyes closing in a series of violent blinks as he realised what he'd been about to do was 1) apparently quite dangerous, he didn't want to burn the facility down because of an excited moment of voyeurism, and 2) incredibly disrespectful, what would Lex think if he knew Clark was invading his privacy like that? Come to that, what would Lex think about Clark wanting to invade his privacy like that? Clark might be surer of his own desires lately, but he still wasn't certain of Lex's. Maybe the older man really wouldn't be interested, maybe this was just another vain dream like Lana had been, maybe... As Clark's insecurities continued to batter him down, the troubled young man was suddenly immensely grateful to have ended up where he was, because there was one member of the facility who might just prove a useful confidant right now.

Clark breathed a small sigh of relief when he spotted the individual in question leaning against the near pool table through the door to the games room. He was muttering something to Molly who leant her back against the table beside him, fingers tapping pensively against the felt. On her other side, Phoenix placed a gloved hand on Molly's shoulder, apparently entreating. They seemed to be the only ones in the room and the conversation looked important, so Clark slipped inside and stood quietly by the doorway, not wanting to interrupt. The three of them were so involved with each other they didn't even notice his entrance.

"No, I don't want to get involved," Molly muttered, shaking her head so the lenses of her black rimmed, rectangular glasses flashed in the overhead light, obscuring her eyes—Clark couldn't tell if she was angry or nervous.

"Molly, come on, please," Phoenix insisted. "You might be the only one who can help us." The computer expert shrugged the other girl's gloved hand sharply away, stepping from the table with another, firmer, shake of her head.

"Molly," Bobster called after her lightly, prompting a quick turn and focused stare from the retreating woman.

"I spent a long time being despised and exploited because of my ability," she retorted, with obvious anger this time. "This is the one place I've found where I actually feel safe. Where I'm actually starting to feel happy. I will not jeopardise that."

Bobster and Phoenix blinked a little at Molly's hostility, but before they could respond she spun round and stormed outside. Clark winced a little as she yanked the door open beside him and hurried away. The two figures by the pool table shared a look of worry—Phoenix calculating, Bobster apologetic.

"Stay here," Phoenix instructed. "I'll go talk to her."

Bobster opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again soon after with a sigh. He met the empath's eyes with a small nod. She nodded back briefly before tracing Molly's steps passed Clark and hurrying outside in pursuit. Once she was gone, Bobster moved over to the circular cards table and sat back heavily at one of the chairs. After a moment he pulled a rather tattered pack of cards from his jeans pocket, slipped the faded elastic band around them over his wrist and began to shuffle compulsively. Clark stepped from his apparent spot of invisibility by the doorway and moved next to the other man.

"Um, what was all that about?" he asked, pulling up a chair of his own and clasping his hands across the table's wooden surface. Bobster ceased his shuffling and looked up in surprise.

"Clark. Hi." He flashed a quick smile. "You mean what just happened with Molly? It was nothing. Really," he shook his head with an exaggerated shrug. "Just a small disagreement... What brings you here today anyway?"

Bobster was acting strangely and he knew it, but his last query sent Clark's mind vividly back to Lex, providing the young mage with exactly the distraction he was fishing for.

"Actually, I was kinda looking for you," Clark explained, trying not to blush. Bobster raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, really?" he responded, slipping into a faint grin. "How can I be of service?"

"Okay. Well, see, you're... um... you're..." Clark faltered, uncertain.

"Dashingly handsome?" Bobster supplied, eyes shining with amusement now. "Fiendishly Clever? Stunningly Sexy?" Clark's face relaxed to a smile.

"Gay," he stated more confidently. Bobster tilted his head in acknowledgment.

"Also true," he nodded, crossing his arms over the cards and leaning forward. "Why the sudden interest?" Clark leaned back a little at the obvious come on, moving his hands from the table to his thighs.

"Oh, I, ah... I was wondering, how you could tell, you know, how other people are, similarly inclined," he shrugged, flashing a vaguely apologetic smile and attempting to sound casual—badly. Bobster shrugged in an 'oh well' gesture, sitting back again.

"Ah, I see, you want the secrets of my gaydar," he chuckled. "I don't know Clark, it's a closely guarded ability. I'm not sure you're worthy of such knowledge." Clark looked down with a grin.

"Oh, well in that case I'm sorry I bothered you," he muttered, playing along. Bobster gave a small laugh.

"Nah, I'm just kidding," he continued, waving a hand. "A lot of straight guys wanna know how I tell and honestly? I don't have a method. I mean, a lot of different things can tip you off. How people dress, the way they move, the way they phrase things. Figuring it out isn't a skill, it's more of an art," he nodded seriously, warming to the subject and Clark listened attentively. "The more you look, the more you notice, and you get better at it over time, until it's practically second nature. Like with the people here. I had their preferences down from the moment I arrived."

"Really?" Clark interrupted, impressed. Bobster grinned at the interest in the other man's tone.

"Oh sure," he replied. "I could tell you, if you like." Clark gave a side smile, moving to shake his head but stopping, eyes flicking to Bobster's in guilty curiosity. "So, Mikhail," Bobster began at once. "He's up for a bit of fun with a guy, no problem, but when it comes to solid relationships he's a definite ladies man. Which makes it good he found Molly cos she's basically the same—gender reversed of course. Paul, well, I'd say he's in limbo right now. Still trying to figure his feline tendencies, let alone his sexual ones. Phoenix, now she was easy. Completely straight, one hundred percent. Shame really, cos I think Molly's kinda keen for a threesome..."

Clark's eyebrows shot up at that, cheeks flushing red as he looked away. Bobster paused at the reaction, biting his lip to stop himself laughing.

"Too much?" he asked, face lit with a wide smile he couldn't prevent. Clark looked back without meeting the other man's eyes.

"No, no... I mean... It's not that I mind, exactly," Clark flustered. "It's just not something talked about so much in my town." Bobster nodded his understanding.

"Have I said enough to satisfy your inquiring mind anyway?" he questioned. Clark nodded slowly.

"Yeah, yeah I get the idea..." he muttered, staring thoughtfully over Bobster's shoulder. "I don't suppose you, ah... you've given any thought to the staff?" he persisted with the same faux casualness as earlier. Bobster's face somehow brightened and darkened at once.

"I have had an eye on a certain Jason Blades for a while now," he said, turning strangely quiet. "Not so much with the success just recently..."

"Right, yeah..." Clark nodded, distracted, eyes nervous as they flicked to Bobster's now distant ones. "So, um, thought about Lex at all?" he finished quickly. Bobster's gaze focused back to Clark's in surprise.

"The Boss?" he clarified. Clark gave a jerky nod and overly bright smile in response. Bobster turned his head, fixing Clark with an odd, calculating look. "Why?"

"Oh, you know, just curious," Clark replied, leaning back in his chair in an obviously fake display of disinterest. Bobster looked over him, disbelieving, and Clark continued hurriedly. "I mean, you hear so much about him in the papers and it makes you wonder, you know? I thought about asking him myself, but it seems kinda rude, and it's not like I mind anyway, it won't change how I see him or anything and it's not like it's even that important, I was just thinking about it and..."

"He's bi," the other man interrupted—a small, knowing smile on his lips.

"Really?" Clark queried immediately, excitement dispelling all attempts at deception.

"Complete bisexual, no question," Bobster assured. Clark crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward, mimicking the other man's earlier movement.

"How can you be sure though? He has been married twice," he insisted—the need for clarification on this suddenly all consuming.

"Key words here are 'has been,'" Bobster noted, leaning forward to mirror Clark's position, presenting them as conspirators. "It proves he's not adverse to women, sure, but considering his lack of solid relationships over the past two years, I'd say the appeal of the opposite sex is starting to wear off."

Clark nodded, thinking of the girl in diamond earrings who'd framed Lex for murder.

"Women do have a tendency to threaten his life on a regular basis," he noted seriously—apparently oblivious to the specific turn in the discussion, and Bobster's strangely detailed knowledge of Lex's sex life.

"Exactly," Bobster agreed. "The fairer sex has proved disillusioning. I'd say the Boss is on the look out for a guy right about now." He raised his eyebrows with subtle nod in Clark's direction. Thoroughly absorbed, Clark mirrored the movement, eyes wide.

"Yeah?" he asked, tone undeniably hopeful.

Bobster gave a deeper nod back and the two of them fixed on each other for a moment—Bobster with a cool, closed, knowledgeable smile; Clark open-mouthed, face aglow with obvious delight. Then Clark seemed to realise what he was giving away and moved back abruptly, slipping his arms along the wood and grabbing at the curved edge of the table.

"Right, um, interesting, thanks," he mumbled to his hands. Bobster continued to smile at him.

"You know, Clark," he said slowly, while Clark continued to look down, embarrassed. "I think I know something you might be interested in..."

Clark was raising his head, curious, when the sound of his cell phone ringing, particularly loud in the stillness of the room, made him jump. Hurrying to his feet, Clark put one hand to his vibrating right pocket and waved the other vaguely.

"Sorry Bobster, I better..." he grimaced in apology. "Sorry." One last shrug and he stepped swiftly away, whipping out his cell as he walked. Phoenix opened the door as he reached it and blinked at the unexpected body before her.

"Clark, hey," she greeted, forming the beginning of a smile.

"Yeah, hey Phoenix," Clark muttered, raising the phone to his ear and moving passed her with barely a glance.

Phoenix stayed in the doorway for a few seconds, frowning, before letting the handle go with a shrug.

"So, what was that about?" she queried, slipping into the chair Clark had just vacated. Bobster leant back, his grin oddly smug.

"You still can't read Clark, can you?" he stated. Phoenix narrowed her eyes.

"No, I can't," he replied, tone laced with a long held irritation. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing," Bobster shrugged. "What happened with Molly?" His face quickly sobered and the empath's eyes darkened in response.

"I convinced her to change her mind," she replied quietly. Bobster frowned.

"How?" he asked, tone implying accusation. Phoenix rolled her eyes.

"Nothing untoward," she insisted. "I just explained Raptor's emotional condition in greater detail. Molly knows what it's like to have your powers manipulated, I appealed to her better nature, that's all." Bobster nodded, but still looked unhappy.

"Is Molly with her now?" he asked.

"Yes, but don't worry. Paul's there too, he'll make sure she stays safe. There won't be any more accidents." Her face softened. "How is Jason?" Bobster looked down with a sigh.

"He's gonna be okay," he muttered. "The worst thing was the scratch on his arm, but it's treated now and healing."

"Good, that's good," Phoenix said. Bobster looked up at her, face dark, and she flinched under the glare, turning away.

"It's not 'good,' Phoenix," he insisted, quiet tone masking the anger his companion so clearly felt. "He could have died."

"But he didn't," Phoenix responded, face still tight with the pain of Bobster's emotion. "And he didn't even turn us in, he's covering for us, he understands why we're doing this."

"No, he's covering for me." Bobster shook his head sadly and his companion's face cleared somewhat. "It's not fair on him, Phoenix. And it's not fair on Molly either. This is too much for us, we should tell the Boss."

"No, not yet," Phoenix shot back. "Just give Molly a few hours to look over the collar, see what she can do." No longer the confident leader from the night before, Phoenix was obviously pleading, almost desperate. Bobster shook his head, brow furrowing more out of pity than anger.

"Why is this so important to you, Phoenix?" he asked, genuinely baffled. "Our nights out, hiding things from the Boss—it's more than just helping people, it matters to you personally, everyone sees it." Phoenix kept her head up, but her eyes flicked down. She sighed in what seemed like defeat.

"I... it's just, ever since I got my power, it's like, I lost myself," she explained, voice soft. "Life wasn't my own anymore. It was all about other people—their pain, their desires. Even here where it's kept in check I'm still not myself. I'm, whoever that drug makes me, the girl under Luthor's control,"

"Phoenix..." Bobster interrupted.

"No, no, don't dismiss it like that," Phoenix said over him. "This isn't another of my rants, okay? I'll admit my previous ideas about the guy might have been a little melodramatic. Luthor's not the fascist dictator I made him out to be. But in any case, that's irrelevant. This isn't about Luthor, it's about me. Because, whether it's deliberate or not, I am dependant on the guy, on this place, on that fucking serum. I just want to have part of my life independent of that. I want to do something myself for change."

Her shoulders sagged heavily and Phoenix rested her cheek in a gloved palm. The eyes that met Bobster's weren't just sad—they burned with an inner frustration, her forehead wrinkled with self-disgust. He sighed.

"Three hours," he stated. "We'll give her three hours. But then we come clean."

He gave Phoenix a flat smile, trying to keep his affection stronger than his pity. The empath smiled weakly in response, aware of her friend's utter failure but thankful for his attempt.

Clark walked briskly to the barn, a rather bored but obedient Maddie in tow. He was actually quite glad his mother had called him away from Bobster earlier—a delivery crisis at the Talon forcing her to leave Maddie for the rest of the afternoon. As helpful as the guy had been, Clark had been uncomfortable with how close the other man had got to Clark's personal feelings—and considering they were feelings so incredibly new to Clark, or perhaps incredibly old, the young Kryptonian wasn't so keen on sharing them with anyone just yet. Not until he'd fully come to terms with them anyway. Or until he'd told Lex—assuming those two acts weren't, in fact, the same thing.

In any case, taking care of Maddie was proving a welcome and challenging distraction from his love life just now. Challenging because, due to her lack of speech, it was particularly difficult to gauge her emotion. After ten minutes of watching the girl doodle aimless lines across a blank page though, Clark had suspected drawing to be a no longer desired pass-time, so he'd suggested a tour of the farm. He'd always loved being outdoors as a kid and figured there'd be no harm in giving Maddie some fresh air. The cornfield and cow pasture had held little excitement for the girl, which Clark supposed was unsurprising, if you couldn't use them as places to practice superspeed he figured they probably weren't so interesting. So Clark hoped the barn might be just the thing to fill the current lack in entertainment—it had been one of his and Pete's favourite haunts back in elementary school after all.

"And this is the world famous Kent barn," he stated, opening his arms dramatically as the two of them entered.

Maddie looked round obligingly, blonde pigtails sliding off her pink jacket and white T-shirt as she raised her head to take in the upper level. While not entirely disinterested, Clark recognised a distinct 'what's in this for me' look in the young girl's eye—hard to mistake, he'd seen on Lex often enough, but then he was trying not to think about Lex right now, wasn't he?

"You know, when I was about your age, my dad used to let me jump in the haystacks here," Clark continued, for his own benefit as much as Maddie's.

The girl raised a sceptical eyebrow—it seemed to be a trademark—and Clark looked round at the conspicuously empty area behind him. His dad must have moved all the hay out yesterday—unfortunate, Clark had really been hoping some physical entertainment might be just what Maddie needed to bring her out of the default blue funk she always seemed to withdraw to. Of course, there was plenty more hay outside, and collecting it would only take a few seconds... Clark turned with a bright, thoughtful smile.

"Hey, why don't you close you eyes and turn around. I got a surprise for you," he said with a hint of excitement. Kids loved magic tricks, or at least Clark always had, and he hoped to make this a good one. Maddie looked uncertain and he held up his hands in defence. "It'll be worth it, I promise."

With a small, humouring shrug, Maddie eventually complied and Clark zipped out the instant her back was turned. A few seconds later he'd piled an impressive amount of hay into the space behind her and Clark didn't think he'd ever been happier about his powers than when Maddie turned round again with a bored sigh and opened her eyes. Her lips parted in instant astonishment, dull expression sharpening to shock, then quickly softening in a delightful expression of wonder. Clark beamed as she started to move closer.

"So, what do you think? Wanna give it a try?" he suggested, waving a hand over the newly created stack, small bits of hay still fluttering round him as his superspeed breeze continued dying down.

Maddie's eyes moved in a quick flick from him to the haystack's peak—delight dissolving. Clark's brow furrowed for a moment as he followed her gaze, then cleared in understanding.

"Let me guess? You're afraid of heights?" he queried sympathetically. Maddie looked back, face flushed a little in shame, and Clark smiled in reassurance. "I can relate," he said, tone low and confidential. Maddie gave a now familiar look of disbelief and Clark moved to crouch in front of her. "You know Maddie, we actually have more in common than you think," he insisted gently. "I'm an orphan too." Maddie narrowed her eyes, as though suspecting another trick like yesterday's claim of artistry. Clark gave a soft, flat smile, and Maddie must have found something she recognised in the expression because she returned it with a small, understanding nod and smile of her own.

A whine and patter of Shelby's padded feet interrupted the moment but Clark found it difficult to resent the intruder when Maddie's face lit up brighter than a Christmas tree at the sight of Clark's canine friend. Since Maddie's arrival, Clark and Martha had been keeping Shelby outside, not wanting him to disturb their houseguest—entirely the wrong decision Clark realised, as Maddie hurried passed him and wrapped her arms round the golden retriever without a second thought.

As he stood up, Clark gave an inward chuckle at being shunned for a dog, his gaze turning curious when Maddie knelt forward and put her lips to Shelby's ear. A quick adjust to his hearing and the soft but distinct phrase "hey boy, good doggie" was hitting Clark with delightful resonance. Now it was Clark's turn to smile in amazement, because no one else had heard Maddie speak in years, Clark was in no doubt about how much of a breakthrough this was. He knew better than to confront the girl about it though, knowing from experience that when you wanted to hide something being asked about it was the one sure-fire way of continuing the silence. So he moved over quietly, hiding his excitement.

"Looks like Shelby likes you," he said lightly, deliberately keeping focus on Maddie's obvious area of interest. She continued stroking the happy animal as Clark crouched down again, grinning as though in agreement of his statement. "Animals are great aren't they?" Clark continued in a similar vein—this time Maddie turned to him, replying with an actual nod. Clark grinned—definite progress, animals were clearly the way to this girl's heart. "They listen to you, don't say mean things back," he stated, reasoning aloud why a young, lost little girl might find it easier to confide in a dog instead of a human—the way Maddie's smile faded to curious interest suggested a truth behind Clark's theory. He took a breath, his next suggestion was a long shot, but he figured it was worth a try. "Look, I might not be as furry as Shelby, or wag my tail and bark, but I promise I'll never say mean things to you."

Maddie regarded him seriously for a few seconds and Clark was just beginning to think he really had got through to her when her gaze shifted above him, to the barn loft he supposed. Oh well, can't really expect her to open up after just a day, Clark thought, trying not to feel disappointed. Just because he felt connected due to his own intense times of loneliness as a kid didn't mean she should feel the same way, she was still a lonely kid herself after all, it'd take more than a few friendly gestures to...

"What's up there?"

The clear, youthful voice carried strongly across the barn and Clark was completely thrown. It wasn't nervous or shaky as Clark had imagined her first words might be, but bright and collected—the sign of a feisty, independent personality hiding beneath Maddie's timid demeanour. It felt like their roles had reversed when Clark found himself, inconveniently, incapable of any response beyond a delighted smile. Fortunately, Maddie seemed to find this amusing rather than neglectful and grinned at Clark before running passed him again with new excitement, hurrying up the barn's wooden staircase.

"It's... kinda like my clubhouse," Clark explained as he stood up, finally finding his voice.

"Oh, your so lucky," Maddie's clear, melodic tone called down to him as Clark started up the steps behind her. Reaching the top, Clark found her examining the books on his desk with interest.

"You can be lucky too, Maddie," he insisted as she moved to examine his telescope, touching it respectfully with her fingertips. "It's not too late, we're gonna find you a good family."

"People don't like me," Maddie responded, sadly matter-of-fact, as she moved to spin the large globe on the desk to the left.

"What?" Clark replied, sure to fill his tone with incredulity. "Well, those people are crazy. I like you."

His comment was rewarded by a wide grin as Maddie turned back to him and Clark found it impossible not to copy the gesture. He wondered vaguely if this was what Chloe and his mother had meant when they'd tried explaining how his own open smile made people feel.

Maddie turned happily back to the desk, looking over the disorganised collection of notes beside Clark's laptop. The corner of a photograph poked out between the pages and Maddie automatically pulled it out. It was one of him and Lex taken by Chloe years ago at, of all things, Lex's first wedding, and instantly brought back all of the emotions Clark was trying to avoid. After his epiphany a few days ago, he'd wanted a reminder of Lex to hold on to—something tangible that proved him part of Clark's life. His first thought had been of the lead box Lex had given him their first day of friendship and Clark had literally cursed himself for giving it to Lana. He'd spent the rest of the night looking through old photographs for an image of both of them and been appalled to discover how little evidence of Lex he had.

Even without the issue of romance, he and Lex had spent a lot of time together as friends and Clark was shocked to think they'd left nothing to show of that. No strips of photo booth pictures with them pulling faces, like he had with Pete and Chloe. No nicely posed shots like the one of him and Lana outside the Talon. No random, leisurely images during an outing at the bowling alley or ice-skating rink. But then, Lex had never really been around for those friendly nights out. Clark hadn't even thought to invite him; assuming bowling, ice-skating and nacho and hot-dog dinners would somehow be distasteful to the billionaire—beneath him. It had occurred to Clark then it was probably exactly that sort of thinking that had kept Lex alone so much of his life—maybe if he'd taken Lex with him and the others on trips like that, blending their two worlds, instead of always meeting the guy on his side of the social divide, perhaps their relationship would have progressed much faster, instead of stagnating as it had done.

Clark was starting to see the motivation behind Lex's secret room a lot differently when he'd found the photo from Lex's marriage to Desiree. It was just after cutting the cake. Lex, the flushing, happy groom had grabbed his best man round the shoulders and waved at Chloe to snap the picture—he'd wanted something informal to contrast with the stiff, orchestrated images arranged by the professional photographer, he'd said. Clark wondered at the request now—maybe the other man had also been concerned about the lack of evidence of their friendship. He'd been considering framing the image—the wide, unusually open smile Lex was sporting a definite point in its favour. Clark himself was standing quietly beneath Lex's embrace, for once the less tactile of the two, his own hands clasped neatly before him—a testament to his unease about the wedding. Chloe had certainly proved her worth as a reporter with the picture though, capturing Clark at exactly the right moment when his face was alight with happiness at being singled out—his small, closed smile seemingly lesser than Lex's on first viewing, but the momentary gleam in Clark's eyes proved both men to be mirrors of pleasure. Clark feared the falsity of the situation—with Lex under Desiree's kryptonite induced power—perhaps invalidated the image, which was why he hadn't framed it yet. It remained on his desk uncertainly because of a vaguely recalled conversation with Chloe after the whole Desiree thing was over—Clark wasn't sure, but he thought he remembered her telling him Lex had requested no other informal pictures that day, not even of himself and his bride.

Maddie tilted her head at the picture now, looking from the image of Lex to the living Clark beside her with a small frown.

"Is that your brother?" she asked, obvious doubt in her voice. Clark supposed a family connection was the only explanation she could think of for the intimacy of their pose.

"Ah, no. No he's not," he muttered awkwardly, taking the photo from her with a gentle tug and placing it back on the desk. "He's, just a friend. A good friend," he concluded, the truth of the statement making him sadder than intended.

Picking up on his melancholy, Maddie frowned in confused sympathy and Clark felt it was time to change the subject. Having just established the breakthrough of talking he hardly wanted to burden the girl with his own worries. Or worse, find himself embroiled in a talk on sexuality.

"Hey, you wanna go for a horseback ride?" he asked with a grin, pressing her love of animals to his advantage. "Just you and me?" Maddie mimicked his grin immediately and nodded with excitement. "Okay, let's go." Clark headed back to the staircase with Maddie close behind.

"You have horses?" she queried in delight as they reached the flat halfway point and moved towards the second set of steps.

"So you can talk," a light, feminine voice called from below and Clark and Maddie stopped in surprise at the sight of Lana moving up towards them.

Her dark hair was tied back neatly in a ponytail and her chocolate coloured pants matched her well-cut cream blouse nicely. Her face was rosy and smiling and the exact opposite of the grim, pasty vision she'd been the last time Clark had seen her. He'd heard from Lex and Chloe how well she'd recovered from her kryptonite serum experience, but since his former fiancée had given no indication of wanting to see him in its aftermath, Clark had reverted back to his original game plan and continued to leave her alone to deal with the break of their engagement her own way. Seeing her now was awkward, but also something of a relief—it suggested she'd succeeded in coming to terms with things, meaning the two of them could maybe work on restoring their friendship again now. Her healthy, happy appearance was also an undeniably welcome sight and Clark's smile at her was genuine.

"Lana, hey," he said, while Maddie slipped behind him wearily. "What are you doing here?"

"Your mom called," Lana explained, averting her eyes in embarrassment. "She explained about Maddie and asked if I could help out. I figured you'd have it covered but she insisted, so..." she shrugged a little in apology and Clark nodded his understanding.

"You think maybe her request had more to do with the two of us than anything else," he theorised and Lana met his gaze with a small smile. It certainly wasn't much of a stretch—the Kents had been quietly devastated about the break-up, and Clark suspected sending Lana here was his mom's attempt at playing matchmaker. "Well, whatever the reason, it really is good to see you," Clark nodded, surprised to realise he meant it. His desires on Lana might not be the same, but he still valued her company. "Maddie?" he turned to his new protégée, surprised to find her standing so close, and put a gentle arm round her shoulders, bringing her forward. "This is my friend Lana. She loves horses too."

Lana grinned at that and held out her hand. "Hey Maddie. It's great to meet you," she said brightly. Maddie looked her up and down uncertainly and leant back against Clark's hand.

"She's a little shy," Clark explained—matter-of-fact, not patronising. Lana dropped her hand with only a slight flicker of disappointment crossing her eyes.

"I understand," she said lightly. "So, Clark mentioned horses, were you about to go saddle up? Riding's always been my favourite hobby, I'd love to join you."

Maddie looked up at Clark unhappily. He understood the pleading look but didn't want to push Lana away now when she'd come all the way from Metropolis to be here. He tried to give the girl a reassuring smile but Maddie's responsive frown proved it inefficient. Lana wasn't blind to the exchange and though her smile widened, her eyes were dimmer now.

"Oh, you want to be alone with Clark," she stated, tone betraying a matching desire. "Well, look, don't worry. I'll gallop on ahead."

Maddie seemed to realise keeping away from Clark was far from Lana's intent though and the girl backed further into Clark's embrace, apparently unwilling to relinquish her new friend just yet. The look of concern between the two adults seemed to further her unhappiness and angry lines began to mar her face. Clark felt a light shiver course through the young girl's body and her eyes screwed up in fear. But before Clark could ask what was wrong, the fairy lights lining the loft burst violently one by one.

Lana lifted her hands against the falling glass, while Clark looked down at Maddie in shock. Eyes open again now, Maddie looked between Clark and Lana in open trepidation before breaking from Clark's hold and rushing away.

Clark and Lana shared a worried look, recalling the horrific way Naomi had died—body punctured all over with shards of broken glass.

The tapping of Lex's biro echoed across the expansive Metropolis office, filters in the window behind him soaking skin, laptop and desk in the same cold, pale blue. The sharp, regular rhythm of plastic against wood might have annoyed the billionaire had his senses been tuned into it but as it was his mind was far from the wide, blue-tinted room right now—instead, it was back in the LuthorCorp elevator with Clark, where it had been all morning, trying to find meaning behind the younger man's cool, confident, curious smile. Lex had seen many expressions on Clark by now, ranging from friendly to hostile, happy to fearful, but the pure, excited confidence his friend had displayed earlier was something entirely new. It hadn't been arrogance, like RedK provided, but an open, honest display of a man completely sure of himself—which, on Clark, was particularly unusual. Yes, his blush seconds later had brought back the uncertain farmboy Lex knew so well, but for a second Lex had seen something in Clark he couldn't define and the need to understand it was consuming him. It was like not knowing about Clark all over again.

There were many sides to Clark Kent, Lex had always known that, even if he hadn't always known what they were. It was one of the first things that had fascinated him about the boy—the way he could lie and deceive and yet still retain the angelic innocence Lex found so attractive. Now he knew the truth though, Lex had thought he was beginning to grasp the inner workings of the other man pretty well, so this new, unreadable moment seemed to bring him right back to square one.

When the office door burst open beneath the well-manicured hands of a smartly dressed Lois Lane, therefore, secretary stepping timidly after her, Lex was fortunately too distracted to give his employee the reprimand she so feared—dismissing her with a vague, nonchalant "don't worry, Miss Robinson, I'll take care of it." Once the petite brunette disappeared behind the sliding doors Lois lost no time in getting straight to the point.

"So, I know you were peeved about the guy putting a stopper on your political aspirations, but I'm really hoping your response isn't as murderous as the evidence implies," she stated, stopping inches before the desk and folding her arms imposingly across her white turtleneck sweater.

Lex blinked at her for a moment, face blank, then his forehead wrinkled lightly as he noticed the biro in his hand for what seemed to be the first time. Resting it carefully beside his laptop, he raised his eyes over the screen to meet the firm glare Lois had fixed on him. Any other time a visit from Lois Lane would have been incredibly inconvenient—while he admired her determination and refusal to back down, her personality was forceful and in need of careful attention. Not unlike his own, he supposed. Just now, though, his ability to work was shot anyway and the required concentration for the woman might be just what was needed to restore his focus.

"Lois," he muttered with a flat smile. "It is, as always, a joy to see you. If you'd care to explain your accusation further perhaps I'll be able to help you."

"Mr. Kent and I were attacked last night," she explained coldly. "I found this at the scene."

Reaching into one of the many outside pockets in her brown jacket Lois pulled out the grey strip of fabric from the previous night and held it out. Lex, attention fully gained now upon hearing about Jonathan, closed his laptop with a frown and reached out to take the item. He struggled for a second against an iron tight grip before nodding his acknowledgement that Lois wanted to keep the cloth. He didn't need to hold it to recognise his company's logo anyway, or the distinctive grey colouring that belonged to only one security team on his payroll. If yet another 33.1 employee had betrayed him, so soon after the business with Simone, there was going to be serious hell to pay at the facility after this.

"Is Mr. Kent alright?" he asked quickly, starting his cross-examination with the highest priority. Lois nodded, hostility fading slightly at Lex's obvious concern.

"He's okay, just a few bruises," she explained. "He thinks the attack was a failed mugging. I didn't tell him about this, he's got an important speech to give this evening, I didn't want to burden him with extra stress." Lex nodded.

"Am I to take it that because of that scrap of material you assume I'm somehow responsible for the attack?" he asked, shuttered face revealing none of his own deductions. Lois tutted loudly.

"Do you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to come here and confront you if that was the case?" she asked, voice tinted with exasperation. Lex smirked.

"Do you honestly want me to answer that?" he replied, thoroughly amused by the dark look Lois shot him.

"Look," she muttered stiffly, clearly annoyed but trying to hide it. "As much as I personally think of you as spoiled, egotistical and not entirely trustworthy, I put a lot of trust in the opinions of my friends and family, and Chloe and Smallville? They've had a lot of good words to say about you recently. So it's for their sake I'm here giving you a chance to explain yourself, instead of making my statement at the Metropolis PD."

Lex's smirk softened to a more genuine smile, heart lightening at the thought of Clark standing up for him again. Chloe's support an unexpected, but welcome bonus.

"Well, thank you for the consideration," he nodded genially. "But I'm afraid I can't help you. Mr Kent and I may have our differences, but I would never advocate any violence against him." Blue eyes shone fiercely with the claim. "There are also countless people in Metropolis who might have cause to wear my company's symbol. Expecting me to recognise one particular variety is like asking me to find a needle in a haystack. I'll have the matter investigated immediately, of course, but I'm afraid I can't make any promise of success."

"So you're claiming LuthorCorp didn't send someone to attack Mr. Kent?" Lois persisted. Lex frowned, his statement had said as much and something in Lois' tone implied more than a desire for clarification—there was something he still hadn't been told.

"If they did, it certainly wasn't sanctioned by me," he responded, years of corporate politics having taught him to avoid straight answers. Lois nodded, eyes narrowing.

"What about unlawful experimentation on humans?" she queried unexpectedly. "I know the company has a history of several, shall we say, unethical projects. Are there maybe any in the works right now?"

"It's true my father was known to use the company as a means of support for various illegal experiments. A personal obsession of his," Lex replied automatically, mind working intensively as his lips formed the appropriate phrases—what could have lead Lois to this line of inquiry? He'd assumed involvement of the 33.1 staff, but could she have seen one of the inhabitants as well? "Since I took control, I've made sure to cut off any and all connections LuthorCorp had in such projects and have no intention of re-establishing anything similar," he concluded. "Why do you ask?" Lois shrugged.

"Oh, just curious," she replied, following it up with a vague smile that had Lex convinced she was lying—she'd definitely witnessed something inhuman last night. "Well, thanks for your help. Be sure to keep in touch about that investigation."

"I will," Lex assured.

Lois gave a final, sharp stare—one that said 'I think you're lying but hope you're not'—before stepping briskly out of the office. Lex put a hand to his mouth and stared at the closed door thoughtfully for a few minutes. Staff he could deal with, but one of the facility's members acting out could prove more of a problem. Moving his hand to reveal pursed lips, Lex hit a button on the intercom beside him.

"Miss Robinson? I need you to put me in touch with a Jason Blades. Urgently."

"Get your hands off me. This is harassment you know!"

Apparently deaf to Phoenix's pleas, the two blank faced security guards continued to grip her struggling shoulders tightly, all but dragging her down the 33.1 corridor. Once they'd reached the living quarters' small medical room they threw her unceremoniously inside and promptly disappeared, shutting the door firmly on their way out.

Phoenix rubbed her bruised shoulders with a scowl and looked around. The familiar plain wooden table topped by state of the art computer met her gaze, along with the two comfy leather chairs surrounding it intended for doctor and patient. Both seats were currently unoccupied, however, despite the three figures already in the room. Paul was backed nervously against the left wall, clicking his long fingernails absently, while Bobster stood over to the right, hands in his pockets. Both of them eyed Phoenix cautiously as she entered, but she gave them barely a glance in return—focus drawn with undeniable necessity towards the third, black shirted figure resting casually against the table, black coat pooling round his ankles like a living, secondary shadow.

"Phoenix, so glad you could join us," Lex drawled, hard eyes and flat mouth destroying any politeness the greeting might have contained.

"Didn't exactly have much choice," Phoenix muttered, sour mood increased by her ignorance as to whether it was her own anger or Lex's she was currently expressing. "What's this all about?"

"Well, now that you're all here, I was hoping the three of you could tell me," Lex replied, turning to grab a collection of newspapers from the table behind him. "I recently invested in some back issues of The Inquisitor and some of the stories have been absolutely fascinating." He raised an eyebrow at the others and the three of them shared an uneasy glance. Lex held the top paper in front of him. "I was saved from muggers by Catman," he read dryly, discarding the article immediately and moving to another. "Burglar caught red-handed claims he was trapped in non-existent cage. Phantom knife-thrower protected my son from street gang."

This small selection of headlines was apparently enough for Lex, who threw the rest of the papers back on the table with a resounding smack. His gaze moved darkly over the others before him, making Paul bite off a fingernail, while Phoenix and Bobster stared gamely back.

"All of that sounds oddly familiar, don't you think?" Lex noted, tone deceptively calm—the lull before a storm. Phoenix gave a weak chuckle.

"Familiar? As a trashy sci-fi novel maybe. Surely you've got more sense than to believe anything from that rag?" she muttered—Lex's disrespect for the paper had been a successful defence against the stories for the last few weeks after all, it was a worthy argument. The man's icy glare in response assured everyone it was no longer valid.

"You can cut the crap, Phoenix," Lex snapped back making her wince. "I know everything, Jason already turned you in."

"What!" Bobster cried. "No way. He promised me he wouldn't say anything, he..." The young blonde trailed off as Lex turned to him with a curious head tilt, Phoenix grimacing at her friend in irritation as he did so. Bobster sighed. "And he didn't. But now I have." The faint smile Lex gave him was oddly proud, as though in admiration of the deduction.

"Indeed," the older man agreed. "Jason said nothing except that he'd leant one of his work shirts to Paul. His injured arm and the way a section of said shirt ended up at a crime scene last night was enough to send me investigating." Phoenix shot Paul a dirty look.

"Damn it Paul, couldn't you take better care of your clothing?" she murmured. Paul looked down contritely.

"I'm sorry. It just gets damaged so easily," he murmured, scratching a few more holes in his already tattered white T-shirt as though in demonstration. Lex shook his head.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped, the sudden volume seeming to make even the walls wince. "Do you want the public to find about this place? To have the government take over, prep you for the military maybe? It'd certainly destroy any chance you have of privacy."

"We were only trying to help people," Bobster protested.

"Then give money to charity," Lex responded. "Go join the police force. Organise a peace march. I don't give a fuck what you do with yourselves, but you don't threaten the security of this facility. Yours are not the only lives at stake here."

"So, what? We just sit here like good little lab rats and hide?" Phoenix yelled, propelled by the growing tension. Lex sighed heavily, biting his lip to try and keep himself from throttling the woman before him.

"For god's sake Phoenix, I'm trying to protect you," he muttered. Phoenix opened her mouth to argue, but turned her head with an angry breath instead—fuelled not only by the room's surrounding fear and frustration, but by personal annoyance. The hint of despair wafting off Lex had proved his statement genuine.

Lex pinched his nose, taking advantage of the momentary respite to get a hold of himself. Damn super-powered people! Why do I always let them push me over the edge?

"Okay, look," he said commandingly while raising his head. "We can discuss this in more detail later. Right now we've got a more specific problem to deal with. A certain Lois Lane is snooping around trying to connect LuthorCorp to superhuman individuals and I'm well enough acquainted with her to recognise a threat when I see it. Now obviously you know better than I do what happened to her and Senator Kent last night. From her questioning I can only assume she saw one of you displaying your powers. I need you to tell me exactly what happened so I can start to work on damage control."

"Lois Lane?" Bobster queried.

"She must have been the girl," Paul nodded from the wall opposite. "Brown hair, pony tail?" He looked to Lex who nodded.

"That's her, what did she see?" he persisted. The three would-be superheroes looked at each other for a moment, then, out of some unspoken agreement, Phoenix stepped forward as spokesperson, breathing deeply to calm herself.

"Of us? Actually nothing," she admitted, sucking her bottom anxiously before continuing. "See, there was this... third party involved." Lex narrowed his eyes. "Different, like us. Well, not exactly like us. She was reptilian, like a dinosaur, only, you know, a woman too." Lex nodded slowly.

"I see," he said. "And this... woman, is what Lois saw?"

"Yeah," Phoenix nodded. "We think she was attacking them. Maybe not Lois, but definitely Mr. Kent. Since we brought her to the facility all she's been saying is 'must kill Jonathan Kent' over and over, pretty tedious after a while really. I—"

"Since you what?" Lex interrupted coldly. Phoenix put a gloved hand to her temple with a sigh.

"Okay, look, we screwed up and you're pissed, we get it. Can we just take the reprimands as a given from now on?" She risked glancing up again, simply hopeful, and Lex lifted his head in a small gesture of agreement. With a soft sigh Phoenix continued "Yes, we brought her here. We've been keeping her in Bobster's room. Jason found out, which is how he got hurt. We, ah, underestimated the necessary sedation." Lex turned smoothly to Bobster.

"Your room?" he queried, a little incredulous, a little impressed. Bobster lifted a shoulder with a small smile. "So that's where I'll find her?" The smile faded.

"Actually... no," the younger man admitted. Lex frowned. "See, she really is a lot stronger than we thought and, um..."

"She escaped!" Paul all but yelled from across the room, his growing nervous tension finally snapping. Lex whipped his head round, eyes blazing.

"So you're telling me there's a superhuman assassin headed after Jonathan Kent as we speak, and you were, what, just going to keep quiet about it?"

"No!" Phoenix insisted, indignant. "We had a plan..." Lex turned to her, eyebrows raised.

"We figure she won't attack in the open," Bobster added helpfully while Phoenix flinched. "If the public found out about her there'd be a mob with pitchforks demanding her blood in seconds. It'd probably put a damper on her plan. There's this conference though, tonight in Metropolis. Senator Kent's speaking, and once he leaves it'll be dark, lots of secluded alley ways..."

"The perfect place for an ambush, I get it," Lex nodded—irritated at how well thought out this 'plan' actually was, it gave him less reason to shout, which made it harder to ignore his growing fear. If anything happened to Jonathan Kent... "Okay, I'll get a team ready outside the conference to take her down as soon as she appears," he muttered, more to himself than the others. Keep busy. Stay in control.

"No, you can't do that!" Phoenix argued, an unwelcome foil to the calm Lex was building. He turned to dismiss her claim—assertively—but the woman was already continuing, gloved hands waving desperately. "What she's trying to do, she doesn't want it. I could feel it. See, she has this metal collar round her neck and we think it's affecting her mind somehow. We got Molly to have a look at it and she says it's some crazy advanced tech but she's working on a way to crack it. So, just wait a bit, okay? Don't hurt Raptor if you don't have to."

Lex paused, mouth still open for his angry retort. A control collar? This was not a happy development. It stank of a hidden power—Fine maybe, playing more games? As a barrage of questions started to develop, Lex was surprised to find himself focusing on the most irrelevant.

"Raptor?" he repeated, anger dissolving to bafflement. Relaxing slightly at the lack of hostility, Phoenix simply shrugged.

"Well, we had to call her something," she deadpanned.

"And she does look like one," Paul nodded vigorously, lank, mousy hair slipping over his cheeks. "A raptor I mean." Lex shook his head with a brief, vague smile.

"Whatever," he muttered, heading towards the door. "I'll go talk to Molly, see what she's got."

"Okay, cool," Phoenix nodded, turning to follow him, Bobster close behind. Lex stopped at the door and held up a hand.

"Oh, no," he insisted, stopping the others in their tracks. "You're not coming. In fact, your entire involvement in this situation is over, and so are your amateur attempts at vigilantism. As of now." Phoenix smirked, apparently regaining some of her usual bravado.

"How'd you plan on stopping us exactly?" she questioned, newly confident. Lex smirked back—blue eyes raining a blizzard on Phoenix's brown ones. Slipping a hand in his jacket pocket he pulled out his security card and calmly held it up. Phoenix flicked her gaze from the card to the lock on the door and her brow furrowed. "You can't just lock us in here like animals!"

"Watch me," the older man replied, resting a hand on the door handle.

"But, but that's not fair!" Bobster protested by Phoenix's shoulder. "We didn't mean any harm by what we did."

"Your motivation is irrelevant," Lex responded, voice cold. "Your actions are a problem and I have to deal with it the best way I see fit. If you're stuck in here, at least I know you can't cause any more trouble for a while. Once I've dealt with this... Raptor, we'll discuss your options." He turned dismissively and pushed the door open a crack.

"Clark would approve of what we were doing," Bobster said, voice low and condemning, face defiant, arms across his chest. Lex stopped dead.

The billionaire's face turned completely blank, knuckles gripped round the door handle whitening slightly. For a while there was a tense, deadly silence, then Lex breathed out slowly.

"I'm not Clark," he said, slipping through the small opening in the doorway and shutting the metal door firmly behind him.

After sliding his card carefully through the security lock, Lex rested his palms against the door's gleaming surface with a heavy sigh, head down. Damn them for knowing him enough to use Clark against him! Damn him for being affected by it! The back of his mind was already listing excuses for his actions, Clark's pretty face clouding before him, the younger man's eyes brimming with familiar righteous indignation. So Clark was his conscience now? Well that was just great. The real Clark's disapproval had done little more than push Lex deeper into the traditional Luthor lair of darkness; he hardly thought a phantom version would do any better... Except that, before, the real Clark's lectures had been tainted with hypocrisy, now the Kryptonian had come clean, any opinion Lex imagined him holding suddenly seemed of greater importance, more worthy of attention—and then there was his mother's last words to consider; her claim that Clark was the only one who could help him. And the truth was, Clark would approve of the others using their powers to help people. Wasn't that exactly what he was doing all the time?

Lex shook his head, letting his arms fall loosely beside him as he pushed away from the door. The way they were going about it though—without a thought to the consequences. There were so many ways things could go wrong—like with Clark and that maniac orderly when Chloe was possessed. They at least needed some organisation. He'd have to think about it...

"Hey, Lex!"

Lex started visibly at the cheery voice behind him—its owner so much on his mind and yet particularly unwanted just now.

"Clark," Lex stated in surprise before he could stop himself, carefully adjusting the collar of his jacket as he turned to the smiling, red plaid figure—as though hoping the fabric might somehow swallow him up and prevent the confrontation.

Clark's smile faded as he noticed the other man's tension and he inwardly kicked himself for not paying more attention as he'd walked over. He'd been so happy at finding Lex in the facility he hadn't considered the man might have problems of his own.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked gently, ducking his head a little to meet his friend's eyes. Strangely, this seemed the wrong thing to do just then as Lex turned sharply away from the movement, rejecting the gaze and moving past Clark instead.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just busy, that's all," Lex stated. Clark's face clouded at the flatness of his tone, it meant Lex was shutting him out from something. "What are you doing here?" the older man continued and Clark blinked at the closed door in front of him for a moment before turning. Lex's face was blank, unreadable. But at least he hadn't moved more than a few feet away, which was something, Clark supposed.

"I was hoping to find some information," he shrugged. "But if you're busy I can look myself, it's okay."

Clark tried gamely for a smile and Lex felt his heart flutter at the obvious dejection weighing down the other man's face. Tension seeping out of him, Lex's shoulders sagged and his lips flicked up in apology.

"No it's - it's okay. What I'm doing can wait for a while," he said more softly—it seemed likely nothing terrible would be happening for a few hours yet. "What do you need?"

Clark's face lit up like a light bulb, and in the glow of such happiness Lex wondered if the anger he'd imagined phantom Clark holding might have been an exaggeration. A pleasant hypothesis, but not one he was planning on testing right now.

"Okay, so I'm looking for any information you might have on the ability to break glass," Clark stated earnestly. Lex blinked.

"The ability to break glass," he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

A beat. Then Clark looked down with a grin.

"Oh, yeah, sounds kinda stupid when you put it like that. You'll probably need more explanation, huh?" he muttered—bright, bashful and distinctly non-aggressive eyes peeking up through his lashes.

Lex couldn't help melting into a smile, especially as the crimson of Clark's shirt seemed to be seeping up the younger man's neck, framing his face in a deep, beautiful flush.

On the other side of the locked door, Phoenix had extracted her switchblade and was holding it cautiously over the lock. With a distinctly unhappy and anxious look on her face, she bypassed the screws that would open the mechanism's inner workings and stuck the blade behind the rectangular device instead. Pulling back on the weapon's handle, she attempted to pry the whole thing off the door completely. Predictably, her efforts were unsuccessful and she pulled the knife out with a frustrated sigh.

"Fuck!" she muttered. "Why is everything electronic these days? Back when I was a kid I could pick a lock no problem, break into anything I wanted. Now you need a degree in computing just to get into a house, let alone out of a secure facility."

"I can't help thinking you've answered your own question there," Bobster commented idly from his position beside her, back against the wall, hands folded dejectedly in his hoodie pocket. Phoenix glared at him.

"Is that all you're gonna do? Just stand there making inane comments?" she retorted. Bobster shrugged, his friend's snappish tone doing nothing to break his sullen expression.

"What do you expect me to do?" he asked dully. "I don't have a degree in computing either. I could make it look like the door was open for us, but I don't think 'mind over matter' would really apply. Face it Phoenix, we're not getting out of here." Phoenix turned away with a derogatory snort.

"Maybe it's for the best, yeah?" Paul suggested in a timid voice behind them, leaning the back of the chair he'd commandeered against the table. "I don't think the Boss'd be too happy if we got out right now."

Phoenix slipped the blade back in its handle and tapped the metal against her lips.

"When it comes to emotion, Luthor's a very complicated individual," she stated, eyes turning distant as she thought. "I don't think his disapproval of us runs as deep as he makes out. There was this weird sense of regret as he left..." She pointed the strip of metal at Bobster, distracted from her annoyance enough to nod approvingly. "Good call mentioning Clark. There's something about the kid that really brings Luthor out of himself... I don't think there'll be so much trouble if we escape."

"Yeah, well. That doesn't really matter, huh?" Paul shrugged, bringing the chair back down with a thud. "Since we can't get out and all."

Phoenix glanced at the despondent faces of her two friends and finally admitted defeat, leaning against the door with a disheartened frown of her own. The three of them shared a melancholy silence for a while, then Phoenix blinked, turning her head sharply to the corner on her left.

Slowly, a small, pink bubble began to form in the air. It inflated to the size of a large walnut before popping and was quickly chewed back into the mouth of a rapidly de-camouflaging Clara. The girl leant casually into the corner, legs in navy jeans crossed neatly before her, hands in the pockets.

"Hi guys," she grinned between chews, two long, blonde bunches of hair trailing over her shoulders, half obscuring the image of The Mystery Machine on her pale blue, long sleeved top. "Need help?"

Her eyes sparkled as she smugly withdrew a security card from her jeans, lips curved in triumph as she held it up.

"So, you found this woman impaled with broken glass, you learn that her foster kid has some kind of mental control over the substance and the first thing you do is come here for information on the ability," Lex summarised as his fingers tapped efficiently across the laptop in his small 33.1 office, Clark leaning back against the desk just beside him. "Forgive the suggestion, Clark," Lex continued, eyes flicking briefly from the screen to the man next to him. "But surely containment of this girl is a higher priority?"

Clark sighed and tapping his fingers lightly against the edge of the desk behind him—a gesture of uncertainty, Lex suspected. The other man had been usually silent while Lex searched for glass related abilities on the computer, after sending the nearest security guard away to track down Molly of course. It seemed to Lex that Clark was frightened of what might be uncovered about the young girl in his charge.

"Lana thought the same thing, she even suggested we call the police," Clark said with a sigh. "I had a hard time convincing her to watch Maddie while I came here."

"You left your ex-fiancée alone with a potential killer?" Lex queried in barely contained surprise—Clark's rapidly changing opinion and treatment of Lana was proving vaguely disorientating. Clark shrugged.

"Lana can take care of herself," he muttered with a frown. "And Maddie's not a killer, I'm sure of it. She was distraught about what happened in the barn, the last thing she wants is to hurt anybody."

Lex paused his tapping to turn to Clark a little sadly, hating to break his friend's good faith but knowing an unpleasant discovery about Maddie was really going to hurt if Clark wasn't prepared for it.

"Clark, even if you don't want to hurt someone, it doesn't mean you won't," he said quietly. Clark's face clouded a lot quicker than expected, eyes shining not just with understanding but regret and Lex realised this truth was probably more relevant to Clark than he'd anticipated. More relevant to both of them. Not wanting to dwell on that just now, Lex turned back to the screen. "Maddie's obviously having trouble controlling her power," he continued, switching his tone to something more matter-of-fact. "In all honesty, accidents are to be expected."

"I know," Clark nodded softly. "I just... she's such a great kid Lex, she's just so scared and alone." He looked down, eyes dull as he remembered how Maddie had been when he'd found her after the incident in the barn—crouched on the window seat in the kitchen, knees to her chest, face wet with tears. "If, she did do something to Naomi, it was an accident and she needs help not incarceration." He shook his head. "She says she didn't though, she says she can't do anything through walls and she was in her room upstairs when Naomi died. I want to believe her, but..."

"But scared, lonely kids have a tendency to lie," Lex finished, flicking through a newspaper article now on the screen. "I'm sorry Clark but all evidence seems against her." Lex nodded to the article and Clark moved behind his shoulder to look. The headline read 'Smallville Mother Dies in Single Car Accident.' "Maddie's mother didn't just die in a car accident. She died in a freak car accident. It says here witnesses saw the windshield shatter even before the crash."

Clark rested his hands against the back of the chair with another sigh and Lex tried very hard to ignore the soft brush of fingers against his shoulders.

"I, ah, I could always bring her here," Lex suggested leaning forward. "She'd be safe, and well taken care of." He twisted round to face his friend.

"Thanks, Lex." Clark said with a small smile.

Lex gave a smile and nod back, lips sucked in slightly and Clark's eyes trailed over them curiously, noting how the thinning highlighted the creases in his friend's cheeks—while under hypnosis he'd explored those lips thoroughly by touch but realised now that he'd never stopped to look before. The scar on Lex's upper lip did nothing to mar the beauty, if anything it made the older man more enchanting—Clark wanted to lean over and soothe it with his own lips, literally ease the pain of Lex's past. Clark let go of the chair and took an awkward step back, hoping the sudden heat he was experiencing wasn't planning on travelling lower than his neck. God, I came here for Maddie, not for this, now is not the time for this, he reprimanded, how the hell did I ever survive being this close to Lex before?

The billionaire's eyes narrowed at Clark's movement, a display of confidence followed by embarrassment that seemed an exact repeat of the elevator journey that morning. He opened his mouth with a ready question this time but a metallic beeping denied him the chance to voice it.

"What's that?" Clark asked, nodding to the computer with apparent relief. Lex turned back to the machine in annoyance, which soon gave way to curiosity when he noted the flashing green square in the bottom right hand corner of the screen.

"It's the results of the 33.1 database search I was running," he explained, leaning forward to click on the flashing icon. A file popped up immediately, much like the ones in the folders Lex had given Clark on his first day in the facility, only this one was headed 'Rejection'. In the left hand corner was a head shot of a man in his early thirties—he had short but wild sandy blonde hair and a rather sour expression. "Looks like it found a match. Taylor McKnight, patient at Belle Reve." He tutted softly to himself. "Of course, I should have remembered. He was admitted to the hospital twelve years ago with psychotic tendencies and an inexplicable control over glass." Clark moved beside him again to get a closer look, eyes narrowed. "Probably a result of being in a stained glass workshop during the first meteor shower... Which was not your fault," Lex added smoothly as Clark looked down. "He caught my attention, obviously, but turned down a place at the facility. Can't say I was particularly distraught. I didn't like him."

Clark turned to Lex curiously. Indifference from the other man was common, having so many changing faces in your life—bodyguards, valets, butlers, business associates—tended to foster that in someone. But for the older man to actively dislike you there had to be a pretty good reason.

"Why not?" Clark asked. Lex twisted his lips.

"The way he acted with me, how he answered my questions, it just didn't ring true," he muttered. "Like he was trying too hard to be sane. Plus, he had a criminal record. Not something to usually sway me, but it was a sloppy one. Used his powers to rob a jewellery store and promptly got caught. A failed crime is decidedly less impressive than a successful one." Lex rested his chin in his hand for a moment, staring passed the screen. "Though the seven diamonds he stole never were recovered, maybe he did get something right."

"Kinda weird isn't it? Him and Maddie having the same power," Clark muttered, drumming his fingers on the desk, mind thoroughly lost in contemplation—they were definitely on to something here, he could feel it.

"I'll say," Lex nodded, fingers flying across the keyboard again as he searched for more information on Taylor. "As far as I've been able to establish all kryptonite mutations are different. The only reason for two people to share one is if they were together at the point of initial infection, and somehow I doubt an eleven year old was around the same day as..." Lex trailed off, squinting at a new image onscreen—a page from a yearbook. Amongst the obligatory photos of drunken fratboys, a younger Taylor in a loose green jumper had his arm around a smiling girl with long brown hair.

"What is it?" Clark asked quickly.

"Do you know the name of Maddie's real mom?" Lex queried back, enlarging the image so he could read the caption.

"Yeah, it was Sarah Van Horne," Clark replied—his mom had mentioned it in passing that morning, a throwaway comment easily forgotten, but Clark's memory had always been better than most. Lex leant back in his chair with a thoughtful, wondrous smile—the kind he got whenever Clark displayed one of his powers.

"That's her," he nodded to the picture onscreen. "Looks like her and Taylor were close, probably even very close if I remember the college atmosphere correctly. He went to jail twelve years ago, Maddie's almost done being eleven. The timing fits." Lex turned his head to Clark, eyes shining with the satisfaction of discovery. "I think Maddie's power might be second generation."

"And no one knew he was her father cos he was in jail and then Belle Reve from before she was born," Clark stated, bypassing the scientific implications to focus his excitement on the family ones. "Can't blame Sarah for wanting to keep quiet about a relationship with a criminal. Where's Taylor now, is he still at Belle Reve?" Blinking out of his revere, Lex leaned forward and brought up the original file again.

"No," he said after a moments reading. "He got out two days ago. Model patient, apparently."

"Just one day before Naomi was murdered," Clark stated darkly.

Lex frowned at the edge to the other man's tone; it reminded him that behind Clark's light-hearted appearance the Kryptonian hid a steel will to be reckoned with. Not bad exactly, just unnerving to Lex, who still hadn't shaken the image of Clark as a fiery but unformed teenager. In the last few weeks it had become keenly apparent Clark was rapidly becoming a man, with thoughts and desires beyond those of family and friends and Lex was torn between pride and anxiety about this.

"Bit soon to be labelling the guy a killer, don't you think?" Lex ventured, not wanting his friend to act on his latest opinion too hastily. Clark shook his head.

"I don't think so," he stated. "I think there's definitely enough evidence here to put him under suspicion. Plus you didn't like him, that on its own is enough cause for investigation." He turned his head a fraction, glancing at Lex with a small smile. The corner of Lex's mouth flicked up in response. "Is there an address? Family home? Anything?" Clark finished.

"I'll print out all I've got," Lex nodded, pressing a button that made the streamlined printer beside the laptop whirr into life. "If you're planning on tracking this guy down though, maybe I should—"

The sound of the door opening distracted them and both men looked over the computer screen to see a grey shirted security guard step into the room.

"Mr Luthor, sir," he nodded. "We've found Molly Griggs like you ordered."

Lex's face blanked. He'd practically forgotten about the other situation—Jonathan Kent in danger, facility members causing trouble. There was something about being with Clark, especially lately, that lessened his problems. Lunch had certainly never been as enjoyable as today's. This problem hit him again with full force though, because it wasn't just a question of how to deal with difficult inmates—the life of Clark's father was at stake. Lex nodded at the guard.

"Good. Hold her in Lab 5, I'll be there shortly," he instructed, rising from the chair as the uniformed man left and collecting the papers from the printer. A hand on his arm stilled him, a touch that burned even through the double layer of shirt and jacket.

"Lex, something is going on, isn't it?" Clark asked, eyeing the other man beseechingly—not from a need for information, but a heartfelt desire to help.

Lex stared at the papers in his hands, mind torn. Part of him wanted to tell Clark everything, longing for the other man's help, not just with controlling the situation but with helping Lex do the right thing—but the other part, the prideful part his father had spent so long cultivating, insisted that this was his facility, his project, his people and he needed to develop his own methods of control over them. Although, Mr. Kent was Clark's father...

"There is, ah, a small crisis occurring," Lex admitted. "But I'm dealing with it."

"Crisis?" Clark repeated, tone rising in pitch as he predictably ignored Lex's attempt at downplay. "What do you mean? Can I help?"

"You have a situation of your own," Lex replied, pushing the printed papers against Clark's chest. Clark's hand slid off the other man's arm as he clutched at them, eyes never leaving Lex. "I'm on top of things here, don't worry," the older man concluded.

Clark scanned the other man's face carefully, eyes fading with concern and an odd sense of pain, revealing the soft hazel behind the green.

"Lex," he began earnestly. "You've helped me a lot recently. With Victor Stone, Chloe, those guys who stole my dad's watch. If you ever need help, with anything, you know you can come to me, right?"

Lex gazed back, impassive, a slight swallow the only indication of his inner emotion. Clark helped everyone, of course, but not like this. There was a yearning in his eyes now, as if a denial of help from Lex would be a personal source of pain to the younger man. No one had offered themselves to Lex so thoroughly, not even Helen, whose love had always been at arm's length, on her terms. And Clark was right, Lex had been there for him a lot recently, demanding a greater role in the alien's life, not wanting to be given up on—and a partnership like that was a two way thing, wasn't it?

"While you were learning about Maddie, I was discovering a new kryptonite mutant of my own," Lex found himself explaining before he'd even stopped to think about it. "A woman—violent, dangerous. I, ah." His mind caught up with himself then and he remembered why he'd held back from saying anything earlier—fear of Clark's reaction to his treatment of Phoenix et al. A fear that seemed to wither beneath Clark's current, kindly, concerned expression.

"What?" Clark prompted softly.

"...I have reason to believe she's planning to attack your father," Lex explained, voice calm, heart racing. Fuck, why am I doing this? He'll be mad I didn't tell him earlier, better to have continued the silence. Clark's eyes widened, the hand around the papers gripping tighter, creasing Taylor's picture.

"God Lex, why didn't you say something before?" he asked, voice sharp with anxiety.

"Because..." Lex faltered. He knew there must hundreds of different excuses available but for some reason nothing came to mind.

"Because you didn't want to worry me?" Clark theorised, shaking his head. "Damn, don't you start that as well. I'm trusting you to be the one person who's honest with me."

Lex couldn't stop his brow creasing at that—Clark was putting Lex's honesty above all others? Considering the many accusations of secrecy thrown about in the past, it seemed implausible at best. As did the lightness of Clark's tone. Lex flicked the eyes he hadn't realised he'd averted back to the man before him and met a worried but distinctly non-condemning gaze.

"You're not mad?" he blurted, feeling vaguely like he was walking through fog—because somewhere between lunch and now Lex seemed to have lost all understanding and control when it came to Clark. There was no denying they were closer now, of course, something he was constantly failing to factor in his thoughts—mind automatically tensed to shield against the pain of another fall-out. Nevertheless, this was a danger to Clark's father Lex had been hiding. Even considering their current relationship that should warrant a raised voice at least, surely? The gentle, continuing affection Clark was displaying was perplexing, bordering on irrational.

Clark blinked at the question—with his mind fluctuating between Maddie and his dad now, what Lex was asking didn't seem to make sense.

"Why would I—" he started, then realised withholding of information like that was exactly the kind of thing he'd have shouted about a few weeks ago, back when Lex's motives were still a source of concern, before he'd realised he loved the guy, despite, or maybe even because of, his flaws. The other man's tendency to secrecy no longer seemed indicative of untrustworthiness, but the result of a difficult, painful life of betrayal, part of a carefully developed strategy aimed to keep others as separate as possible. Clark didn't want to condemn that, he wanted to gently discard it, brush away Lex's brittle exterior and bring the real Lex, the inner one, the true one, the one he loved, into the light. "Oh, well yeah, you're a jerk for not mentioning it earlier, but..." Clark shrugged lightly. "I know you weren't keeping it from me out of malice or anything, you were just, I dunno, being you. It's not important. What matters is I know now and we figure out what to do."

Beneath his furrowed brow, Lex's eyes sparkled, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. Fair reasoning, sensible and remarkably trusting. Apparently Clark had matured significantly without Lex even noticing. The older man gave a short sigh; relaxing the shoulders he didn't remember tensing while his heart surged beyond relief into something resembling happiness. This kind of understanding criticism he could certainly get used to. It was far more appreciated and likely to be heard than a shouted reprimand. He figured it was best not to push this reprieve too far though, and decided to leave the three would-be musketeers out of the discussion. For now.

"The attack will probably take place after your father's speech tonight," Lex explained, calmer now. "I'm planning on sending a team out to intercept the assassin before she gets to him." Clark nodded seriously, uniting them as a team again.

"I could join them," he offered. "And should we warn dad?" Lex shook his head, lips pursed in thought as he considered the matter properly for the first time.

"No, don't say anything," he instructed. "There's nothing he can do to stop her finding him and if she thinks he's been tipped off and is somehow prepared for her she might change tactics." Lex looked up at his friend, face sobering. "And it's probably best if you're not there either," he stated, slipping his hands in his jacket pockets with an air of finality.

"What?" Clark exclaimed, incredulous. "But Lex, he's my father!" Lex nodded quietly.

"I know," he said. "And I expect the last thing he wants is to put you in danger. Clark, if something goes wrong and this woman's sighted by anyone else, there's a chance she could lead back to this facility, making 33.1 public knowledge. You shouldn't risk being connected to that." Clark gave a brief smile beneath troubled eyes.

"Lex, I appreciate the concern, but you can't just expect me to do nothing," he insisted. "Besides, I could probably take this woman down on my own, save your team the trouble."

"You have no way of knowing that," Lex countered. "Your reactions to the kryptonite infected are erratic, for all we know she could just as easily overpower you."

"But..." Clark began then shook his head with a sigh. Lex had an irritating habit of making sense with his reasoning, leaving Clark incapable of refuting the other man's claims. His own thoroughly used tactic of rushing headlong into a situation was becoming less and less viable because of this.

"Clark," Lex said firmly, grabbing the other man's arm just below the shoulder—an old, easy gesture of warmth that comforted them both. "I won't let anything happen to your father, I promise. If it looks like I can't handle it I'll call you."

"I'll be listening," Clark assured, nodding in reluctant agreement. Lex's mouth curved with affection—the thought of Clark coming when he called was undeniably touching, whatever the reason.

Clark's heart fluttered when the hand on his arm stroked lightly, soothing his anxiety to a confidence of success only Lex could bring. But it was only for a moment, then the hand was gone and Lex was moving passed him and round the table. Clark turned to watch, skin tingling excitedly, preventing further movement. Opening his ears, Clark heard the distinct, beautiful sound of a quickening heartbeat—melodic, inviting. Quickening because of the touch, perhaps? And Clark liked that, being able to reach inside Lex in that way. A sudden electricity filled the air, holding them on the edge of each other, threatening to spark into something new and exciting and terrifying at the same time. Lex turned on the other side of the desk and Clark held his breath.

"Clark..." he breathed, eyes dilating as he gazed at his friend over the printer, desire rising beyond its usual, hidden, inner compartment. There was a thickness in the room he didn't understand, but wanted to embrace anyway. Lex blinked, there was a lot to plan in the next few hours, and he couldn't be distracted by abstracts like this. "Go. Help the kid. You're good at that," he stated, lips curving with soft admiration. "I'll be in touch."

Clark nodded and the fragile pull between them dissolved. Clark sighed as Lex left the room, sending a gust of cool air from the corridor to thoroughly dispel the last vestiges of desire drifting inside. So close. If only there weren't so many other things to deal with just now...

There was no personal address for Taylor, but there was one for his mother—145 Hastings Road. It was the best lead Clark had so he whizzed over there post-haste, hoping Mrs. Taylor might have some idea of where to find her son. A vain hope as it turned out—the kindly, elderly woman hadn't even known her son had left Belle Reve, let alone where he might be. Muttering some excuse about being a reporter wanting to see Taylor's old work, Clark managed to convince the her to take him to Taylor's old workplace in the basement, hoping there might be further clues there—Chloe had certainly taught him well he thought wryly.

"I can't believe they let my son out of Belle Reve," the grey haired woman lamented as they descended the wooden steps into the dusty lower room. "Why hasn't he come to see me?" Clark's mouth flattened in sympathy as he reached the bottom of the staircase, looking over the impressive collection of stained glass propped up and lying on every available surface.

"I guess he wanted to check on his daughter first," he muttered, remembering what that 'check' had potentially cost Naomi.

His stomach lurched with a sudden fear for Lana, but there was no point rushing home now, he needed more evidence about this guy first so they knew what they were up against. If, as Lex had pointed out, they were even up against anything at all. Despite his uncertainty about Maddie's father, part of Clark still hoped the guy would prove innocent, because if he had killed Naomi to get to Maddie, there was a strong chance he'd caused the car accident that killed Maddie's mom as well, and Clark couldn't help thinking a couple of tragic accidents were surely easier to stomach than the cold, calculating malice required to kill your own lover.

"Daughter?" the woman behind him repeated in confusion. "Taylor doesn't have a daughter."

Clark turned in surprise. He didn't even tell his own mother? The woman tilted her head sadly at Clark's shocked expression and the young man could practically feel the faith in her son seeping out of her.

"Her name's Maddie, she's eleven years old," he explained gently.

"I have a granddaughter?" she queried further, face creasing with hurt and a slight, hopeful wonder.

"Yes ma'am," Clark nodded. "She's been in foster care most of her life and staying with me since last night. She was, involved in an accident. It's very important we find her father, I think he might help determine exactly what happened." The woman frowned.

"Accident? What...?" she asked vaguely and Clark looked away. Either this woman's granddaughter was an inadvertent killer or her son was a murderer, neither scenario was especially easy to break.

"Um..." he began, trailing off when an oddly familiar image caught his eye. He stepped quickly over to the heavy oak table just beside the staircase. Brushing the cover sheet fully off the glass beneath.

"I've seen this before. At the Talon," he noted, revealing a beautiful rendering of a knight and damsel embracing, the woman's long blonde hair flowing backwards in numerous, sharply angled glass panels.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? He made it just before he was arrested" Mrs. Taylor said as she moved beside him—lamenting the creative potential her son had rejected with the crime. "I don't have the finished piece, I had to sell it after my husband passed away."

Clark tilted his head, eyes focusing on the woman's blue sleeve. The image in the Talon was a mirrored version of this one but something else was different, something was missing... Jewels. Yes, the picture in the Talon had seven sparkling gems adorning the damsel's sleeve. Seven gems. Seven stolen diamonds.

"Huh," Clark breathed. Even he had to admit that as a criminal strategy that was pretty ingenious. It also gave him one place Taylor was certain to be sooner or later.

"What is it dear?" the woman beside him asked kindly.

"I think I know where—"

A buzzing in his jeans pocket cut him off and Clark answered the cell hurriedly, wondering if it was Lex with new information about his father's attacker.

"Clark!" Lana's desperate, tinny voice called over the line. "Thank god! Clark, something's happened, Maddie's gone."

"What?" Clark queried, tone sharp, stomach lurching again.

"Clark, I'm so sorry. Social services came and they tried to get her into a car but the windows were cracking and then there was this other man. Clark, it was him controlling the glass, not Maddie. He killed the man from social services and I got hit in the shoulder with a handful of shrapnel. I barely had time to call an ambulance before I passed out..."

"God, Lana are you okay? I should never have left you..." Clark agonised, while Mrs. Taylor's face clouded in concern.

"No, Clark, it's not your fault, you had no idea," Lana continued, breath hitching as though a movement had caused her pain. "I've been out for the last half hour, and the doctors say apart the man from social services there was no one else at the farm when they found me. That poor little girl, she must be so scared." Clark took a breath to calm himself, Lana was okay and at least he knew the truth about the accident now. There was no doubt any more that Taylor had killed Naomi, and Clark's top priority was getting Maddie away from him.

"Lana, don't worry," he stated. "Just take it easy and get some rest, okay? I think I know where to find Maddie." An anxious gaze from Mrs. Taylor held Clark as he hung up and he frowned uncertainly—at a loss for what to say. Thankfully, the woman saved him the trouble.

"Taylor's done something, hasn't he?" she said quietly, eyes shining. "He always was wilder than his father and I could handle. Go do what you have to, keep my granddaughter safe. Don't worry about me."

Clark nodded grimly, eyes glowing with sorrow for this poor woman who'd clearly only ever tried do right by her son. Clark hurried out of the basement and zipped into superspeed as soon as he was out of sight.

Skidding inside the now closed coffee shop, Clark's suspicions were confirmed when he saw Taylor kneeling before the replicated knight and damsel image embedded in the staircase. He had an obviously frightened Maddie by the hand and was attempting to push a collection of sparkling stones into her palm.

"Let her go!" Clark yelled.

The two of them turned to him, Taylor with pure shock, Maddie with grateful relief. Apparently strengthened by Clark's appearance, Maddie wrenched her hand out of her father's and hurried away, ducking fearfully behind one of the tables. Face contorting in anger, Taylor stood and held a hand out to the glass image. It began pulsing threateningly, but the guy hadn't counted on Clark having abilities of his own. Zipping beside Taylor, Clark grabbed him by the neck before he'd fully extended his power and threw him across the room without a second thought. He crashed into the shop's glass counter and fell limply to the floor.

Though Clark was still burning with concern for Maddie, he had enough presence of mind to x-ray the guy before going to her. He hadn't thrown Taylor hard enough to kill him, but if the guy had been damaged too severely during his fall there might be wounds that needed tending and Clark had no intention of letting the murderer die before he'd paid for his crimes. The scan proved him no more than safely unconscious though and Clark moved quickly towards the table by his left, Maddie's frightened, fitful sobs emanating from its other side.

"Maddie?" he called quietly, crouching down behind her. "It's okay. It's—" His last words of comfort were muffled as the body of a frighten girl turned and ploughed into him.

"Clark," she breathed in relief, wrapping her arms tight round his neck.

"It's okay, it's okay," he repeated as she cried against his shoulder, holding her softly while his own invulnerability let her clutch him as tightly needed. "He won't hurt anyone again."

Lex, now decked in black suit, minus tie, walked purposefully passed the row of dumpsters behind the Metropolis conference centre. A shaft of moonlight seemed to follow him as he moved, surrounding him with an ethereal glow, making him look even more out of place than he already was. Apparently unconcerned with the conspicuousness, Lex calmly pulled a portable radio and odd-looking black box with a red button in the centre from his pocket. He shot the box a dubious look before turning on the radio—a short burst of static echoed into the night as he held it to his lips.

"Jackson's in place, I'm activating the device," he stated crisply. "Remember, don't shoot to kill unless expressly ordered." Lex turned off the transmitter and slipped it back in his pocket with one slick motion. Gripping the black box with both hands he raised his thumbs above the button, still frowning uncertainly as he recalled Molly's explanation of the gadget.

"The woman's control collar isn't a stand alone device. It gets its power from an outside transmission. Block the transmission—it's just a useless hunk of metal. I've rigged this box so it emits a low frequency radio wave. Based on the data I managed to collect, I think that should be enough to block the control signal."

"You think?"

"She'd escaped before I'd completed my analysis"

"So, if it turns out you missed something and this doesn't work?"

"...run?"

Lex sighed, wondering when exactly his life had mutated into a badly made sci-fi James Bond movie. Pushing thoughts of failure from his mind, he pressed the red button firmly and held his breath. Silence followed while Lex looked anxiously round his immediate vicinity. If this had worked, hopefully a free and reasonable 'Raptor' would be emerging from the shadows somewhere—either here, or in one of the numerous alleys nearby where Lex had positioned his heavies. If it hadn't worked, well, a dangerous mutant could be getting ready to charge at him any moment now...

"Well, well, well."

Lex jumped at the smug voice to the left, lips thinning in an inner reprimand for letting fear overpower observation. Hiding the device slickly back in his jacket, Lex turned into the suspicious gaze of Lois Lane, who stood a few feet away, hands on her hips.

"Look who's lurking around all cloak and dagger." Rouged lips flattened to match her opponent's as Lois stared at Lex coldly. Such a glare would have had other men running for the hills, but Lex Luthor had seen far worse in his time, most of them from family, so he met it boldly.

"I'd hardly call attending a speech by a respected state senator 'lurking,' Lois," he responded coolly.

"Yeah?" Lois replied, unimpressed. "So why are you arriving from the back?"

"I could ask you the same question," Lex smirked back, slipping his hands in his pockets—this had the dual benefit of presenting nonchalance and allowing him to check on the black box. It was vibrating lightly, assuring him it really was on.

"I was looking for suspicious characters to make sure there isn't a repeat of last night's attack," Lois explained, walking daringly up to Lex, face only inches from his. "How's that investigation going, by the way?"

"Dead end," Lex deadpanned. "I told you finding the culprit would be unlikely." Lois nodded slowly, eyes hard.

"Right... well, you know what I think?"

Before Lois could voice her thoughts a gunshot rang out from the shadows behind them, followed by a short yell and heavy thud. Two heads whipped round, but there was nothing to see, the action obviously too far away.

"What the hell?" Lois muttered, staring into the darkness.

"Lois, I think you better go inside," Lex said quietly.

"What?" Lois countered, eyes flashing as she turned back to him. "No way! That was a man in trouble; I'm not going anywhere until I find out exactly what's going on. Don't think you can stop me." Lois was hurrying away before Lex even thought to grab her.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, whipping out the radio as he ran after her. "Johnson, Winters, you're needed out the back..." No response but crackling static. "Johnson, Winters! Do you copy?"

Lex stopped at the corner behind the dumpsters, face blanking as he took in the sight before him. He lowered the radio in silence. Lois was kneeling beside a prone figure in a LuthorCorp uniform—Jackson, Lex recalled—his outstretched right arm held a small pistol, a collection of scrap metal that might once have been a sniper rifle scattered beside him. None of that was especially important though, because it was the blood that really stood out. Rivers of it, still flowing from the open gash that used to be the man's neck—the shirt was already soaked and a widening pool threatened to seep into Lois' smart chocolate pants any second. Hearing his approach, Lois looked up, a fearful expression replacing her earlier bravado.

"It's like his throat was just... ripped out..." she breathed. Lex swallowed, slipping the now useless radio back into his jacket.

"Get up," he instructed, reaching out a hand. Lois took it without complaining and allowed Lex to pull her towards him. "We need to get out of here."

Holding Lois by the arm, Lex edged them both away from the body, eyes sharp and cautious as he looked round. So, not working then, he thought, resenting the faint buzz inside his jacket for failing him and trying hard not to think about the man behind them—the man under his employ, who'd he'd sent into danger. Damn it! He knew there were risks; you don't take a job in security without expecting danger... Okay, if I call Clark now what can I use as explanation for Lois?

"What's that?" Lois hissed, grabbing at the hand round her arm and nodding to a dark shape emerging from a bunch of trashcans on their left. Moonlight flooded through the wire fence behind, adding a collection of silver diamonds to the woman's already striped green skin.

Lex swallowed a gasp. This was the first time he'd seen 'Raptor' himself and he was shocked at how apt the nickname really was. He'd never seen a kryptonite mutation as incredibly physical as this—the woman's legs basically were a velociraptor's, the second digit of the foot unusually placed part way up her shin. It's enlarged, sickle-shaped claw intended for tearing at prey, Lex recalled, immediately wishing he hadn't because that was probably exactly what had happened to Jackson.

The two of them froze and the woman tottered towards them, confirming Lex's theory as drops of crimson liquid shone on her feet. The woman squinted at the figures before her.

"I know you..." she whispered. Lex and Lois blinked at the surprisingly feminine voice. It was certainly nothing like the rough, scratchy tone Lois had heard yesterday and seemed cultured, foreign.

"Yeah," Lois replied, stepping tentatively out of Lex's hold. "I'm the girl you were trying to kill yesterday?" The woman blinked, diamond shaped pupils dilating and contracting over and over.

"I'm sorry... I..." The woman hissed, resting the palm of a clawed hand on the gleaming surface of her collar. Lex noted the brief flash of red in her eyes curiously. Maybe the device was having some effect after all. He stepped forward, holding a hand out to keep Lois behind him—crass as she was, Lois was still a woman, and Lex knew the rules of chivalry.

"Who are you?" he asked, addressing the confused figure. "Do you know your name?"

"... Raven... Raven Jones..." she muttered. "Palaeontologist. Are you another one?" Her eyes flicked over him darkly and Lex frowned.

"Another what?" he asked.

"Another one who wants to take me away," Raven replied dully. "They wore suits last time. After the accident. Shipped me off here, fixed this collar, made me..." Her voice hitched and she blinked vigorously, eyes wet. Behind Lex, Lois' face creased in sympathy. "That man over there," Raven nodded towards Jackson's body. "Did I...?" Lex nodded, mouth firm although his eyes were soft.

"He's dead," he confirmed. Raven hung her head, short, black locks falling forward to partly obscure her grimace.

"There were others. In the alleyways," she stated, staring at the ground. "Maybe they're dead too. I don't know, I just don't know..." Lex stepped forward slowly.

"I'm not here to exploit you, or hurt you," he assured. "I want to help." Lex waited tensely as Raven continued looking down.

"How can you...?" she began, interrupted by a sudden spark from her collar that snapped her head up, turning her eyes an immediate, vivid shade of red. "Electrical interference detected. Destroy... destroy..." Lex backed away again as Raven shook her head, eyes shut tightly. When they opened again they were unfocused and vaguely pink. "You're doing something... but it's not enough, I can't..." A blink and the eyes were red again, fixed acutely on Lex.

"Look out!" Lois called ineffectively as Raven slammed into him, spinning Lex round and forcing him against the wire fence behind her. Eyes widening from the grip round his neck, Lex pulled desperately at his attacker's hand, cuts lacing his fingers as they slid across sharpened claws. "Stop! Let him go!" Lois yelled, rushing up from behind, only to be flung back against one of the dumpsters opposite with a flick of Raven's tail.

Sight blurring, Lex could barely make out Lois' weak attempts at recovery, his lips naming vainly what the pressure on his throat prevented him from voicing. As dark, lifeless eyes stared into his own, Lex's heart pounded not with fear of death but guilt at his failure. Once he was dead, Raven would be free to target Mr. Kent. Clark would be devastated...

An odd ringing in his ears convinced Lex he was on the verge of unconsciousness—a small mercy, at least he wouldn't feel his throat being ripped out. As Raven whipped round though, leaving him to fall to the ground in a crumpled, spluttering heap, Lex looked up to find Paul and Phoenix standing a few feet away—the fingers the empath still held to her mouth proving the ringing had in fact been a whistle.

"Hey!" Phoenix yelled, stretching her arms in a gesture of challenge. "You were disadvantaged last time we fought. I want a rematch. Prove I really am the better fighter."

Using the wire at his back for support, Lex hauled himself up, intending to shout his cocky, stupid, imbecile of a saviour away, but Raven was charging before he could shape the words. Phoenix ducked the initial grab Raven had trapped Lex in earlier and the two women began to spar in earnest. Rubbing a hand gingerly over his throat, Lex watched Phoenix avoid Raven's attacks with growing surprise. It was like she knew what her opponent was planning beforehand—which was perhaps not such a wild idea, Lex realised. Emotions weren't exactly sure-fire indicators but he supposed knowing the other's feelings during a fight might give you an idea of their intentions at least.

While Phoenix and Raven continued to battle it out, Paul rushed over to Lois, pulling her up.

"You okay?" he queried. Lois blinked; gaze focusing on his yellow eyes and trailing down to the long, thick nails resting softly against her arms.

"Wha-? But you're... what are you?" she breathed. Lex moved to intervene, though quite how he hoped to back-peddle out of all of this he had no idea, when a finally overpowered Phoenix tottered passed him, falling on her back beside Lois and Paul with a painful grunt. Seconds later Raven was crouched above her, claws pricking the empath's neck.

"Raptor! Wait, wait!" Phoenix called desperately and to everyone's surprise the other woman seemed to listen. Without moving position or loosening her hold Raven twitched her head sharply a couple of times, a deeper touch of honey melting in her eyes with each movement.

"Frequency!" she rasped, straining against whatever inner force the collar was exerting. "It's... the wrong frequency!"

Another blink and her eyes were crimson again. Phoenix gulped.

"Got ya!" Paul muttered, grabbing Raven about the neck and pulling her heavily to the ground where he tried to hold her on top of him, bringing his other arm round to join the first in a vice-like grip.

Lois offered Phoenix a hand while Lex stayed rigidly in position—eyes narrow and distant.

"Frequency..." he muttered, eyes flashing with sudden understanding. "Frequency!" Grabbing at his jacket pocket, he pulled out the black box, cursing when he saw the screws holding it together. "Paul, get over here!"

"Um..." Paul muttered beneath Raven, face strained. "Kinda busy right now, Boss."

A quick swipe of Raven's talons ended that assessment pretty quickly, making Paul release her with a yelp. He rubbed the cuts on his forearms unhappily as his former captive leapt to her feet. Raven turned to bear down on him but found herself being yanked backwards instead.

"Ha! See that? A tail's as much a disadvantage as an asset," Lois called, gripping the thick, scaled appendage tight with both hands.

Raven made a deep, threatening noise that sounded unpleasantly like a growl, but before she could move Phoenix landed a spinning kick to the side of her face. The reluctant assassin flew out of Lois' grasp and skidded across the back-alley's gravelly floor. Lex took the opportunity to hurry over to Paul. Kneeling beside him he helped pull the kid into a sitting position, black box still held tightly in his left hand. Paul blinked at him, pupils contracting to nervous slits.

"Sorry we got out, Boss..." he began, grimacing.

"Fuck, I don't care about that now," Lex interrupted. He thrust the black box towards the kid's clawed hands. "Get this open." Paul's forehead creased in obvious confusion, but he took the box obediently. Slipping his nails through the join at the back he ripped the off the entirety of the plastic casing, exposing the wiring inside and sending metal screws flying everywhere. Lex snatched the device back and began tinkering frantically, eyes rapt with concentration.

Meanwhile, Raven had pulled herself unsteadily to her feet again, crimson eyes watching with caution as Phoenix and Lois flanked her. Phoenix tried another head kick, but this time Raven was ready and stopped it easily, holding the empath's leg in midair while swiping at Lois with her tail. Also ready this time, Lois jumped smartly out of the way, dealing a cutting blow to the back of Raven's neck in response. Although not very damaging, the hit was enough to lessen the hold on Phoenix, who pulled her leg free and smashed the ball of her hand roughly into Raven's face. Lois slipped beside her fellow soldier as their temporary enemy tottered backwards.

"You've got some good moves," Lois complimented breathlessly. "Where'd you learn?"

"MI5," Phoenix responded, breath equally short. "You?"

"Father's an army general," Lois shrugged.

They had just enough time to share a companionable grin, before Raven was at them again. Rushing forward with impossible speed, she grabbed Lois round the neck, talons on her free hand pressing painfully against the other woman's throat. Phoenix looked on, helpless.

"Oh god," Lois whimpered. "I'm about to be killed by a human lizard. This is not the way I was hoping to go."

An electric sizzle and spark came from their left.

"Got it," Lex muttered, two exposed wires held together firmly before him, black box dangling beneath. He whipped his head up to Raven, expression tense.

Raven jerked back, the crimson in her eyes melting to a deep, viscous shade of amber. Her arms fell limply to her sides and Lois hurried away, moving gratefully beside Phoenix. Everyone looked at their former attacker wearily as Raven's gaze trailed over them, resting on Lois.

"I'm not a lizard. I'm a fucking dinosaur," she insisted vehemently before crumpling to the ground unconscious.

The others breathed a collective sigh of relief. Setting the black box down carefully so the wires were still touching, Lex got slowly to his feet, holding a hand out for Paul.

"Okay... okay..." Lois muttered as the two men dusted themselves off. "Now would be a very good time for someone to explain to me what the hell is going on."

Lex opened his mouth in response but his search for words came up blank. Looking over Raven's conspicuously prehistoric form and Paul's scruffy, feline appearance, he realised he had no idea how to explain this and felt a sudden, newfound rush of admiration for Clark—even if his lies were appallingly bad, being able to reason the impossible at all was achievement enough in itself.

"Actually, we came prepared for that," Phoenix stated, pulling a small syringe from her back pocket. Lois frowned at her, but Phoenix injected the contents in her neck before anyone could react. The brunette flopped heavily into the other woman's arms, eyes closed in sleep.

"What?" Lex shook his head—weary, incredulous and baffled all at once.

"Okay, look," Phoenix started, shifting Lois to a more comfortable position against her chest. "We figured she might be involved tonight, what with you saying she was snooping and all. So we sent Bobster to the conference in her place. He's projecting a sleeping Lois in there right now and he should have enough power to cover us up too. The shot was a mild sedative, leaves you groggy and disorientated and we figure if we take her in now, leave her sleeping like everyone else already thinks she is, when she wakes up, this'll be a dream." Phoenix made a face half way between and grin and a grimace. "I mean, that could work, right?"

Lex stared at her.

"That's insane," he stated, but after gazing back over Raven, Paul and the black box he raised his eyes skyward with a sigh. "But so is my life. Do it." Phoenix grinned.

"Paul, help me here would you?" she nodded and Paul hurried over the grab Lois' legs.

"But don't think this minor... assist, means I'm in any way planning to condone your previous activities," Lex added, pointing at the two of them commandingly. "33.1 is a scientific facility, not some kind of Justice Society and I don't want to hear of any more attempts to make it one."

"Got it," Phoenix nodded, eyes sparkling with quiet satisfaction.

Clark hummed brightly as he made his way to the kitchen the next morning. Taylor was safely in custody, his own father was getting back from Metropolis any minute now, Maddie's grandmother had agreed to take the young girl in, unusual power included, and later that afternoon Clark would be joining Lex at 33.1 to meet the project's newest addition. Yup, today was one of the good days. As he reached his destination, Clark slipped into an easy, bemused smile at the sight of Maddie, hair loose today and trailing nicely over her pink shirted shoulders. She was leaning carefully over the kitchen sink, scrubbing diligently at the window behind with a piece of kitchen paper.

"Maddie?" Clark called. "What are you doing?" At the sound of his voice she straightened up on the chair she was standing on, turning with a warm, affectionate smile.

"Clark, you saved my life," she explained. "I just wanted to help out."

The sound of light footsteps on the staircase behind heralded Martha's arrival, and she hurried over next to Clark. Since it was Sunday, which meant no Talon duties, she'd taken the opportunity to don a comfy, white and grey checked blouse with jeans, topped by loose green jacket.

"Maddie," she admonished. "You don't need to do that."

"Don't worry," Maddie insisted. "I'm used to cleaning up after myself." Her grin flattened slightly with memories of the past, but she tried to stay bright. Clark returned the smile in understanding—he'd had messes enough of his own to clear up in his time.

"Well, in this house you're a guest," he assured. "And guests always get a double helping of mom's banana pancakes." He gave a firm nod and turned expectantly to the woman beside him. Martha rolled her eyes with a grin.

"Oh," she noted agreeably and Maddie laughed. As the young girl jumped down from her chair Martha rubbed a hand over her son's arm. "The way you are with her. Your dad and I are so proud." A glowing smile warmed her face as she moved to the kitchen counter to start those famous pancakes.

"Clark, did you ever meet your real dad?" Maddie asked, hopping on a stool before the kitchen table.

"Sort of," Clark admitted as he pulled up a stool next to her.

"Was he bad like mine?" she persisted, face creasing with concern. Clark rested his hands in his lap with a sigh. An obvious question—Maddie wanted to know she wasn't the only one with dubious parentage. Clark could certainly alleviate her concerns there.

"Maybe worse," he said quietly. Maddie looked sad and Clark grabbed her gaze. "But just because he gave me life doesn't mean I have to be anything like him." He was beyond sick of Jor-El's influence over the years and certainly didn't want Maddie to suffer something similar.

Come to think of it, talking to Lex again about this might not be such a bad idea either—he'd been so angry with the other man once when it seemed he was succumbing to Lionel, demanding change as if resistance were simple as thought. Before Jor-El's kidnapping, before Kal-El, before the joining of the stones, resistance of which had caused the second meteor shower. Clark had learned the hard way that resisting your parentage wasn't easy, and god knew Lionel seemed more and more like Jor-El everyday—maybe that was why the Kryptonian had chosen him to possess. Yes, Lex should know he wasn't alone in his struggles anymore.

Lost in his thoughts, Clark didn't hear the front door open behind him. Maddie did though, and watched cautiously as a tired looking Lois and Jonathan appeared in the kitchen archway. Seeing her newly creased brow, Clark assumed further concern about Taylor and continued to reassure.

"See, the thing is Maddie, anyone can be a father. But it takes someone very special to be a dad," he smiled.

Jonathan rested his briefcase quietly on the floor and leaned an incredibly creased white shirted shoulder against the archway to listen—tired face warm with affection. Beside him, Lois bit back her intended greeting and cocked her head, curious. Maddie's eye caught Jonathan's for a moment and he winked, prompting a smile—amusement lit her face as she focused back to Clark.

"The man who raised me," Clark was continuing, oblivious. "He's my real dad. And I couldn't have asked for anyone better. I'd choose him over my biological father any day."

Clark was delighted with the beam Maddie gave him and looked past her to his mom, a touch of pride in his gaze. At the sound of the door Martha had stopped her pancake preparations and was now leaning against the sink, taking in the scene with the others. She smiled at her son and nodded to the doorway. Tilting his head in confusion, Clark turned to look over his shoulder, and burnt instantly crimson as his eyes met his father's.

"And I couldn't have asked for a better son," Jonathan smiled, making Clark duck his head self-consciously.

"Wow, Smallville," Lois added, shaking her head. "Who knew a klutz like you could be so adorable."

Clark looked up again at that and rolled his eyes.

"Thanks, Lois," he muttered, as she perched on a stool at the end of the table.

"Anytime," she grinned back. Jonathan moved between Clark and Maddie.

"So you're the Maddie I've heard so much about," he smiled down at her and she nodded silently, eyes filling with trepidation. Jonathan put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's great to meet you."

Maddie swallowed, clearly still nervous about strangers, and the glass jug on the table began to shake, the centre of an outward moving force that spread quickly to the kitchen's glass cabinet doors and windows. The adults shared a small, anxious look for a second, then Clark and Jonathan turned back to the girl, smiling softly.

"It's okay, Maddie," Clark said. "No one's gonna hurt you or force you into anything you don't want. I would never let you be with anyone who'd do that."

"That's right," Jonathan nodded, squeezing the anxious girl's shoulder very gently. "And if you don't like me or want to talk, that's okay. I won't be offended. Heaven knows I must look a frightful mess right now, I wouldn't blame you for shunning me." He shook his head at his crumpled shirt and pants, shoulders sagging in exaggerated self-contrition. Clark flashed Maddie an encouraging grin and the young girl slowly relaxed, lips curving in a smile of her own. The tinkling of glass slowly quietened.

"No I, I like you, Mr. Kent. It's good to meet you too," Maddie muttered, blushing. Jonathan patted her shoulder, face bright with inner joy, while Clark beamed with pride at his charge. Beside him, Lois had her eyebrows raised in admiring astonishment, having witness first hand what she'd only previously been told about, and Martha realised the attention on the young girl was probably getting a bit too intense.

"So, Jonathan," she called as a distraction, efficiently throwing pancake mix into a bowl as she spoke. "How did the speech go?"

"Better than expected," Jonathan nodded, acknowledging her tactic and gently releasing Maddie so he could step away and give his wife a quick kiss. "Even if some people did fall asleep during it." He shot Lois a mock accusatory glare and Clark and Maddie turned to her in amusement. Lois grimaced.

"Well, I woke up for the end," she protested. "It isn't enough to just give when we can. Upholding the principles of truth, justice and the American way isn't just a matter of convenience—it's a matter of conscience. Great closing, Mr. Kent." She nodded vigorously as Clark shook his head, mocking glance at Lois turning to an admiring one for Jonathan.

"Wow, sounds like words to live by, dad," he nodded, impressed.

"Thanks, son," Jonathan replied, flushing with pride. "My listeners were certainly taken by it, I can tell you that. Practically buried me with questions and compliments. Made us late for our check out at the hotel, we had to book in for another night just to pacify the clerk." He shook his head lightly—amusement and distress warring across his features. "Still, I think Lois needed the extra night. The hard work she did for me obviously left her sleep-deprived." He nodded to her, a blend of gratitude and concern, and Lois gave a breathy laugh.

"I guess so," she muttered with a shrug. "It's weird. I mean, I've pushed myself a lot harder before, but... I guess that knock on the head the other night must have been harder than I thought."

"Knock on the head?" Martha queried, as she whisked the contents of the mixing bowl carefully. "What do you mean?" Lois opened her mouth to respond, then seemed to remember something, and flicked her eyes to Jonathan instead. Catching the look Martha stilled her hand and whipped round to her husband. "Jonathan?" she pressed, eyes narrow. Jonathan stared back at her guiltily for a moment, then looked down with a sigh.

"There was a small accident the other night," he admitted.

Martha frowned at him while Clark looked curiously over, resting his arms on the table. Maddie copied the gesture, frowning in concern.

"Accident?" Martha repeated, aghast. "What kind of accident?"

Lois grimaced at the worry and accusation in her tone.

"Sorry, Mr. Kent," she said quickly, but Jonathan waved a hand at her dismissively.

"No, it's okay Lois, I should have said something before," he glanced back to Martha and resisted the desire to flinch beneath her piercing gaze. "We were attacked the night I arrived in Metropolis," he explained, holding a hand up to still Martha's intended exclamation. "It's alright, there was no serious damage, nothing stolen. The attackers were obviously interrupted, fortunately for us. I know I should have told you, but I had a lot on my plate, Martha, with the speech and everything, I was trying not to let it distract me. I'm sorry."

Martha eyed him irritably over the bowl at her chest for a moment, then sighed, lips curving in an indulgent, forgiving smile.

"Well, as long as you're both okay, I guess that's what matters," she grudgingly relented. Jonathan beamed at her.

"Okay, we certainly are," he agreed with relief. "Though I think Lois perhaps had a slight concussion going for a while, if her visions of giant lizards were anything to go by." His eyes twinkled at her and Lois looked down with an accepting smile.

"Giant lizards?" Maddie questioned with interest, leaning across the table so she could see Lois properly. Clark obligingly moved back a little for her, also turning to the brunette, eyes wide and curious—Lex had yet to explain all the details of his father's would-be assassin, so the mention of a giant reptile took him by surprise.

"Actually, she wasn't a lizard, she was a dinosaur," Lois nodded seriously and Maddie grinned. Clark and his parents glanced at each other in a well practiced 'that's our crazy Lois' exchange, which Clark only felt mildly guilty about, it was Lois after all. Then the younger man turned back to her, questioning.

"Oh, really?" Clark queried, a clear chuckle in his tone. Lois glared at him.

"Okay, Smallville, laugh it up," she responded. "But some people think a vivid imagination is the sign of an active and vastly intelligent mind. And I'm telling you; nothing is as vivid as what I imagined these passed few days. I mean, not only did I see this dinosaur woman at the attack the other night, I even dreamt about her during Mr. Kent's speech." Her brow furrowed for a moment. "Which, I don't actually remember walking into by the way. Guess my concussion must have really got the better of me by then..."

"So, what did you dream about?" Maddie persisted. Lois blinked at her, surprised to have a willing audience for once.

"Um... well," she started. "I was out the back of the conference centre. And the woman was there, obviously. But there were others too, right? This young guy with lanky hair and yellow eyes like a cat, and this other woman decked in black with gloves on her hands."

Lois ran hands over her own palms in demonstration, fully lost in the story, while Clark narrowed his eyes. He recognised a description of Paul and Phoenix when he heard one. Exactly how much did Lois see?

"Oh, and if that's not weird enough," Lois continued. "Lex Luthor was there too. And all of us were trying to free this woman from a control collar that kept taking her over. You know, sometimes she'd be nice, other times she'd attack us and we'd have to fight her off, it was intense."

"Did you do it, did you free her?" Maddie asked hopefully.

"Yeah, yeah we did," Lois smiled, vaguely proud. "It was actually pretty cool."

"Well, as stories go, Lois, I have to say it's pretty impressive," Clark nodded. He had no idea how Lex and the others had persuaded Lois of her current 'it was all a dream' philosophy about her obvious involvement in the situation last night, but figured it was best to play along.

"Yeah," Maddie nodded helpfully. "It sounds fun, you should write it down." Lois cocked her head at the girl.

"You think so?" she queried, eyes distant as she slowly nodded at the idea. "Yeah, maybe I should. Lois Lane, author. That might work..."

"Well, you'll have to keep your fictions strictly after office hours," Jonathan insisted. "I can't have my new Chief of Staff daydreaming when she's supposed to be working."

Clark and Lois turned their heads to the man opposite in equal incredulity—Clark's eyes narrowed in a touch of panic.

"Wait a minute... You want me to be your Chief of Staff?" The brunette's face lit with muted excitement.

"Dad, uh..." Clark started, face clouding as he leant across the table. "Are you sure you don't wanna think this through?"

"Clark, if it weren't for Lois Lane I'd never have been elected, and I honestly wouldn't have survived yesterday without her," Jonathan replied, making Lois avert her eyes with a surprisingly bashful smile. "Besides, Lois, it's pretty clear your destiny lies far beyond a cappuccino maker. What do you think?"

The warm, satisfied and unhappily decisive look the two of them shared proved the situation thoroughly resolved and unalterable and Clark knew he'd just have to live with it. And maybe that wouldn't be so bad, Lois was a good organiser and she was nice and all... well, sometimes nice... when she wasn't annoying... okay, she was mostly annoying, and another repeat of living in close proximity to her might just kill him. Not to mention the risks it presented—she almost discovered 33.1 yesterday; who knew what else she might poke her nose into if she was working for his father? Nope, benefits to his father's work aside, this officially had all the hallmarks of total disaster. Clark sighed. Still, at least she won't literally have to live here this time...

"You are sure about this decision?" Mikhail pushed a lock of long brown hair from his eyes and stared at Bobster impassively.

"Absolutely," Bobster nodded across the cards table, clasping his hands across the wooden surface.

"You realise the odds are against you?" Mikhail persisted, tapping the end of his pencil against the small notebook before him. Bobster shrugged.

"Yeah, but why bother playing the odds? It's boring. I like a little more excitement in my gambling," the younger man grinned. "Clark Kent, definitely. You're not gonna sway me." Mikhail's eyes narrowed, lips quirking at the corners.

"Very well," he conceded, rolling up the sleeve of his brown sweater so he could easier jot something down on the notebook's small, already heavily pencilled pages. "You have the money now?" he asked without looking up. Bobster pulled at his short sleeved black shirt, allowing him to reach inside his jeans pocket. He placed a few crumpled dollar bills on the table.

"Fifty, as required," he muttered. "You run an expensive shop." Mikhail smiled thinly as he looked up, reaching for each bill separately and testing them carefully in the light before folding them into his own trouser pocket. As he did so, the door opposite started to open, revealing the blue plaid figure of Clark Kent.

"Ah, the man himself," Mikhail nodded, slipping the last note in his pocket and smoothly closing the notebook.

Bobster twisted round, grinning brightly. Once Clark's searching eyes found his, the young blonde gave a happy wave and Clark began a smile in response. The sight of Mikhail clouded his eyes and the smiled stopped. With a soft smirk crossing his features, Mikhail stood up and headed for the door.

"Mr. Kent," he nodded as he passed. Clark looked away and moved over to Bobster. The other man shook his head lightly.

"You don't cut him any slack, do you?" he observed. Clark's mouth flattened in response.

"He tried to kill one of my best friends," he stated. Bobster shrugged.

"Didn't Molly try that too?" he queried casually.

"Yeah, well..." Clark muttered. "I'm not exactly okay with her either..." He looked down, a cloud of uncertainty crossing his face.

"You should give them a chance," Bobster persisted. "People do change." Clark looked up again slowly and the other man's gaze with a small, relenting smile.

"Maybe..." he promised. "In any case, that's not why I'm here. Have you seen Lex?" Bobster's eyes brightened, lips curving with mischief.

"Oh, he's around," he assured, waving a hand. "Actually, Clark, I've been thinking. About what we were discussing the other day—" A flash of nervous panic crossed Clark's face.

"Oh, Bobster, that's okay, I think I got the idea," he babbled quickly—they'd skirted around the issue before, which Clark could just about handle, but actually addressing his feelings for Lex head on with someone else was something Clark didn't feel ready for just yet.

"Well, yeah, we covered the basics," Bobster agreed, ignoring Clark's discomfort. "But there's another good way of determining someone's preference I forgot to mention."

"Yeah?" Clark answered, trying to figure out a way to divert the conversation.

"Yeah," Bobster nodded. "See, what you should do is play on the other person's interests. Their hobbies."

"Their hobbies?" Clark repeated vaguely, looking hopefully up at the door as it began to open again.

"You can learn a lot about someone from what they do in their spare time," Bobster continued to explain. "So if you get them to teach you something. A sport maybe. Something physical..." Bobster coughed slightly, running a hand through his hair as though oddly embarrassed by his own suggestion. Clark was too distracted by the three figures stepping through the doorway to notice. "It might, you know, help you get closer..." Bobster trailed off as he noticed Clark's current utter disregard of him. He twisted round again to follow the other man's gaze.

Stepping through the doorway was Lex, in a fetching cool blue shirt and black slacks, Clara, in a familiar Mystery Machine top, and a green skinned woman with reptilian legs and thick talons on her hands. Bobster nodded in understanding at Clark's distraction and only shrugged when the young Kryptonian stood up hurriedly and left him at the table.

"And this is the games room," Clara stated grandly, waving a hand across the busy area. Lex rolled his eyes a little behind her while Raven looked round, curious.

Dodging a couple of guys at the pool tables, Clark made his way towards them. It didn't take long for Clara to spy him and she left her tour group of one without a second thought.

"Clark!" she cried, jumping up at him.

Clark beamed at the bouncing child—with Maddie out of his life now, it was nice to know there was still one young girl around to brighten his days. In a rush of affection, he grabbed her beneath the shoulders and spun her round. Clara giggled with delight.

"Hey, Clara," Clark greeted, setting her down.

"So you're Clark Kent?" Raven queried, stepping over. Despite her imposing demeanour she was physically quite small, standing a good head or so below the other man, and had to squint up at him.

"That's me," Clark nodded, trying to keep his staring to a minimum, but failing to prevent the bright glance at Lex as he moved beside them.

"Sorry about the whole trying to kill your father thing," Raven shrugged lightly, but the way she averted her gaze showed Clark the real guilt behind her words. He flattened his smile in understanding.

"It's okay. I heard about the collar, I know you didn't mean it," he assured. "And it's, Raven, right?"

"Raptor," she corrected. Clark tilted his head, questioning. "I figure a transformation like this practically demands a new identity, don't you think? I like Raptor." Her amber eyes sparkled and Clark shrugged.

"Raptor's good," he concurred with a grin. "You're not upset about what happened?" 'Raptor' shook her head.

"You kidding?" she protested. "Before I was a mousy Oxford graduate no-one looked twice at. Now I've got extra speed, strength and super cool accessories." She flexed the claws on her right hand for emphasis. "It's fucking awesome! Best result of a lab accident ever."

"Lab accident?" Clark repeated curiously. Lex took the opportunity to step in.

"Turns out Raptor here was studying some mutated dinosaur bones shipped over to England from Smallville," he explained, quirking his eyebrows at Clark. The Kryptonian raised his head in understanding. Wow, kryptonite effects are stretching overseas now? The thought was troubling, but at least in this instance it didn't seem to have caused too much strife.

"Yep," Raptor agreed. "One second I'm examining these weird green dust particles under a microscope, the next thing I know, I'm getting zapped by a surge of electricity some cocky students are releasing from a shoddy science experiment opposite. When I wake up, I'm like this." She waved a hand over herself proudly. "I gather this kind of thing happens a lot round here," she concluded, looking over the room's other varied occupants. Clark sighed.

"It's certainly not unusual," he admitted. Beside him Clara started to fidget, apparently bored by the discussion.

"Come on Raptor, I haven't shown you the gym yet, or the kitchens," she insisted. Raptor smiled at her.

"Guess that's my cue to leave," she noted to Clark. "It was good to meet you, Clark." She glanced at Lex enquiringly before Clara could lead her away and the other man waved a hand in response.

"I'm clearly redundant. Please, go on without me," he nodded and Raptor followed the young girl into the adjoining room obediently. Clark slipped easily next to Lex, smiling at the others as they left.

"Looks like things turned out pretty well then," he stated, turning warmly to his friend. The responding smile was lukewarm at best and Clark instinctively rested a hand on the other man's arm. "What is it?" Lex's gaze sharpened a little at the touch but he didn't move away.

"I lost one of my security," he admitted, eyes blank has he raised them to Clark's, the lack of emotion only making the younger man more aware of the painful guilt his friend was feeling. "A few others are in hospital with minor injuries. I miscalculated, Clark. It was a weak operation."

"Lex, you're not a military commander," Clark insisted, voice gentle. "You did the best you could, it's not your fault. And because of you two people were saved yesterday." Lex looked away with a small sigh.

"The power behind it all is still at large though," he frowned and Clark had to fight very hard not to move his hand to the other man's brow and smooth away the lines. "The control collar Raptor was fitted with self-destructed less than an hour after it was disabled. We didn't get enough information from it to provide any concrete leads." A glimmer of recollection passed his eyes and he looked up again seriously. "You needn't worry about your father though. According to Raptor he wasn't a specific target, just someone intended to test her abilities. It's unlikely whoever was controlling her will be attempting another hit." Clark sighed with relief.

"That's good to know," he nodded. Lex seemed to lose himself in the warm, inviting forest of Clark's gaze for a moment—then a soft increase in the pressure on his arm brought him back to himself.

"Indeed," Lex nodded, stepping casually from Clark's touch with the pretence of surveying the room. "So, what happened with your glass breaking girl? Should I be making room for another new member?"

Clark let his arm fall to his side slowly, smile turning bittersweet. There was a time when Lex would have opened up to him freely, when he'd seemed to find peace in Clark's affection instead of shying away from it. It felt like just another cruel nail in the coffin of fate that now Clark truly appreciated that kind of trust it was no longer available. The lies and fears and misunderstandings had made it too uncomfortable for Lex to give himself openly anymore, and Clark couldn't blame him for that. He'd just have to work extra hard to make himself worthy of Lex again.

"No, I think Maddie's gonna be okay now," Clark replied. "She's gone to live with her grandmother, who couldn't be happier. She didn't even know she had a granddaughter 'til now." Lex looked up at that, newly curious, and Clark was glad to note his eyes were brighter—if he couldn't get close enough to help Lex with his struggles just yet, at least he could provide pleasant distraction.

"Are you certain Maddie will be alright living with her?" Lex asked. Clark nodded confidently.

"I think so. I mean, she was scared to go at first," he admitted, recalling Maddie's touching protestations about wanting to stay with the Kents, the warm glow in his own heart at the thought of having her as a sister, especially after the adorable drawing she'd made for him—a childish rendering of the two of them and Shelby before the barn, a large, bright, beautifully colourful rainbow spanning the sky above. As nice as the thought was, though, Clark knew he couldn't let a loving grandmother be deprived any longer. "But Mrs. Taylor's a lovely woman. I'm sure they'll get on just fine."

Lex opened his mouth for a moment, as though to protest, then seemed to think better of it and slipped into a quiet smile instead. He shook his head at Clark, expression fond and Clark narrowed his eyes at the motion in confusion. Then his face cleared with understanding.

"Oh, you meant, about her powers," he realised. "No, I think that's okay too. She was really starting to get the hang of it before she left... There is something though," Clark added. Lex eyed him expectantly. "Could you maybe keep an eye on her father? I know he's in jail and all now, but you never know what could happen. I'd hate for Maddie to get her life on track only to have it ripped apart again by another unexpected visit." Lex nodded.

"Consider it done," he stated. Clark gave him a grateful smile and an uncertain silence descended between them, filled by the gentle hum of the TVs to the right and the clicking of billiard balls over felt. "Well," Lex continued eventually. "I better go. I have things to do at the office."

Clark's mind whirred frantically into life as the other man moved passed him. This was a perfect 'asking out' moment—he recognised it from the many times it had passed him by with Lana. This one was doubly difficult to fill though, because he couldn't just ask Lex out, Lex was a guy and Clark was still building up to that. What could he ask instead? Think Kent, think! What was Bobster saying earlier about hobbies?

"Lex," he called as the other man reached the door. Lex turned, face open and questioning. "Do you know how to play... um..." Damn. What would Lex play in his spare time? "...chess?" Clark finished hopefully. Lex quirked his lips in baffled amusement.

"I have more than a passing knowledge of the game, yes," Lex admitted.

"Great!" Clark beamed, hurrying over. "Because I don't and, you know, I've always wanted to learn. Would you teach me?" Lex blinked at the oddly excited body before him.

"Of course," he shrugged. "If you like. Why...?"

"Cool," Clark nodded, distracting from his friend's inevitable enquiries by opening the door. "How about, tomorrow sometime, at the mansion?" Lex nodded in perplexed agreement as Clark ushered him out into the corridor, prevented from further thought by a sudden, highly detailed description of the younger man's friends at the school chess club and their unsuccessful attempts at explaining the game.

The two of them passed Phoenix on the way out, who smiled at Lex before making a beeline for Bobster. She sat down beside him quickly, folding her arms across the table and staring him down.

"I hear from Mikhail you changed your bet on the sweepstake," she accused. Bobster grinned softly, balancing a couple more cards with expert precision on the third level of the castle he was constructing.

"So what if I have?" he muttered. Phoenix narrowed her eyes.

"It costs fifty bucks to change a bet, it's not something you do on a whim. And you've got cockiness flowing off you in tidal waves," she stated. "You know something."

"Know something about what?" Clara asked brightly as she bounced over.

"A sweepstake, apparently," Raptor enlightened, stepping up behind her rather more slowly. Phoenix looked up in surprise and the dinosaur-human hybrid grinned. "Sensitive hearing," she explained, waving a clawed hand to the side of her head. Phoenix and Bobster nodded, impressed. "So what's this sweepstake you're talking about?" The others looked a little uneasily towards Clara, but the young girl just rolled her eyes.

"They mean the one they've got set up about who the Boss is gonna sleep with next," she stated calmly. Bobster gaped, while Phoenix chuckled. "Honestly guys, I turn thirteen next month. I can handle sex talk, ok?" Raptor shook her head with a chuckle of her own.

"That's what you do for kicks around here, huh?" she queried. "Gossip about the owner's sex life?"

"That and use our powers to help people," Clara nodded. "Like we did with you."

"You mean like we did," Bobster corrected. "Just cos you got us out yesterday doesn't mean you're part of the team. You're still too young for that... Not that there even is a team any more," he amended.

"Why not?" Phoenix argued, a familiar, mischievous grin playing at her lips. Bobster raised a hand, sighing in disbelief—immediately collapsing the playing card display before him.

"Phoenix!" he replied, exasperated. "You heard the Boss last night. He said no more attempts at heroics."

"No," Phoenix responded coolly. "He said he didn't want to hear about any more attempts. He wasn't telling us to stop, he was telling us to improve." Bobster shook his head.

"I suppose you're gonna tell me you have emotional evidence to back this up as well?" he stated dryly.

"Something like that," Phoenix grinned. "In any case, I certainly plan to continue." She turned back to Raptor, eyes flashing in challenge. "What do say Raptor, wanna join?" Raptor curved her lips in a matching grin.

"Sounds like fun to me," she nodded, while Clara bounced happily beside her. In unplanned unison, the three women turned to Bobster.

He glanced at them defiantly for a moment, then sagged his shoulders in defeat, head shaking again as his mouth spread into a wide 'if you can't beat 'em join 'em' style smile.

Later that evening, a thick set, flat faced, black suited man stepped briskly down one of the blue-tinted LuthorCorp corridors, a cardboard folder gripped tightly in his hand. He paused before a desk at the end and the stern looking secretary occupying it glanced up at him. A quick nod was apparently enough introduction and the woman buzzed him into the office behind her a once.

"I have the report on Project Falcon, sir," the man stated as he stepped through the sliding doors.

Lionel Luthor looked up from the papers on his desk in irritation. One of them was a Daily Planet article headed 'Kansas State Senator continues to impress.'

"I am already aware of that project's complete and utter failure, thank you. Despite the vast quantity of money and resources I placed at your company's disposal," he responded scathingly. "I'm not interested in excuses." The man stopped before the desk, face impassive.

"We're aware of that, sir," he acknowledged. "But we've uncovered some information we thought you might be interested in." Lionel just stared at the man. "You are aware, of course," the man continued, apparently taking the scepticism as a green light. "That the subject's collar was fitted with state of the art surveillance along with its other advanced mechanics." Lionel gave a brief nod, eyes sharpening a little in interest. "Well, our technical team managed to download some of the recorded footage before the self-destruct sequence was completed. The images revealed some fascinating information in regards to your son." Lionel quietly pursed his lips, betraying his curiosity.

"What information?" he asked crisply. The man pulled some sheets of paper from the folder.

"Here are just some of the images we received," he stated, handed them over.

Lionel held the pages before him—they were enlarged black and white pictures, slightly grainy as if from a CCTV recording. The first showed an oddly angled but clear enough shot of Lex kneeling beside a scraggy young man with lanky hair and overly long fingernails. The young Luthor was tinkering with a small black box. The next was a shot of the young man on his own, leaning above the camera. His teeth were bared threateningly, revealing inhumanly sharp incisors. His pupils were contracted into cat-like slits. The last image was of an elevator, seen from the floor. A woman in black gloves and a dirty blonde haired man towered above the camera, the elevator's display screen flashing between them. The digital sign read 33.1.

Lionel nodded slowly.

"Tell your employer I want the full recording on my desk within the hour," he instructed without looking up. "I will, of course, pay whatever price he requests."

"Yes, sir," the man nodded, placing the folder carefully on the edge of the desk before leaving.

As the opaque glass doors slid automatically back into place, Lionel ran his fingers lightly across the pixelated numbers on the paper before him. His lips curved into a wide, satisfied smirk.

——end credits——