Gethsemane

***************

Man just wants to forget the bad stuff, and believe in the made-up good stuff.
It's easier that way  -- The Common Man, Rashomon.

***************


'Don't you already know?' asked Kara.

Lex's heart almost stopped beating.  The worst blow was that which one had always dreaded to receive, but had always expected in one's heart.  Clark was the Traveller.  Clark was the one destined to destroy the world.  His father had conspired to control the Traveller, to set him upon the throne of Earth, a treason beyond all belief and acceptance.  Lex had known his father was evil, but this....

'What must I do?' asked Lex, though again, he already knew the answer.

*****************

'Even if I wanted the job,' said Clark.  'I'd never work for Lex Luthor.'

'Why were you close for so long?' asked Lois.

'Sometimes people don't turn out to be who you thought they were,' said Clark.

Lex was a murderer.  Lex committed crimes against humanity. Lex....

Lex had not been those things when Clark first met him.  He couldn't have been.  Lex had told him there was darkness in his heart, and that Clark was a light shining in that darkness.  Surely someone so evil wouldn't have cared about the light, would have loved the darkness.  Lex hadn't been evil then.  Lex hadn't been....

Clark felt that rage rise up inside him once again.  How dare Lex fail.  How could Lex have failed?   Lex should have won.  He should have conquered the darkness by himself.  The Warrior Angel.  Lex should have won and been able to stand beside Clark when....

******************

'I thought you were waiting for a guide.'

'I don't need her.  Not even sure I can trust her,'  Lex replied.

The crystal was designed to protect the entire human race from... The Traveller.  Surely it would protect him.

'I think this is dangerous.'

'It's worth the risk,' said Lex.  'We leave now.'

Now, before he lost his resolve.  Now, before it was too late.

******************

'Clark?  Clark!  Earth to Clark.'

'Not funny, Chloe.'

'Well pardon me for making a tiny joke.'

'Very tiny.  Very  not a joke.'

'You're grumpy today.'

'Sorry, Chloe.  I have things on my mind.'

'Lana?'

'Yes.  Lana.  Of course.'

Of course, Lana.  Lana would be the one standing beside him when....

****************

'I need you, but the world needs you more.'

***************

'What?  You made a deal with Lex Luthor?'

And now the devil was calling in the chips, thought Clark.  Where was Lex, anyway?  Doing wheelies in the Arctic Circle, according to Jimmy.

The Arctic.  The Fortress of Solitude. No longer so solitary, it seemed.

****************

Lex strode among the spires of ice, drinking in the wonders and the beauty.  How very sad, he thought, that such beauty should be in the service of evil.  Like Clark's beauty.  It all might have been so different.  Beauty and goodness -- all he had ever wanted, to trust in and believe in. And he had, once, trusted and believed in it. But Clark was not what he'd pretended to be.

The strange crest disappeared into the orb.  The orb glowed purple.  Behind him, he heard a sound, and turned.  Clark, of course.

'I must say, Clark.  This is a big step up from the barn,' Lex drawled.  Don't try to bluff your way out of this, he thought.

'It's not what you think,' Clark bluffed.  'You don't understand.'

'No.  I think I finally do understand.  You live among us as a mild mannered farm boy, and all along, you are plotting our demise.'

'That's not what I'm doing.'

'It's a brilliant disguise.  You don't even need a mask.'

'I'm not your enemy, Lex.  I've never done anything to hurt you.'

Maybe Clark even believed that, thought Lex.  Maybe he was right.  Maybe Lex really didn't feel much pain any more.  Maybe, he felt numb.  Maybe Clark had done him a favour -- like Lionel.  Maybe.

'You didn't trust me,' he screamed, the words torn out of him.  'With everything you can do, we could have accomplished so much together.  I would have helped you become a hero.'

'Have you ever thought of anyone but yourself?' asked Clark.

'Right now, I'm doing this for the world.  I have to protect the human race.... I'm sorry, Clark.  You are the Traveller.  You'll never threaten the world again.... Kal-El.'

Lex put the glowing orb on a shelf among the ice crystals.  The orb shot beams of light in every direction, and the beautiful palace of ice began to fall apart.  Clark lay on the ground, weakened as if by Kryptonite.

Lex was numb, and that was good.  That was the work of Clark.  That was ironic and good.

Lex knelt down, and took Clark in his arms, for the last time.

'I'm sorry,' said Lex. 'I love you like a brother, but it has to end this way.'

*********************

'Kal-El!'

Pain and cold and whiteness.  Whiteness and cold and pain.

'Kal-El?'

'Go away,' he whispered.

'Kal-El?'

'Yes.  That's me.  I'm here.'  Where was here, he wondered?

He sat up, grimaced, surveyed the cold and the whiteness and...  all around him was....

Nothing.  Only white.  Cold white.

'Where am I?' he asked.

'Ah.  The classic question.  When one opens one's eyes in the next world, one automatically asks, where am I?  As if that were the most important thing.  As if, if one knew the answer, the answer would change anything.  I must tell you, Kal-El, it does not.'

'What does?' asked Clark, looking around at the endless cold white.

'What is it you want?  Colour?  Done!

Far off in the distance, a patch of green.

'Hope.  Hope springs eternal in the human breast.  Ah, but you're not human.  What springs eternal in your breast,  Kal-El?'

'I....'

'Don't you even know?'

'I... I hope someday I'll be normal.  Okay?  Satisfied?  Can I go home now?'

'What do you think this is, Kal-El?  Some kind of TV quiz show?'

'No.  Um... what is it then?'

'And if you knew the answer, would it change anything?'

Clark was silent.

'Good.  You want to be normal, do you?  Done!'

'Done?  Just like that?'

'Should there be more to it?  Just go.'

'Where?'

'There.  Toward the green, toward the hope.'

Clark got to his feet, and started walking.  The strange blob of green, off in the distance, grew closer.  The green was trees, and the trees became birds, and the birds flew around a garden, and the garden was in a courtyard.  A woman was in the courtyard, forming birds with green leaves from the trees.

'Where am I?' asked Clark.

'You are in Gethsemane,' she said.


***************

The woman was dressed in a long, white robe, and her hair was spun gold.  Blue water bubbled up in the fountain.  She dipped her hands into the fountain, and blue birds flew away, into the green trees.  Green birds -- those made of leaves -- dived into the fountain in their place.  The fountain was made of gray tiles, and red fish swam in the depths of the blue water.  The green birds chased them, and the red fish turned to white water lilies and rose up to float on the surface.

Clark stood watching this for a while, until he felt dizzy. He looked up, and the woman was watching him.

'Where have you been?' she asked.

'Somewhere cold,' said Clark.  'I walked across the snow. There! You can see my footprints.'

'Yes,' said the woman. She looked off into the distance.  'You leave dark footprints.'

Clark looked back down at the fountain.  The green birds were gone. Had they flown away, or drowned?

'You are sad,' said the woman.

Clark shrugged.  His feelings were no business of hers.

'Or you are angry?' the woman went on.  'Yes,' she said after a moment.  'Angry.'

'Someone tried to kill me,' said Clark, though it was no business of hers.

'Yes,' said the woman.  She looked up, opened her hands, and another bird flew from her fingers.  Clark didn't notice the colour.  Was this her job?  Did she do nothing else all day?

'Birds love me,' said the woman.  'But I am made of other creatures, as well.  Would you like to see?'

'Not now,' said Clark.  'I was... I was told to come here.  Why?'

'Why not?' asked the woman.

Clark didn't have an answer.

'Don't you know where your friend is?'

'Who... Lex?  No.' said Clark.  'Is he here too?'

'Your friend,  he is in darkness.'

'He's not my friend, and I don't care where he is,'  Clark snarled.  'He tried to kill me.'

'Yes,' said the woman.  Birds flew from her fingers, and she watched them fly.  'Why did your friend kill you?'

'He's not my friend,' said Clark again.  'He thought I would destroy the world.'

'Would you?'  The woman sounded merely curious, as if asking if Clark would play hockey, or read a book.

'No!  That's crazy.  Lex is crazy.  Why would he think I'd do that?'

'I don't know,' said the woman.  'I've never met you before.  Ask someone who knows you better.'

'There is no one else here,' said Clark.  'Just you and me.'

The woman opened her hands, and more green birds joined their blue friends in the trees.


*********************

Lex had explored every inch of his prison.  There was no way out, of that he was assured.  The cold stone walls were seamless, and even if there was the odd crack here and there, he had nothing with which to dig his way out, except for his fingernails.  Lex wondered how long it would take before he'd be reduced to such a contingency.

Water ran down the walls, from somewhere high up.  He could hear it flowing.  Perhaps he could gouge out steps, and climb?  Sometimes --at no appointed time that he could tell --  food would appear, and he ate ravenously to keep up his strength.  The food was good, but came with no eating implements that could be turned into tools.

His jailers were trying to break him, he knew, but to no avail. He would say nothing, if they ever got around to questioning him.  Nothing, no matter what they promised, because promises could be broken, and always were.  He, on the other hand, could not be broken, and never would be.  He'd had a long, difficult apprenticeship in enduring all things.

It was dark here, mostly.  Sometimes a faint light seeped in from above.  That light he called day, and the darkness he called night.  And this day was, as far as he could tell, the seventh day.  How long before someone asked him a question he wouldn't answer?  He spent his time in speculating about the possible questions he might be asked, and in planning deep, dark non-answers.

'Why did you kill Kal-El?' his interrogator might ask, under dire torture.

'The person you refer to as Kal-El never existed, so how could anyone kill him or her?' Lex might say in return, between his screams.  Lex lovingly imagined the methods of torture that might be employed, so that he might better be prepared to endure their employment.  The rack?  Red hot pincers?  Elevator music?

Or perhaps,  this long, cold, silent darkness, with only his own thoughts for company?

And where was Kal-El?  Was there a heaven for Kryptonian spies?  Had he joined his ancestors in Kryptonian Valhalla?  Or was he just dead, dead, dead?

'Clark?' Lex whispered.  The first word he'd uttered since his first 'day' here.  He'd had a lot to say then, when he'd wakened on cold, damp stone, to this infernal darkness, and no word had answered him.  Two could play at that game, he'd decided, and he'd spoken no word since.

He leaned his head back against the wall, closed his eyes, and decided to sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, or something. Shakespeare had a phrase for everything.  Lex decided to count Shakespearian phrases, in lieu of sheep.


************

Clark woke from an exhausted sleep.  It was still bright day.  The fountain burbled blue water and green birds drowned themselves in its depths hunting the red fish. The woman stood calmly creating more birds and watching them fly.

'Did you dream?' she asked.

'Are you talking to me?' Clark replied.

'Who else is here, but for you and me?'

Clark was stubbornly silent.

'Did you dream?' she asked again.

'What business is it of yours, and why do you care?'

'You are in my garden,' she said.  'You fell asleep on my bench.  Did you dream?  If so, tell me your dream. If not, please leave.'

Clark sighed.  'I had a dream, but it wasn't much. I was in a dark place -- stone and water.  There was no way out.'

'Who else was there?'

'No one.  I was alone.'

'That is not true,' said the woman.

'How would you know?' asked Clark.  'It was my dream.'

'Do you own your dreams?' she asked.  'You dreamt in my garden, so the dream is mine to forget or not.'

'I... I mean, I was the one who had the dream, so I should know what happened in it.'

'Do you know everything that happened, or do you just assume you know?  Perhaps you should go back and dream again.'

'No, thank you.  It wasn't much fun.'

'And you are here to have fun,' said the woman.

Clark looked around the courtyard.  The trees, the fountain, the birds.  'Why are you here?' he asked.

'Birds love me,' said the woman.  'But I am made of other creatures, too.  Do you want to see?'

Clark was silent.

'No one is ever alone in their dreams,' she went on.  'We share the dream time with others, always.'

'Someone might have been there,'  Clark allowed.  'I thought I heard breathing.'

'Breathing?  You thought?  Can you not hear a leaf fall miles away, and see through walls?'

'Not in my dreams,' said Clark.

'Ah!' said the woman, and she released more blue birds into the wild. 'That is why you dream.'

'Why do you do that?' asked Clark. 'No, wait.  I know.  Birds love you.'

'Yes, but I am made of many other creatures.  Let me show you.'

The woman turned, and turned, and turned and as she turned, she rose up, like a lump of clay on a potter's wheel, and she rose and rose, and she became wings, multitudes of wings, tiers of wings, rising higher and higher into the blue sky, and legs and beaks and whale fins and horns and elephant trunks, rising and rising, the creatures that formed her body singing and howling and trumpeting fit to raise the dead.

Blue birds and green birds flew about her, singing as she rose.

A face appeared amidst the cacophonous multitude -- bright and black and beyond earthly things.  A voice spoke from the face, though the mouth did not move.  And the voice said,  'Go out, into the city, and find the one you seek.'

'The city?  Where?' asked Clark.  He looked away for a moment, searching for a city, and when he turned back, the woman was standing as before, pale, blonde, dressed in white, the birds nesting at her feet.

'The city is there,' she said.  'Through that door.'

There was indeed a door leading from the courtyard, though Clark would have sworn there was none before.  'What is out there?' he asked.

'That is for you to discover,' said the woman.  'That is not for me.'

***************

It was the seventh day, thought Lex.  He must keep track of the days and nights, because otherwise they would slip away from him, like those seven lost weeks that he had never recovered.

Not that anything much happened here in his cell -- no, no his cell, merely this cell.  He refused to claim ownership -- nothing much happened here, but there were little events of note.  A bug crawled across the floor in the wan light of early morning, bent on some important business of its own.  Lex drew his legs well back, so as not to impede its progress.  He wondered what the bug thought about it all. If it were going to meet a lover or a friend.  If it were going to defeat an enemy, or form an alliance with a foreign power.  Perhaps it was heading to its laboratory to do research on bug diseases.  Yes!  That was it.  The bug was a scientist, researching bug diseases, and so must not be impeded.  He watched as the bug manoeuvred around a small rock, which must have looked like a mountain from its perspective, went on for some distance, and descended into a crack in the floor, which doubtless led to its laboratory.

Lex peered down into the tiny crack, wondering at the activities within.  What was the bug scientist doing now?  Readying his tiny lab?  Preparing slides? Heating a minuscule Bunsen burner?

Lex sat back, prepared to stand guard if a superstitious bug community showed up with tiny torches, ready to lynch the evil scientist among them.  We evil scientists must stick together, he thought.

*************

There was indeed a city beyond the garden.  Clean, neat streets of clean, neat houses, and not a living being to be seen -- it was a bit unnerving.  He walked on for some distance, and turned a corner.  Someone was walking down the street toward him.  Clark tensed, because the person -- a man, Clark saw as he drew nearer -- had an air about him of authority and danger.

Clark smiled and nodded as they came within smiling distance.  The stranger halted, stared at Clark, almost in accusation, and said, 'You are a stranger here.  Are you come to rescue the prisoner in the Tower?'

'The Tower?  No.  I know nothing of the prisoner.  I'm just visiting.  The lady in the garden sent me.'  He was babbling, Clark realized.  Too much information.

The stranger seemed to agree with Clark's assessment of the matter.  'The Lady in the Garden,' he said.  'Sends no one for a visit. If you do not know your purpose here, you should find a purpose, or leave.'

'Thank you,' said Clark.  He smiled again, and walked on.

'And do not smile so much,' the man went on.  'If your smiles have no meaning.'

**************

'Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.'  Thus said Clark to himself as he surveyed the Tower.  The Tower was indeed dark, and rather squat.  It was made of brown stone, as well.  Robert Browning would be pleased.  Should he, Clark, put his horn to his lips and blow?

There were no doors or windows, except the guarded ones at the front, he discovered.  He walked around it several times, trying to look like a casual tourist.  There might be a way in through the roof, but he couldn't fly, and trying to climb the smooth stone in broad daylight would be sure to draw unwanted attention.

In the end, he decided on a more simple approach.  He walked up to the door, and announced to the guards, 'I'm here to see the prisoner.  The Lady of the Garden sent me.'

The guards looked at each other, shrugged, and stepped aside.  'Good luck,' said one of them.  'It's not easy to get into the cell.  You need a rope to lower yourself in.'

'I'll manage,' said Clark, and walked into the Dark Tower.  Inside, was another central tower, that must house the cell.  A circular staircase surrounded it, and Clark realized he had no choice but to start climbing.  Thirteen stories later, he reached the top.  Another guard stood watching a trap door.

'You've come to visit the prisoner?' the guard asked.

'Yes,' said Clark.  'How do I get in?'

The guard lifted the trap door, and showed him a rope, attached to a winch.  'When you want to leave, just tug,' said the guard.  'I'll winch you up.'

Clark slid down the rope, and landed on the cold stone floor.  A man was sitting, his back against the wall, his eyes closed.  Pale, thin, and bald.

'Lex?' said Clark. He should have expected this, but for some reason, his mind had refused to believe in the possibility.

Lex raised his head slightly. His face was empty, his eyes dark.  He stared at Clark for a moment, then let his head drop again.

'I should have known,' he said, softly.  'You are like Rasputin, Clark.  Can nothing kill you?'

'I don't know,' said Clark.

'Well, I wouldn't expect you to tell me if you did,' said Lex.  'Now that you've had your moment of gloat, please leave.'

'I didn't come to gloat,' said Clark.

'Then why did you come?  To check out the view?'  Lex looked up, and noticed the trap door was open, letting in the natural daylight.  He gasped,  'Look, Clark!  If you tilt your head right back, you can see a cloud drifting by.  Amazing.  It's shaped a bit like an elephant, don't you think?'

Lex sat, watching the cloud, until it drifted right past, and the sky was blank again.  Then he sighed, rested his head against the stone wall, and looked across the cell at Clark.

'Why are you still here, Clark?' he asked.  'Are you my new cell mate?  If so, I'm going to petition for the death sentence to be carried out.  That's preferable to listening to you lecture me all day and night for the rest of my life.'

'No,' said Clark.  'I'm not a prisoner.'  At least I don't think I am, thought Clark to himself. 'I'm here on a visit.'

'A visit?  Who?  Oh, you mean you're visiting me?  How sweet, Clark.  Did you bring me flowers?  How about a file baked in a cake?  No?  Some porn for me to masturbate to?'

Clark couldn't help but laugh.  'Lex!' he said, trying to be severe.

'My apologies, Clark.  I didn't mean to offend your sensibilities.  Usually my imagination is enough, but even it's beginning to run out.  No magazines?  Fine.  How about you take off your shirt, and....'

'Lex!'

'Oh, good.  Now you're offended.  Your eyes are flashing, and your face is red.  That will do fine.  Just climb back up the rope and leave me to it.'

'I'm not here to fulfill your dirty fantasies,' Clark shouted.

'Oh, but you are, Clark.  You are.'

'I'm... I guess I'm here to rescue you.'

'You guess?  You don't know?  You don't have a plan?  What kind of superhero are you, anyway?'

Clark sighed, and moved to sit against the opposite wall, since it seemed he and Lex were going to have a long discussion of the matter.

'Watch where you're going,' said Lex.  'Don't step on Connor.'

'Connor?'

'Connor.  My other cell mate.'

Clark looked around the cell, but it was empty, save for him and Lex.  'I don't see anyone, Lex.  Do you have an imaginary friend, now?'

'Not imaginary,' said Lex.  'Just very small.  There he is.  Careful. Wait until he crawls back down.'

'Lex,' said Clark, gently.  'Connor is a bug'

'I'm aware of that, Clark.  I haven't entirely lost my mind, yet.  He's a bug.  He's quiet, considerate, and mostly keeps to his own side of the cell.  So far, he hasn't tried to kill me.  He hasn't mutated into a giant cockroach and tried to eat me.  I like him.  More than I like you, even if you are prettier.  Beauty isn't everything.  He has better manners.'

Clark digested this in silence for a moment.  'You think I'm prettier?'

'Than Connor?  Yes.'

'Why did you call him Connor?'

'I don't know,' Lex mused, as if this were some matter of historical note.  'I always liked the name.  It's Irish.  It means hound-lover, or high desire.  The Irish are strange.'

'Are they?' said Clark.

'Listen, Clark.  This has been a nice visit, but I don't have any refreshments to offer, and it's a bit embarrassing.  The... the bucket is getting kind of full, and it must smell in here. So why don't you fly off home?  I won't be offended.  Maybe you can glare at me one more time on your way out?'

Clark slid down the stone wall, to sit across from Lex, being careful not to step on Connor, who seemed to have safely crawled back into his nest.  'Lex?  Don't you want me to try to rescue you?'

'Rescue me?  I think we've finished with all that nonsense, don't you, Clark?  I'm tired of being rescued.  Why don't you go rescue Lana?  Isn't she overdue for a rescue?  It must have been a week.  Women, you know.  They get weary.'

'Lana left me,' said Clark, though it was no business of Lex's.

'I see,' said Lex.  'That explains the visit.  You have nothing better to do with your time.  Let me give you one last piece of advice, just for old times sake?  There are six billion people in the world, half of whom are women.  About half of them are somewhere around your age.  That's one point five billion. Are you still following me?  Good.  At least half of them are going to find you attractive, I can assure you.  If you want even more variety, I'm sure a few other men might consider you pretty, besides me.'

'What are you trying to tell me, Lex?'

'Get the fuck out of here, and leave me the fuck alone.  Can I speak plainly?  I tried to kill you, and it didn't work.  You're still alive, and some day you'll help to destroy this world and hand it to your alien friends on a platter. I failed.  Now I know why I'm in here.  It's because I failed.  Take your rescue, and shove it up your alien ass.  Goodbye.  Don't bang the trap door on your way out.'

********

'Lex won't talk to me,' said Clark, though it was none of her business.

The bird woman went on making birds, and the red fish swam lazily in the fountain.  One of them came up to the surface and blew bubbles.  It seemed to eye Clark unfavourably.  Clark didn't know why.  They hadn't even been introduced.

'I offered to rescue him from the prison, but Lex said he'd rather die than spend more time with me.  What did I do to him to make him hate me like that?'

Another of the red fish swam to the water's surface and gaped at Clark with his round fish mouth. Clark tried to stare it down, but the fish didn't even blink.  It joined in blowing bubbles at Clark, gave him a disgusted look, and swam back down to the depths of the fountain.

'I guess I haven't always been nice to him,' Clark admitted.

A bird screeched overhead.

'He told me he loved me -- and then he tried to kill me.  What sense does that make?'

'Are you asking me?' said the bird woman.  'Or telling me?'

'What... what do you mean?' asked Clark.

'Do you want my opinion, or do you just want to justify yourself?'

'Justify?  Why do I need to justify myself?  Lex... Lex is the one who kills people.  He killed his own father.  What sort of man would kill his own father?  Why does he do these things? He used to be... I thought he was good.  Once.'

'Did  you?  Why?'

'He did good things.  Once.  He helped me, helped my family, helped other people.  Why did he change?'

'I don't know,' said the bird lady.  'I have never met this Lex.  Have you?'

'Of course,' said Clark. 'We used to be friends.'

'Then you should know what changed him.'

Clark sat on the grass beside the fountain, and looked into the deep water.  He could see things moving far, far down.  Darker than the pretty red fish.  Moving more slowly.  Not rising to the surface to blow bubbles.  Dark, slow and disturbing creatures.  Their fins moved the sluggish deep water, and their eyes... their eyes grew on stalks, the better to see in the dim light.  Dim, dim light.  Clark watched them stir the depths, watched them watch the red fish swimming so quickly above them.  And above them, the blue and green birds in the blue sky....

'Lex wasn't alone in his cell,' said Clark, darkly.

*************

'Why did he come here?'

Connor didn't answer.  Lex didn't really expect him to speak in any language he understood, but he hoped Connor might have an idea, and would convey it to Lex with sign language, or wiggling his antennae, or chirping, or something.  After living for so many years in Smallville, nothing would have surprised him.

'That was a pointless visit.'

But then most of what Clark did was pointless, from Lex's point of view.  Or it had been pointless.  Now, when Lex put two and two together, it began to make more sense.  Clark had been part of an Expeditionary force to invade Earth.  That was why he had lied to Lex about everything strange that happened around him.  But then why go on saving Lex's life?  Why not just let him die?  Did Clark want allies in his plan to rule the world?  Did he think Lex would be on his side?  But then why not tell Lex the truth?  It made no sense.   Unless Clark were truly innocent.  But then why treat Lex so badly?  Why not explain everything so that Lex could help him?  Why join forces with Lionel, of all people? Lex at least had morals, even if he was becoming increasingly ready to overlook them.  But Lionel?  No morals to speak of.  It made no sense.

Nothing about Clark made sense. Lex wondered if insanity was inherent in Kryptonians.

'Did he really expect me to believe he was going to rescue me?  After what I did to him?  A Kryptonian Kangaroo court, maybe.  I'm sure Kryptonians have many ways to torture prisoners we've never heard of.  At least these people haven't tortured me.  Yet.'

Who were 'these people', though?  Lex had wondered that before, but after a few days, he'd decided it didn't matter.  But Clark was here too, and free to come and go as he pleased, and yet he'd offered to rescue Lex.

'Nothing about Clark makes any sense.  What are you up to now, Connor?'

The little black beetle had been bustling in and out of the crack in the floor.  Its self-importance had amused Lex.  We all think we're the centre of the universe, he'd told himself.  Even if we're just little black bugs.   Now Connor crawled across the floor toward Lex.  Without pausing he crept up Lex's bare foot, and from there to the cuff of his pants.  He marched up Lex's leg, until he reached his knee, and stopped to stare into Lex's face.

Lex watched all this with a kind of horrified fascination.  This was, he told himself, the result of trying to make friends.  The next thing you knew, people were making free with your body.  Hitting you, breaking into your home, drugging you -- crawling all over you, in other words.

'Um... look, Connor.  I don't know what idea you got into your head, but I don't date outside my species.'

Connor looked up at him with his tiny eyes, and Lex had to laugh.  The look said, clear as day, 'Neither do I.'

The overhead trap door opened for the second time that day.  Connor scuttled off his knee, and crawled back into his crevice, before Clark landed on the stone floor in front of Lex.

'Who were you talking to?' Clark growled.

'Myself,' said Lex, calmly.  'Not that it's any of your business.'

'You weren't talking to yourself,' said Clark.  'You were talking to that bug.'

'If you know so much, why did you ask?'

Clark advanced a step.  'You said you liked the bug better than you like me.  Why?  Is that all people are to you, Lex?  Insects?  Is that why you experiment on people?  We're just insects to you, aren't we?'

'Yes, of course, Clark.  All I ever wanted was to slap you on a lab table, and do my own alien autopsy.'

'I knew it,' Clark snarled.

'Clark, for God's sake.  You don't believe this shit, do you? All I ever wanted was to be your friend.  You need to pull your head out of your ass, and....'

Clark had him by the throat, shoved up against the wall, before Lex could draw breath to finish.

'We're all just insects to you, to be experimented on.  And you were never my friend.  You wanted to fuck me, didn't you?'

Lex heard the crude word coming out of Clark's beautiful mouth with a shiver of horror.   Fuck Clark?  He had never thought of it that way.  Not once.  Not even after their friendship lay about him in beautiful, lethal shards.  He had wanted to bury himself in Clark's warmth.  He had wanted to gaze upon his beauty until his eyes burned.  He had wanted to soar to the very heights of ecstasy with Clark, just once.  But to fuck him?

'You wanted to fuck me,' Clark repeated.  'Like everyone says, you're evil.'

'Is that what they say?' asked Lex.  'Well, take everyone else's word for it.  Please do.'

Clark's face went even harder and colder, like it was made of granite.  'I wish I had always taken everyone else's word about you,' he said.  'I wish I'd let you die that day at the bridge.  But I made a mistake, and saved your life.  I don't know why.  But I'm going to make you wish you had died that day.'

Clark ripped Lex's shirt from collar to hem.  'I'm going to make you wish you'd never looked at me like that,' he said.

************

The most horrifying thing, was that there was no horror.  After the... thing he had done, there should have been horror all around.  But the garden was the same.  The sun still shone, the birds still flew....

'What did you expect?' the bird woman asked.  'Did you expect the fish to be flying?  Or the birds to be breathing water?'

'Something should be different,' said Clark.  'I did something terrible.  The sun should not be shining so brightly.  The birds should not be singing.'

'People do terrible things every day, and yet the sun still shines.  Why are you different?'

'I... I should be better.  I shouldn't have done that... thing.'

'You defeated your enemy, and ground him under your heel.  You humiliated him, and took his last cherished dream of love from him.  What could be better than that?  You should be proud.'

'Who are you, to say such a thing?  To tell me what I should be?'

'I am who I am,' said the woman.  'I say what I know to be true.  You did what was in your heart to do.  You wanted to destroy your enemy, and you did.'

Clark was silent for a long time, staring into the fountain, watching the red fish swim lazily about.  'Does the sun never stop shining here?' he asked at last.

'Do you want it to stop?' asked the woman.

'It should be night here, sometimes.  Lex said....'

And the pain lanced through him again, sharper, deeper and more wrenching than any pain he had ever felt.  He had hurt people before -- killed them even.  He had hurt Lex before.  Why was this pain the worst of all?

'Lex said that it should be night? Ah, then it is night for Lex.'

A bird flew from her fingers, but it was not green or blue.  It was a raven, black as night.  It flew off, out of the garden, in the direction of the tower.

'Will the sun go down, now?' asked Clark.

'Why should the sun go down because Lex wants it?'

'But you said....'

A loud boom interrupted him.  It sounded like a cannon, but why....

The bird woman pointed toward the garden gate.  'Go!' she said.  'Enjoy your final victory.'

************

The formerly empty streets of the town were now crowded, lined with people looking toward the Dark Tower.  Off in the distance, Clark could hear drums.  A procession of some kind, he supposed.

The drums drew closer, the crowd grew noisier.  The procession appeared, turning a corner in the street.  Guards were leading a man by chains around his neck.  The man wore manacles on his hands and more upon his feet, and he stumbled as he walked.

The man was Lex.

Lex held his head high, despite his stumbles, looking around at the crowd as though he were in a ticker-tape parade.  But he seemed to be searching for someone, and Clark drew back, well out of his line of vision.

The procession passed, and Clark thought he heard Lex sigh.  He turned up his hearing and heard Lex whisper, 'You promised. You promised you wouldn't leave me.'

Did Lex mean Clark?  Why would he want Clark to be there, at this moment, after what he'd done?  Clark trailed him, keeping out of sight, hidden behind the crowd.  The guards led Lex around another corner, and there it was -- their destination.  A gallows waited, like something out of a western movie, the noose hanging at the ready.

Lex climbed the steps quite cheerfully, as if he were about to be crowned, rather than hanged.  A guard dropped the noose over Lex's head, and Lex didn't flinch.  He was still looking about, searching for someone in the crowd.  Was he hoping Clark was there after all?  Hoping Clark would save him?

And should he save Lex?  In a way, this execution was justice, for Lex had surely killed Lionel, his own father.  But had there even been a trial?  There should have been a trial, at least, thought Clark.  Perhaps he should stop this miscarriage of justice, and insist upon a trial.

Clark started forward, toward the gallows, not sure how his interference would be received, and at that moment, Lex caught sight of him in the crowd, and the guards released the trap door in the gallows floor.  Before Clark could move to stop it, it had happened, and Lex was swinging at the end of the rope.  Clark heard his neck snap, and  he knew that Lex was dead.

************

'There should have been a trial!' Clark shouted at the bird woman.  'There was no trial.'

'You knew that Lex was guilty,' she replied.  'What need was there of a trial?'

'It's fair,' said Clark.  'Everyone is entitled to a trial.'

'And you are always fair.'

'Yes!  No!'

'Which is it?' asked the woman.  'Yes, or no?'

'What does it matter?   Lex is dead.  He... he looked at me, and he smiled, and there was love in his eyes, even as he fell to his death. Why was there love in his eyes?  Why did he smile?  He should have hated me, after....'  Clark felt it now, the horror.  The darkness.  He could feel it now.  The terror when the gallows floor fell open and Lex....

'Where is he?' Clark demanded.  'Where is his body?  The guards took his body from me.  I tried to save him, but I was too late, and then the guards took his body.'

'I think they're burying him now,' said the woman, with a smile, as if she were announcing they were taking Lex's picture for a magazine. 'Over there,' she went on.  'Behind that hedge.  If you hurry, you can see them lay his body in the....'

But Clark was already there, before she could finish the sentence, and he was standing before the deep hole in the ground, and looking down upon Lex's coffin.


*************

The darkness of the grave was too deep even for Clark's senses to breach.  He stared into its depths, but could see only more darkness.

'Where is the coffin?' he asked the gravedigger.

'It's there,' the man answered.  'Use your eyes.'

'I'm looking,' said Clark.  'All I see is emptiness.'

'Maybe you just need to look closer.'

Before Clark could even think of a reply, the gravedigger had pushed him in, and he was falling and falling, through darkness for what felt like eternity, with only his own thoughts for company....

**************

It was something crawling across his face that woke him.  He brushed at it, and it crawled onto his hand, sat there and stared back at him, twirling his feelers rather sarcastically.  It was Lex's little black bug.  All around, there was only snow and ice.  The bug was the only other spot of colour -- or rather, no.  Black was the absence of colour, thought Clark.  White was the combination of all colours.  And what did that matter?  He was alone here, with Lex's bug.  What did Lex call him?  Connor?

Clark tried using his X-Ray vision, to no effect.   Lex must be here, somewhere.  It had all been a dream, or a vision, surely.  Some kind of Shamanic vision, or....  Lex must be here, if Clark was.  They belonged together.

The little black bug jumped down from Clark's hand, and set off across the ice.  As Clark watched, he travelled about a yard, and then stopped and began to dig with his tiny feet.

'Hey!' said Clark.

The bug ignored him.

'Hey, Connor.  If you let me help, it will go much faster.  At least I'm assuming you're digging down to find Lex.'

The bug stopped digging, and looked up at Clark.

Clark pulled a piece of scrap paper out of his pocket.  'Here,' he said.  'Sit on this for a while.  It might be warmer than the snow.  Let me dig for a while, okay?'  The bug crawled up onto the paper and huddled into a fold to keep warm.

Clark reached down into the ice.  He could feel Lex's body now, just not see it.  The crystals from the Fortress of Solitude were masking Lex from his vision.  One of the shards of crystal was buried in Lex's back, like a knife.  Lex wasn't breathing.  His heart wasn't beating.

Clark yanked him out of the ice, and pulled the shard of crystal free.  He tossed it away, and bent over Lex's body.  Pumped on his heart and breathed into his mouth, as he'd done before.  This time, it didn't work.  Lex was truly dead, it seemed.  But it was cold here, in the Arctic -- cold enough to act as a cryogenic chamber, perhaps?

Then he heard it -- the crystal ringing, as the Fortress reformed.   Perhaps the  AI would agree to save Lex's life, if Clark explained everything -- or perhaps not, but it was worth a try.  He looked back down at Lex's body, just in time to see Connor crawl into the open mouth.

'Uggh! Connor. No.'  But it was too late.  The black beetle had crawled down inside Lex's body. Lex jerked and coughed and his eyes opened for a moment, then closed again, tightly, as if the light hurt too much to bear.

'Hang on, said Clark.  'I'll get you inside the Fortress, and I won't let Jor-El hurt you.'  Clark didn't know whether Lex heard or not, but he stayed quiet as Clark carried him inside and lowered him to the floor.

'You have brought Lex Luthor to me,' said Jor-El.

'Yes, but Lex is....'

'Lex Luthor is welcome,' Jor-El went on, as if Clark had not spoken.  'His blood is incorporated into the crystals of the Fortress now.  He is of the House of El.'

'What?  What are you saying?'

'Lex Luthor has died and been reborn.'

'I know,' said Clark.  'I was there.'

'He is reborn, and you have a choice.  He has power to control you for life.  Are you going to fight that?'

'I don't want to fight Lex any longer,' said Clark.

'Then make peace, however you can.  A powerful friend is better than a powerful enemy.'

Lex stirred, and his eyes opened again.  'Clark?' he whispered.

'I... I'm here,' said Clark.

'You were there, like you promised,' said Lex.

'Listen.  I'm sorry about... Oh, Lex.  That sounds so lame -- no, obscene.  Even to apologize is obscene.'

'You have nothing to apologize for,' said Lex.  'Well, you did have things to apologize for, but you apologized for them.  Clark?  My throat hurts.'

'Uh... I guess so.  I'll see if the AI will....'

'There is a chamber prepared for Lex Luthor.  He will be more comfortable there.'

'This is the ice castle,' said Lex.   'We came back here?'

'Yes.  Let me help you up.  It's not all ice.  See?'

So Lex must remember something of the vision, the Tower and the execution.  How could he bear Clark's touch?  But he let Clark help him into the warm, furnished chamber the AI had prepared.  There was a fire burning in a stone fireplace and a tray of food and drink laid out on a table, and a warm bed.  Lex only wanted something warm to drink and to lie down.

'I'm not hungry,' he said.

'Lex.  I have to tell you....'

'I should be dead,' said Lex.  'That was the bargain.  You told me everything, gave me everything.  I confessed what I'd done to Lionel and the others.  And I paid for my crimes.  I'm supposed to be dead, Clark.  That was the bargain.'

Clark remembered no such bargain.

'You were dead,' he told Lex.  'Then you woke up again.  Connor brought you back to life, I guess.'

'Connor?'

'The bug. Remember Connor?  He woke me up, found you in the ice, and crawled into your mouth.  Then you woke up.'

'I see,' said Lex.

'Lex, I need to tell you....'

'You don't need to tell me anything, Clark.  You already did.'

'But Lex, I feel so guilty about what I did.  About what happened.'

'There's no need,' said Lex.  'What happened is on me.  That was the bargain.  You came to me, and offered me the truth, and your love, and I took it all, on that basis.  It's my guilt, not yours.'

'Lex!  No!' Clark jumped to his feet, filled with horror.  'That's not what happened.'

'But it is, Clark.  It was a one time thing, out of your compassion.  It means nothing.  It doesn't make you queer, or anything like that.  You don't have to feel guilty.'

'But I hurt you.  I forced myself on you.'

Lex turned white as a sheet.  'Clark.  No, it wasn't like that at all.  Don't.  Don't twist it like that.'

'No, I'm not twisting it.  I'm not....'

Had Lex twisted the story to suit himself, to take away the pain?  Had he himself turned the story ugly out of self-hatred and to hide his love for Lex? Or were both versions true?  Perhaps he had indeed raped Lex in his own experience, but Lex had enjoyed a night of love and compassion?  How could he take that comfort from Lex?  How could he insist that his version of events was the truth?

'I'm sorry,' he said.  'You're right.  I felt guilty because of what happened after.  They executed you and I didn't stop them.'

'I didn't want you to,' said Lex.  'I wanted to die.  I failed in everything I tried to do.   I don't deserve to live.'

'That's not true,' said Clark.

'You are of the House of El,' said Jor-El.  'Your blood is in the crystals of the Fortress.'

'I heard you saying something about that earlier,' said Lex.  'What does that mean?'

'You have the power to use the Fortress.  You can be a powerful enemy to Kal-El, or a powerful friend.  Which is it to be?'

'We're like brothers, then?' asked Lex.  'Blood brothers?'

'If you like,' said Clark.  'I haven't been a good friend to you in the past.'

Lex's eyes narrowed in distrust.  'What makes you say that, all of a sudden?' he asked.

'What happened in that other world?' said Clark.  'Was it a dream, or a vision?  Did you really die?'

'It certainly felt like it,' said Lex.  'My throat still hurts.'

'I fell into your grave, and it was like falling through your life.  I had a lot of time to think.'

'My life flashed before your eyes?  That must have been a joy to behold.'

'I saw parts of your life,' Clark admitted.  'I wasn't one of the better parts.'

'You were once,' said Lex. 'You made me happy, once.'

'Could I make you happy again?'

Lex was silent for a long moment, staring into the fire.  'Clark,' he said, at last.   'Your friends hate me.  Your enemies hate me.  You hate me.'

'I don't hate you.'

'You hate me.'

'I'm angry at you.  Or I was angry.  I'm not so angry any more.'

'I've suffered enough for you?  Because now that you've explained, now that I know you're not planning to take over Earth, now that I have the power to stop you if you go insane and decide to try -- with all of that, all I want is to go back to running LexCorp.  If you think that one execution is enough, and you don't plan to accuse me of murder, I won't spend the rest of my life fighting you and your friends, as long as they leave me alone.  Is that enough for you?'

'Is that enough?'  Clark wondered, for about ten seconds.  Then, 'No,' he said.  'It's not enough.'  He pressed his mouth to Lex's and their blood soared and their hearts beat as one and their tongues tangled and fought and Lex's tongue -- older and more experienced -- won.

'Clark!' he gasped.  'Didn't you hear me?  Everyone you know hates me.  Your life will be a misery.  Unless you just mean to sneak around, and that won't last long.  We'll be caught out, and the tabloids will have a field day, and....'

'Lex, Lex.  We didn't go through Hell just to crawl back in the closet.  I'm through with lying -- to you or about you.'

'What?  You're not going to tell the whole world everything?'

'About you, yes.  About being an alien?  I don't know what to do, but I have to figure something out.  I need you to help me.'

'You don't need me,' said Lex.  'I wanted to help, but I'll just screw everything up.'

'No, not if we work together,' said Clark.  'We always work well together.'

'I'm too tired to fight you,' said Lex, and his eyes closed.

'That's good,' said Clark.  'Get some sleep, and we'll plan our campaign in the morning.

It was night here, thought Clark.  The long Arctic night.  The sun had gone down at last.  The morning would be brief, but long enough to plan his campaign, which included overriding all of Lex's objections, and making Lex's version of the story the true one.

***The End***

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