Vessel

Title: Vessel
Pairing(s): Clex.
Spoilers: up to Season 5 'Vessel'
Category: episode-related, drama, romance, angst
Rating: PG
Summary: A re-write of 'Vessel.' Fine returns to set his plan to free Zod into motion, presenting Clark with an impossible choice.

The elaborate stained glass windows of the Luthor mansion rattled, quietly but persistently, catching the errant beams of sunlight from the growing dawn and sending a spinning circle of hypnotic red and yellow spots onto the floor.

The heavy, solid oak window frames resisted their unseen attacker with valence, but eventually the force broke through the latch on the one in the far right of Lex's office - the only one the mansion's architecture allowed to be opened - and a strong, oddly temperature-less breeze burst inside.

The rush of air circled the room with alien, almost predatory, intent; stroking the dying embers in the fireplace before curling round to brush a few paper napkins from the table on its left. The crumpled items somersaulted over the incongruous mix of part-full Chinese take out cartons and crumb-laden pizza boxes like tumbleweed, and went unheeded by the two figures sprawled together on the couch.

Lex, with his grey/blue shirt collar two buttons undone, was resting the nape of his neck against the leather curve of the sofa arm. His eyelids were drawn smoothly down, his face calm and relaxed in a blissful, dreamless sleep. His left hand rested on his chest - pressing Clark's palm to his leisurely beating heart - while his right had snaked itself along the younger man's back, fingers laying against Clark's plaid covered side.

Clark himself nuzzled contentedly into the hold, forehead just brushing Lex's cheek. His left arm was tucked beneath him, legs slightly curled above Lex's extended ones, and if it wasn't for the perfectly serene expression on his face the position would have seemed awkward and uncomfortable. As it was the dual looks of relaxation and steady, rhythmic, synchronised breathing, proved both men entirely at ease with each other, however unlikely it might have seemed on first viewing.

Until the breeze came to rest on Lex's cheek - cold and clammy, like the touch of something dead. Or something that had never been alive.

Lex opened his eyes.

For a second there was nothing, just sudden alertness. Awareness of Clark's weight above him - solid and warm. Part of him. Lex wanted to pull the younger man closer, plant a kiss on the brow so neatly pressed against him and reaffirm the connection they'd cemented with so much passion the night before.

But before he could do any of those things there was a sharp - tug! - on his mind. A pinprick at first, telling him - go, leave, go. It wasn't an instruction so much as a feeling. An urge to - not be where he was.

Lex blinked and twitched his head to the side, trying to shake the foreign, inexplicable emotion away. But instead of dispersing, the feeling got stronger - go, now, NOW, GO!

Lex winced, a short hiss escaping his lips as the feeling was accompanied by a sharp pain in his temples - hurry, hurry, hurry! Against his better judgement, Lex unhooked himself from Clark and slid the younger man off him, his body pushing instinctively from the sofa.

Clark blinked back to consciousness at the move and looked up in surprise.

"...Mmmthing wrong?" he yawned to Lex's back, rubbing a hand over his eyes in a half-hearted attempt to remove the sleep he didn't quite want to relinquish just yet.

A breathy, pain-filled 'ah!' in response banished the thought and Clark sat up in concern. Now fully awake, it didn't take more than a second for the Kryptonian to realise something was wrong, very wrong indeed, and he watched with growing anxiety as Lex stepped passed the coffee table, rubbing harshly at his temples with the balls of his hands.

After a second of, apparently vain, wincing and rubbing, Lex lowered his arms and stepped towards the doors, face still and determined.

Clark was before him in a flash, hands cupping the older man's shoulders, fear written in heavy lines across his forehead.

"Lex, what's happening?" he asked, trying to quell the sudden, piercing sensation in the pit of his stomach.

This was something to do with the virus Fine injected yesterday, it had to be. But what could he do? What could he do! Was Lex ill? Should he get to a hospital? What?

There was half a second, a soothing half-second, where Clark's warm, gentle hands blotted out the urgency and pain not even Lex could tell was mental or physical anymore. But then the - tugging! - came back full force, worse even after being reminded what it was like without it, and Lex almost wished Clark hadn't tried to help at all.

"Let go. Let go of me!" the older man yelled, voice high and shaky, but with desperation more than anger.

Shaken himself by the tone, and the wide, unfocused glare of Lex's eyes, Clark obeyed, jerking his hands away and stepping back. He'd only been holding the other man gently, but it didn't take much for old, lifelong fears of alien strength to re-surface. Perhaps in his panic he'd been gripping too hard. Or perhaps the virus had made Lex extra sensitive somehow...

While Clark struggled with his fears, Lex was fighting an inner battle of his own, body shaking with the need to go and yet rooted by the conflicting desire to stay. Despite what his mind seemed to be telling him, part of Lex was sure leaving Clark was a bad idea. Something was wrong. This sudden urge to keep moving it... it wasn't natural... it was like when he'd cut himself last night. Cut and healed in seconds. It was wrong. Inhuman. So he had to stay with Clark and... and...

The thought slipped away even as he started it as another unbearable - TUG! - coursed through him. Unable to resist any longer, Lex hurried forward, yanked open the office doors and rushed into the corridor.

Without even pausing a beat, Clark started after him.

Life in Smallville had given the younger man ample experience of mind control and Lex's movements were starting to fit the bill with alarming accuracy. Something that was actually a small relief at first, as it meant Lex was unlikely to be in any immediate, physical danger. As Clark followed the other man through the house, though, and watched him don a warming black jacket and randomly grabbed pair of shoes, before making for the silver Porsche in the garage, the Kryptonian started to feel all the more helpless.

Unsure how deep, or violent, the control was, Clark was loathe to interrupt Lex's motion again in case it triggered a greater, potentially deadlier, reaction than last time. So instead, all he could do was zip out after the car as it left the grounds and stick as close as he felt it safe to without losing the other man. Hoping that when Lex completed whatever task he was being impelled to do there'd be time to rush in and bring him back to himself again.

They were right on the outskirts of Smallville when Lex's control over the car started to waver. Far from the town, or any kind of dwelling that might have offered help, and surrounded by fields and woodland. A trickle of a river ran parallel to the road and though the bank wasn't steep the road was unsteady this far out. Clark knew a high-speed skid on a pothole had caused more than one accident over the years - and with Lex swerving like he was the chance of another was looking pretty high.

He was just about to take a risk and stop Lex driving any further, when the Porsche skidded to a halt beside one of the skeletal trees lining the bank. Seconds later, Lex jumped out, briefly shook his head and rushed around the car towards the river, not even stopping to shut the door.

Brittle twigs from the tree caught his face and jacket as he scrambled down the riverbank and Lex lifted his hands in a vague attempt to brush them away. The scrapes hardly seemed important compared to the overwhelming pull washing over him, so it didn't really matter that his arms missed the majority of their targets. Neither did it matter when he slipped down into the inch high stream of murky water below, coating shoes that might have been leather with layer after layer of mud and grime as he ran to the other side. Half way across, his foot caught a loose pebble and he fell to his knees with a splash, not even registering the cold liquid seeping through his clothes, or the sting in his palms. The fall brought pain of another sort instead - the stomach churning sense of being too slow. He had to keep going. He had to.

Grabbing the trunk of a near-by tree, Lex hauled himself up again, yelling and clutching his head as the pain of the delay turned physical - GO GO GO!

And then he was running again, breaking through the remaining layer of trees into a vast, open stretch of knee-high, yellowing grass. The land seemed to stretch for miles; a rural wilderness the people of Smallville had never seen fit to claim. It was empty of crops and even flowers of any kind. A barren, lifeless space. Lex ran right into the centre of it.

Never far behind, Clark came to a stop a metre or so away, watching with shining eyes as Lex paused to double over for a second, only to snap up again just as fast, hands once again at his temples.

The older man groaned, long and loud - a desperate attempt to regain control, to do something, anything, of his own volition and prove he wasn't completely lost. Until now he'd been pulled and pulled and pulled, which had been awful, but at least he'd understood it. Now it felt like the whole world was spinning around him, leading him nowhere. He couldn't fight, flee or follow; all he could do was suffer.

Then it stopped.

Lex lowered his arms in surprise, reeling at the sudden freedom, too shocked to embrace the relief.

"Lex!"

Still unsure about moving closer, Clark stayed where he was as he called, body tense.

As Lex looked up at Clark's anxious face everything seemed to sharpen somehow and the clarity he'd been lacking since the wine and take out last night rushed through him. Fine was doing this. Despite what the doctor had said the virus had altered him somehow, made him susceptible to mind control, brought him here...

A quick spurt of fear filled the older man's chest - if Fine had led them here, Clark could be in danger!

Lex stretched out a hand, warning Clark back.

"Stay there!" he yelled.

Clark nodded, not wanting to risk further distress.

"What's happening?" he called back, leaning awkwardly forward as he fought the urge to rush over.

Lex swallowed as he dropped his arm. Being dragged to the middle of nowhere had left him vulnerable enough, so Clark's all too obvious concern broke through his defences entirely. It assured him this was serious and it was scary, and he didn't have to waste time trying to be strong and ignore that.

"I don't know," he answered, voice shaking.

Clark tilted his head at the response, brow creasing for a second. Lex didn't show his fear, not if he could help it. To do so now implied an unusually high level of anxiety and part of Clark broke at the sight. Risks be damned, he was not letting the man he loved suffer without someone to hold on to!

Brow clearing, Clark took a step forward.

And the earth between them erupted.

A shower of falling soil covered Clark from head to toe, but he hardly noticed. A bit of earth couldn't hurt him; Lex's yell was the greater concern. But finding the other man again proved trickier than expected as more sections of earth started to explode all around them, all sending fountains of thick, black clods into the air blocking sound and vision together.

After a few seconds of frantic shouting and hand waving, Clark made the obvious conclusion and switched to x-ray. A collection of thin, flashing lines met his eyes and he realised the earth wasn't erupting as he'd first thought; it was being scorched, by some kind of massive laser from above. But astounding as this was, Clark was more interested in the laser beams' opacity to his second sight, which meant he couldn't see Lex at all. Blinking back to normal vision in panic, he started to plough through the continuing devastation, calling Lex's name over and over.

Before he'd got two paces the fury seemed to die down and the last of the flying soil dropped to the ground with a dull thud. Lex stood with his arms across his face, right in the centre of the surrounding site of blackened ground.

"Lex! Are you okay?" Clark yelled, hurrying over the scorched earth towards the other man, any and all fears of moving closer forgotten.

Lex tentatively lowered his arms, hands shaking as he brushed off the loose soil coating his jacket. When he looked up at Clark he nodded a little too much.

"Yeah..." he muttered, and as he spoke a dark shadow fell across the two of them. Distracted by the sudden shade, Lex turned his head upwards, and tensed at what he saw.

Hovering in the sky above was the Kryptonian ship, its triangular form a dark, ominous blot against the naturally soft and shapeless grey clouds behind. And if the ship was here, that meant Fine couldn't be far away...

Lex tore his eyes away to scan the surrounding area and found Clark's gaze equally raised in shock - too distracted to notice the figure in black now standing to his right.

"Clark!" Lex snapped, eyes locking on to Fine with fear-fuelled paralysis. He had no control here, none at all, and that was what terrified him. Just as it had on the bridge that time, car locked in position, crashing him and Clark to inevitable destruction. All he could do was watch and hope that, like last time, Clark had the power he lacked.

Clark turned to follow Lex's gaze a second after the call, and had Fine by the collar of his shirt less than half a second later. He didn't gave a damn how dangerous the man was, all he felt was a blinding rage towards him for causing Lex pain. It made him feel strong enough to tear the AI apart, strong enough to take on the world.

"What are you doing!" he spat at the smirking man, yanking him closer, eyes blazing. God, it felt good to direct his anger somewhere justifiable for once!

Fine chuckled.

"I'm preparing him," he answered.

Clark frowned and readied to demand an explanation, violently if necessary, when a sudden, heavy rush of air and muffled scream from behind made him turn.

Behind him, a blue coloured beam of something too solid to be light was blasting down from the ship and completely engulfing Lex, the surface of the thing seeming to shimmer, like liquid, different shades of blue floating round the figure inside. Lex had his eyes closed, mouth open in a continuing scream not even Clark's ears could make out.

Clark dropped Fine without a second thought and rushed over, hands curled into fists that he smashed against the cylinder as hard as he could. The fluxing blue shine didn't even dent.

Clark tried again. And again. Pummelling desperately. He even blasted the surface with wave after wave of heat vision, but to no avail. The beam was impenetrable.

With a defeated sigh, Clark slid his palms round the curve of the thing and rested his forehead against it, breathing hard against the tears stabbing his eyes. Falling apart now would do nothing to help Lex; he had to keep it together.

Raising his head again with new determination, Clark started back when he found Lex no longer screaming. In fact, the other man didn't even seem to be in pain anymore. His lips were moving in a rapid flow of speech, eyes wide, and Clark realised he must have been that way for a while, shouting at the top of his voice, although the Kryptonian couldn't hear a thing. Brow furrowing, Clark tried to focus his eyes on the shape of the words. '-op! Listen, just listen! Please, I have to tell you...'

Lex stopped short when he realised Clark was actually paying attention now and he sucked his bottom lip for a second, oddly nervous.

Clark shook his head with a shrug, eyes eager as they pierced the blue to meet Lex's. What? What can I do?

But instead of giving instructions, Lex's body seemed to wilt and he looked very sad. Wordlessly, he raised a palm to the beam's inner surface.

Clark placed his own palm in the same position in response, sharing the need to touch, to be close again. But the surface of the beam was flat and hard against his skin, keeping them apart.

"Clark, I -" Lex started silently, eyes shining with relief and something else Clark couldn't quite place. Something deep and strong that held the younger man still.

And then, quite suddenly, Clark was alone.

No Lex. No beam. No ship.

The Kryptonian whipped his head around and around, but there was nothing, just mile after mile of yellowing grass and dying trees. Lex was gone. And so was Fine.

The scorched ground was the only sign that anything had happened and its zigzagging pattern seemed to cage Clark up in its centre, the surrounding black lines and dots forming what a bird's eye view would reveal as a type of stylised 'Z.'

Hours of aimless, shell-shocked wondering later, Clark eventually made his way to the basement of the Planet, not even glancing at the numerous disgruntled employees he bumped into, unseeing, on the way.

Chloe was carrying a stack of papers to the fax machine as Clark stepped off the staircase, hair bouncing loosely about her shoulders. She wore pale denim jeans, a long sleeved, frilly white blouse and a smile - all care-free and happy-go-lucky. A world Clark couldn't even begin to understand.

"Hey, Clark," she breezed as she passed, pausing to tap her papers on the counter to neaten the pile. "Aren't you supposed to be on Luthor watch this morning? Not that I can blame you for wanting a break..."

She lowered the pages for a moment to look up at her friend; eyebrows raised in expectation of an equally glib follow up comment. When Clark just stared at her the cheery blonde frowned. As she eyed Clark's unkempt hair, undone buttons and grimy clothes, the frown deepened to her whole face.

"What happened?" she breathed, discarding the papers and rushing over to take Clark comfortingly by the shoulders, head tilted up to him.

"Fine took Lex," Clark answered tightly, jaw clenching shut straight after to hold back the sob voicing the fact out loud had prompted. Never, in his whole life, had anything shaken him this badly, and that included the times he'd died. Hours ago, life had been nigh on perfect, now it was in tatters, with the not knowing where Lex was, what was happening to him, leaving Clark hanging by a thread, ready to snap any second.

"Took him? What do you mean?" Chloe pressed, eyebrows curving down, darkening the previously subtle green eyeshadow beneath.

Clark frowned right back at the ease of her tone, the incomprehension. Could she not see how serious this was!

"Took as in ripped from the earth and sucked into the sky!" Clark shot back, fear and irrational anger making him louder than he realised. Several people near by turned their heads and Chloe shot them nervous glances. "It happened so fast Chloe," Clark continued, voice turning frantic now. "I couldn't stop it, I -"

"Hey, okay, okay, come here," Chloe interrupted, pulling Clark to a near-by couple of chairs away from the office entrance. Clark followed, too distracted to resist, and once he was seated Chloe shifted her own seat closer to give them more privacy. "Tell me exactly what happened."

Clark took a breath, calmed by his friend's focused stare. It gave him hope. Hope that they might be able to figure out this mess after all.

"We were in a field outside town," he started, voice lower now. Chloe's eyes creased again for a second, but the reason Clark and Lex were in a field clearly wasn't important so she was quickly nodding her friend on. "And Fine turned up, with the ship. There was this... beam of light. I couldn't break through it. I tried everything but... Lex just... disappeared."

"Into the ship?" Chloe queried.

Clark nodded, eyes wide and shining.

"Wow..." Chloe looked down, gaze shifting randomly as she took in this new, dangerous brand of crazy. "So we're talking proper, full on alien abduction here. Just the kind Lex was afraid of. Talk about bad luck..."

"This isn't funny, Chloe," Clark responded, tone hard. "Anything could be happening to Lex right now."

Chloe flinched away from him, eyes brightening with hurt at the unexpected accusation.

"I know, I... I didn't mean..." she stuttered, and Clark felt a pang of familiar guilt.

Of course Chloe hadn't meant anything. Quirky remarks were how she dealt with disasters, Clark knew that; his mind had just been too unfocused to notice. He needed to get his head together, and fast.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, Chloe," he said, leaning forward to take her hand in apology. "I just... I feel so helpless. I stood right there and let it happen. I should have done something."

Chloe gave a small smile - relief, perhaps, that Clark was acting more like himself again - and raised her other hand to just below his shoulder.

"Clark, from the way you describe it, there's nothing you could have done," she insisted. "You can't blame yourself for this."

Clark looked away, unconvinced. Yes, I can. He was the one who let Lex get involved with Fine. He was the one who brought that ship to Earth by not collecting the stones. He was the alien, whose people had created the AI in the first place. It was his fault. All of it.

"I... I don't know what to do, Chloe," he admitted, raising desperate eyes, more ready to fall apart than ever.

For a split second, Chloe let her jaw drop in astonishment and Clark realised his reaction to everything must seem pretty outlandish to his friend who didn't know just how close he and Lex were now. She'd expect him to be concerned, sure, but not on the verge of a breakdown. That was the kind of thing connected only to Lana, and it left him precariously open to discovery.

Fortunately for him, Chloe was a pragmatic reporter, for all her innate curiosity, and knew when to discard personal matters of interest for the sake of the bigger picture. So she soon pulled herself together and gave Clark's arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry, Clark, we'll find him. We just have to think of a plan," she started, radiating the kind of confidence Clark had always been in awe of her for. Her... and Lex. "Okay, so, have you told anyone else about this yet?"

"No," Clark answered with a shake of his head, submitting gladly to his friend's impromptu leadership. "No... I was pretty lost after it happened, so I came straight to you."

A soft, affectionate light filled the young girl's eyes for second as she acknowledged herself as Clark's first port of call in his time of need. But it wasn't dwelled on.

"Right," Chloe nodded, lowering her arm to her lap as she leant back in her chair. "So the first thing we need to do is set up an information network. Get everyone up to speed so they're ready to help out. We can start with your parents..."

She pulled her hand from Clark's and grabbed a cell phone from her jeans pocket.

"No," Clark insisted, voice firm and steadier than it had been in a while. Chloe paused with her finger on speed-dial and looked up in confusion. "Mom and dad are flying to Washington in a couple of hours," Clark continued, the whirring of his mind into life again an almost physical sensation. "I think... I think it'd be better if we just let them go. It might be safer for them outside Smallville."

Chloe nodded slowly.

"Okay," she concurred. "But Lana?"

"She could go to the mansion," Clark suggested after a moment of thought. "In case Lex makes it back there."

"I'm sure she'll be happy to," Chloe responded, switching her mobile to text and tapping out a quick message. "And while she's waiting there, I'll see what I can dig up here. Find out if there's been any UFO sightings or notable freak occurrences today. Maybe I can track down where Fine headed out to."

"Good idea," Clark replied with a grateful nod.

Chloe's phone gave a quiet beep to indicate 'message sent' and she lowered it with a sigh, eyes turning distant and troubled.

"I don't get it though," she muttered. "If Fine is all about freeing Zod, why kidnap Lex? I mean, I thought Zod was trapped in that phantom, prison, other dimension thing. What's Lex got to do with that?"

Clark shrugged, equally baffled. Until now he'd been so swept up in the fact Fine had taken Lex, he hadn't thought about why. But Chloe was right. It didn't make sense.

"Before he took him, Fine said he was 'preparing' Lex," the Kryptonian recalled. "But I don't know what that means. I... Chloe..." He swallowed heavily, eyes raw as he looked up. "What if he's dead?"

Chloe frowned at him in silence, biting her lip.

"We can't think like that," she said eventually. "Not yet. There are plenty of reasons he might be keeping Lex alive. Maybe he's planning to blackmail you into freeing Zod for real this time, since he knows you'd never do it willingly."

Clark shook his head. He'd considered blackmail last night, but if that'd been the case why hadn't Fine made any demands during their fight in Lex's lab? No. Fine wanted Lex for something else...

"We don't know that for sure..." he muttered back, chest tightening so painfully that if he hadn't known better he'd have been checking his chair for kryptonite.

"No..." Chloe acknowledged, voice tight. "But... you do know someone who might." Clark looked up, questioning, only to shift back as the penny dropped, body tense with instinctive resistance. "Look, I hate to suggest this, considering every time you turn to Jor-El something bad seems to happen," Chloe continued before Clark could protest, looking far from happy about the suggestion herself. "But he knows Zod, and he knows Fine, so it seems a fair bet he might know what's happening to Lex too. He could be our only chance."

Clark sighed deeply. Not only did confronting Jor-El hold its fair share of potential danger, the thought of asking his estranged father for help grated like hell. But Chloe was right, he didn't have a choice. Lex's life could depend on it.

Clark paused in the snow outside the Fortress to collect himself before stepping inside, letting a few falling flakes settle on the shoulders of his clean blue Tee so he could pretend the coolness was calming him.

Chloe'd insisted he go home and change before doing anything and though he'd protested at the time, thinking it a pointless delay, he had to admit he was grateful for the difference it made now. Clean clothes and a quick wash of mud from his skin hadn't lessened the churning in his stomach any, but the process of outward cleansing did seem to have had a knock-on effect on his mind, helping him get his wits together. And for a meeting with Jor-El, that was especially important.

Clark wasn't happy about the situation by any means. But then, Lex was missing, maybe hurt, or worse, and that pretty much put happiness off limits for the foreseeable future anyway, so he stepped through the crystals with relative confidence. Because for the first time since he'd woken up that morning he had some control again, he had a plan, and, so help him god, if his 'father' knew anything that might help get Lex back, Clark was damn well gonna force it out of him no matter what!

"Jor-El!" Clark yelled, eyeing the sparkling walls of the structure expectantly as his voice echoed round. "I need to talk to you!" There was no immediate response, so, out of habit, Clark headed for the central panel of crystals. He doubted Jor-El needed them to communicate, but they did at least provide the Kryptonian with something to focus on as he spoke. "I... I need your help," Clark added as he reached the central chamber, hoping the directness of the appeal would gain the... what? spirit? ghost? computer's? attention.

Another second of silence, then the, now all too familiar, masculine voice vibrated through the air. Surprisingly benevolent, for all the pain its words had caused.

"My son. You have returned to complete your studies."

Clark gave a short sigh of impatience. Studies. Destiny. That was all Jor-El seemed to care about. With a single-mindedness that was down right frightening. It was something Clark had always considered a reflection of his father's obsessive nature, but with Lex fresh in his mind he supposed the older man might attribute the focus to 'programming' as opposed to character. After all, the real Jor-El was dead, all Clark was speaking to now was a Kryptonian-made replication, how much like the living man could it be?

In any case, the point was academic now. It didn't matter if it was heartlessness or electronics prompting Jor-El's behaviour, because it didn't change the danger that behaviour posed. Chloe had merely been the latest in a long line of casualties when she'd collapsed in the Fortress during Clark's first foray into his supposed 'education,' and the young Kryptonian was sure if he hadn't heard the freezing girl's cries through the holographic display his friend would most certainly be dead by now. A human life sacrificed so Clark could learn what had looked to him to be nothing but a series of pointless equations. Well screw that. He hadn't let Chloe die then and he sure as hell wasn't going to let Lex die now.

"No!" Clark said, very clearly. "I got your message, about Zod. And now Fine's taken Lex. What's happening? How do I get him back?"

There was an uncomfortably weighty pause during which Clark could have sworn he sensed disapproval. Then Jor-El responded.

"The being you know as Milton Fine is really the Brain InterActive Construct, an extension of the craft that can regenerate in any form..."

This was predictably avoiding the issue, but Clark had been expecting that so he didn't let it rattle him. At least he'd managed to force something relevant out of the disembodied alien at last. It was also both heartening and painful to learn Lex's theory about Fine actually being the ship was correct - proof of his friend's genius and a sharp reminder of his current absence.

"What does that have to do with Lex and Zod?" Clark pressed. His father wasn't the only one who could be single-minded.

"The Brainiac is a highly advanced technology currently programmed with a single purpose."

Jor-El sounded almost disgruntled at being interrupted.

"It will stop at nothing until it's master, Zod, has been released."

Clark nodded. Now they were getting somewhere.

"How can I stop him?" he asked.

"There is one way."

Clark looked up attentively.

"Zod was imprisoned in the Phantom Zone for crimes that led to the destruction of our planet. He -"

"Wait. Zod killed you?" Clark couldn't help cutting in, the discovery of the other dimension thing's real name paling in comparison to this bombshell.

After the discussion at the farm the other day, he had, like everyone else, assumed Zod to be some type of criminal. But to think he was responsible for the destruction of an entire planet! Oh my god! Exactly what kind of danger was Lex mixed up in?

"And your mother..."

A pause. Clark had never considered the construction, or whatever, might actually have feelings, but the way the voice seemed to soften now made him wonder... He thought about how he'd feel if Lex didn't make it out of this alive, and kept a respectful silence.

"And our entire race. Just as he will do on Earth."

"I won't let that happen," Clark promised, quieter than before, part of his heart reaching out to the once living man who'd loved and lost so much.

Jor-El had been a loving husband and father once after all, he thought, sending his son - Clark himself - light-years into space just to keep him alive. It seemed only fair to do what he could to stop his father witnessing the same pain and destruction twice. And besides, stopping Zod seemed the most likely way to save Lex as well, putting both Els in agreement about something for perhaps the first time ever.

"Zod's physical body was destroyed to prevent him from escaping the Phantom Zone."

Clark nodded again, brow furrowing this time. Okay... so how...?

"He can be freed if he finds a body, a vessel, to inhabit."

Oh! That must have been why Fine kept him alive in the Fortress that time - he wanted Clark to be Zod's vessel. Wow. That was a luckier escape than the Kryptonian had ever imagined! But it still didn't make sense. If Fine wanted Clark's body, why would he take Lex and... and... The truth hit like lightening, and although Clark knew he could stand in the snow outside without even turning blue, in that moment he felt cold enough to freeze. 'Preparing him' Fine had said.

"Oh god..." Clark's voice was barely a whisper, his throat too tight to allow anything else. "Lex..." Clark swallowed, trying to free his vocal chords again. Come on Kent, focus, focus, focus! Jor-El said there was a way to stop it. "What... what should I do?"

But the voice was silent this time, the only response a quiet scraping from the crystal panel. One of the lengths of crystal was pulling away from it, rising into the air to reveal... something metal, shining, attached to it. Clark walked over, face clouding. Was that a blade?

As he neared the object it flipped round and held itself still, it's pointed tip hovering level with his eyes.

It was a dagger. The handle was made of the same crystal as the Fortress and a series of Kryptonian symbols denoting honour and protection dotted the alien metal above.

"You must find the human vessel and destroy it."

A few seconds of blank, stubborn incomprehension passed over Clark, and then he was backing away from the floating object with a look of disgust.

"No... No, there must be another way," he stuttered, physically feeling his blood pressure rise as his heartbeat started to quicken.

"There is no other way, Kal-El."

The cold, frank rebuttal and the use of his alien name, the name that wasn't his, pushed passed Clark's restraint and he welcomed the white-hot jolt of anger it inspired.

"Oh my god. You did this, didn't you?" he spat, spinning his head wildly, the lack of something solid to focus on only increasing his rage. "You forced Fine onto Lex, knowing this would happen!" Everything Fine had said about Jor-El in the lab yesterday came rushing back, shattering Clark's sympathy for the man at once. "He told us about you, what you believed on Krypton..." His voice lowered to a hushed disbelief. "You really did set this up... You couldn't stand the thought of Lex and I being together so you... you..."

Clark's anger lessened to something more like despair as he realised raging would do nothing to change what had to happen and he glanced at the dagger again, breathing erratic, eyes wet. Part of him had been hoping it would have disappeared, that the whole thing was just a sick joke, but it was still there, hovering above the other crystals, the white glare of the Fortress glinting off the blade like some kind of spiritual omen.

NO! No, no, no! He wouldn't believe it. He couldn't. Jor-El was lying, that was all.

"I won't do it!" Clark yelled, voice echoing round the crystalline halls in defiance. "You're just trying to control me again, make me do what you want and I won't let you! You can't tell me what to do with my own life!"

The responding silence was vast and intense, with the dagger sending regular, relentless flashes of light throughout, catching Clark's eye and filling him with doubt.

"Tell me you set this up," he demanded eventually, voice thick with fear. "Tell me you're lying. Tell me!"

After so much silence, being surrounded by the alien voice again made Clark jump.

"Your attachment to the individuals of this planet has always been your weakness, my son."

"You had that same weakness once!" Clark countered, recalling the love he'd felt 'Joe' hold for Louise when Jor-El's necklace had given him access to the memories of his father's own brief time on Earth. "How can you condemn me for it now? How can you expect me to believe anything you say?"

"I am trying to stop you from making my mistakes. You are not human, Kal-El. You will always be greater than the people here. It hurts to lose them, I know, but that pain is a part of life. You must learn to overcome it if you are to fulfil your destiny."

"I don't want to fulfil my destiny!" Clark shouted back. "I just want to live my life with the people I love! Is that too much to ask?"

His head dropped down as he bit back a sob. Why him? Why did all this danger and insanity always rest with him?

"Be that as it may, events have already been set in place. To save this world Zod must not be allowed to escape. You must destroy the human vessel, Kal-El. Whomever it may be."

Clark raised his eyes slowly back to the dagger. Much as he didn't want to believe it, he knew in his heart Jor-El was telling the truth - why else would he demand something so persistently that he knew his son would refuse? No, whether by design or not, it had come down to one choice.

Save Lex.

Or save the world.

White. Everything was white. Burning his eyes. Buzzing in his ears. Coating his nostrils. Every gasping breath he tried to take was just another mouthful of hot, chocking whiteness, seeping inside him, filling him, until he knew he was going to drown in it, that it would swallow and obliterate him. Unconsciousness, when it came, was a thick, cool blessing of heavenly black...

Lex opened his eyes with a start and frowned at the straw-coloured grass before him. Most of it had flattened somehow and lay down limply below his sight, but a couple of stalks were stubbornly clinging to life, their white tips shaking in the breeze like reanimated corpses, tickling his eyelashes.

Blinking away from them Lex hauled himself up, breathing fast and deep. It felt like he hadn't had a proper breath in days. All around him were patches of burnt ground, interspersed the same yellow grass, and beyond nothing but empty fields and occasional trees. Where the hell was he and how did he get here?

As his breathing calmed Lex forced himself to think, more than a little unnerved by his lack of recollection. The last thing he remembered was... Clark. Yes. He'd been about to tell Clark he loved him because... because, fuck! Because of Fine and that confining, blue... thing... he'd been trapped in! Clark couldn't break it, after the sudden shock at being absorbed by it had worn off that much had been obvious, and Lex couldn't let Fine take him without telling Clark the truth. As far as he knew, he wouldn't have another chance.

But here he was, still alive. And more than alive. He felt... he just felt. Felt the air brushing passed him, through his jacket, in his shirt. He could feel every whisper, hear every breath. The soft rustle of fabric and grass, the slick, pumping sound of his own blood, he knew all of it. What was happening?

A pair of footsteps crunched behind him, as clear to Lex as his own slowing breaths.

"Lex? Son? Are you alright?"

His father. How strange, that his father's heart should beat just like anyone's, when Lex was sure it must have shrivelled up beyond repair a long time ago.

"Everything feels different," he muttered, wondering.

"I got in touch with Miss Sullivan as soon as I heard you were missing," Lionel explained, his tone a pathetic attempt at concern Lex saw straight through, even without looking. "She said Fine had taken you. What happened son?"

And that was what mattered, wasn't it? Not him, never him, just how his actions led back to Lionel Luthor, how he'd have to cover them up, how he'd have to fix them, how he'd have to hide his son away, again, to mask any connection between them.

The sudden pain was heavy and all consuming, pushing through Lex eagerly after being buried so deep for so long. He didn't know why it was freeing itself now and, surprisingly, he didn't care either.

When he turned, his eyes were wet with unshed tears, faced creased with the effort of holding them back.

Lionel was dressed all in black, jacket merging slickly with his shirt, top button undone. The wind blew his long hair from his face and it swayed in time with the grass below. He fit in the barren waste surrounding them like he belonged there, brow furrowed in what might have been confusion but suited disapproval just as well.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, too little too late.

"You don't care," Lex answered, short and to the point. "You've never cared about me."

Lionel blinked.

"That's not true, I—"

"Yes it is," Lex cut in, tone calm despite the lines of sorrow still marring his face. "I wasn't what you wanted, I didn't fall in line and complement your life like you hoped I would. So you never bothered, never thought about who I was, what I might want."

Lionel sighed and looked away, impatient now.

"Lex, please, now is not the time..." he muttered.

"No," Lex shot back, lips curving in a sad kind of triumph. "No, it never is, is it?"

For a second his father looked straight at him, meeting his son's eyes, creases on his face deepening. Then he was shaking the moment away with a quick shiver, masked by a scathing laugh.

"Lex, I gave you everything, more any son could dream of," he insisted, face cold and hard now. "But no matter what I've given you, the things you wanted were always beyond your grasp..." He looked Lex up and down, eyes lingering over the mud on his shoes, the blackened earth at his feet. "This time you've overreached yourself."

Lex sniffed, swallowing the pain and the pointless hope it had dredged up back to where they belonged. Lionel was right—wanting a loving father who'd show him compassion from time to time, yes, that was most certainly beyond his grasp. A familiar, disappointed irritation rose up in the younger man, making him feel almost himself again.

"Did you come here to lecture me or to help me?" he answered, equally cold.

"It's too late to do either, isn't it?" Lionel responded, shaking his head. "I told you you couldn't handle Fine alone, but you didn't listen. You made a deal with the devil, Lex... He always comes to collect."

And you'd know, wouldn't you dad? But despite the glib response, Lionel's words rang unpleasantly true. Fine would be coming back for him, he had to be. Unless... whatever happened in that ship was already killing him...

The age old instinct warning him not to show fear before his father made Lex turn his back, arm waving out an attempt at dismissal.

"Lex," Lionel sighed, moving forward to grab his son by the shoulders.

But it wasn't comfort, no, Lex knew better. Just another form of control, physical this time, and Lex was shaken and afraid and tired of being forced into this kind of deception. Pushing back with his right elbow, he shrugged the other man away. Easier, so much easier, than he'd ever managed before.

There was a soft whistle of movement through the air and the sudden smash of a body on glass.

Lex turned to find his father face first on the bonnet of his car—parked on the grass a good ten metres away—the windscreen cracked and bloody.

The younger man looked down at his hands in total astonishment, eyes wide, heart beating heavily. Did I do that?

Lionel rolled onto his back, wincing with obvious pain, and Lex counted at least two nasty looking cuts across his face where the pressure of the throw must have forced the cracked glass into his skin.

He felt his chest tighten in concern. He'd wanted his father gone, but he'd never meant to hurt him! And who knew what hidden injuries a throw that far might have caused.

Desperate to help, Lex broke into a run. And was at the car a second later.

The abruptness of his arrival left him reeling and it took a few seconds to regain his balance. So, speed as well as strength. Okay. There seemed an obvious conclusion to all this, but it wasn't important right now.

"Dad, are you okay?" he asked, eyeing the older man's body for any sign of broken bones. Who knew, perhaps if he looked hard enough he'd literally be able to see them.

Lionel's eyes were wide as he looked up, flicking from the centre of the field to where Lex was now.

"What... what has he done to you, Lex? What has he turned you into?" he gasped.

A heartbeat passed and Lex found himself back in another Smallville field, nine years old and shaking with fear; a tuft of red hair—his own—in his hands. He was looking up at his father then, not down, but the change was superfluous; he wanted the same thing—comfort, help, assurance that what was happening hadn't changed him, hadn't made him some kind of monster, even more unlovable than he already was. He got the same response now as he had then—a look of pure disgust.

He fled without a second thought.

The light in the barn was starting to fade, turning the usually warm wooden beams grey and dull. Clark had to tilt the picture in his hands upwards to keep the image clear, but that too seemed faded now, Lex's smile a hollow curve, offering little comfort.

He'd spent the day on tenterhooks, veering wildly from enquiries about Lex to fretful contemplation on what Jor-El had told him. And now, with the frantic afternoon reduced to a heavy, lonely twilight, the Kryptonian felt weary in a way he'd never known before, the stress and burden of the day pushing him to heights of sorrow he hadn't known existed.

And on top of that, as though to add salt to an already throbbing wound, he'd come home to the farm to find Martha, Jonathan and, most gratingly, Lois, all still there and all distinctly annoyed. Apparently their flight to Washington had been overbooked by a 'pathetically incompetent excuse for a flight planner'—Lois' words—and they were earth-bound until another became available. Any other time it might have been funny, seeing Lois red-faced and flustered as she juggled several phone calls at once, but the whole thing felt so god damn trivial to Clark in light of everything else that he couldn't stand it and had to get out of the house as soon as possible, not least because he might have blurted out the whole story if he hadn't, even with Lois there.

The Kryptonian's belief that his parents were better out of this mess was Clark's one constant though, and, frustration at their continuing presence aside, it was a relief to know Martha and Jonathan had more to their lives than alien troubles and would be safely and banally occupied while he and the others dealt with the more pressing situation. A small stab of guilt still hit him from time to time about the truth he was concealing, but considering everything he'd put his parents through already he suffered it with little trouble, figuring they deserved a bit of blissful ignorance for once.

No so long ago, Clark knew that kind of secrecy would have stretched much further, that Jor-El's information and chilling command would've been kept entirely to himself. Not to spare others, but from the misguided hope that not talking about it would spare him the burden. As he'd stepped from the crystalline structure that morning, though, dagger reluctantly in hand and with no Lex to turn to, the need for support had never been so strong. So he'd hurried to Chloe at once.

She was shocked, naturally, sympathetic, and equally opposed to Jor-El's murderous instruction. But, ultimately, she had nothing helpful to add. What could she, after all? Her warm, heartfelt embrace had been the balm Clark expected though, melting the piercing ice in his heart just enough to let it beat again. Enough to let a warm sliver of hope flutter free.

Everything was still terrible, terrifying, but Clark figured as soon as they found Lex again—which they had to if Jor-El was claiming him available to kill, right?—then they'd get together and figure it out properly. There was still time. They'd figure something out.

But then the hours ticked away, Chloe busied herself with sources, Lana made camp at the mansion, Clark zipped to every place he'd ever been with the older man, ever. And still there was no sign. And Clark's heart grew colder and colder again.

So now, as the sun slipped slowly and inexorably towards the horizon, Clark was forced to consider even Jor-El might have been wrong this time and warned his son too late. It was all very well of the alien telling him to destroy the vessel before Zod got free, but there'd be no killing Lex or otherwise if Clark didn't even know where the older man was.

He lowered the wooden-framed photograph with a sigh, fingers tracing an unconscious line across the inscription as he pulled open the desk drawer where he'd taken to hiding it, miniature key still neatly in the keyhole, keeping it unlocked.

Even though the light was fading the white crystal handle of the dagger, thrown carelessly to the right hand-side, sparkled as the drawer pulled back and Clark stared at it, face blank.

He was so drawn he didn't feel the breeze at his back, or sense the presence stepping up behind him.

Lex watched the other man in silence, face shuttered. He'd been running for hours now, catching a break here and there in a shadowed doorway or hidden corner, always moving on before anyone could spot him. It was stupid to hide, he knew it, but his father's words hit deep and he'd been afraid to reveal himself, afraid to face himself. Because Lionel's question was valid—what was he now?

Fine had given him Clark's powers, a Kryptonian's powers, that much was obvious. But why? And more importantly, what else had he changed? Lex had been plagued by this question all day and found himself worryingly incapable of thinking about it, incapable of thinking about anything too long, in fact. Any time he tried to focus his mind would wonder, and it was more than his new senses distracting him, much more. His mind itself seemed sluggish, thought processes slower. He'd tried to recite a couple of Latin verbs as a test and failed to get past 'you are' without having stop, which was wrong, he was sure of it. He remembered being able to hold a whole conversation at Excelsior... didn't he? Yes, yes, he remembered... just.

It was frustrating as much as frightening and Lex had wanted to give up more than once, thinking it best just to curl up somewhere and let himself forget, let himself be lost. It was at those times his thoughts turned naturally to Clark and everything would come rushing back, clearer than before :: don't give up on me yet :: No, he couldn't give up yet. Not with Clark still out there, maybe even waiting for him. And so more than once Lex had made to find the other man, only to stop halfway, hampered by foolish, childish fears. Fears that Clark wouldn't accept him, that he'd be shocked and disgusted by his change, like his father had been. Lex knew how ridiculous that was—these were Clark's powers for god's sake—but his emotions seemed to have been enhanced to disproportionate levels since he woke up in that field, making the insecurity just too hard to fight.

Even now he'd only managed to get part way, sneaking up on the younger man while his back was turned, ready to flee again any second. For god's sake Lex, you're the oldest, you're supposed to be the strong one, get a grip!

Lex took a breath the exact moment Clark sighed, making even their breathing seem connected and giving the older man new courage. But as he readied to speak, Clark lifted something sharp and shining from the drawer and Lex swallowed his greeting away. What was Clark doing with a dagger?

The sound of expensive tyres on gravel distracted from the moment and both men cocked their heads at the same time. A quiet beep of central locking. A light but firm step. An old, heavy heartbeat, new only to one of them.

Clark frowned. If Lionel was coming to try and see his mom again he'd picked a very bad time. The younger man might be down, but his sorrow could easily find a release in anger given the chance.

The elder Luthor by-passed the farm house though and headed straight for the barn, making Clark turn in surprise. His gaze pierced through the empty space behind him and he watched the stairs wearily.

From a darkened corner to the right, Lex eyed the place with equal intensity.

Lionel climbed up rather slower than Clark expected and raised his eyebrows as he reached the top. Clark followed the gaze to his hands and realised the dagger was still in them, for a moment blissfully forgotten.

"You know, Clark," Lionel began, tone low and lecturing, like the younger man had heard him with Lex, confusing Clark no end by making him feel like a temporary replacement son in the other man's absence - a role he did not relish in the slightest. "In certain cultures, when a father presents his son with the gift of a knife it represents a rite of passage."

Clark furrowed his brow, eyes glinting with suspicion.

"How'd you know this was from Jor-El?" he muttered, lifting the blade lightly from his palm.

"The glyphs on the blade," Lionel responded, nodding to them as he moved closer. "They're Kryptonian."

Clark would have dwelled on the ease of that deduction if he hadn't at that moment noticed the still raw cuts on the older man's cheek, now neatened at least with surgical tape. His expression softened at the sight of something so painful.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

"Lex," Lionel answered heavily, lips flat, expression neutral—subtly asking for pity without seeming to.

In his corner, Lex swallowed, pushing back lingering guilt at his actions and new fear for Clark's reaction.

The Kryptonian surprised both Luthors, however, by raising his head eagerly, eyes shining not with disapproval but excitement.

"You've seen him? Where is he?" he pressed, breathless, hands lowering the dagger in dismissal.

Lionel gave a short, wincing shrug.

"I don't know. He ran away."

"And you didn't go after him?" Clark responded, incredulous. Chloe'd mentioned the way Lionel squeezed Lex's abduction out of her earlier and he couldn't believe the older man would just let his son go, knowing the trauma he must have been through these past few hours. The fact Lex had injured his father during their meeting hardly seemed important in comparison.

"He was rather too fast," Lionel answered, quirking an eyebrow. "And having just been thrown half way across a field and onto my car, I hardly felt capable of a hearty pursuit."

Clark's eyes clouded, black, troubled lines forming above them.

"Lex has my powers..." he surmised. So that's what 'preparing' meant and what the virus had been for all along.

"Yes," Lionel nodded, stepping past Clark to tap a hand intrusively against the rough, unvarnished top of his desk. "And considering how he's used them so far, god help us from what he's planning next."

Clark shook his head, mind still ticking over this latest development.

"I doubt it was deliberate. They're kinda hard to get a handle on..." he murmured.

"You didn't see him," Lionel insisted, turning back. "He's... changed. And he hardly stayed to help in the aftermath. No. He was glad of what happened."

Lex closed his eyes and rested his head against the splintered wood behind. Yes, even his father assumed the worst of him now, and who knew? perhaps he was right this time. Perhaps he really had changed. Hope, hard enough to grasp in the first place, seemed to be rapidly turning to sand in his fingers. It figured that just when he was starting to feel happy with his life, with himself, something like this should happen to threaten that, in every way possible.

A dry sound some way between a scoff and a chuckle pulled Lex's eyes open again and he found Clark eyeing his father with a distinct lack of sympathy, nose crinkled in the touch of a sneer.

"Well, perhaps it'll make up for all the times you've hit him in the past," he younger man stated, voice cool, eyes sharp.

Father and son blinked in unison, dual pictures of surprise.

"Is that what he's been telling you?" Lionel asked, recovering with a quick shake of his head, eyes dark and mocking.

"He doesn't have to," Clark shot back; tone as hard edged as the dagger in his hand. Because Lex was free again, Lex was alive, but he hadn't sought him out yet? Seemed, in fact, to be deliberately avoiding him? Why? It hurt to think about, leaving Clark trapped between feeling shunned and feeling afraid and Lionel had just made himself the perfect outlet. "You just have look at him. The way he never lets you touch him. Never lets anyone, not unless he's in control. God, it's no wonder he took so long to..." Make a move on me. Clark trailed off.

"To what?" Lionel pressed, switching from defensive to curious in a blink.

Clark turned his head with a sharp, angry breath—annoyed with himself now as much as anything.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered, turning to the stairs. "I have to find him."

But before he could leave Lionel stepped up beside him, hand clawing Clark's arm. The sudden move seemed to have caused the supposedly injured man very little pain, and Clark couldn't say he was surprised.

"Clark, listen to me. I don't know what lies Lex has been feeding you, but I'm telling you, he's not the man you think he is. He's ruthless. More than you know. There's always been a dark force inside him and with your powers... I think he might be dangerous..."

Lex gave a wry smile and shook his head, disrupting the cobwebs above it. So that was why Lionel was here—still after Clark for himself and ready to sacrifice his own son to get him. He should have known. Fate had given the older man an ideal scenario, Lex supposed. He had in Lex his own flesh and blood superman to appeal to now, to try and win over and control, and if that failed Clark was a handy plan B. A little hint here and there of Lex's hidden darkness, give them both the same enemy, make them allies. After that he could pick and choose, decide who to pit against who, leave himself aptly placed with consolations in the aftermath and shazam! He'd have the power he'd always wanted. Albeit once removed.

"You know what, save your breath, Lionel!"

Clark's heated retort came before Lex could even consider his lack of expectation about it. Hard as a slap in the face with Lionel reeling under the force, cut off mid-sentence, face creased in shock.

Clark gave his arm a violent shake, forcing the older man away, and felt a dark satisfaction at Lionel's totter.

"I'm not going to stand here and listen to you tell me how Lex has issues, or patterns, or how he's dangerously attracted to women who remind him of his mother, okay? I'm done with that."

Clark took a step back so he was facing the older man properly, chest thrust forward as his body submitted to anger. And it made everything so clear. Of course Lex would have come to him by now, of course he would have trusted him. If interfering, manipulative Lionel fucking Luthor hadn't got to him first. Goddamn it, he was the one who should have been Zod's vessel anyway!

The blame felt wonderful—hot and fulfilling, like the shot of scotch he'd tried one time at the mansion. And if the after taste was bitter, well, he'd just have to wash it down with some more. At his sides, Clark's hands balled into fists, his right one gripping unconsciously round the handle of the dagger.

"Even if anything you said were true, if Lex really had fallen so far, then why the hell didn't you do something? Why didn't you help him? You're supposed to be his father!" Clark pulled back, eyes wide and hard, and Lex was shocked to find his dad speechless, shaking his head and opening his mouth to no effect. "But all you do is sit back and make yourself the victim, and I'll give you some credit, you are good at that. You've got charm, Lionel, you're convincing. You had my mum going for a long time. You even had me convinced you'd changed that time in prison. And, god, I was there in Belle Reve! I saw what you did. I—"

Clark broke away, heart pounding. Yes, god, he had seen, hadn't he? He'd watched Lionel push his son beyond all fair endurance, not just at Belle Reve but all the time—in his job at the plant, his relationships, everything. He'd closed down the plant Lex had put his heart and soul into, he'd forced him into painfully fake embraces for the press, he'd left him penniless and destitute just to 'test drive' an alternative heir for a while, made him think he was crazy... the list went on. And Clark had seen it all. Lionel was unfair, callous and frankly abusive. He was to blame for far more than Lex's current condition, and yet still Clark had gone to him, more than once, for help. Still he...

"It makes me sick to think I even considered trusting you..." he muttered, voice thick with self-loathing. "I mean... what must a man have to do, what kind of cruelty must he be capable of, to make his own son willing to kill him?"

Clark raised his eyes, locking straight into Lionel's limpid grey.

"You don't deserve to be called a father," he whispered, voice sliding like honey over the two listening men—thick and sweet, cloying and enriching together. "Least of all by Lex."

Something stung Lex's eyes, which was odd considering physical pain had been distinctly lacking since this morning, and he raised a hand to them quickly. His fingers came away wet and the deep, spreading warmth filling his chest became newly apparent. Because no one stood up to his father. No one. Not when it mattered. People could beat him in business, smear him in papers, overrule him in court, but when it came to his son no one dared step in. No. Not then. He'd wear them down, win them over, push them away. Couldn't let anyone interfere with his legacy.

He'd forced his mom into useless tears more times than Lex could count, intimidated all potential school friends, bought Helen off at a suitable price, and Clark... well Clark had been just as manipulated hadn't he? Frightened away by a well-timed revelation of Lex's hidden room. Drawn onside with friendly chats during visiting hours. Swayed by the growing acquaintance between Lionel and his mom. Yes, Lex had seen him reeling the boy in, and part of him had thought, even after everything he and Clark had been through, that his dad must still have had some hold on the younger man, some hidden string he was bound to pull sooner or later. That was what his father did. He took things away. Toys. Books. People. Confidence. Hope...

But hope was filling Lex in waves now, gently curving his lips upwards despite the tears in his eyes. Because Clark wasn't even a little bit his father's. Clark was opposing the older man where no one else had, and with the strength that promised to follow through. Clark was fighting for him. Defending him. Clark was his, his, his.

The Kryptonian made to leave again, making it as far as the banister this time before Lionel sucked in a breath and called him back.

"That remains to be seen," he stated, brushing off the criticism like it was nothing, and to Lionel Luthor perhaps it was—what did he care about opinions of his parenting? It made no difference to his profits. "But perhaps I can speak for someone more worthy of the title."

There was a quick rustle as Lionel pulled something from his jacket pocket and Clark turned with a sigh. What now?

Lionel held out a crumpled piece of paper that looked like it'd been torn from a magazine. On a clear space between an advertisement for jet skiing and a job vacancy at Taco Bell was a set of familiar symbols.

"I blacked out during my time at the hospital," he explained, lingering unnecessarily over the last word in an attempt to remind Clark of his physical condition, and the man responsible. "I found this when I woke up. I notice the symbols are different this time."

Clark moved back and grabbed at the paper impatiently, holding it up in his left hand as he deciphered Jor-El's latest unwanted demand. As soon as he had he swallowed, leant past Lionel to slam the dagger onto his desk and began to rip the paper up into tiny pieces. Each one was jagged and uneven, emotion overriding thoughts of neatness, and once Clark was done he took the resulting mess to the window and thrust the whole thing outside, watching with shaded eyes as the instruction was scattered against the greying sky and lost to the wind.

"What did it say?" Lionel queried, stepping to the other side of the telescope still in its position before the window ledge, angled skyward in a way that spoke starry-eyed hope now turned to painful nostalgia.

This placed the older man exactly where Lex had been that other glorious sunset all those years ago, making Lionel a usurper. But as much as Clark hated him for it he knew he couldn't just leave the older man with nothing. Like it or not he was Jor-El's oracle, he knew something was up, and Clark realised he'd have to give the guy some of the truth, if only to prevent him causing more trouble later as he tried to figure things out for himself later.

"You should get out of here, Lionel," he muttered, eyes still firmly on the horizon, orange and pink light flashing against them as he focused on the still visible half circle of sun. "Get out of Smallville, or better yet, get out of the country. It... it might not be safe soon..."

"Why? What's happening?" The persistence was doubly grating for being so like Lex's, only without the gentle coaxing the other man employed to temper it. "Your father has been using me against my will. I at least have the right to know what for. You owe me that."

Clark lowered his gaze in defeat. There was some truth in that, he supposed.

"The first message was a warning," he said, turning his head. Lionel stood quietly, calmer now his curiosity was being sated. "Another Kryptonian is coming to Earth. A powerful one, dangerous..."

"More dangerous than the ones from the ship?" Lionel pressed, scoffing slightly as though suspecting Clark of melodrama.

"Much," the younger man deadpanned. "He... he destroyed my home planet. And Jor-El says if I don't stop him he'll do the same to Earth."

Lionel gave a small nod, lips thinning as he tried to conceal his shock, while in the shadows to the right Lex mouthed a silent curse. Zod destroyed Krypton? Fuck.

"And the second message?" Lionel continued. "Did that tell you how to stop him...?" His gaze flickered to the desk where the dagger seemed to gleam in response. "Is that what the dagger's for, Clark?"

Clark looked down, facing clouding. Lionel was really not the person he wanted to have a heart to heart about this with.

"Clark," Lionel repeated, more forcefully. "I could help you—"

"No one can help me," Clark cut in, eyes weary as he looked up again, new exhaustion wrapping round him. "Especially not you..." Lionel seemed about to protest so Clark stopped him with an impatient shake of his head. "Zod has no physical form. In order to survive he needs a vessel. Jor-El wants me to destroy it." 'Sacrifice' had been the slightly more loaded term in the note, but Clark wasn't going to bother Lionel with schematics.

"Then why are you hesitating?" Lionel shrugged. "Your path couldn't be more clear."

Clark raised his hands in a gesture of annoyance and hurried from the window before the happy memories there were tarnished further.

"When Jor-El says 'vessel' he doesn't mean a box or robotic suit!" he clarified over his shoulder. "He means a human being. A living, breathing person." He spun round, eyes wide and almost pleading, not to Lionel but the universe in general. "We're not talking about destruction. We're talking about murder."

Lex was sure his heart stopped. He certainly couldn't breathe. It didn't matter of course, not now, he didn't need to. He was new and improved, body capable of withstanding anything... and now he knew why. Part of him wanted to shout his resistance, rage at the unfairness of it all like the fire in Clark's eyes proved he must be doing. But Lex never had been one to waste time opposing inevitability, incurable baldness at nine pretty much vetoed that, so he simply closed his eyes in resignation, lashes pushing the water in them silently onto his cheeks.

Lionel blinked a few times, mulling the news over with chilling indifference.

"Clark..." he muttered, mouth flattening in apparent sympathy. "The real test of a hero is knowing when the greater good will be served by an evil act. To save the Earth, the cost of one life is the price that must be paid."

Clark nodded, unsurprised. He'd expected little else from the other man on the matter, although his attempt at a fatherly tone was getting tedious.

"Even if that life is your son?" Clark asked, voice and eyes flat and unforgiving.

Lionel was deadly still for a moment, expression blank, and Clark sensed real shock behind his gaze. Strange, that the older man hadn't made the connection sooner. Unless, like Clark, he hadn't wanted to. Perhaps, deep in that pit he called a soul, there really was a glimmer of light after all, something he truly cared about hiding under the darkness.

A pause. Then Lionel took a breath and walked steadily to the sofa, sinking into it with a small sag of relief, as though his body couldn't bare the strain of standing any longer.

Morbidly curious, Lex opened his eyes again to watch, waiting with less than bated breath for his father's reply.

"Yes..." the older man breathed, eyeing the dusty floorboards. "Even then. There are times when the world demands a sacrifice. We would be... lesser men, if we did not put aside our own, selfish, needs and accept the call. It is our duty... my duty, not to stand in your way..."

As he spoke, Clark slowly shook his head, eyes narrowing, nose scrunching up and Lex realised with a jolt that he recognised the expression—it was the exact same disgust his father had shown him in the field earlier.

"Listen to you," the younger man muttered, eyes fixed on Lionel with a kind of perverse fascination. "Justifying it... Were your parents a similar sacrifice?" Lionel looked up then, licking his lips with something like disappointment, as though Clark were missing the point. The younger man continued before he could add anything else. "You're less human than I am. Get off my farm." Lionel opened his mouth to protest. "I'm not joking."

Lex found the staring match that followed eerily reminiscent of the one between him and Jonathan weeks earlier. A nod from his father proved the Kents once again victorious and Lionel stepped past Clark and down the stairs without another word.

Once he was gone, Clark raised a hand to his eyes with a sigh.

"Lex, where are you?" he whispered to the darkness. "I need you..."

For a second, a palm-sized heat seemed to hover by his shoulder. But when Clark looked up again there was nothing but an empty breeze and shining blade to keep him company.

Lana was dozing at Lex's desk when he arrived at the mansion, head pillowed in her folded hands, the laptop before her open on a long-ended MSN conversation with Chloe.

She wore a sleeveless maroon dress over dark jeans, one of the straps trailing down her shoulder, and the breeze of Lex's entrance brushed a section of hair across her face. Her eyes creased in discomfort and she shook her head with a sound of irritation, hands instinctively clearing her eyes as she raised herself up and blinked awake.

She startled at the sight of Lex looming over her in his black jacket, face blank and eyes frowning.

"Lex! God..." she breathed, eyes widening with shock.

"What are you doing here?" Lex asked, confused and annoyed. Lana's presence was an unwelcome interruption to the plan he was trying to form.

"Clark asked me to wait here in case you came back," she explained, scrambling to her feet and hurrying round beside him.

Lex gave a distant nod.

"Of course he did..." he muttered, turning away. Any other time he would have found Clark's covering of all bases to find him incredibly touching. Now it was annoying. He needed to think damn it.

"Lex, what... what happened?" Lana pressed, reaching a hand to his shoulder. "We've been looking for you everywhere. Where've you been? How did you escape?"

Lex shook his head, wishing her away. He didn't want friends now, he wanted to be alone. There was a lot at stake and he needed to figure out what to do, couldn't let himself be distracted any more than he was already inclined to be.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered, brushing her hand away and stepping towards the desk. There was something there he'd come for... but what? "Nothing matters any more..."

Lana watched him with a frown.

"Lex, I'm glad you're okay. We've been worried," she said, voice unnaturally slow, as if Lex were a small animal needing calm. "I'm going to call Clark now, let him know where you are."

"No!" Lex snapped, spinning round in time to catch Lana in the act of bending down, heading for a petite brown handbag at the foot of the desk.

She snapped up again at his call, body tensing, and Lex could almost see the memory in her eyes - the stable, the horse, the sound of broken bones. If Lana was sensing that kind of instability in him again it didn't bode well, for either of them.

"No... don't," Lex continued, trying to appear more collected. "I just... there's something I need to do first..." If he could just remember what it was...

Lana gave a tight nod in response, the act as far from real agreement as possible.

"But I promised him, Lex," she tried, coaxing. "You don't want me to let him down..."

She started to crouch again, eyes fixed on him the whole time, and Lex turned his head with a breath of impatience. There wasn't time for this!

"Lana..." he hissed, waving a hand in irritation as he tuned back, stopping the moving girl in her tracks. "For god's sake just... forget about Clark, you can think for yourself can't you?"

A timid silence met the question and a spring of anger uncurled inside Lex in response. He'd seen this woman fight, partnered with her over the Talon, seen her strength, and yet she persisted in hiding it, or, lately, misusing it for drugs, it was such a waste!

"You have a life of your own, damn it, stop hiding!" he stated, cheeks flushing red as they moved from talk to confrontation. "Clark doesn't love you. He never loved you. Get over it. It's not like you really cared about him anyway."

That seemed to get through, prompting a heavy frown and spark of fire in those hitherto placid eyes. And that made Lex madder, that Clark should be the only way of reaching her, like the Kryptonian was an intrinsic part of her existence, when he wasn't - he was Lex's and always had been.

"Lex, what are you saying? What do you mean?" Lana asked, voice turning brittle - with hurt and a little of something else, something rather more dangerous. "You know I love Clark."

Lex shook his head, eyes darkening. It seemed heretical hearing someone else profess love for what was his, especially Lana, who he'd never felt good enough for the boy anyway.

"You don't how to love, Lana," he said, the words silky soft and scathing. "All you do is cling from one arm to the next, whispering the same sweet nothing every time. A lost little girl looking to replace her dead parents and it's gone beyond pathetic. Why don't you just grow up?"

An instant flash of defiance brightened Lana's eyes and her lips parted, ready to argue. Then the lines across her face wavered and she took a step back, the slightest of sighs escaping her.

Her look was almost unchanged but Lex knew enough to recognise the fear she was hiding behind it, and the shame, and it didn't leave him triumphant, it left him appalled. She'd been trying to help him for god's sake, and how often could he say that about anyone? What had possessed him...?

His face crumpled in apology.

"Lana... I didn't..." he shook his head. This was all wrong. He hadn't come here for this. Twisting round, he gripped his head in his hand, trying to physically pull his mind into shape again, while behind him Lana swallowed and took a breath - acts which were suddenly, blaringly, loud.

"Lex, you're sick. You need help," her voice boomed and the older man covered his ears - afraid of the drums bursting.

"No! You can't help!" he shouted over the din, which had stretched to car engines and the crunch of footsteps outside. "I just have to... I need..."

He blinked hard beneath his hand. The noise was unbearable! Why? Because of his emotion, perhaps? Clark said he'd often lost control of his powers at times of high emotion; it was one of the things Lex had been eager to test after he'd finished assessing his reaction to kryptonite... kryptonite!

The sounds dispersed at once and Lex lowered his hands in relief, gaze focused on his desk. That was it! That was why he'd come here. Beside him he heard Lana take the opportunity to grab at her bag, but it didn't matter anymore, he knew what to do now.

A few, quick strides and he was on the other side of the desk, pulling at the drawer. The lump of refined kryptonite glowed up at him from its position beside the pistol and Lex reached out to it, hand shaking. Softly, his fingers slid over the surface and rested against it.

Nothing. Not even a twinge.

Hand still on the stone, Lex raised his head with a sigh. It looked like sparing Clark his dilemma wouldn't be as easy as he'd anticipated... That dagger he'd had, was it the only effective weapon then? The older man eyed the pistol thoughtfully. Better check... He grabbed at the black coloured handle and pulled the gun out.

He heard Lana gasp at the movement and when he looked over he found her bag and phone in hand, thumb hovering over the yet to be pressed call button.

He shot her an apologetic smile before pressing the muzzle to his palm and pulling the trigger.

The explosion echoed round, oddly muted to Lex in comparison to the other sounds he'd been newly aware of recently, and Lana screamed along with it, dropping her bag in shock as she raised a hand to her face.

A trail of smoke wafted from the weapon as Lex pulled it away, drawing the act out - because now it was done he was a little afraid of what he'd see. Extreme moments of shock had been known to inhibit pain for a few seconds and the billionaire's heart beat hard against his chest as he waited for his own to wear off.

Seconds passed like hours with Lana stepping fearfully closer with each one, small, choked gasps escaping her lips. When she reached the desk Lex didn't stop her as she leant over and pulled his hand across, prying his closed fingers apart.

A flattened bullet lay in his hand, the skin around it black with gunpowder. So that's how it looked. Lana turned his wrist and the metal disc fell to the desk with a quiet clack.

Suddenly shaking, Lana stepped away.

"He's turned you into one of them," she muttered, eyes wide and shining.

Lex just nodded. It was interesting, the way she said 'one of them' instead of 'made you like Clark,' as if the thought of connecting them was too unlikely, or distasteful, to cross her mind, but that wasn't important any more. The gunshot proved he had Clark's invulnerability, he knew he had the speed and strength too, but not the younger man's weakness to kryptonite. He wasn't Kryptonian. But he wasn't human either. He was in limbo, not one or the other, not quite himself, but not completely someone else, not yet. He was just a vessel, empty, waiting...

"No, no..." he whispered, discarding the pistol and rubbing unconsciously at the blackened circle on his other hand. "I'm still me. Right now... I can still... I can stop it, I can."

"Lex-" Lana started, but Lex was round beside her in a second, grabbing her shoulders and feeling her quiver at the touch.

"Lana," he said, holding her gaze and trying to take advantage of his lucidity before it was lost again. "Listen. If you really want to help me, get out of here. Get Chloe, and Lois, the Kents, everyone, and take them somewhere safe. Take them..." He took a breath. Where? "Take them to the LuthorCorp building in Metropolis. It's been built to withstand anything. You should be okay there if... if something goes wrong..."

"Lex, wait, please," Lana pleaded under his hold. "I know what's happening to you. Clark went to Jor-El and he explained everything. Let us help you."

Lex let her go.

"It's too late."

A few locks of hair blew into Lana's eyes. By the time she'd extracted them Lex had vanished.

"Lana?"

Clark found her perched awkwardly on the piano stool, legs crossed, one black-heeled foot tapping the air.

She jumped up as soon as he stepped through the doors and ran over.

"Clark, I'm so sorry, I tried to keep him here," she gushed, grabbing his arms. "But he wasn't himself, he wouldn't listen."

Clark laid his hands on her shoulders in an offer of comfort, feeling her bare, outstretched arms shiver under his own. Always so fragile, so weak. Even her text had reflected that - 'Clark come quick, Lex was just here.' Sharp and pleading. He didn't expect to gain much by coming, but at this stage any news about Lex was good.

"It's okay, don't worry," he insisted. "Just tell me what happened. Did he say where he was going?"

Lana's face seemed to shutter for a moment and she took a step back, breaking Clark's hold, her own hands clasped tightly to her chest as though they'd betrayed her

"No, he just..." she looked away. "He didn't say much about anything, just that he had to stop something..."

Clark frowned. There was an odd blush to Lana's cheeks he didn't recognise and he got the distinct impression she was hiding something.

"Stop what?" he pressed.

"I don't know..." she muttered, brow furrowing as she looked back. "Clark he... he was different. He shot himself in the hand and it didn't leave a scratch."

Her gaze flickered to the desk and Clark's followed, falling on the pistol still beside the laptop. He gave a small nod.

"He has my powers," he explained. And wasn't it just like Lex to test their limits like that? "Part of the process, I guess..." A cold flutter in his chest as he remembered what said process entailed had Clark trailing off. He turned back quickly. "Did he say anything else? Anything about what happened? Where he's been today?"

Clark was afraid to imagine what kind of horrors Lex must have been through in Fine's ship. It could only have been awful, making it little wonder everyone considered him changed. He must be so scared! And Lex being Lex he'd be too stubborn to show that, he'd want to hide until he'd forced the emotion away. Was that what he wanted to stop, maybe? It didn't really matter, because they didn't have the time. Clark was sure if he could just find the other man he could make things better, he could help. At the very least he could hold him, something his arms had been aching to do for hours now, palms almost sweating with want for the older man's skin.

But Lana shot down his hopes for a breadcrumb trail with a shake of her head.

"No, nothing. And he didn't let me explain anything either," she answered, bare shoulders lifting in a shrug of distress. "He was worried about something though. He asked me to take everyone to the LuthorCorp building in Metropolis. Said we'd be safer there."

A criss-cross of lines covered Clark's forehead. Lex didn't know Zod needed a vessel yet, so what was he trying to protect from? Did he consider himself a danger on his own? Was that why he was still hiding?

"Clark, I..." Lana looked down, lacing hands across her waist, the angle speaking new apologies. "Chloe told me everything. Did you-?" A brief glance at his eyes, only to look away again. "Have you found out anything else? Any other way to...?"

To avoid killing your best friend? Clark gave a flat smile at Lana's try for tact.

"Not yet," he answered firmly, relieving his friend's tension and fusing the words with as much hard-edged optimism as he could muster. Because he was optimistic. He was. Desperation just sounded similar, that was all.

When Lana's eyes returned to him, soft round the edges, as usual, making them hard to focus on, they were coated with something Clark thought a little too like pity. Like he'd just missed the last train home and needed to catch up.

She reached over and grabbed his hand, delicate fingers curving round his own, eyes still on his with that stomach churning shine.

"We'll get through this, Clark," she promised, an encouragement Clark felt himself inwardly pulling back from, quite sure Lana's 'this' was completely different from his own. "Whatever happens. We'll face it together."

Clark could only nod in response, chest tight, leaving him too breathless for anything else. It was touching, and comforting in a distant sort of way, to know he had friends actually with him for this crisis. But the comfort was bitter, offered in assumption of the worst and Clark couldn't think about that yet, he couldn't. He was going to save Lex. Nothing else should be planned for... not yet.

Lana seemed to sense it - through the tension in his hand perhaps? - and she quickly released him, fingers brushing his knuckles as she pulled away.

"I could go to Metropolis," she suggested, just the hint of reluctance, barely noticeable. "If Lex wants us there perhaps he's planning to meet up."

"Would you?" Clark asked with a grateful sigh; less a question than an urgent plea.

Lana nodded, eyes strangely dull.

"Of course. I'll go now..."

She grabbed her bag from the piano and headed to the doors with a small, tight smile.

Clark spun round as she passed, aware of new tensions in the air and not sure how to dispel them.

"Lana..."

She stopped in the doorway, turning enquiringly.

"Thank you," Clark tried. His gratitude was true enough, at least. "For everything. You've been great today."

Another small smile that didn't entirely clear her face, followed by a slight tilt of her head. Then Lana was stepping briskly down the corridor and out of sight.

Clark sighed. It could've been fear of the situation giving Lana the hint of gloom she'd been wearing as she left, like a rain cloud over her head, but Clark couldn't shake the feeling he'd upset her in some way. Something he'd done, or not done... it was always so complicated with Lana, and the smallest thing could set her off. He remembered a time he'd found that enticing, mysterious. Now he just found it annoying. At least with Lex you knew where you stood. His mystery lay in himself, not his reaction to others, and if you upset him you sure as hell knew it, and the reason why. He'd always made it abundantly clear what he expected of the people around him, and all he'd ever asked from Clark was the truth, no matter what it might be.

In the end, not even that had been enough for Lana. And from the way she'd left it looked like it still wasn't, since Clark was pretty sure he hadn't lied in the past few minutes... Well, if Lana was going to be upset just from him being himself, it wasn't something he had the time or patience to bother with at the moment. He needed to keep looking. Lex was alone and afraid - where would he go...?

"Pretty little thing. She'd be yours still, if you asked. Which is fortunate, perhaps, considering you'll be back on the market so soon."

Clark's whole body burned, breath turned to ash in his mouth. His jaw flexed as he bit back the scream of rage fighting to escape him and he channelled the fire to his fist instead, spinning and swinging his arm.

He caught Fine right in the stomach, sending him flying against the bookcase on the right with a satisfying smash. Books, pots and random trinkets rained down on the AI's jacketed back as he fell face down on the floor, blood red tie dangling between his bracing arms.

"Where's Lex?" Clark demanded, fists still clenched as he moved above the fallen form.

Fine raised his head with a smirk.

"I have no idea," he chuckled, pulling his jacket back into place as he stood up, before calming dusting himself off. "It doesn't matter. He can't stop what's about to happen."

"Then why let him go at all? Why not keep him in the ship?" Clark fired back, more than aware of the answers he still needed and wanting to force them while he had the chance.

Fine tilted his head, face smug and superior.

"Completing the augmentation was a complex process," he explained, slowly, as though teaching a difficult child. "It leaves the body sluggish and weak. A few hours outside should rejuvenate your friend enough to make him acceptable." A sickening glint in his eyes. "You run a farm. You should know more than anyone, the meat tastes better when it's organic."

Clark raised a fist again in response, eyes and nostrils wide, blood boiling at having Lex talked about like that.

Fine raised his palms as though in surrender and Clark paused, eyeing the other man dangerously over his arm.

"Temper, temper, Kal-El," Fine mocked, shaking his head. "It's your own fault, after all. You were supposed to be the vessel. But you let your father get in the way." His expression sharpened, turning narrow eyed and cruel. "If you had released Zod the first time your pretty-boy lover and friends would have been spared..." Clark swallowed, irrational but heavy guilt filling his stomach, and Fine stepped easily away as the Kryptonian lowered his arm, heading for Lex's desk. "Of course, it's not too late for an exchange. That's why I'm here. To give you a second chance."

He leant over the wood, one hand resting lightly on the surface, piercing eyes fixing on the younger man's back.

Clark stared at the broken bookshelf, gaze flicking, unseeing, all over it as he considered. An exchange? His life for Lex? Every heartbeat said yes, without question, but he couldn't shake Lex's voice from his mind telling him 'stop and think! don't be an idiot!' Because, awful as it was, Clark knew if he was possessed, Fine could strip Lex of his newly gained powers as easily as he'd given them, and then who would there be to fight Zod? To protect the world?

"I can't," Clark whispered, voice like shattered glass.

"Then it begins..." Fine whispered back.

Clark heard the click of flesh on plastic and spun his head round.

Fine had a hand on Lex's laptop - tiny, lightening sparks erupting from his fingers and sinking into the keyboard. As Clark watched, the screen began to flicker, the open MSN window fading to black, with millions of flashing green symbols floating down and across the now empty space, like something from The Matrix. If The Matrix had been set on Krypton.

Before Clark could move, the lights in the ceiling flickered and blew out, filling the room with sparks. Seconds later, every light in the mansion switched off, leaving a sudden, impenetrable darkness.

"Enjoy the show," Fine muttered, Clark's eyes adjusting just seconds too late to catch the man zipping away.

Clark made his way to the Planet's basement for the third time that day and noticed every one of the employees who bashed into him on the way down the darkened stairwell. It was hard not to at the speed they were moving, all of them clutching wildly at notes or holding radios to their ears as they walked. The place was literally a sea of moving bodies, irregular red and white headlights flashing over them through the basement windows, with the out of order elevator only adding to the manic atmosphere.

The flurry of the newsroom, however, was nothing compared to the pandemonium the Kryptonian had witnessed outside. There'd been at least two cars on fire, countless shops broken into and several pockets of crowds already bordering on riots - with armed policemen at the ready to prove it. It felt like, finally, the whole world was reflecting how Clark had been seeing it since the morning - turned upside down. Sadly, the pathetic fallacy did little to raise his spirits.

"Chloe?" he called as he passed the throng and managed to get inside the office. Despite superior eyesight, the glare from the random lights gave the usually familiar room a patchy feel Clark found hard to navigate. And with Chloe nowhere obvious and the world black and crazy around him, the Kryptonian felt a touch of panic enter his chest. "Chloe!"

His fears were allayed as his friend hurried out of the copying room, a laptop and an ancient looking radio in her hands, turquoise jacket a beacon in the gloom.

"Chloe," he breathed, rich with relief. "What's going on? It's crazy outside..."

"You tell me," Chloe muttered breathlessly, dropping the laptop on a desk beside him and tilting back the screen - it was covered with the same falling green symbols as the one at the mansion.

Clark grabbed at the corner and narrowed his eyes at the thing, as though trying to deny it by sheer force of will, while Chloe busied herself with the radio aerial.

"So it's taken out Metropolis too..." Clark muttered, voice a painful mix of disbelief and resignation.

"Metropolis?" Chloe repeated, pausing with her fingers on the tuner to address her friend directly. "Clark, try the whole state. Whatever this virus is, it's infecting almost all of the city's infrastructure and beyond. You know where it started?"

"Smallville..."

Chloe raised her eyes in a small 'of course' gesture.

"Fine did something to one of Lex's computers," Clark continued. "I spent almost half an hour stopping accidents when the traffic lights went out. But, Chloe I don't get it. That can't have been more than two hours ago and Smallville's nowhere near as bad as this. How can losing a few lights cause so much chaos in such a short time?"

Chloe shook her head in mild exasperation and turned back to the radio dial.

"Clark, this is more that a wide-spread lights out," she explained, fingers twisting quickly and expertly back and forth. "It's like Y2K on acid. Elevators, gas mains, subways, mobile phone networks - the entire city is shutting down. And as highly as you may think of us, it doesn't take much for humanity to show its dark side..."

There was a quick burst of static, followed by the faint but frantic tones of a radio commentator.

"...omplete and sudden collapse of the city's infrastructure has caused havoc and panic throughout Metropolis. Reports of scattered looting and violence are beginning to surface... citizens... injured... five deaths confirmed..."

As the signal became once again indecipherable, Chloe and Clark looked to each other in horror. Violence? Death? And of everyone involved, all the hundreds of people in the city, it was just the two of them, four including Lana and Lionel, who knew the truth. Out of all the people running and looting and fighting, they were the only ones who knew the whys and the whats, the only ones who knew how to stop it.

For the first time since meeting Jor-El in the Fortress, the realisation that the fate of the world literally rested with him covered Clark like an ill wind - cold, heavy and repugnant.

"Clark," Chloe breathed, eyes wide with growing fear. "If this continues, every major city in the world is going to be infiltrated. Fine really knew what buttons to push to make us vulnerable. We'll be like sitting ducks for Zod!"

Clark shook his head, an unpleasant but all too familiar sense of helplessness creeping through him. This was all too big! There should have been more time! Time for him to think, to figure something out, to understand the magnitude. To be so suddenly responsible for countless strangers - it was too much to get his head around. All those people outside - the policemen with their plastic shields; the reporters hurrying to grab photos for the story; the families frantically driving their kids to safety - was it really up to him to save them? All those faces... three of which stood out in frightening clarity.

"God, Chloe, is it affecting aeroplanes too?" he asked, snapping his head back to her. "Because Lois and my parents are on their way to Washington right now."

A flash of equal panic shone in Chloe's eyes.

"I thought their flight was overbooked..." she frowned. Clark gave a brief nod.

"Lionel offered the LuthorCorp jet," he explained.

"And your Dad accepted?" Chloe responded, blinking her head back in surprise, incredulity for a moment overriding her fear.

"Once I'd convinced him to. Which took some doing, I can tell you," Clark clarified, the heated discussion still all too vivid in his mind, the necessity of candle-light making his father's emotional reaction to the idea all the harder to talk round. "I just wanted them out of town, Chloe, it didn't matter how. And it's weird... I honestly don't think Lionel had another agenda. He was completely behind me. About my mom at least..."

Clark's mouth twisted in distaste. It had been helpful having Lionel backing him of course, as he'd provided ready explanations for the oddities Clark didn't want the others to know about - 'The lights? Power-cut. I've got people chasing it up right now... Why offer the jet now? Well I have no plans for it myself and the airways are clearer at night, you'll get there faster... This summit is important, all the country's media is watching, it would reflect terribly on me if I didn't offer my help when I had the chance...' and so on and so on. All of it bullshit, but all of it convincing. Clark had hated to watch. But then, every so often, he'd see a flash of urgency in the older man's eyes when addressing Martha - the same urgency Clark carried in his own heart that read 'go now, please, it's for your own good.' And so he'd submitted to the game, played the part, and seen Lois and his parents fly off into the horizon, hoping they'd be able to forgive him when they got back. If it turned out he'd only sent them into greater danger he'd never forgive himself.

"Well... moving on quickly from Lionel Luthor's increasingly disturbing infatuation with your mom," Chloe muttered in response, nose crinkled in similar revulsion. "I've heard nothing about planes being hit, and cars and motorcycles are still working. Anything that has an individual battery and isn't connected to a computer system seems to be okay. Lois and your parents should be fine."

Clark's sigh of relief was halted by the sound of screeching tyres outside the coloured window beside them - clearly faint as Chloe hadn't noticed, but getting louder and louder to Clark who turned his head to the glass in confusion. What...?

A split second later the skidding car became all too obvious as it burst straight through the window, bearing down on top of them, glittering shards flying everywhere.

Clark didn't hesitate. He grabbed Chloe round the shoulders and spun the two of them round, one arm holding the petite blonde securely to his chest, while the other reached out and hit the car bonnet, stopping it dead.

After a few seconds of shock, Clark pulled his hand away carefully. The car bobbed up and down a little but stayed in place, its nose jutting into the room like some absurdly out of place piece of modern art. The front window and doors were still above ground and Clark couldn't see what had happened to the driver. He wanted to help, but first things first...

He turned to the girl in his arms and laid his hands on her shoulders, eyes warm with concern. Chloe was a little dusty, but otherwise okay, and she gave him a shaky nod to prove it, pulling away and brushing herself off at the same time.

Clark's following sigh was audible this time as he turned back to the car, the still on headlights illuminating his frown. Chloe was okay. Lois and his parents were probably okay. But the driver of the car... the people outside...

"I need to get out there. I can help..." he murmured, releasing his friend and turning to the door. Chloe grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Clark, there's no use!" she called, voice high. "You can't save everyone."

"I have to do something!" Clark protested, eyes bright as he turned to face her.

And Chloe's face seemed to crumple - every crease a stark black line under the white glare of the headlights. It was the same look Pete had given him during Clark's first rush of RedK, before breaking out the kryptonite. A distant cousin to Lana's expression in the mansion earlier. It meant pain and heartbreak, and for a second Clark hated Chloe for it, for what he knew was to come.

"Clark..." she muttered, voice very soft. "Maybe there's only one thing you can do..."

Clark shook his head.

"No, Chloe, I..." he tried, backing away, but Chloe wouldn't let him go and matched every step, staying right in front of him.

"Clark, we've tried, okay. We've spent all day looking for a loophole, but we're out of time! If we want to stop Zod and stop Fine and stop all of this..." A sad swallow negated the growing hardness in her eyes. "You have to do what Jor-El said. You have to destroy the vessel."

Clark turned away sharply, waving a hand in a futile attempt at dismissal. Chloe caught it in her own.

"Lex would understand," she whispered, voice raw and Clark heard their hearts beat a fatal drum beat, faster and faster, waiting for the hanged man to drop.

And he wanted to push her away. Run to the ends of the Earth and never look back. But there were so many people outside, forcing their way inside him. Footsteps, ragged breathing, teardrops sliding down skin, cries and shouts of pain - Clark could hear them, smell them, taste them. They were part of him now and he couldn't just ignore that, couldn't leave them.

The eyes he raised to Chloe were wet with resignation and his heart seemed to snap as he nodded. Because Lex would understand, and that was the worst part. That was why he'd been so frantically opposed to the whole thing all day - cultivating enough resistance for both of them. Because Lex was strong and beautiful and solid and alive - a power beyond anything Clark knew - he couldn't just die in the shadows like nothing, in silence, with no one knowing. He deserved better, even though he'd never ask for it himself. But Clark had nothing better to give. He'd failed. Like he so often had when it came to Lex.

"What if something goes wrong? I don't want to leave you here," he muttered, squeezing Chloe's hand.

"You have to," she answered, practical as always.

His body felt ten times heavier as he turned, footsteps like lead. He'd just reached the door when Chloe called him back.

"Clark!"

Her hands were bunched fists at her sides, face tight with suppressed emotion.

"I don't know if I'm ever gonna see you again..."

And in a move that made superspeed seem slow, Clark found her right beside him, a hand round his neck and her lips on his own.

The kiss was deep and desperate and Clark let her take it, resting a soft hand on her back as she moved both hands to his cheeks and pulled herself closer.

Throughout the heat and the touch, part of Clark was still immature enough to consider how badly he'd been missing out during high school, but that wasn't important now. High school was long over and, despite Chloe's obvious affection, they'd moved on. If he hadn't discovered Lex then maybe there could have been more to the connection, but as it was, Chloe was a friend, pure and simple, and the bittersweet smile as she pulled away proved she understood that just as well. It was goodbye, nothing more.

She stroked his cheek lightly, holding the moment as long as possible, when a shrill ring from the phone in the hall made them both jump.

Clark turned his head in surprise. With the cell networks down it wasn't so strange for someone to be trying a landline, but who were they trying to contact? It was almost midnight and the Planet was closed, with all the late-nighters out chasing the story of the century. Unless... it was Lana, trying to get to him or Chloe with news!

Chloe still had a hand to his shoulder and Clark pulled it gently away, giving her one, last, lingering look before hurrying to the glass-panelled booth.

He pulled the phone off the hook easy enough but felt uncertain as he raised it to his ear - worried, now answering was imminent, that it might be a wrong number or one of the frantic people outside wanting the police that he wouldn't be able to help.

A rich, masculine tone started to speak almost as soon as the plastic touched his skin and any thoughts Clark might have had were wiped away.

"Clark. We need to talk."

"Lex! Oh my god, where -?"

"Meet me in the barn."

Lois woke with a start, cream-trousered legs uncrossing, hands lifting from her black jacket to scrabble round the plush, tan cushion of one of the jet's many elaborate seats. It was a few seconds before she realised she was safely positioned and not actually in mid-air... or rather she was in mid-air but...

"Stupid, falling dream..." she muttered, slowly and self-consciously ungripping her hands and brushing the creases from her pale blue top.

A gentle hum of laughter caught her attention and she turned to find Mrs. Kent smiling across at her.

The older woman was decked in a stylish red suit, complete with skirt, tights and heels and held a handful of notes and a pen in her hands - a display of dedication to Jonathan's cause that the keenness of her eyes proved more than simple duty.

Lois flushed at the attention and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

"You'd tell me if had drool all over my face wouldn't you?" she queried, only partly joking.

Martha nodded, eyes glinting with amusement for a moment before returning to the pages in her hands, proving her fully absorbed.

A quick glance over her shoulder gave Lois a full view of Mr. Kent positioned by the door to the cockpit. He wore a full suit and tie, which veered to the left slightly where he'd been pulling at it, and also held a couple of pages. These he was holding to his face as he muttered under his breath, gesturing every so often with his other hand.

"So, Mr. Kent still sulking back there?" Lois whispered, turning back and leaning across the gangway, her long ponytail splitting in two and trailing down both of her shoulders.

Martha gave a sigh somewhere between sympathy and exasperation.

"Yes," she admitted. "He still hasn't said a word to me all journey. It's a little frustrating, but... I understand why. Accepting Lionel's offer was hard for him and... well... at least it's given him an opportunity to run through his speech."

She gave a small shrug, which Lois returned with an affectionate shake of her head.

"Hey, the way I see it, a plane's a plane wherever it came from and beggars can't be choosers, right?" she quipped.

"They can if the price is too high," a male voice rumbled behind them.

The two women turned to find Jonathan watching them, face dark, notes lowered to his knees. Both of them blushed.

"You don't understand how Lionel works. I doubt this was a simple act of kindness," he added.

"Hey, I understand Lionel Luthor plenty," Lois argued. "The man tried to kill my cousin. Don't think I've forgotten. I've no doubt he's playing dirty here, but other than a little emotional pressure what can he do? It's not like you guys have any dark secrets he can blackmail you with."

She grinned at the thought, thoroughly amused, while Martha and Jonathan shared a short, uneasy look.

"What time is it anyway?" Jonathan asked, standing up as abruptly as the subject change. "I feel like I've been in that chair forever. It's about time my feet touched dry land again."

"It's about... ten past midnight," Martha answered, glancing at her watch.

Lois and Jonathan frowned in unison.

"And we aren't there yet?" Lois pressed. "We should be strolling down Pennsylvania Avenue by now..."

"You're right..." Martha nodded back, brow furrowing. "I lost track of the time... We must've hit some strong headwinds."

Jonathan shook his head.

"That wouldn't cause a delay like this," he argued. "We should have landed an hour ago."

Martha's face clouded at her husband's tension.

"Jonathan, calm down," she insisted, discarding her notes to the small white table beside her. "There are a million reasons why we could've been delayed."

"Or Lionel could be trying something," Jonathan responded, nowhere near pacified.

"Oh, Jonathan, really. What, do you think he'd kidnap us?"

"It wouldn't surprise me..."

While the two of them bickered Lois turned to the circular window on her left and pulled sharply at the curtains across it. A range of snowy mountains met her eyes through the glass behind.

"Okay, I might've flunked geography," she stated, the hint of a tremor in her voice. "But the last time I checked, the East Coast? It didn't look like this."

Jonathan and Martha shared another troubled look before moving to look over the younger girl's shoulder. The sight was all Mr. Kent needed for his frustration to rise to the surface.

In a few, quick strides he was at the door to the cockpit and pulling on the handle. The door didn't move but he kept trying anyway, savouring the rattling metal.

"Open the door!" he called, ending his pulling and thumping the heel of his hand against the steel. "Whoever you are, I demand you tell us what's going on right now!" No response. "If Lionel's behind this you can tell him I refuse to be intimidated! You can't keep us here against our will! You -!"

"Mr. Kent!" Lois and Martha were beside him now and the brunette gestured to one of the dials beside the door. "Look at the air pressure..."

All three of them eyed the circle with trepidation, watching as the needle moved rapidly down.

The lack of air was obvious almost at once and all of them gasped, Martha with a hand to Jonathan's shoulder for support.

"We need to... to break down the door..." Lois muttered, moving back and scanning the room. Her eyes fell on a metal pole hanging from the ceiling, intended for a curtain partition currently drawn back. She stretched an arm towards it.

"Jonathan," Martha breathed, face tight with fear. "Lionel wouldn't do this..." A couple more gasps - which Jonathan shared but still tried to valiantly support his wife through by gripping her forearms. "He wouldn't try to... kill... This is... this is something else..."

Their eyes met in understanding. For them 'something else' could only mean something not human and the scope of possibilities were terrifying.

Out of painfully ingrained habit Jonathan glanced at Lois, not wanting her to overhear anything incriminating, and watched as she stretched a hand to the pole, yanked it off, and promptly collapsed from the effort.

"Lois!" he yelled jolting forward to try and catch her, except his feet felt too heavy and his head far too light.

The result was a heavy stumble into his wife that Martha barely managed to stay upright from, but after a few seconds of pushing she managed to prop Jonathan back up against the door and turned to see Lois for herself.

Fortunately, the metal pole had fallen amongst the chairs on her left and caused her no harm, while the newly appointed Chief of Staff herself lay spread out along the gangway, looking oddly peaceful amidst the chaos with her green-shadowed eyes gently closed.

Jonathan shifted under his wife's hold and when Martha turned back she saw him reach for a metal square with a circle of holes in to the left of the door. This puzzled her for a long time, until she realised it was an intercom. He pressed the button below, palm slamming into it with overestimated effort, and gasped into the speaker.

"Open... the door!"

Another round of predictable silence, during which Martha started to sink slowly to the ground, eyes fluttering. Jonathan moved to grab under her arms, but with his strength equally sapped the move only brought him down with her and they both fell to their knees.

Jonathan braced his shoulders against the wall and rested Martha's head on his chest.

"Martha you... you have to... stay awake..." he muttered, blinking against the blackness encroaching on his own eyes. Martha murmured his name, also blinking, and as she tried to look up the intercom burst into life with a blast of static.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kent. Please forgive the crudeness of my methods but time is of the essence now..."

Martha managed to force her face up to Jonathan's, eyes wide. 'Milton Fine?' she mouthed in horror.

"Zod's arrival is imminent, despite your son's efforts. It really was sickeningly sweet of him to try and spare you by sending you away. Sweet but foolish. Zod wishes to meet the people who raised the son of his greatest enemy, and what Zod wants Zod gets. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll kill Kal-El long before he kills you, so your deaths should be relatively quick..."

Jonathan's breath was fast and shallow now, heart beating hard enough for another attack, but he fought it and tried for a weak 'no.' He couldn't even manage that one syllable. Sagging against him, Martha had already submitted to unconsciousness, eyes closing heavily over her tears.

As his own world turned glaringly black, Jonathan pulled his wife close and kissed her hair, breathing out what might have been 'love you' before he too fell into darkness.

Clark was at the barn in seconds, and found it eerily quiet. The whole town was quiet. Dead. Compared to Metropolis it was like another planet, with all the good citizens of Smallville politely sticking to their homes until the power-outage passed. If Clark had stopped to think he might have been proud.

Instead, he ignored the silence and hurried inside the wooden structure, looking round eagerly, heart pounding with the hope of a reprieve. Because Lex would know what to do, Lex always knew what to do.

Imperfectly illuminated at the best of times with the power down the place seemed to be nothing but gloom, so the man was not immediately visible. Clark twisted round with impatience. The damage Fine had caused the other day was fully repaired now - if there was one thing Clark had become an expect on it was superspeed carpentry - and the tractor Fine had smashed as Lillian was gone, taken with great sorrow for all to the scrap heap. This left the ground floor unusually empty, and Clark couldn't understand why Lex wasn't there, waiting somewhere obvious.

Finally, some movement by the opposite entrance caught his eye and Lex stepped out of the shadows and into the pale stretch of moonlight between the open doors. The blue of his shirt was dampened by the darkness, making him look entirely black. Never a good sign with Lex. Clark often felt uncomfortable when the other man adopted such a singular wardrobe. He seemed to lose himself in it sometimes, leaving Clark cut off and unable to touch in a way the tactile Kryptonian disliked immensely.

This, and the oddly straight way Lex was standing, made Clark's first eagerly awaited sight of the man since the morning - yesterday morning now - an uneasy one, and it held him back from the running embrace he'd intended. Perhaps it was just the ominous cut of the black jacket in the moonlight, but he couldn't shake the immediate and intense feeling that something was wrong.

"My father always told me 'power' was the only thing that mattered," Lex stated, voice floating crisply through the air. Clark frowned. "Money was important, but it was just a means. The only way he knew of becoming as powerful as possible."

"Lex? What -?"

"Who'd have thought a small town in Kansas held the key to more power than he'd ever dreamed of?" Lex continued as though he'd never been interrupted, raising his hands to demonstrate the town, but making no attempt to move closer.

"Lex, what are you talking about?" Clark asked, feeling panicky now.

'Changed' Lionel said. Lana had insisted he was 'different.' And Clark had seen enough personalities altered by kryptonite over the years to know how easy it was for someone to become another person. Was Lex even Lex anymore? The thought that he might have lost the other man already was harsh and unexpected and hit him like a kryptonite-punch in the gut.

"I'm talking about my life, Clark," Lex replied, still freakily calm and equally serious. "Ever since I started 33.1, I imagined what it would be like if I had those kind of abilities. What I'd do..." He shook his head with a soft laugh and the light caught his smile - it was chilling. "The possibilities, Clark... you can't even begin to understand..."

He stepped closer then, lips still curved, eyes flashing with a brightness Clark thought almost manic and it made him want to cry. Because this was Lex lost, this was the unbalanced side the black kryptonite had released, this was an incomplete Lex, a false Lex, and it was worse than finding him dead, because he knew that his Lex, the real Lex was still alive in him somewhere, broken and twisted.

"And you, Clark," Lex continued, moving to point at the younger man's chest. "You're the jackpot. I think I knew that, even before you told me. Absolute power..." His eyes raked Clark up and down, but the younger man didn't feel glad of it like he so often had, he felt violated. It was incredible, really, the way just a slight change in the older man's stance could alter a familiar gesture so radically. "The nights I've spent dreaming of that..." Lex breathed, raising his eyes to the other man's creased ones, meeting Clark face to face. "I used to think I could handle it. That I'd be... restrained, like you. So much self-control. You know, I honestly didn't think you capable. Of course, dad would've thwarted my thinking immediately. Absolute power corrupts, and all that. But you... you always seemed to have such a strong inner core. I thought if you do it, so could I." He leaned forward just slightly, breathing on Clark's lips in a mockery of intimacy. "You know what?"

A sudden, full on smile had Clark's heart leaping for a second, telling him it was all a joke, that Lex was playing, but the hardness in the other man's eyes squashed the hope before it could form.

"I was wrong," Lex finished darkly.

Clark took a breath. This was the virus talking, not Lex. He couldn't let it faze him, couldn't let fear and embarrassment overpower him now.

"Lex, you're not yourself," he tried, unable to calm the tremor in his voice.

"Or maybe I finally am," Lex responded with a smirk. "How about it, Clark? You and me, one on one, winner takes all? I mean, the castle's fine. But I've always kind of wanted a palace."

When Clark didn't respond, Lex lunged without warning, grabbing the lapels of the younger man's red jacket - donned to cover the dust and grime becoming a hands-on traffic warden had caused. He smashed the Kryptonian into the wooden pillar beside them and it splintered apart, with Lex's force continuing to press Clark further along the barn.

The strength wasn't as shocking as the obvious intent behind it, though, and Clark gasped.

"Lex, stop!"

"Make me," the older man growled back, and Clark grabbed at his forearms desperate to get him away before this went too far.

His usual, restrained strength had no effect so Clark pushed harder, twisting round to shake Lex off. The throw ended up stronger than he'd realised, sending Lex flying to the platform above the entrance, where he smashed through the wooden banister and disappeared in a flurry of hay.

Clark stepped forward, instantly stricken. But before he could rush up, a voice spoke from behind him.

"Disappointing. You can do better."

Clark spun round to find Lex right behind him. It seemed he'd got control of the speed pretty well then.

The older man grabbed him again without another word and threw him up the stairs to Clark's den. Clark broke through the railing at the top and fell flat on his back amongst the broken shards of wood.

Lex didn't allow a respite and zipped up a second later, grabbing the other man about the neck.

Aware of nothing but the need to stop his opponent now, Clark grabbed at Lex's side and pushed as hard as he could, more with desperation than intent. It seemed to be a lucky shot though as Lex fell off balance onto his side. Clark took advantage quickly and rolled himself up onto the older man's legs, pinning him down while he pulled the dagger from his jeans.

A quick swipe had the blade at Lex's throat and Clark hoped to god it would be enough of a threat to subdue him.

Their eyes met above the metal and Clark blinked. The change was small, so subtle it was barely noticeable, but Clark saw it, saw Lex's eyes fade from taunting to longing, bitterness to sorrow and relief.

The Kryptonian jumped back immediately, dagger falling to his side, eyes wide with shock as an awful suspicion crossed his mind.

Lex soon recovered from his lapse and blanked his face again, lips quirking.

"Should have known you'd be too weak to complete a victory," he quipped, raising himself onto his elbows.

Clark shook his head, breathing hard to dispel the new sickness in his stomach, a vision of Lex smiling and satisfied above him flashing across his eyes :: it's all about skill, Clark. I've got it, you don't ::

"No..." he muttered, locking onto Lex with a kind of terrified awe. "This should never have been a victory... Lex you... you can fence. You know how to box. For god's sake, you were trained by an ex-navy seal!" He took another step back, arms shaking. "In a fight, with my powers... you wouldn't lose."

Lex just stared at him for a moment, a dozen derogatory comments filling his mind to put them at odds again, but the pain in Clark's eyes ripped the resolve right out of him and he closed his own with a sigh, head tilting in defeat.

Clark watched in astonishment as Lex wiped a hand across his face as though trying to wipe away the emotional lines now covering it. His Lex after all, as he had been all along, playing some stupid, dangerous game for god knew what!

"Why?" Clark breathed, too shocked to be angry.

Lex lowered his hand back to the grey wooden floor and stared passed Clark's shoulder.

"I thought it might make it easier if it was self-defence," he answered quietly.

"Make what easier?" Clark pressed, as if he didn't know, desperate for Lex to be wrong. Because Lex was the smart one, he was supposed to know a way out of this, he was supposed to have a better plan, damn it! He was supposed to be Clark's salvation. "Make what easier!?"

Lex pushed himself up, preparing for the confrontation he'd been hoping to avoid.

When he turned his face to Clark's again, the tears the younger man had been fighting finally bubbled to the surface. Because Lex was so calm. He didn't show Clark pity, like the others had, just a deep, heartbreaking, sorrow.

"I heard you talking to my father, Clark," he admitted. "I know what the dagger's for."

Lex reached out to him then, fingertips brushing his shoulder, but Clark jerked back. He didn't want the touch, not now, not when it was offered as consolation, it was too great a risk. Because if anyone could convince him to do as he was meant to, it was Lex.

"You think I'm gonna listen to your father?" Clark shot back, eyes misty enough to blur even his vision now. "To either of our fathers? I can't! I won't!"

The rawness of Clark's pain had Lex fighting down tears of his own. God help him, he wanted to spare the younger man his burden more than anything, but there was too much at stake.

"Clark, this isn't about us anymore," he responded, voice breaking. "You've seen Metropolis. People are dying! And it's just going to get worse." He took a breath and looked away, being frank about something Clark so obviously didn't want to hear was painful in more ways than one and Lex couldn't bear the younger man's broken expression. "You don't have to be the one who does it. But it has to be done..." He closed his eyes for a second, steeling himself to look back. Because if he wasn't strong about this, how could he expect Clark to be? "It's me or the world."

Clark shook his head. Lex had asked a lot of him lately but he couldn't ask this, not this.

"I don't care about the world!" he shouted, two hot, wet drips pressing over his eyelashes as he tried to block out all the images of Metropolis - the crying children, the shouting fathers, the frightened mothers. "I don't...!" The images got stronger, more vivid - women with blooded cheeks, bruised men cowering in corners, crowds of people with pleading eyes, suffering in ways Clark knew he could stop. "I don't..." he whispered again, squeezing his eyes shut to try and force the pictures away.

Lex looked over him sadly. His Clark. So beautiful. So good. He knew what had to happen, it was written all over his painfully tear-stained face, but he wouldn't let himself believe it. Not when the price was so high, so painful. And part of Lex couldn't help feeling proud about that, about how deeply the thought of his death was affecting the younger man, but the pride was insubstantial compared to the giant tear in his heart at the thought of leaving Clark behind, so broken and alone.

His only consolation was the thought of how great the Kryptonian would become after this was over. Because Lex's mind had slowly been re-gaining awareness that afternoon and he'd had a long time to think about everything, to plan, and in assessing Clark's reaction he'd realised something. Behind all the angst and the doubting and the childish mistakes, Clark Kent had the makings of an honest to god hero. The kind they wrote stories about and passed down generations. Because he had the unique and intrinsic quality of genuinely caring about people, deeply and profoundly, whether he knew them or not.

And what Lex had understood that afternoon, in a sudden flash of insight, was that Clark wanted to embrace that in himself, he was just too scared to take up the mantle. Because there was something about being a hero Lex's Warrior Angel comics had never taught him, something he'd never thought truly good people would have to face, and that was that being a hero hurt. It wasn't about power and glory and costumed parades, it was about making the hard choices others couldn't, it was about sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of your rescuees. And maybe Clark had sensed that, had always known that was the path his powers would lead him to. Which was why he'd denied them for so long, why he'd tried to hide from himself - to escape the pain he knew was coming.

So, as much as Lex wanted to take the pain away, it seemed to him that until Clark faced it; until he realised pain like that was part of life - especially a life like his - Clark would be incomplete, only half a man, when he could be so much more.

It was good he was resisting, like he had the submission at the mansion - god was it only last night? - it meant the acceptance would be stronger, when it came. And it meant that this one choice, the responsibility of this one life-changing decision, was one he was absolved from. This one was Lex's burden. Clark would hate having it forced upon him, but it would bring him out of himself in a way he'd never manage alone. Lex's last gift to the man he loved.

"Resist all you want Clark, if it makes this easier," he said. "But we both know it's the right thing to do. You can't lie to me."

Clark opened his eyes and looked over with reluctance, a touch of something stronger already beginning to show behind his sorrow and Lex smiled. No, Clark could fool others, he could even fool himself, but his sudden rage against the world didn't fool Lex. The older man's eyes softened as he recalled earlier lies and badly formed deceptions, the sting of them tempered now by time and truth, and they were all, suddenly and beautifully, obvious.

"You never could," Lex finished with a small nod, eyes warm. Because, despite everything, Clark had always been with him, his resistance no more real than the fight he was giving now.

Amidst the pain, somewhere deep down Clark felt a modicum of relief, of gratitude to Lex for being so accepting of the plight he'd put the older man in. But it stuttered out when Lex disappeared in his next blink. Along with the knife in his hand.

"Lex, wait!" Clark yelled, spinning round. A thousand things he needed to say filled his mind, but only one passed his lips. The only one that mattered. "I love you!"

He'd expected Lex to be gone, to be miles away now so Clark couldn't stop him again, so it was a surprise to find the older man by the barn window, one hand on the frame, the other holding the dagger still and straight beneath his chin.

Clark couldn't see his face, but he saw Lex's hand start to shake, saw him pause in the cut he'd been about to execute, one ruby red drip falling with a silent splash onto the wood at his feet.

That did it for Clark. It didn't matter what Jor-El said, it didn't even matter what Lex said; he was not letting the man in front of him die. He was going to save Lex and the world. No matter what it took.

"What?" Lex stuttered; eyes finally wet as they faced the horizon. Clark's confession shouldn't have meant anything, it certainly shouldn't have changed anything, but Lex had imagined it for so long... it was weak, he knew it, but he couldn't die without knowing if it were true.

Sensing the tide was turning in his favour, Clark repeated himself.

"I love you... and I... we'll figure this out, Lex, just... stay with me. Please..."

He crept closer with every word, watching the blade avidly for his chance. It came in a split second when Lex closed his eyes against the emotion, his hold on the dagger slackening just slightly as he fought back tears, just a little, and just for a split-second.

A split-second was all Clark needed.

He had the dagger back in his own hands in a flash and rested against the opposite side of the window with a sigh.

Lex blinked at his empty palm in shock. Apparently Clark could fool him after all.

"Fuck, Clark," he swore, not only still alive but uncertain as well. "Did you... did you even mean any of that?"

Clark snapped his head up, eyes fresh with new shame, dagger clutched to his chest with both hands to stop him losing it again.

"Oh god, every word, I-" he broke off, shaking his head. His timing with Lex seemed doomed to be just that vital bit to late. "I wanted to tell you. For weeks now. But I..." His lips quirked in a self-depreciating smile. "I have this... thing... about the truth. My life's been a lie for so long, sometimes even I don't know what's real anymore. All I do know is I've never been happier than I have the past few days and I was so scared if I said anything I'd lose that, that it would never have been real in the first place like with -" He cut off again, self-conscious this time, and the name went unsaid. "I didn't want to lose you, Lex..." Clark looked down with a sigh, noticing the unusually high amount of dust and grime and spots of blackened ice on his trainers for the first time. "I've screwed it up anyway though, haven't I?" he shrugged. "I never seem to get it right. I could be saying anything just to keep you alive. But that's not it, Lex. I really do -"

"I love you too."

Lex said it without thinking. His most closely guarded secret, tripping of his tongue like leaves in the fall, gone, exposed and released in the space of an impulsive half-second. He had to laugh when Clark looked back, eyes wide with the astonishment Lex himself was feeling.

"I've always loved you," the older man continued, giddy from the liberation of the confession, or maybe giddy from Clark's. Clark, who loved him, loved him, actually did - incredible.

The moment seemed to stretch between them - Metropolis, Zod, Fine, all of it fading away as they came together, for perhaps the very last time. It came out in a rush. Everything he'd been hiding, things he hadn't even realised until just then, bursting from their cage, wild and beautiful and terrifying.

"You think you're the first person to ever have issues with the truth?" Lex queried, rhetorical, seemingly calm but for the intensity of his eyes. "And tell you? I couldn't even tell myself! I fought it for months, years. Playing the part of your best friend, trying to be your fucking older brother, because I wasn't supposed to fall in love, Clark! It wasn't part of the plan!" His eyes blazed with something that wanted to be anger but couldn't quite make it past the film of tears and Lex looked away with a sardonic shake of the head. "This town was just a glitch. Just one year here to appease my father before building up LexCorp and moving on, that's all I'd planned for. God, when I first came here I didn't even believe in love. Do you know how many times people have told me they love me just to screw me over? It was just a word, a manipulation, another form of power. But then you bothered to pull my sorry excuse for a life out of that river and turned the whole world upside down." He raised his eyes again and Clark felt the gaze like a physical embrace, hurtling into him and holding on tight, so raw and - oh god - so open, so much more open than Lex had ever been. "Because you were the real thing, Clark. Right from the start... The first person I've ever... and I couldn't even tell you. Because I've used the line -" He waved an arm. "Countless times, to get who and what I want. More than enough to make it meaningless and I... I didn't want to lie to you. If I couldn't make it real there was no point in trying."

It would have been laughable if they weren't so on edge - the way both of them had been hiding the same truth all this time - and Clark, who'd barely recovered from the 'I love you too' part, gave a quick smile at the thought, like a beam of sunshine through cloud.

The severity of the situation was quick to obscure it again.

"Look at us," he breathed. "Is this really the only time we can be honest with each other? When someone's about to die?"

Lex gave an equally brief smile back. It was absurd, wasn't it?

"Deathbed confessions are always easier, Clark," he acknowledged. "They have no consequence."

"No. No!" Clark snapped back, rushing over to cup Lex's face in his hands, dagger still in the right one a poignant reminder of what was hanging over them. The fire in the younger man's eyes took Lex's breath away. "I love you, that's real and it matters. I'm not going to lose you now. God, it feels like I've only just found you! This isn't temporary, Lex. We could be more, a lot more, I know it! I... I've never felt as real as I do with you..." Clark's arms laced about the older man's neck, pulling him close. "Please..." Clark whispered in Lex's ear, cheek flush against the other man's own. "Don't leave me now..."

Lex tensed under the hold, eyes wide with shock while hands flared out in confusion. It was the sheer desperation of it all, the way Clark pulled just a little too tight, forgetting to hold back - if Lex had been a little more human he might not have survived the onslaught. It was like Clark needed him. But no one needed him. He wasn't that important. And yet here was Clark, literally clinging to him in the same way Lex had been mentally and emotionally doing to the Kryptonian for years. It was more than reciprocation; it was an exact mirror of his own love. He'd finally set it free expecting it to scamper away, but instead it had chosen to run straight back to him.

Oh Clark... He wrapped his arms quickly round Clark's back, holding him just as tight, and closed his eyes as he moved a hand up. His fingertips felt every cheap nylon fibre of the younger man's red jacket - the fucking, unflattering thing - he'd always secretly wanted to burn it, but he relished it now; pressed harder to feel the beat of Clark's blood through the skin underneath; turned his nose to the younger man's hair and took in his scent, that crazy mix of farmyard tang, cheap cologne, and something decidedly other.

Touch and knowing didn't seem enough, Lex wanted to love every part of Clark, to give all of himself up to the same affection - everything he'd dreamt of but never imagined having. But there wasn't time.

"It's too late," he muttered, repeating the phrase he'd used with Lana, albeit with greater sorrow this time.

The grip about his neck tightened and shook and he was pretty sure Clark was crying.

"There has to be another way," the other man whispered, voice thick and broken. "I'll find it. We'll find it."

Lex swallowed. If he'd hoped for that before he was nigh on desperate for it now, and not just for Clark any more, but their love didn't change anything. The inevitable was still just as inevitable.

Opening his eyes again, he pulled Clark away - something that was tellingly easy for him to do now.

"Clark..." he started, wiping the younger man's tears with his thumb, each one glistening on his cheek like a miracle. His miracle. Like Clark always had been. "It's not just Zod. What Fine's done to me, these powers... it's wrong. I don't..."

He pulled away as he spoke and stepped back, afraid of another inadvertent confrontation like with Lana.

"I get these thoughts sometimes, that I don't... and I say things I would never..." he shook his head, lost. "It's like I'm not in control of my own mind."

Clark wanted to keep crying, it had been such a release. But the moment was over and there were things to do, important things. So he wiped his sleeve across his face and took a breath.

"Um... humans don't have a great track record with Kryptonian powers," he admitted.

Lex looked up, surprised and somewhat comforted by the certainty of the tone. An explanation of what was happening to him, however unpleasant, would at least provide the relief of understanding.

"My dad had them for a while," Clark continued, brow furrowing as he realised the implications of what he was revealing held for Lex. "That's why he had his heart attack... and, um, you know what happened to Jeremiah Holdsclaw. There was a guy at school too. He sorta stole mine during a lightening strike and..."

"Eric Summers, Superboy," Lex interrupted, recalling Chloe's gushing tribute in the Torch. "I remember. You were in hospital that week..."

Clark's breath hitched for a second as he held back a fresh round of tears, touched that Lex cared enough to remember. And he'd been a fucking ass to him in the hospital too, assuming the older man had come to pry into more secrets, when really, oh wow, really he must have been there just for him after all.

He gave a soft nod and Lex looked down.

"He's in Belle Reve now..." the older man noted. Like Jeremiah. So, one heart attack and two mental breakdowns. If you played the odds... He quirked his lips in a humourless smile. "Dying I can handle, Clark. But I do a pretty good job of being less than sane on my own..."

Something in Clark broke at that. Because he'd never thought. Lex was the smartest guy he knew, so Belle Reve, all the misinformation; it must have been tearing him up to think his mental faculties might not be entirely reliable.

"No, Lex, you're not crazy," he insisted, stepping forward to lay his free hand on the other man's shoulder. "You've never been crazy."

When Lex looked back his eyes held a touch of relief and Clark felt a rush of strength at the sight. He'd spent all day running, perhaps even his whole life, and he'd come here tonight looking to be looked after, to be told what to do. But he was the one with the power here and Lex needed him. The world needed him. It was time he stepped up.

"Whatever Fine's done, I'll stop it," he said, standing almost imperceptibly straighter, but enough to radiate hope. "We'll get you to the Fortress and figure something out. Chloe's working on the virus and if anyone can crack it, she can. Otherwise... I'll just have to track Fine down and force him to change everything back."

As plans went it was shaky at best. Lex knew he should try and push them back to the original - the dagger in Clark's hand was loose and open for another superspeed swipe. But the way Clark spoke, the sudden confidence. It made Lex wonder if the younger man hadn't discovered his heroism after all. It made him think maybe...

In a sudden burst of affection, Lex sped forward, body a blur until it aligned itself fully into Clark's, their lips pressed together, both of Lex's hands in Clark's hair.

Clark took a second to respond because, wow, Lex was so strong now. His lips literally tingled under the force. And when he did kiss back, it was heaven. Together they tasted of new hope and a promise for the future. They'd make it. How could they not?

"God Clark, I love you so much you've no idea," Lex muttered to the other man's skin, all self-control finally blown away, and Clark held him through it, large hands on his back keeping him in place, guiding his fall perfectly and making Lex wonder why he'd ever wanted to hide from the man when opening up was so easy and so wonderful.

A slow clapping sound from below the stairs pulled them apart and after a shared look of concern they hurried to the mid-way platform.

Milton Fine stared up at them from the centre of the moonlight below, infuriating smirk fixed in place, hands moving together at his shoulders.

"Beautiful," he stated. "Really, I'm touched."

Lex shrank back, burned by the sarcasm, and the move was like a hot poker to Clark. He'd been mad enough at Fine in the first place, having him mock the man he loved for an honesty it must have taken all his courage to reveal was simply not acceptable.

"You made a big mistake coming here," he all but growled as he stepped forward.

"It's you who's made the mistake, Kal-El," Fine answered smoothly. "Jor-El sacrificed a whole planet to stop Zod. You can't even kill one man?"

"Maybe I should just kill you instead," he shot back, ignoring the reference to Jor-El and gripping the dagger in his hand with new intent.

Fine laughed as though the idea were preposterous.

"Go ahead," he dared. "Let's see if you're really your father's son."

Clark gripped the dagger tighter, not even stopping to think. All he needed was a quick x-ray to determine where the power source might be in the lie of a man the AI had formed itself as.

While Clark aimed, Lex frowned beside him. There was a glint in Fine's eyes that spoke of a hidden agenda, of some kind of reverse psychology, and the truth hit a second later with terrifying certainty - Clark was being played. Lex knew it.

"Clark..." he muttered, but the other man was already pulling his arm back and throwing the blade with all his might.

The dagger embedded itself straight in the place Fine's heart should be, and the AI grinned in satisfaction as the clear crystal handle turned a vivid shade of red. A beat later he feel to his knees, body shaking with unseen power.

Clark swallowed, anger dissolving to something far colder. Because this wasn't the destruction he'd hoped for and from the elation on Fine's face he knew whatever was happening couldn't be good.

"What have I done?" he muttered, taking only small comfort from the slender fingers moving to grip his own as he and Lex watched the AI convulse, a strong, unnatural wind starting up around him.

"Zod's essence requires a conduit to pass through to escape the Zone," Fine shouted over the rising wind, circling faster now like static before a storm. "Any crystal from the Fortress would have sufficed, but having you open the portal seems fitting, wouldn't you say? And the two of you so close... perhaps you'll be lucky and he'll take you after all, Kal-El!"

With his last words, a blinding beam of red burst through the barn and into Fine's back - a beam Clark realised must have travelled all the way from the Fortress, from the Phantom Zone Jor-El controlled there. That red beam was Zod, and after filling Fine for a couple of seconds, it made its way back out of him and upwards.

It was attuned to Lex somehow, no doubt, to find him no matter what. But if Clark got in the way...

The self-sacrifice was prevented before he could even attempt it as Lex gripped him tight with both hands and shoved him roughly out of the way. As he crashed through the remainder of the top banister, Clark heard the older man scream.

By the time he'd scrambled to his feet and spun round the beam was gone, and so was Fine.

Lex was standing deadly still in the corner of the lower platform.

Clark didn't think he'd ever felt so afraid.

"Lex?" he tried, taking a cautious step down, mind nothing but a desperate chorus. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease... "Lex?"

Lex turned his head very slightly, then stopped, as though surprised by the sensation. Eventually, he turned his whole body and the predatory gleam in his eyes when he saw Clark rooted the Kryptonian to the spot.

The Lex who wasn't Lex, not even a little bit, took a long time climbing the stairs, lingering on each step as though he had all the time in the world and eyeing Clark with narrow-eyed fascination the whole time. He continued past the other man's step to the top and reached a hand down, cupping Clark's chin and turning his face full towards his own.

Clark shivered at the touch - so familiar, yet so alien - and noticed the hand now held a shining silver bracelet over the wrist.

"You have your mother's eyes," the other man stated, voice smooth and rich and so completely Lex it hurt Clark to hear. The hand on his chin moved back slowly. "Hello, Kal-El."

Clark couldn't speak for a second. Seemed to have forgotten how. There was nothing but the patter of his heart and the sob threatening to rip his chest to pieces. But he'd promised himself he'd take control and he would, he had to. It might be all he had left.

"Where's Lex?" he asked, surprised by the strength of his voice.

"Lex Luthor is dead."

Clark closed his eyes. No. I said that I'd save him. I promised...

"I don't... I don't believe you..." he muttered, eyes wet as he opened them, resolve faltering.

Lex - no, Zod - tilted his head, noting the tears with detached intensity. A cold, cruel smirk formed across his face.

"You had feelings for this human," he stated, looking away for a moment as though in thought. He nodded briefly. "His feelings for you were also strong. I thought his essence tasted unpleasant."

He looked back, eyes sparkling with dark amusement and Clark flinched, every look another stab to his heart because every look was so nearly the man he loved and yet so painfully not.

Zod's sudden, following bark of laughter wiped away all similarities though because it was cruel and harsh, forced rather than enjoyed, and like no sound Clark could imagine Lex making at all.

"I intended to kill you for your father's sins. A fitting revenge for being imprisoned like a beast," the alien explained. "But it appears you've made yourself such an abysmal disappointment, it hardly seems worth it."

He gave another amused chuckle and turned away, eyeing the barn with all the interest of someone who'd known nothing but the same landscape for a very long time. He gave a small, satisfied sigh when he caught sight of the window and walked languidly over to it, head raised to the stars.

"Still, I'm sure this world holds other amusements..." he muttered, closing his eyes as he stepped into the moonlight.

That snapped Clark back to attention. He might have failed Lex but there was still a whole world of people who needed him, he couldn't let them down as well. He owed Lex that, if nothing else.

"No," he insisted, stepping up behind the other man. "I won't let you destroy this planet like you did Krypton."

Zod opened his eyes and glanced back with a shrug. He seemed bored.

"You don't have a choice," he responded, but as he looked Clark over a spark of something new seemed to glow behind his eyes, a kind of longing, or hunger. "Although... I did not expect you to be so much like her..."

He reached out again and though Clark pulled back this time, a quick, superior grip on his arm soon thwarted the plan and held him in place. Zod then trailed a couple of fingers down the curve of the younger man's neck, with Clark's tense attempt to pull his head back only giving the elder Kryptonian greater access.

"Such soft, beautiful, skin..." Zod murmured, face softening, and Clark didn't like to think about the implications this had for his mother. "Perhaps there could be an... arrangement... between us..." Zod's hand slipped behind Clark's neck, fitting so nicely, like Lex's always had, and Clark forgot to move as the other man shifted closer, eyes dark; forgot to breathe as Zod's other hand slid expertly beneath his jacket. "Join me," he whispered, leaning forward to breathe in Clark's ear. "And rule this world at my side..."

The hand moved lower, brushing skin as Zod moved his fingers, Lex's fingers, under the band of Clark's jeans, and Clark closed his eyes, breathing erratic. Because it was so like Lex... so like Lex... and the smell and the touch were making him hot. He felt himself harden just at the thought of having that hand move lower and - oh god oh god - he was really thinking about this wasn't he? It might be a comfort, with Lex gone, something to remind him and... and Zod was Kryptonian. Experienced. Enticing. He'd know things. Touches... even now his fingers were pinching in a way Clark would never have thought to enjoy. New pleasures... so much easier not to fight... but then Zod lay his cheek against Clark's, raising his head to smell the younger man's hair in a manner so newly familiar, and Clark remembered Lex's last, frantic embrace :: God Clark, I love you so much ::

He opened his eyes with a start, body cold again in an instant, because this wasn't a comfort, it was a betrayal! It was sick and wrong and Clark couldn't believe he'd even considered something so fake.

He batted the hand from his neck in a flash and stumbled back.

"I'll never join you!" he breathed, eyes wild.

Zod's calm was almost a disappointment. He merely shrugged.

"Well I hope that's a decision you'll be able to live with..." he stated, coolly brushing down Lex's now slightly crumpled jacket and heading towards the stairs. He fingered the bracelet on his wrist as he walked, slipping it off and placing it in his other hand. "Forever."

He turned and held the object up, the metal forming a perfect circle over his palm.

As Clark watched the bracelet hovered away and moved towards him, spinning in the air, faster all the time. Clark dodged as it reached his head and turned to see it spin away into the night.

He looked back in confusion and saw Zod smirk, a curve of the lips that had always looked sexy on Lex, but was now frighteningly empty.

It was an image that stayed with him as Clark found himself pulled sharply from behind, an unseen force dragging him through the barn window, past the upper atmosphere and into the blackness beyond.

——to be continued——