obsessions Chapter 18-A

This next chapter is pretty long, so I'm splitting it into two sections.

Obsessions chapter 18-A



Chapter eighteen
He didn't know what had happened. He'd been fine, everything had been fine and then the world had gone taut and narrow and whatever cords had been holding him together had just snapped.

Fine? Maybe he hadn't been fine. Maybe those taut stretched cords had been the only things preventing him from shattering. Just like the mirror had shattered - - had to be shattered - - to destroy the image staring out. Himself, seemingly whole and hale when inside it felt like he was flayed and raw and bloody.

And Clark had seen it. Clark had seen him break, Clark had seen the utter weakness, the utter lack of control and Clark was the last person he wanted to display that to. He'd needed Clark separate from that place. He'd needed Clark beautiful and bright and unsullied, because how Clark perceived him mattered. Because he could find himself maybe in the way Clark looked at him. Because if Clark knew just how filthy - -filthy whore, I'm a filthy whore - - he was, if he knew what he'd done - - he'd never look at him the same.

But Clark was still here. He'd tried to chase Clark away - -embarrassment, humiliation, self-loathing - - tried to shock Clark into retreat, but Clark wouldn't go. Clark wouldn't let him go, and panic had been right there, eager to rush up on him, until the ground had slipped out from under him and instead of restraint, Clark became the only solid ground he had. The only thing keeping him from drowning. The smell of him, the solid strength, the dogged refusal to give up on Lex the only thing keeping the nightmare at bay. Just like in that basement. Even then, even when he'd thought him dead, Clark had still offered the only escape he'd had open to him.

It was the first time he'd cried - -really broken down and lost all control and simply raged and sobbed - - since Clark had gotten him out. He wasn't even sure if he'd deteriorated this badly when he'd been under Decker's control.

He supposed, in the rational part of his brain that could step back and look at all this dispassionately, that it was long overdue; that he'd done himself no service at all holding it all in. Martha Kent had said as much - -repeatedly.

He didn't remember cutting his hand. Funny, since it stung now, even with the dab of antiseptic and the strip of gauze bandaging that Clark had gotten from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Lucky his father had stocked a few supplies or Clark would have started tearing up the sheets. There was the stain of blood, dried now, running up the back of his hand towards his wrist, a little bit of it caught in the cuticles of the nails of index and forefinger. He had worse things staining him.

He shuddered, coming a little closer to the surface. He'd missed getting from the floor by the door to the bed. He wasn't sure if he'd done it, or Clark had. He wasn't sure what he'd said in the interim between meltdown and the cold fear of what he'd wrought afterwards. But Clark was sitting against the side of the bed, knees pulled up, facing the badly abused French doors and staring out towards the ocean. The sky outside was purple and orange with sunset. Clark's head was dark, curls of soft hair fanning out against the smooth skin of his neck.

Save from the bloody light of sunset, the only light was that from the open bathroom door. The lamps were conspicuously missing. He supposed there might be pieces of them scattered around the room. But the dark was acceptable. Sometimes, he couldn't get enough of it.

"He never turned the light off," Lex said numbly, and Clark turned slightly, just enough to let him know he was listening. "There was never any darkness. Even when I slept, I could see it behind my lids. Could hear that damned buzz of fluorescents. When I did sleep - - he never let me fall into naturally - - I can still smell the chloroform, sickly sweet. He'd always wake me up before I'd slept enough for it to matter. I had no control. Over anything. He fed me. He bathed me. He wouldn't let me pee on my own, or - - he stuck a tube inside me and flushed me out every fucking day - - " Lex shut his eyes and shuddered, feeling his guts clench at the memory. "Do you understand that? Can you comprehend how it feels to have every shred of power, every shred of control stripped from you?"

"No," Clark said softly, still his silhouetted profile, and not facing his eyes made it easier. "But you have it now. You have more money than god. You can do anything you want to do and there's nobody who can make you do differently. Not even me, Lex. I will never do anything you don't want me to do. All it'll take is a word. Understand?"

Lex pressed his palms over his eyes, stifling a miserable laugh. "Suppose I'm incapable of ever wanting you to do anything? How is that fair to you?"

Clark turned to look at him, solemn green eyes. "Lex, it's been a month. You've got me forever. We'll figure it out. "

Lex turned on his side, curled an arm around his head and stared at Clark. He felt something yawning at his feet, something that gaped wide and deep and stygian at its depths, and he could either back away from it, trapped on the one side or gather the courage and make the jump.

He shut his eyes, feeling wetness that he didn't even try and stop gathering at the edges. Maybe it had already been there for a while. Hard to care about when he was facing chasms.

"I have nightmares every night." He admitted it into the softness of the pillow. The confession felt like sandpaper scratching its way up his throat. "Sometimes they're so bad - - sometimes I'm afraid to sleep at all. I've yet to decide if alcohol makes it better or worse, harder to wake up from them, certainly."

Clark made no judgments, just turned a little more, resting an arm on the bed and his chin on the arm, and watched him patiently, waiting.

"I thought I'd conquered my fears – squashed that feeling of being afraid all the time - - because I hated that feeling - - but he brought it back. And I can't live like this, I can't stand my heart jumping up to my throat every time someone brushes against me. I can't live not being able to focus half the time because at the back of my mind, I'm reliving something that happened in that fucking basement."

Clark stared at him, a long silent moment, then slid a hand across the sheets, laid it across Lex's bandaged one. "Lex, it'll get better. I don't pretend to know how or when, but I've got to believe no pain can go on forever. It's got to ease up. I'll do anything you want me to do, except give up on you. You ask that of me and you're gonna get a fight."

Lex stared down at Clark's hand, dark against the white of the gauze bandage. Maybe he was simply too exhausted to care, but it was not an unwelcome touch. He'd never been particularly fond of casual intimacy even before this, a byproduct of the household he'd been raised in, no doubt. He'd never even had a lover he'd particularly wanted to sleep with beyond the sex act itself. Even the occasional live in ones. Victoria had had a bedroom of her own in the mansion during that brief period when they'd been trying to manipulate each other into corporate corners.

The sex was fine, but having her - - having anyone at his back while he was vulnerable never had sat well with him. God knew where he'd picked up that paranoia.

But Clark - - Clark he needed close to him. Clark's presence, Clark's scent, the sound of his breath, the little tingle Lex felt when they touched. Clark kept his demons at bay. He needed Clark to stave off the nightmares.

"Come up here," he said softly and it was hard asking it, as unsure as he was whether his body would betray him. Clark rose, the mattress dipping under his weight, before he slid in, settling carefully next to Lex. Like he was afraid to touch him in fear of setting something else off. Not fair to him, really, to use him so, when Lex wasn't sure he was fixable, but desperation made for a certain selfishness.

And something in Lex did recoil just a bit, as Clark settled a hands width away, just close enough to rest his forehead on Lex's shoulder, tentative movement. Lex shut his eyes and the feeling subsided. He slid a hand into Clark's hair, soft and thick and smelling of the ocean. Clark was still here, after witnessing Lex's implosion and it baffled him. Clark knew what he'd done, what he'd had done to him and he didn't flinch from him. His father would have. He could imagine the look in Lionel's eyes, the derision in his voice as he chided him, 'You simply didn't try hard enough, Lex,' or 'if you had any sort of backbone you'd have taken one of those chances he gave you when there a rope around your neck, and ended it. Better dead than shaming the family name, eh son?' And he'd considered it, but when it came down to it, he really hadn't wanted to die.

He rolled into Clark, pressing close and Clark's arms came around him. Just that. Just that embrace that offered everything and asked for nothing and Lex felt like he wanted to cry again.

Instead he started to talk.

"He called me on your phone," he said, remembering all to clearly that moment of hope, before the terror set in. "Told me what to do and where to go. And other than going to your parents - - I did it. I did what he told me - - I don't know why - - but I couldn't think past the fact that he had you. And when I got there, you were on the ground, and you were bleeding, but he let me call your parents and tell them where you were. I thought, okay, this might work out after all - - they'd find you, you'd heal - - it would work itself out. It always had before when the shit hit the fan."

He squeezed his eyes shut, the next bit having played over in his head a hundred times in all its grisly detail. "But it didn't. He shot you and I couldn't stop him. There were holes in your head and bone and bits of brain - - "

"Lex," Clark caught his hand, that was curled and trying to dig into the skin at Clark's shoulder, and brought it up to Clark's head. "They're not there now. See?"

He spread his fingers across whole flesh and soft hair unmated by blood or grey matter. He clenched his hand in Clark's hair, pressed his face into his neck, smooth skin that smelled faintly of ocean salt. The Clark smell lingered beneath that. Heady, comforting. The rush of his blood was hypnotic.

"I remember screaming. I don't remember anything after that. When I woke up, I was in that place. I was - - naked and chained to a bed. There were cuffs on my wrists and ankles that never came off - -not the entire time I was there. He collared me like I was a dog." He laughed bitterly, but it came out sounding more like a sob.

Clark didn't tighten his embrace, his hand on Lex's side didn't move, just his thumb, gently making circles that Lex could feel though the layer of silk shirt. Almost it chased away the ghostly recollection of Decker's hands on him that first time, exploring.

"I thought - - I don't know what I thought. I was pissed off - - God, so fucking angry - - at what he'd done to you - - that it really didn't sink in what he was planning to do to me. Until he started putting his hands on me. He wasn't happy about us having sex - - he really wasn't happy about that."

Clark swallowed, the motion of his thumb stalling. "Yeah," he said softly. "I think I remember him saying some things while we were - - waiting for you, I think. He didn't like that I'd touched you."

Clark drew his knees up a little, as if remembering some phantom pain. "He - - he used that meteor rock knife - - a lot, while he was ranting about it."

Lex hissed through his teeth, wishing he'd been able to take a little more time to kill the bastard. That Decker had hurt him was a given, but that he'd taken the time to make Clark suffer before he'd tried to finish him off - - it made something hard and cold form inside him. Something that had nothing to do with his own tremulous sense of self and everything to do with protecting Clark. Who despite all his alien born advantages, had vulnerabilities that could be exploited by a man that knew his secrets. Lex was suddenly absolutely certain that Jonathan Kent hadn't gone to nearly the lengths he should have in his efforts to keep those secrets. In his shoes, Lex would have gone to greater ones.

"You shouldn't have been in that position," Lex said.

"Yeah? If not me, then he'd have either used somebody else that couldn't have survived a couple of bullets to the head, or just taken you outright and nobody would have had a clue. Me included. Stop second guessing and move forward."

That last smacked of Martha Kent. Clark mimicking her better traits, just as Lex suspected, he occasionally mimicked his own father's worse ones.

"I'm tired." And he was. It was almost as hard an admission as the others. A different sort of weakness. He'd been running on reserves he hadn't known he'd had for close to two months. Just surviving when he'd been with Decker - - barely doing better than that once he'd been out. One sort of restless sleep was pretty much the same as the next, once you got down to it. It turned out peace and tranquility didn't do him nearly as much good as a froth at the mouth meltdown.

"Me too," Clark said, and Lex suspected it was a sympathetic tired, but he decided to let it slide, because Clark's lashes against his cheeks were thicker than any man's had a right to be and Lex liked looking at him when he had his eyes closed, and his mouth softly parted in relaxation.

Lex shut his eyes and didn't dream.

Not a single subconscious flutter that he recalled at any rate, to disturb his slumber. He stirred at the insistence of his bladder. Blinked into awareness, mind still sluggish from sleep, and stared at Clark's legs. They were very nice legs, long and well muscled with a fine dusting of dark hair that was almost imperceptible until you got up close and personal. Clark had them drawn up, his back to the headboard, a paperback book resting against his knees. It was one of Lex's.

"Hey." Clark smiled down at him.

Lex shifted his head and blinked up, rather wishing he were still asleep. It had been too long since he'd gotten a long, uninterrupted stretch of it.

"This is good," Clark indicated the book. "I didn't think you read stuff like this."

"You think I read non-good things?" Lex wasn't feeling particularly witty.

Clark's smile widened. To brilliant for this early. This sky behind him was pale grey so it had to be some ungodly hour.

"No. Just - - you know, things that aren't so easy to read. I like this. Assassins and little psychic dragons, and humor."

"Occasionally," Lex pushed himself up. "I like entertainment instead of introspection in my reading material."

He swung his feet to the floor and headed for the bathroom. He thought there had been a fair deal of debris from his tantrum last night, but was gone now. The lamps were still missing though, and the glass in the door still shattered. He didn't bother to look in the mirror. Just finished up and trekked back to bed. Collapsed back down and thought, just another few hours and he'd be caught up. Might as well get it while Clark was here to drive away the nightmares.

He thought about the grey light of early morning, then thought about Clark still being here. Crap.

"How much trouble are we in with your parents?"

"None." Clark looked down at him from over the top of the book. "I called last night and let them know I was staying over."

Lex wondered how that conversation had gone. No. On second thought, he didn't want to know at all.

"It's still early. Go back to sleep. I'll be here."

It seemed like a good idea. He shut his eyes, drifting. Thought as he drifted into hazy half awareness that he felt the gentle warmth of Clark's fingers on his head, the soft whisper of Clark's voice. "Dream good things, Lex."

He sank down and very possibly did.

They spent a lot of time Sunday not doing anything. Just sitting in the house with the doors and windows open, letting the ocean breezes ripple the curtains and sweep through the house.

Clark had run into the little town by the wharf Lex had taken him to for lunch and picked up the makings for breakfast while Lex was showering. A loaf of fresh baked bread, some cheese and OJ, and a lot of fruit from a stand by the road. He'd toasted and chopped and had it ready by the time Lex came downstairs, so there was no excuse not to at least make an effort to eat. He didn't like how much weight Lex had lost. He didn't like being able to feel his bones quite so distinctly under his skin. It wasn't healthy. It made him feel like Lex might break if he wasn't very, very careful around him and he didn't like that feeling.

But Lex didn't do half bad, better than lunch yesterday where Clark had ended up finishing up half his sandwich. So maybe it was the fruit, or maybe Clark had just guilted him into it, presenting it like it was his first try at culinary design or something. He had done a pretty good job arranging the plates.

They sat outside for a while, and Lex talked intermittently, then he'd stop, choked up, embarrassed, emotionally wrung dry and they wouldn't say anything for a long while. Which was okay, because Lex didn't retreat from him afterwards, or even look like he regretted the things he'd said. He just looked really thoughtful, like he was turning stuff over in his head that he'd avoided doing for a long time.

They moved inside when it started to drizzle, cut on the television for background noise, found some National Geographic documentary on the predators of the coral reefs. They had a repeat performance of the breakfast menu for lunch, since it had gone over so well.

Sat afterwards, the plates on the coffee table, while Clark reluctantly cracked open the American lit book and the assignment he'd promised to get a start on.

"The influence of Transcendentalism in American poetry as opposed to the Romanticism of the English of the same period." Clark spat out the subject of the make up thesis. "I mean, If I have to read it, that's one thing - - but doesn't it sort of take away from the whole idea of, you know, poetry impacting you emotionally, if you have to dissect it like you're doing a science project?"

Lex lifted a brow and reached for the book. And Clark ended up a lot closer to him than he'd started out, while Lex flipped through and tried to explain concepts that Clark's brain just didn't want to grasp. Or maybe he was just distracted, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh with Lex, while Lex was quoting stanza's that Clark wasn't paying nearly as much attention to the meanings of as he was to the sound of Lex's voice. But Lex seemed to like the idea of outlining the thesis, and he sent Clark for the laptop. So Clark started pecking away at the keyboard while Lex listed talking points for him to expound on later.

It was a good distraction and Lex's mood lightened considerably, which was worth spending an hour or so on Clark's least favorite subject. He almost had the bones of the paper fleshed out, with Lex leaning over and offering suggestions and comments for improvement, when his mom called, and reminded him that he had school tomorrow and that short of dire emergency, she did expect him home at a decent hour tonight.

He didn't want to go. If he hadn't been sitting next to Lex at the time, he'd have made the argument that Lex needed him. But it was almost like she read his mind anyway, because she asked to talk to Lex.

Lex eyed the phone warily, like he was expecting it to bite him when he put it to his ear.

"I'm fine, how are you?" Lex answered in response to whatever she'd said and Clark had to fight, really fight hard, not to listen in on both sides of that conversation. He could make a pretty good guess what she was saying though, from Lex's flick of the eyes towards him, and the dry arch of one brow. He'd had to do some fast talking last night to convince her to let him stay the night. It wasn't like he would have left Lex for any reason anyway at that particular time, parental consent included, but it was just easier that he'd gotten it. She'd been worried, though and his mom generally didn't mince words when she was worried.

"I don' t know. I'll think about it. Yes. Of course." A long pause, where his lashes flicked down and he didn't say anything, just swallowed, listening. Then more subdued. "I'll try. Thank you."

He cut the connection, held the phone for a moment, then glanced at Clark. "She's adamant I come for Thanksgiving."

Clark let out a breath, afraid she'd been adamant about something else. Thanksgiving was all right. He was adamant Lex come for Thanksgiving, too.

"So we'll be seeing you, then?"

Lex shrugged. Leaned past Clark to lay the phone on the lamp table - - and stayed, resting against Clark's shoulder, breathing slow and deep, like he was trying to convince himself of something. Clark adjusted the laptop on his thighs so Lex could see the screen better, a legitimate reason for him being there.

"You need that in quotations." Lex indicated a line distractedly. Clark went for the correction and Lex sighed, slouching down deeper on the couch, relaxing against Clark.

He shut his eyes and murmured. "Don't piss off your parents. I can't afford it. I'm fine."

"Yeah, you say that a lot."

Lex shifted enough to look up at Clark, wearing one of those looks of his that teetered between amused and skeptical. "Maybe I'll fly down Wednesday. I need to see about some things with the mansion. Have some things packed up and sent - -"

"Sent where?" Clark asked when he hesitated.

"The penthouse in Metropolis, I guess. I can't stay here forever. Besides, I hear winter up here puts Kansas winters to shame."

Clark nodded. He understood that he couldn't stay in Smallville, not after what had happened here to him. Not yet, at any rate. And though Metropolis didn't have the draw of the ocean, it was a whole lot closer than an island off the coast of Massachusetts. Clark could make that trip in ten minutes. Maybe less now that his speed had increased.

And the fact that Lex was thinking about doing something - - the fact that he was planning - - was a good thing.


School was a huge distraction from the things Clark wanted to be doing. Which was mainly Lex. But Lex sounded okay on the phone, and okay when he went by after school Tuesday. A different sort of okay, which was hard to explain. Not exactly the sort of okay he had before when he was shielding like crazy; he was a little more willing to let things slip now, a little more willing to admit that he'd had a hard time sleeping the last few nights. A little more willing to sit on the deck for a few hours Tuesday and talk about the sorts of things that the telling of, Clark thought, was like shedding dead weight that he didn't need.

He flew in Wednesday on one of the LuthorCorp jets, and made the drive from Metropolis international to Smallville while Clark was still in school. Clark got home, and there was a black Porsche in the drive, but it hadn't been there long, if the heat radiating from the hood was any indication.

He pounded up the back porch steps and into the kitchen and found Lex leaning against the island counter while his mom was pulling the steaming kettle of the stovetop. His dad was nowhere in sight. Either still out in the fields or purposefully in the barn finding something to occupy himself other than entertaining Lex.

"Wipe your feet, honey," his mom reminded, since the yard was still muddy from last night's rain. He backed up a step, onto the mat inside the kitchen door, scuffing his boots while he meet Lex's mildly amused blue stare.

"You just get here?"

One shoulder lifted under a charcoal wool coat. "Round abouts."

"Would you like a cup of tea, Clark?" his mom asked just to be polite in front of company, since she knew he'd rather go for a cold soda.

"I'm good," he said and grabbed a Pepsi out of the refrigerator door. He popped the lid and went to lean on the island next to Lex.

The kitchen smelled of pumpkin pie and cookies. She'd been baking all week. Her pies were county fair blue ribbon winners and she'd been taking Thanksgiving orders a month in advance. There were about a dozen cooling on racks or already in pie boxes on around the kitchen that she'd get Clark to run by to people tomorrow morning. She'd turned a tidy little profit this year.

"So how was the drive in?" He dragged his eyes off all the baked goods and onto Lex.

He got a half smile. "Not bad, considering early holiday traffic."

His mom handed Lex a cup of tea, already sugared like she knew how he liked it. Lex thanked her and sipped at it, while she sat down and idly ran a finger around the lip of her cup at the table.

"You should take Clark with you when you go to the house," his mom said, watching the both of them with that look she had that hinted she knew a lot more than she let on.

Lex shrugged. Since Clark had had every intention of going with him, he smiled and nodded assent.

"Sure."

"And of course you're not staying there tonight," she said with a little more sternness in her tone.

"I hadn't planned on it," Lex said. "I'll drive back to the city."

"Nonsense. I've cleaned out the guest room. It took me two days to go through the clutter and it would be inconsiderate of you to put all that hard work to waste."

Lex opened his mouth, trying to figure out a way around mom-logic.

"Of course, I'll understand if you feel uncomfortable - -" she said, very obviously going for the guilt cave-in. Lex lifted a brow and glanced at Clark who was trying very hard not to look like Christmas had come early.

"If you've gone to that much trouble - -"

She took a sip of her own tea and nodded. "No trouble at all, dear. Clark why don't you run and get your chores finished so you can ride out to the mansion with Lex without your father having fits."

It took him all of half an hour. It was a long half hour, knowing Lex was in his house, talking with him mom. And he still didn't know if she'd ever carried through with that threat to talk to him about the 'them having had sex' thing. Clark really hoped not.

His dad caught him on the way back to the house, hailing him from the tractor, and asked for his help unhooking the big plow from the back. He had it off the hitch, and was backing it towards the side of the barn before his father had climbed down off the tractor. He grabbed the hose before his dad could request he do so and started spraying the mud off it.

"So I see Lex is here," his dad remarked on the obvious, since they didn't know anybody else that drove around in hundred thousand dollar sports cars.

"Yeah."

"You get the side of the henhouse patched back up?"

"Yes sir."

"And those stalls mucked out in the barn?"

"The whole list."

His dad stood there, thumbs hooked in the loops of his jeans, staring at the muddy water running off the plow blades. Thinking things that he didn't say. Or didn't know how to say without getting loud. Clark wasn't blind to his dilemma. It had to be hard, welcoming Lex into his house. He hadn't talked with his dad, other than a few angry words, about how he felt about Lex. About the fact that girl's had become an afterthought in favor of - - well, Lex. He figured his mom had.

Since he'd snapped out of his reparative state, his dad had been completely okay with him. Too happy to have him back to hold on to disappointments over any compromising positions he'd caught him in. Clark figured he probably had a few more issues with Lex.

"So your mother said he's going out to the estate."

"Yeah, this afternoon."

His dad nodded, tightening his jaw. "You riding over with him?"

"Yeah."

"Guess that's a good thing. There was a lot of blood spilled in that house."

Clark took a breath. He hadn't seen the signs of it on his brief foray when he'd been looking for Lex. He supposed Lex had had someone in to clean it all up after the police had finished their investigation.

Clark cut off the hose, stuffed his fingers in his pockets and waited to see if his dad was working his way to a point. But he just waved a hand towards the house and said. " Better get started before it gets dark."

"Yes, sir," Clark didn't need to be encouraged. He headed towards the house, remembering to wipe his feet this time, before his mom could remind him.

"So you want to head out before it gets too dark?" Clark asked.

Lex was sitting at the table across from his mom, coat across the back of the chair, an untouched cookie on a napkin in front of him.

"If you're finished."

Hid dad was coming up the porch as they were leaving, and both he and Lex hesitated, like neither one knew exactly what to do. Clark figured if his dad had been out in the fields, this was the first he'd seen of Lex today.

"Mr. Kent." Lex recovered first, but didn't offer his customary hand.

"Lex." His dad didn't seem offended by the lack. Sort of relieved actually. But he had that ramrod straightness of the back that suggested pretty clearly that he was putting forth an effort to something. And Lex had his hands in his pockets, a pretty clear indication with him, that he was less than at ease. Clark sighed and got the ball moving by heading for the steps.

"We'll see you later tonight." He didn't put a hand on Lex, but Lex moved to follow him anyway, and his dad moved in the other direction and whatever snag had frozen them there dissipated. Thanksgiving dinner was going to be fantastic, Clark thought.

It took maybe five minutes once they hit the road, to reach the mansion. Lex didn't speak throughout it. He slowed down once they reached the route bordering the estate walls, like he was in no hurry to get there.

At the gates, he got out and took a key he'd probably had arranged to have waiting for him at the airport with whoever had delivered the car. He unlocked the chain on the gate, swung it open and drove in without bothering to close it after them.

Big grey house, with all its castellated edges and ivy covered stone and it had never struck Clark as looking so desolate as it did now. Maybe that was because with no groundskeeper presently on staff, all the summer flowerbeds were dead and brown.

"So what are you going to do with it?" Clark asked, breaking their silence as they approached the front doors.

"I don't know," Lex admitted. He unlocked the front doors, and stood there in the threshold, not taking that first step inside.

Clark's mom had told him what had happened that day, with her and Lex, and what they'd found, and how terrified she'd been. He could only imagine what Lex had been feeling, fresh out of a three-week long nightmare.

Clark stood there beside him, waiting for him to make that first move. Lex took a breath, mouth set, eyes resolute and walked inside.

To be continued . . .