Superman’s feet land expertly on the roof of the Luthor Mansion and he takes a moment to observe the new day’s beginning.  Some days it feels like he never left Smallville, and he knows that’s partly due to the fact that Smallville is where he calls home some sixty years after moving away to make a life of his own in the big city, but then again to him Smallville has always been home.   

The sun hangs low in the overcast morning sky discoloring the natural blue in a rosy-golden hue. The grass and fields are still covered in dew droplets, while a fog hangs heavy over low-lying areas and lakes and ponds.  If he were human he would feel the discomfort of the morning chill, but his body naturally adjusts to the surrounding conditions making such a chill naturally undetectable. 

After taking a deep breath, he walks to the roof’s edge and alights to the balcony below that connects to his bedroom in the mansion. 

It takes him no time to disrobe from the primary-colored uniform and once he’s under the hot jets of water in the shower, Clark releases a sigh as he adjusts to feel the warmth and pressure beating against his back.  He may still be superhuman, but his body is slowly beginning to feel its age, even if that age was forty in an eighty-year-old body. 

Thankfully the Superman uniform protects most of his body from collecting the world’s filth, but Clark still drags out his shower time longer than required, needing that time to relax more than actually clean Earth’s pollution off his body.  When he isn’t fighting a losing battle for the world destroying itself, he is fighting an all-together different battle that is equally being lost day by day. 

Clark exits the bathroom with a towel around his waist and heads for the walk-in closet he is incapable of filling.  He pulls on a pair of blue sweat pants and a gray T-shirt, choosing comfort over everything else.  Who did he really have to impress anymore when Clark Kent no longer exists to the world outside this mansion? 

When Clark catches his reflection in the full-length mirror, he pauses a moment to take in the changes he hasn’t paid much attention to before, but are clearly obvious now.  His age is finally beginning to show, even if it wasn’t his true age.  

There are gray hairs starting to salt his nearly jet-black hair, with a patch nearly complete at each temple.  There are wrinkles around his eyes, some refer to as laugh lines but Clark knows better.  They are life lines, telling the tell of a life long past due.  When he smirks at his reflection, he notices the lines around his mouth too and it makes him shake his head.  He’s never wanted to be more human than in that moment.  At least if he were human, his life was guaranteed and ending. 

Clark turns his back on his reflection and leaves the closet.  When he closes his bedroom door behind him, he locks it immediately. 

The mansion is quiet as he pads down the hall in bare feet.  The silence is a false comfort he has learned not to take for granted.  He is cautious while approaching the bedroom at the other end of the hall from his own, and even more so when he opens the door to enter. 

Lex’s bedroom is quiet but not empty.  It’s twice the size of Clark’s own complete with a king-sized bed covered in plum bedding where Clark spots a breakfast tray untouched on the still unmade and unoccupied bed. 

Across the room, Lex stands at the open balcony doors with his back turned.  Clark sees the muscles under the skin of Lex’s exposed back tense when the bedroom door closes with a click.  Even in his own home Lex can’t relax and it makes Clark’s heart ache a little more seeing his husband like this. 

“What are you doing here, Clark?” Lex demands in an ice-cold voice. 

Clark swallows the lump in his throat, realizing what kind of day it is going to be.  There was never rhyme nor reason as to Lex’s good and bad days.  Sadly, the bad days were becoming more and more prevalent. 

“I was concerned,” Clark replies with his patent response.  “Would you like me to leave?” 

Lex doesn’t answer the question directly when he turns around.   

“How long has it been, Clark?” 

Clark doesn’t answer.  He can’t answer because he has no idea how long it has been in Lex’s mind.  It’s days like today he wishes one of his alien powers was the ability to read minds, and yet he’s glad he doesn’t have that ability because he doesn’t want to remember the hate and resentment Lex felt so many years ago. 

Lex is six years older than Clark, and he doesn’t look a day over fifty for his eighty-six years.  It helps that there is no hair to gray, but the telltale signs of age are there in wrinkles around Lex’s eyes, the creases framing his mouth, and the droop in muscle tone.  The change in Lex’s DNA made by the AI years ago made this possible, for Kal-El to never be alone, yet there was one factor the AI couldn’t take into consideration. 

Lex snorted a laugh, crossing the room to stand in front of Clark and taking in his features with a brow wrinkled in confusion.   

“You look like Clark, but you’re different somehow,” Lex’s voice is uncertain at first, but quickly turns back to the steel cold Clark remembers from decades ago when they both lived in Smallville, when there was nothing but lies and deceit between the supposed friends.  “Just because I allowed you free access to my home when we were friends doesn’t give you the right to keep that freedom.” 

Clark takes a step back, feeling the sting as he always does when Lex doesn’t remember.  His chest tightens even more when the morning sun reflects off the wedding band he placed on Lex’s hand over fifty years ago.  It’s a band that matches his own and Clark clenches his left hand in a fist that could turn coal into diamond. 

“I’m sorry…” Clark begins and reaches a hand towards Lex who dodges the touch.  “Honestly, I was only concerned…” 

“I don’t need you to save me anymore,” Lex states as if there is no room for discussion.  “I haven’t needed you for a long time.  I trust you know your way out.” 

Lex’s words were spoken as he made his way to the en suite bathroom and were barely out before Lex slammed the bathroom door.  There is nothing Clark can do but turn and leave the room.  He leans heavily against the dark wood door once the latch catches, unaware of his heavy breathing. 

“Mr. Luthor?”  

Clark startles and his immediate reaction is to turn around to look at Lex behind him but he knows Lex isn’t there because he is still leaning against Lex’s closed bedroom door.  He blushes and smiles. 

“It’s Clark, Margaret, please call me Clark,” he says, reminding Lex’s live-in nurse for the hundredth time what she seems to prefer to ignore.   

The petite and gray haired woman doesn’t correct herself when she continues. 

“Is everything all right with the other Mr. Luthor?” 

Clark sighs, but lets it go as he always does. 

“He’s having another bad morning,” Clark replies. 

“I see,” Margaret says, walking toward the bedroom door.  “I will run my morning assessment and give you a full report in the kitchen as always.” 

Clark quickly moves out of the way to allow the professional access to do what she does best, take care of Lex when he doesn’t remember the present, when Lex doesn’t remember what Clark is to him. 

Clark sighs heavier than before after Margaret closes the door behind her and makes his way to the first floor of the mansion for a much needed cup of coffee.  He doesn’t think food is going to sit well, but he also knows the cook on staff will make sure he eats whether he wants to or not. 

“Good Morning, Clark,” the rosy cheeked and stocky middle-aged brunette greets him with a cheery smile as he enters the kitchen. 

He tries to smile back but there are some mornings when a fake smile just can’t be forced. 

“Good morning, Kate,” Clark returns politely to their cook. 

He doesn’t react to the frown on her face, a look very much like the one his mother would have shown after seeing him in such a state, and it only makes him feel lonelier. 

She places a full plate of food in front of him as he takes a seat at the small table in the kitchen he prefers to eat at when he isn’t sharing his morning meal with Lex.  A large coffee mug appears next to the plate before he’s even lifted a fork to being his assault on the mound of food he doesn’t believe he can eat. 

“I expect to see that all gone,” Kate warns and when he looks up he sees a warm and caring smile being offered as if saying that things will be okay, even though he knows they won’t, not in the grand scheme of life. 

“Thanks, Kate,” Clark says, genuinely thankful for her concern.   

Kate smiles again before returning to her kitchen duties to clean up from breakfast and begin preparations for lunch. 

He is halfway through his plate of food when Margaret enters the kitchen and makes a cup of coffee for herself before sitting down. 

“How’s Lex,” Clark asks, wiping his mouth on a napkin. 

Margaret sips her coffee before responding.  “He’s doing well.  He is a little confused at the moment, as you are well aware, but I think his lapse in memory this morning will be temporary as always.  His confusion at the moment tells me he should be back in his mind by the afternoon.” 

“It’s happening a lot more now.  This is the third morning he’s woken up and not remembered…” 

“Yes, but that is the way this disease works.  He’s been suffering from it for years, it’s only natural for it to progress.  The medication only helps to a degree, as you know.  All I can say is enjoy the moments you have with him when you can and continue being as understanding as you have been during the rough times.  It’s best for him to not get frustrated when he can’t remember.” 

“I know, I do, I try…” Clark says and he knows he sounds frustrated and defeated.  “It’s hard.” 

Margaret reaches out a hand and places it on Clark’s arm.  The comfort isn’t something he is used to receiving from her, but he accepts it for what it’s worth. 

“You are doing fine.  You are not alone.  You are not the only one who is going through something like this,” Margaret assures.  “I can give you an address where you can attend a support meeting.” 

Clark quickly shakes his head.  He can deal with this on his own.  He doesn’t need any more people prying into their lives, and he knows Lex would feel the same.  He has Kate and Margaret, and a handful of loyal staff members.  They were the only ones he trusted with Lex now.   

“Thank you Margaret.  I appreciate your concern but I will be fine.  I am grateful to you for all the help you’ve been able to offer.” 

Margaret frowns and pulls her hand away.  “Very well.” 

She stands and exits the kitchen, heading to her quarters where she spends most of her days when she is working at the mansion.   

Clark sighs and finishes his breakfast so as to not have to face the wrath of Kate.  He is amazed that he was even able to finish the food given, but is thankful in the same breath that Kate knows better than he of what he needs right now. 

When he is finished with breakfast, Clark retires to the library where he starts work on another freelance article for a Washington news magazine.  Clark Kent no longer exists.  He died many years ago when it was getting obvious that there were aspects and questions about his life and lack of aging that no amount of money could hide.  He writes under a pseudonym now, and makes decent money to boot.  It’s money he doesn’t need, but it’s work he needs to keep his mind from wandering and worrying more than necessary. 

It is reaching noon when the library door creaks open.  He smiles wide when he looks up and sees a worried Lex enter. 

“Clark?” 

Clark quickly saves his current article before crossing the room. 

“Hey,” Clark says, wrapping Lex in an embrace he needs as much as Lex does.  “Good morning.” 

Lex laughs against his neck and squeezes back. 

“I think you mean afternoon.” 

Clark pulls back and checks the grandfather clock to verify the time. 

“It’s five minutes until noon, so it’s still morning in my book.” 

Lex shakes his head but he’s smiling and it’s the best thing Clark’s seen all day.  He pulls Lex in for another hug because he really needs this, the contact, the reassurance, Lex. 

“Was I that bad this morning?” Lex questions, uncertainty clear in the usually confident voice.  “Some days, if it wasn’t for my pillbox, I wouldn’t even know what day it is.” 

Clark laughs and smiles, the first real smile of the day as he realizes Lex is trying to make him feel better.  He is supposed to be watching out for Lex, taking care of Lex, but in the end it’s always Lex who ends up taking care of Clark. 

“You were a perfect angel as always,” Clark says as he pulls back. 

“You have always been a horrible liar,” Lex says but laughs anyway. 

What else could he say about this morning?  Lex is still in the early stages of Alzheimer’s Disease.  His body’s natural healing ability has been prolonging the stages, but useless in curing it all together.  Bouts of dementia and memory loss were expected and common occurrences now.  There is nothing they can do about it but live each day as they come and enjoy life as best they can. 

This is a fact of life not even the AI can fix. 

“Come on, let’s see what Kate has made for lunch,” Clark says, taking Lex’s hand and pulling him out of the library toward the kitchen. 

Lex doesn’t move, causing Clark to stop and turn back. 

“Lex?” 

“Promise me something?” 

Clark walks back to Lex, questioning with his eyes alone. 

“Promise me that no matter how bad it gets, you won’t leave me,” Lex requests and Clark can see the sadness and embarrassment in Lex’s eyes that such a request causes. 

He raises Lex’s hand to his mouth and places a kiss on Lex’s ring finger, the one that holds a ring that matches his own and then smiles. 

“I already promised you that, remember?  In sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, I will love you, all the days of my life,” Clark says, reminding not only Lex but himself of the vows they shared a lifetime ago.  “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Lex nods his understanding, trying to hide the uncharacteristic blush that appears on his cheeks, but Clark sees it anyway and loves his husband even more.   

“Come on, you know how Kate gets when we’re late.” 

This time when Clark pulls on Lex’s hand, Lex follows him to the kitchen.  He realizes then that the best thing he can do when Lex doesn’t remember is to remember for him, remember for both of them. 

End