Ignoring the receptionist’s elitist sneer, Kal pulled out the lavender thank you note that Lex had left with the thank-you-truck that had been delivered to the farm after his rescue. The truck had been returned the same day, but Kal felt that he had kept the most important part of the thank you gift: a tangible link to someone outside Smallville. A link to someone who didn’t think of things in terms of before and after. Before and after the meteor shower. Before and after the Homecoming Heartbreak. Before and after the Tragic Field Trip. Before and after Prom Disaster.

Shaking himself out of his depressing contemplations, Kal continued to ignore the receptionist’s glance which had turned suddenly concerned. Snatching a pen off of her desk, before she could protest, Kal wrote a swift note, then paused just before signing it. Somehow, even though it was a foolish point that he could explain later, he couldn’t make himself sign Clark Kent. It was a small matter. A ridiculously small matter, but he wasn’t that person any longer. Somewhere in the last two years, he’d lost the person he might have been. Now, he was Kal, but Kal hadn’t saved Lex Luthor, Clark had. What little memory the man might have of his rescuer was of Clark, not Kal. After a moment, he hedged, realizing that Kal could be spelled with a C as easily and signed his new initials with a sigh. Cal Kent would work just as well and he resigned himself to the new spelling as he laid the pen across the note and handed them both to the receptionist.

In a carefully neutral voice, Kal… Cal suggested: “If you’ll see that Mr. Luthor has a chance to read that, after his meeting concludes, I can stop bringing down the property value of your waiting room.”

The receptionist, Ms. Cathy Sheeler, at first, hesitated to take the pen and note, certain that he was not the sort of clientele that Mr. Luthor generally saw. Before she actually had the opportunity to make a comment, however, Sheeler caught a glimpse of the LL monogram on the envelope flap and recognized it from Mr. Luthor's private stationary.

"Very well, Sir. Can I take a number where you can be reached?"

Glancing irritably at the phone on his hip before shaking his head at her, Cal explained: "I'm about to change numbers, but if … if he wants to get in touch with me, I will be having lunch at the courthouse."

"And, after that?"

Cal smiled softly but in a way that clearly told her that Mr. Luthor's only opportunity to speak with the strange young man was to make lunch.

"Oh. Okay," She confirmed her assumption that the note implied something of importance when he didn't seem at all desperate or concerned about Mr. Luthor contacting him back, "I'll make sure he receives it immediately after his meeting."

"Thank you."

***

Scowling at the interruption, Mr. Reginald Clark impatiently waved the young legal associate out of the conference room so that they could return to the meeting. As he watched the young man's perplexed expression he decided that he would have to find out later what the interruption had been about. The young man was usually so self-composed; whatever had been in the note must have been quite serious to startle him so thoroughly that he left with a barely uttered explanation.

Truth be told, it was probably better that Luthor had been called away: Mr. Clark was glad to have the opportunity to discuss their decision to offer him a partnership track with his next contract – without having to call a special session that the young man would undoubtedly get wind of. While he truly liked the young associate and was infinitely glad that he was responsible for bringing the young money-maker on staff, he was still very concerned by the connection to Luthorcorp and its ramifications. Years earlier, at his daughter's warning, he had barely managed to keep from being drawn into the corporation's ongoing quest to own Metropolis one dirty secret or illegal favor at a time until Lionel Luthor owned everyone in Metropolis with even a shred of influence.

As a majority partner of one of the most elite and influential legal firms in the state, Mr. Clark was very influential, and over the years, since being made aware of Lionel's intentions, Clark had been forced to deflect and thwart a number of the senior Luthor's attempts to get a hook into either him or his firm. Clark, Kinsey, Bodhran, and Associates would not be the first company that Luthor junior was going to offer up to his father's unending greed.

True, rumors had it that there had been a bitter break between the father and son, but until the Luthor heir proved himself to Clark's satisfaction, the senior attorney had not intention of letting Luthor get even a toe hold in his firm, much less a voting share.

***

Glancing back at the thank you note, Lex shook his head for probably the fiftieth time.  There really should have been no way for Clark Kent to have discovered that he was under investigation. After all, Lex had paid a serious amount of money to prevent that from happening.

At least, he intended to keep it from Clark Kent until he had definitively confirmed or disaffirmed Pamela's claim that he had a half-brother somewhere. So far, he had found the former secretary, who had been institutionalized, and interviewed her. The disturbed woman agreed with Pamela's assertion – claiming that Lionel had stolen her child and forced her to sign over custody. After some investigation, he had discovered some records of her child being given up for adoption by his father – a strangely aborted adoption which was processed by an agency that abruptly shut down operations after processing suspiciously few other adoptions – in fact only three completed adoptions were listed.

The circumstances of his half brother's aborted adoption were absolutely suspicious, and Lex was inclined to believe that it had been filtered into one of the other finalized adoptions. The adoptions, of two boys and a girl, were all listed as being victims of the Smallville Meteor Shower, all adopted out within weeks following the Lionel's pilfering of the secretary's child, and all signed-off by a former Luthorcorp attorney, who had left his father's employee just weeks before. The girl was clearly out as a possibility, but the remaining two adoptions offered two surprising possibilities: one the apparently adopted-child of a former tutor, a child that he had met on occasion several occasions and thoroughly disliked, and the other. a young man, who'd saved his life in an almost impossible rescue. Either seemed equally possible, though he sincerely hoped that it might be Clark instead of Lucas.

Still, it was the only reason he could think of for the young man to contact him. Yet, here he was, or at least he'd said he'd be here. But, so far, Lex had yet to see him. Weaving through banks of formica-topped diner's tables, Lex scanned the institutional-gray café with a practiced eye, sizing up the café's customers and their reasons for being at the courthouse.

Over in the corner, between the café windows and vending machines, a young couple, sitting shoulder to shoulder, were undoubtedly filling out marriage applications as they smiled with nervous shyness whenever their hands brushed. Three tables away, closer to the center of the room, a tax attorney counseled his client, a middle-aged farmer, who was probably about to attend a foreclosure hearing. Several clerks were scattered around the room hastily gulping coffee and finishing meals before running back to their offices to prepare for the afternoon sessions. Along the far wall, a fairly well-dressed family was sitting in a booth barely eating. Based on the frustrated, disappointed glances the parents were shooting their child, Lex suspected juvenile court session. The last customer, a young black man, sitting at the counter, with his back to Lex, was harder to pin down, but Lex was certain that, with some thought, he'd have a relatively accurate estimate of young man's background and problems.

"Hey Lex," The café owner greeted him, "The usual?"

"Hi, Tony. That would be fine. Thank you."

Lex's usual was whatever sandwich Tony felt like fixing, fresh steam-wilted spinach, sliced apples with cinnamon-sugar, and a cup of the strongest coffee he could manage. When Lex had first started getting lunch at the café between sessions, Tony had been somewhat flustered by the thought that he was serving the heir of one of the richest families in Metropolis. For months afterward, Tony had 'improved' his menu by offering attempts at gourmet entrees, which quite honestly, were barely palatable at their best, and at their worst, were barely edible – though always well intentioned. It had taken six months of ordering whatever sandwiches the other associates were having to finally get across that he wasn’t asking for anything special, although he did compromise by continuing to order the one semi-gourmet dish that Tony had any success with: steamed-wilted spinach. After a while, though, Tony got back to normal, cementing Lex's position and approval in the eyes of the other associates and clerks, who'd been stuck with Tony's 'improved' menus by workloads that kept them from venturing beyond the courthouse during breaks.

"Here ya' go, Lex." Tony handed Lex his basket and mug as he probed, "I hadn't heard that you were involved in a case right now."

"I'm not, not formally at least, but I'm waiting for a friend, who might need …  some assistance."

Lex really wasn't certain what help Clark might need; the note had been very brief and very vague. Just ten words: Hi Lex, Need a favor, but can pay. Thanks, CK."

"Hmmm. A friend? Well, while you're waiting, there's someone who's been coming in all week, who could use some comforting."

"Really?" The fact that Tony was mentioning someone who'd been in all week, suggested that he wasn't up on a criminal charge. The judges in Metropolis favored a high bail even in misdemeanor cases, believing that a night or two in jail could do as much or more to prevent a second time offender than fines and community service.

"Yeah, he's the real earnest type, dark, serious eyes, quiet, and broody. Just your type. He was in a few moments ago, and I have a feeling he's coming back shortly; he asked what the lunch specials were."

Lex smiled at the old Greek cook, who'd decided some time ago, to find Lex a good match. It seemed to be the man's hobby, and Tony's walls boasted a mass of photos and invitations to the marriages of his past successes. So, Lex looked on his attempts with humor and tolerance – particularly after it became apparent that Tony couldn't care less whether his match was male or female, as long as they were well-matched. That helped – that and the fact that Tony seemed to be a better judge of character than even Lex himself.

Out of curiosity, Lex had introduced Veronica and Bruce to Tony when they dropped in to provide moral support at his first solo and was rather surprised by the accuracy of Tony's appraisals. Veronica, Tony had described as an inconstant, power-hungry, gold-digger while Bruce had roughly merited Tony's approval despite the fact that Tony felt that Bruce's happy-go-lucky bachelor persona covered an "underlying darkness and troubling violence." 

"Perhaps this isn't the time." Lex tried to gently suggest, hoping to avoid the older man's disappointment.

“A quick hello, then?” Tony pressed hopefully.

“Just forget it,” the young black man almost snarled, “He’s not interested in anything from a Luthor.”

Lex almost flinched at the pure venom in the young man’s voice. It had been a while since anyone had grouped him with his father in such animosity, and he had somehow almost forgotten what it felt like.

“Pete, shut up.” An almost familiar voice startled Lex out of his thoughts before it continued, “I asked Lex to come.”

“You what?” The hostile young man seemed as surprised as Tony and Lex were when they turned to the new arrival.

“This is your friend?” Tony asked in light confusion, clearly, to Lex, wondering why – if they knew each other- were they not together?

At Kent’s raised eyebrow, Lex explained: “well, he dove over the edge of a bridge to rescue me from a car accident that nearly took him over the edge as well, and then not only asked for nothing in return, but also returned the gift that I did send him. So, yes, I think there might be the basis for a friendship there. If he’s interested.”  Lex stressed the last so that he wouldn’t seem to push for more than the young man might want or need, but couldn’t tell from Clark’s expression what the young man thought.

“Ah. Good! Good!” The Greek exclaimed with a satisfied smile. These two would be a very good match for each other: he was sure of it. The younger dark-haired man had all of the tragic air and dark nature of the young lawyer’s other brooding friend, but it was all on the surface – not disguised beneath layers of false amiability. This young man was no stranger to violence either; Tony could see that in his eyes, but unlike the other dark man, Lex’s friend, Wayne, this young man didn’t carry the air of seeking it out. Any threat the young man faced, Tony was sure, had come to him. Just the kind of fellow that he felt that Lex needed: someone capable, but not incautious. Someone who didn’t bring trouble with him, but who could defend himself and Lex from any threat they faced. And, though he never spoke of it, Tony had observed Lex long enough and thoroughly enough to know that trouble would be coming. The young man was ambitious and savvy; but he also had an inner core of justice that few understood. It was unshakeable and would ultimately lead him into conflict with others wanting him to compromise over something he wasn’t willing to. Tony couldn’t predict the future, but in many ways he could see it easily enough and what he saw was trouble for the nice young man.

Looking back at Lex’s dark-haired friend, who was now glaring at the young black man, whom he had called Pete, Tony wondered what he had missed as he daydreamed.

“Pete, go talk to Chloe!” Lex’s young friend ordered sharply.

“What the fuck? You can’t be thinking he’s gonna help Chloe. That’s nuts.”

“I won’t know until I ask.”

“Shit, you’re fucking crazy. You know that? You can’t trust them as far…” His raised voice was drawing too much attention, and Tony hustled off with a coffee pot in hand to distract his other customers, but not before he heard the other young man quietly interrupt: “And who can I trust, Pete? You?”

“When the fuck are you gonna let that drop?” Pete practically shouted.

“When you realize that who I trust and don’t trust isn’t up to you. Now, stop teaching the kid over there four letter words and go talk to Chloe.”

“You better believe I’m going to talk to Chloe. If she knew…”

“She knows, Pete. She okayed it.” Kent’s voice was dangerously quiet as he grabbed the other teen’s arm and continued, “And Pete, don’t give her any flack over it. Got it? I mean it. She’s got enough to deal with.”

Other than jerking his arm out of Kent’s grip as he passed, the young black man didn’t respond until he got to the door.

“I’m not the enemy remember?”

“Yeah, but friends can hurt you worse than enemies, and I remember that, too.”

Lex could feel an undercurrent of pain and accusation underlying their words, but didn’t know what to make of it. This was nothing of what he’d expected when he’d read the note.  He studied Kent in surprise. When they had met just over two years earlier, Clark Kent had seemed like an entirely different and irreconcilable person from the young man who stood before him now.

The teen he’d met had seemed wholesome in his chambray jacket, plaid flannel shirt, loose blue jeans, and tennis shoes. His tousled curls gave him a boyish appearance that had only been softened by his shy and awkward concern. The kid had actually fainted when he realized what he had done and the danger he’d faced. But every trace of that teen seemed to have been scoured from the young man standing before him.

Instead of the loose, comfortable farm wear the younger man had worn, Kent was now clothed in a tight, black, body-hugging t-shirt tucked into trim, matt black, form-fitting leather slacks that tapered down to tasteful, mat black, dress boots, which Lex might have chosen for himself if he were still a teenager. In fact, Kent’s entire ensemble, including the tailored leather jacket folded over his muscular forearm and the plain almost delicate silver cuff that wrapped his wrist, all of it would have easily fit into his wardrobe during his troubled clubbing days.

The whole effect was to give the teen the appearance of being three, possibly four years older. And this was only heightened by Clark’s new hairstyle. Instead of tousled curls that he’d once worn, the teen had let his hair grow until he could tightly pull it back into a straight black pony tail that was very reminiscent of ‘80’s martial art’s movie idols. In fact, dressed like he was, Clark looked very much like a younger brother to Adrian Paul from the Highlander or Lorenzo Lamas from Renegade.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were Clark’s older brother.” Lex offered his hand with a grin, hoping to break the tension.  “It’s good to see you again. I had hoped to get back to Smallville and take you to dinner or maybe something else less showy that your father might approve of, but somehow the life of a legal intern leaves time for little else.”

“That’s okay,” the young man answered dryly, “My life’s been… busy, too. Anyway, thanks for coming. I wasn’t sure your secretary would even give you the message… anyway. Thanks. And, I’m sorry about Pete. He can be a jerk.”

“Well, I can only say that I’m happy that she did. Your note was relatively brief, but…I take it from your friend’s comments that it’s another friend you might need help for.  I’ll be happy to if I can. What do you need?”

“First, don’t say you’re going to until you’ve heard everything, but yes, it’s Chloe who needs your help. I’ll cover any fees and expenses though.”

“May I ask how?” From what Lex had seen of Kent last time, he doubted that the young man could truly afford to support someone’s legal expenses, despite the teen’s change in appearance.

The teen stared at him with a curiously approving gaze that somehow made Lex feel as though very few of the people that the teen had dealt with recently cared enough to ask.

“I have quite a bit left after the auction… and there’s a side job, I’m working on that pays well.” His tone made it clear that his side job wasn’t up for discussion but the auction was rather obvious. The Kent’s family farm must have gone up for auction, probably for tax reasons.

“The auction?” Lex asked nevertheless, wishing as he asked that he might have been in a position to have helped before that happened.

“Yeah. It took quite a bit to pay off, but there’s enough to take care of Chloe.” His voice was softly protective and regretful in a way that gave Lex some hope for the teen he’d met earlier.

“Clark, are you certain your parents want you to spend your share of the auction receipts on…"

"It's Cal now, Lex, not Clark, and what my parent's want is a moot point anyway."

"What?" Lex somehow found it harder to believe that Clark would be so unconcerned about his parent's wishes than he found it to believe that Clark was using a new name.

But Cal interpreted it differently and tried to explain: "Look, I know it's strange, but I'm just not that person anymore; I wish I was. I wish I could go back to the way things were before… but that's not going to happen. This after, and it's always going to be, and I'm Cal, and wondering what my…Shit!"

Jerking his hand to a back hip pocket, Cal pulled off a pager, checked it, and cursed.

"Look, I have to go. If you do want to help, please go talk to Chloe Sullivan and see what you can do for her. She has an arraignment at 1:00 and doesn't have anyone else on her side but me and Pete. Even her public defender is telling her to take whatever deal the prosecutor is offering. I wouldn't have asked for your help, but even my grandfather wouldn't touch the case and Pete's mom isn't a lawyer anymore."

"Clark, I mean Cal, it's okay. I will, but how can I get in touch with you again. My secretary, Ms. Sheeler suggested that you felt leery about leaving a phone number behind. Is there even an email address I can use?"

"No, I'm going to lose the phone and pager as quick as I can. And it's better not to have your number on their call lists. Talk to Chloe first and decide if you really want to get dragged into it. If you're in, Chloe can tell you about a diner that I stop by. She knows where it is and can explain." The way that Cal grumbled the last two statements, Lex could tell that the young man wasn't pleased that she had that information and suspected very strongly that Cal wasn't happy about getting him involved either.

Apparently, the pager vibrated again because Call grabbed his cell phone, speed dialed someone, and growled into the phone. "I'm on my way damn it. Gimme a minute to get my pants back on. Yeah, well, where I stick it isn't your problem either so keep your nose where it belongs: out of my business. Yeah, I'm comin' already. What's your fucking problem? I said I'm coming. Fine! I'll be there. "

As soon as he shut the cell phone and turned back to Lex, Cal broke into a fierce blush as he realized that both Lex and Tony had been listening with astonishment.

"Oh God!" Cal uttered as he blushed in dismay, for once sounding somewhat like the fifteen year old that he'd met two years ago.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that. It's just – I don't want … someone to know that I'm … here. So, well I really have to go now."

"Okay. Cal. I'll talk to Chloe, but don't worry, I'll help."

Call frowned at his assurance and opened his mouth to protest, but he realized that he was getting what he had hoped for and didn't want to push the lawyer too far.

"O-okay, thanks. I … Thanks." Looking reluctantly to the door, Cal groped for what to say next and finally just murmured: "I've got to go."

"Cal, be careful."

The teen grimaced and nodded, but the look in his eyes convinced Lex and Tony, both, that he was grateful for their concern.

"His friend is not the only one who needs your help, I think." Tony stated almost unnecessarily.

But, Lex had to agree. Something had gone wrong for the young man – seriously wrong to have caused this kind of change, and Lex not only wanted to know what it was, but also, wanted to be there to prevent something worse from happening. Like Tony, Lex felt he had taken a glimpse into his friend's future and in it he could see serious trouble down the road.

***

The moment Lex saw the bright blond bob-cut, he remembered Miss Sullivan as the bold enthusiastic school reporter who had forced an interview on him the evening after Cl—Cal's rescue. What had surprised him most about the girl was that, unlike every reporter he had been interviewed by before, she had actually wanted to stick to the story. She had drawn from him a detailed anecdote of every moment of the accident that he remembered, then thanked him and left. He had been absolutely stunned and immediately wrote her name down in his journal. He'd been certain that she was going to have a future in journalism, particularly after he'd read the story in the school's online news paper the next morning, and wondered why he hadn't kept better track of either of the two remarkable young people.

But, that answer was all too simple. Within a week or two after that, he had finally and absolutely refused to go to work in the legal division of his father's corporation; he'd had a violent argument that ended in his father threatening to disown and disinherit him; and he'd started looking for another job (as an intern with any legal firm that did not and would not have any dealings with Luthorcorp). Three weeks after that, he'd been hired by Reginald Clark to work in Clark, Kinsey, Bodhran, and Associates.

His familiarity with the girl fell away, however, as soon as she lifted her head. Instead of wearing the rogue-ish smile he remembered, her face was obscured by an almost painful to view wide twist of scar tissue that ran from the top center of her forehead down the bridge of her nose, down her left cheek and jowl, into the high necked collar of her jumper - implying by the rigid neck muscles that there was even more scar tissue below. For the first time, in his entire life, Lex was grateful to his father for forcing him to learn how to hide every trace of emotion behind whatever mask was most useful for the situation. In this case, he kept a flash of surprise showing, but added a barely shaky grin of enthusiasm and pleasure as he greeted her.

"Miss Sullivan, has it really been two years? I thought I might get back to Smallville a day or to later to compliment you on your article. It was a wonderfully accurate and interesting read." 

As soon as she looked up, really looked up, her defensiveness fell away and she grinned at him: "God, you're smooth. Thanks. It really get's tired seeing everyone wince as whenever they look at me and compare the new me and the old me."

Lex merely nodded, feeling that it was the safest answer before he broached the subject of why he'd been sent to speak with her.

"So, care to tell me what kind of trouble the new you has been up to?"

To his surprise, Chloe broke out in delighted laughter that lasted for several seconds before she wiped her eyes.

"So it's as easy as that, hmm?"

"Shouldn't it be?"

Now it was her turn to look concerned.

"Just how much did Clark tell you?"

"Don't you mean Cal? And not much, he was paged and had to leave."

"Oh, I haven't given up on Clark, yet. He's in there somewhere… buried pretty deep now, but sometimes when it's quiet and he's worried, Clark slips out again. Not to laugh any more or any thing like that, but you can feel the difference. Pete doesn't, or at least he doesn't admit to it, so maybe it's just a guy thing. But, he still thinks everything's black and white. Before he died, Whitney said he could tell sometimes. But Pete wouldn't give him the time of day long enough to figure out how so …" She shrugged, seeming to suggest that maybe Pete was hopeless at complex issues, which Lex didn't touch even with a raised eyebrow - knowing that the young man had probably been down ranting before he had settled up with Tony and called to inform the office that he'd taken on a new case.

"You probably could though. You've looked at Clark differently from day one."

"Well, I expect that seeing him through a windshield standing between you and a bridge might make a difference." Lex demurred then paused in shock. He'd thought that he had convinced himself that that image was impossible. There was no way the fifteen year old could have survived it and he had been just far enough over the sobriety line for any thing he saw to be completely trustworthy.

"Yeah, I suppose it might. Anyway, where do I start?"

"Well, I'd normally say at the beginning, but there's something I have to ask you first."

"Shoot!"

"Well, the last time I saw Clark, before this, he seemed like an average small town boy. Now, he seems so different; do you mind if I ask what happened to change him?"

"I guess not. I'd probably say ask him, if I thought there was a chance of him telling you, but he doesn't talk about himself at all anymore. And, I guess it really was the start of everything." 

Finally settling into the conference chair, Chloe looked straight at him as she began but it was clear from the faraway look in her eyes that she wasn't exactly with him when she spoke.

"I don't know if you remember" she began, "but the day of your accident was just a few days before homecoming. The whole town was getting ready for it, and everyone was excited about the homecoming dance. Right up to a few hours before the game and dance, I was even getting the alternate stories ready to run for the next morning. Even Clark was excited. He didn't have a date or anything, but he was pretty sure that he could ride the popularity that saving you had given him long enough to avoid being targeted by the football team for their annual humiliation fest.

As it turned out, it worked against him because the precious head cheerleader slash prom queen slash quarterback's girlfriend would never have even thought twice about telling him she'd save a dance for him if he weren't suddenly the big man on campus. I mean, this chick had been in the same class with him since third grade and had ignored him and the fact that he practically tripped over his feet whenever she was around. But once she heard that he had saved you, a big time billionaire, it's amazing how quickly she deigned save a dance for him. And once she'd said that, he was marked with a bull's-eye that you could have seen from space."

Despite the tinge of jealously in her voice, Lex was familiar enough with bullies from his own youth to know that any attention from one of the bully's girlfriends would have guaranteed serious retribution.

"What did they do to him?"

"Oh, the regular: beat him up, strung him up, and left him for his friends to find."

"What?!? You can't be serious. What kind of town lets a football team have an annual homecoming lynching?"

Suddenly his brief but pleasant memories of the small farm town seemed overshadowed with a children of the corn eeriness.

"Lynching? Oh, no. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to imply that. That's a bit worse that what they did, I suppose. It's a pretty close call though; he nearly ended up just as dead as if he had been. No. They beat him to a pulp and crucified him."

"What do you mean crucified him?"

"Oh, pretty much just that. The high school mascot is a crow, so naturally the tradition is to harrass one of the less popular freshman then after the homecoming game ambush him, tie him up on a makeshift cross in Reilly's field like a scarecrow, and leave him there until his friends or family go looking for him. Usually, the 'scarecrows', as they're called, only get stuck up there for a couple of hours or so."

"Usually," Lex asked, his voice harsh with disbelief that only days after saving his life, Clark was being subjected to that kind of treatment. "Clark … Cal wasn't the usual was he?"

"No." Chloe's eyes became red-rimmed as she answered. "No, he wasn't. No one found him for six or seven days."

Six or seven days? How had even managed to survive that long? Clearly he had, but it must have been sheer torture, both mentally and physically. To first be beaten as a prank … a sanctioned prank, then strung up by the same kids that he had probably cheered for during the game, and left for days: days of waiting for someone to show – knowing that they should have shown almost immediately, days of wondering where they were, why they weren't looking for him, why they hadn't found him. No wonder Clark had changed so much. Lex couldn't even imagine how he could have kept from it. The psychological scars from any of those would have been deep and lasting, to combine them… was almost unthinkable.

"Six or seven days? You're not even sure how many days he was missing? Why? How could you have overlooked his absence for so long? The Clark I remember was too friendly for me to believe that he could have been any sort of recluse that you wouldn't expect to see for so long. Didn't you go looking for him? Didn't anyone go looking for him? Not his friends? Not his family? How could you have left that sweet, shy boy to suffer so horribly?

What did you think? That hanging up there like that would be just a lark? Even the Romans…You remember the Romans, don't you? The ones who thought nothing of watching people fight each other to the death as a spectator sport… the ones who fed people to lions… those Romans. Even they reserved the cruelty of crucifixions for special occasions. How could anyone do that to him in the first place? How could anyone leave him like that? How could they?" Lex shot the questions at her quicker than she could answer; horrified and believing that there couldn't possibly be any reasonable excuse.

"My God, how could his parents…"

"Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!"  Chloe yelled with increasing strength until it drew a guard in.

"Is there a problem here?"

"No," she answered as she glared at Lex. "No, he just won't shut up."

After raising a sarcastic eyebrow at Lex, the guard turned back to her - chastising, "He's your lawyer girl. That's what they do. Anyway, from what I've heard, you're lucky to even have him."

Nevertheless, he shot Lex a warning glance, before he stepped back out.

"What did he mean by that?"

"I'll get to that, but there's something I've got to explain first… about why Clark was left in Reilly's field so long."

"What explanation is there? What excuse could possibly justify leaving him out there for seven days?"

"The Homecoming Heartbreak." Chloe answered simply, nodding when his head snapped up with shock as he remembered the nationally covered tragedy.

"That was your school?"

"Yeah. I guess you didn't put two and two together?"  It really wasn't a question, but he answered guiltily.

"No, I didn't really even know what the name of the town I'd driven through was. I had just been following the instructions that my father's secretary sent describing how to get to his castle from the main highway. If I'd even noticed the name, I'm fairly certain that it was lost to the shock of going over the bridge then being pulled out of a submerged car. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Seriously, I'm used to it."

"Perhaps, but …" Lex broke off as she gestured impatiently.

"If you want to waste time apologizing for every crappy thing that's happened in Smallville over the past two years, it will take longer than we probably have to get to what's really going on with the hearing. Anyway, as I was saying, or I hadn't gotten to the point of saying it yet," she interrupted herself with a wry, teasing glance at him, before continuing, "but, as bad as him being chosen for the scarecrow was, it wouldn't have turned out so badly if it weren’t for what happened that night… No, that's not right. Knowing Clark, I think he probably could have even gotten over it if it had been confined to just that, but somehow despite the fact that he wasn't at the dance when that nutcake locked everyone in, electrified the floor, and started the fire, I honestly think that he was the worse victimized by it."

At Lex's mystified expression, Chloe held up a hand to prevent an interruption as she continued, "Okay, I know that sounds like an insane statement when he's still alive and so many… close to half the class… died, but for them – it's over. It ended either that night or in the week or two that followed. The others of us, who were just burned, carry around our own scars true enough. Some of us have had surgery to fix things. One or two needed prosthetic devices. But, we were given sympathy and support, acknowledged as victims, and given time and permission to heal. But, things were different for Clark."

"Why? Surely, everyone would have…"

Chloe interrupted again, "…seen him as a victim? No, they didn't. Worse than that, after the fire and rescue teams had been through the whole school, and retrieved the last of the bodies…"

"Oh God, they didn't think…" Lex couldn't even finish the sentence, the thought was so horrible.

"Yeah, that's exactly what they thought. And, everyone started talking about how closely he fit the stereotypical descriptions of a serial killer: how quiet he was, how much he kept to himself, he didn't have a girlfriend, he didn't have many friends… and so on ad nauseam. In just a few days, they had turned shyness into a state crime, and Clark was cast as sociopath. The fact that he'd been adopted only made things worse because it made it easier for them to think of him as an outsider, and the gossips kept making suppositions about what had happened to his original family in the first place: coming up with outlandish stories of his father being a psychopath, who'd probably killed the mother, and passed his vile genes on to Clark. The sheriff tried to put a damper on the speculation, but that wasn't really effective when his bitch of a wife was the biggest gossip in town."

"But when they found him, surely…"

"They didn't find him for seven days. His parents were frantic. The first four days while they were looking for everyone, the police and fire rescue teams wouldn’t let any of the parents in. But the Kents stayed there the whole time; Mr. Kent didn’t even leave to feed the livestock, but called on the Rosses, who’s son, Pete, I think you’ve met. Pete wasn’t caught in the fire so the Kents knew the Rosses wouldn’t be too distraught or burdened to send Pete and his brothers to do a few chores. They stayed there the whole time, waiting for Clark’s remains to be found and brought out. Pete drove by once and said it was pretty gruesome with all of the parents walking among burnt remains trying to identify their kids from what they’d been wearing. The gym had burned completely down, so I guess you can imagine the state that most of the bodies were in. But, they just wouldn’t be sent away and set up a refreshment table for the searchers and the other mourning parents. They also helped the grieving parents make necessary arrangements or called family and friends to come in and help. If Clark had found there, they would have probably been treated as saints for years. But after four days, when Clark was still the only one they hadn’t found and there weren’t any other bodies left to identify, the Sheriff called off the search.

Man, from what I've heard, Mr. Kent had such a fit. He called the Sheriff some pretty awful things and was trying to force his way past the barricades, fighting several of the deputies when he just got too … overwrought I guess would be a good word, but … you had a chance to see him with Clark, didn’t you?”

Lex nodded thinking that he understood what she meant; Mr. Kent had seemed very protective of Clark. After having spent four days watching body after body being pulled from the wreckage of what was meant to have been a happy memory for his son, only to be told that no one knew where Clark was but they weren’t going to be looking any further… would have probably been enough to unhinge the man.

“What did he do?” Lex could easily imagine the man he’d met pushing the sheriff too far and getting arrested despite lingering sympathy.

“Well, I don’t quite know what the Sheriff said, Pete was at the hospital with me by then and only heard it third hand, but whatever the sheriff said, Mr. Kent really blew his top and was starting to pick a fight with the sheriff and a couple of his deputies when his heart sort of blew a gasket and they had to take him to metropolis for some kind of bypass. Mrs. Kent went with him, but only after getting a promise from the sheriff that they would keep looking for Clark.

She didn’t realize that the sheriff was beginning to look at Clark as a suspect, but others did and word got around. After that, when the sheriff had accounted for everyone but him, not thinking that the nut job behind everything might have been someone other than a current student… the town’s anger and hatred for him grew daily.

By the time Whitney, the quarterback responsible for stringing him up, finally came to enough to ask if anyone ever got Clark down, the town was brainwashed into believing that it was him. It didn't matter that they found him barely breathing, dehydrated, and covered in ugly purple bruises all over his body, or that they found the guy about four days earlier and had his guarantee that Clark hadn't helped him in anyway. The town needed someone to blame and suddenly his crime wasn't just that they had falsely blamed him, which they were to ashamed to admit, but also that he'd survived in the first place by being victimized through an cruel tradition that they were now too ashamed to admit to even tacitly allowing. It was much simpler to hate Clark for merely surviving, when so many others didn't, so that's what they did.

And, his parents weren’t left alone either, even though they had done so much to help at homecoming, people started to say that it was out of guilt. Everyone stopped buying their produce, so that his mom had to go to the Grandville market to sell their stuff. The bank refused to extend their mortgage enough that they could cover both his and his father’s medical expenses. Dad tried to help as much as he could and gave Clark's mom a job at your father's plant, but they nearly lost the farm three or four times that year.

The rest of us were being visited daily by everyone we knew. No one but his mom visited him or his dad when he was finally released from Metropolis. Clark told me once that he used to watch teachers, parents, and classmates walk by and never even look in – as though he didn't exist. When I was out of the hospital, Pete visited Clark a bit… until Lucas stopped in... "

"Lucas?"

"Yeah, Lana's adopted brother. If there had been anyone that I would have pegged for causing the fire, it would have been him; he wasn't the most stable guy. But, he was there with his girlfriend, Tina Greer. They were on a double date with Lana and Whit- hell both of them worshipped the Golden couple. If you ask me, he just plain lost it when Lana died in the fire, but Nell was mourning too much for her precious cheerleader to see it. So, no one knew to keep him away from Clark.

Pete was there when finally stopped in for a visit and told me about it; it was horrible.

Clark had still been so sick, even four months later, that the doctors didn't think he was going to make it. He could barely move, couldn't keep anything down, and could barely speak without going into terrible choking spells. The doctors and his parents felt that he was so sick that he couldn't take hearing about the fire. But Lucas just walks in, sees Clark lying there being fed by a nurse, ripped Lana's necklace off of his neck, and tears into him - telling him that he should have died insteead of Lana.

It was the first time that Clark had even heard about the extent of the fire or how many people and having Lucas tell him about Lana that way – not caring how much of a crush that Clark had on her – it sent Clark into a fit… He had some kind of seizure, and Pete said that they used they those ekg paddles to reset his heart rhythm and to resuscitate Clark, but they got him stabilized and sent Lucas and Pete home. When Clark's parents returned that night, they checked Clark out and took him home claiming that there didn't seem to be anything else that the Doctors could do for him.

Pete tried to visit him at home, but Clark wouldn't seem him at all. Pete won't tell me why, but I suspect they had a deal that if either of them didn't show up for homecoming the other one was to go check Reilly's field immediately. Pete really should have been there instead of with me at the dance, but he … I don't know, Pete gets distracted a little bit by girls in short skirts, and there were a lot of those at the Homecoming Dance. Anyway, I'm sure he didn't mean to leave Clark out there, but by the time I'd signed us in, he was already flirting with another classmate of ours named Alicia. After a bit, they snuck out of the dance to make out or something. Pete swears he didn't, but they were on the outside by the time we were locked in, and he and Alicia managed to get a bunch of the doors closed and the fire department called. Whatever Clark thought had happened, I don't know, but he wouldn't see Pete or anyone else for close to six months.

Still, we'd hoped things would get better when he could get back to the farm – out of sight, out of mind, you know, but it only made things worse. That's not quite true, what Lucas did next was what made it worse. Lucas took it into his mind to punish Clark for what happened that night when the Sheriff refused to… even after the real guy was found. Any way, Lucas kept stirring people up against Clark reminding them of everything they'd said about Clark before he was found, playing up how much like their ideas of a suspicious personality he seemed, and claiming that even if it wasn't him this time, next time it would be. He drummed up a petition demanding that Clark's parents to home-school him for the remainder of high school on the grounds that his fellow classmates and their parents had no confidence that their children would be safe at school with Clark. Sadly, his dad seemed only too happy to keep him home after what happened, but I think it was the worst thing that could have happened. It made him seem like even more of an outsider. 

What Lucas did was stupid and cruel, and I know it was just out of mourning and all that, but some of the stuff that people did to Clark was just as shameful and without a good reason except that he kept pushing Clark’s image so much. People, who didn't even lose anyone, would give him dirty looks and cross the street to avoid him or leave the beanery if he came in – until the owner asked him to stop coming. A bunch of parents told their kids to stay away from him like he was a child abuser or something. The brats, who'd picked up on their parents rabid dislike of Clark started carrying stones and throwing them at Clark when their parents weren't paying attention. Even the doctors and nurses treated him like crap: ignoring him as much as possible, even at meal times or when he had a prescription due. People, who Clark had grown up around and looked up to, started treating him like a pariah and Lucas just kept stirring."

She looked up at Lex, expecting the commonly given expressions of aghast or comfort; instead, through almost clenched teeth, Lex asked, "What's Lucas's last name."

"Lang."

“It would have had to have been, wouldn’t,” Lex thought sarcastically.

Lucas must have somehow found out that either he or Clark was Lionel's natural child and was determined to get Clark out of the way. Yet again, Lionel was screwing up his friends lives … if only by proxy. The irony of it was that Lucas was probably only proving that he was Lionel's son by showing such a natural streak of malice and greed. A simple blood test would have been all that was necessary to prove the relationship and would be used in any event to prove or discredit the claim regardless of what Lucas did to Clark. Lucas probably even knew that, but seemed to have inherited the Luthors' rabid thirst for violence that would only have been amplified by what their father called "Luthor training" but other parents would probably call gross abuse and neglect.

"Can I ask you a question, Chloe?"

"Sure."

"Does Lucas have anything to do with why you're here right now?"

"Well, yeah, he sort of does."

"What, if I may ask?"

"It's still part of the long story about Clark, but I guess there's no reason not to jump ahead. Anyway, most of the stuff between was just more about how people treated him. There were a few really sick things, like some guys beating him up and trying to throw him into a furnace at the foundry. And then, when he was trying to help Whitney, the quarterback get out of a mess that some of the wrong friends had gotten him into, the group of them beat Clark up and held them down while they tattooed him with some stuff that he was seriously allergic to.  That was really bad, Clark was weak and sick again for months, but what happened after that was worse.

Like I said, Lucas kept pushing and when this reporter who worked for the Inquisitor came around trying to make a story our of how we were overcoming things as the school year ended and how the town felt about the upcoming prom. But, pretty quickly, Lucas had Nixon focused entirely on Clark and the reporter was hounding Clark every chance he could get.  Things must have gotten pretty bad as if it wasn't bad enough that Clark was having to force himself to come back into town again, after his mom's funeral, because his dad was still too…"

"His mother died? How?" Lex interrupted anxiously.

A tight knot formed in Lex's throat at the thought of Clark's mother dying. Losing his own mother had been a harrowing experience for Lex even though they had not been close due to his mother's mental illness and his father's decision to send him to boarding school. Still, when his father's secretary called to inform him of her death from an allegedly accidental overdose of her pain medications and discuss his father's preference that he not return for almost perfunctory funeral, Lex had been devastated.

"Well, I guess that really is part of it too, sometimes there was just so much shit to happen to everyone that even the big stuff can get lost in the shuffle." She shrugged nonchalantly, worrying Lex almost as much for ability to shrug of a close friend's deep loss as for the implied foreshadowing that the year had been so difficult that even a parent's death could be lost in the retelling.

 "Anyway, while Clark and Mr. Kent were recovering, Mrs. Kent had started doing a lot more of the farm work, including making deliveries. One afternoon, while she was making a delivery- there was a car accident. Well, it wasn't really and accident; she was driven off the highway by this creep with had a serious case of road rage. The tow-truck driver who'd been sent out to pick the truck up said that it looked like Beales had rear ended the Kent's truck at least four times before he flipped his own truck. The sheriff thinks that she was trying to help the man get free, his truck exploded."

Lex couldn't imagine what Clark must have gone through- losing his mother so unexpectedly only months after his earlier trauma. When Lionel had refused the principal's suggestion to have Lex counseling, only the uncharacteristic concern and support of a previously intimidating classmate helped to pull him out. Lex could only wonder how Clark was able to get through it, cut off from former friends, reviled by his community, and saddled with the responsibilities of family farm and an ill father before himself had recovered.

"The strange thing was…" Chloe continued her narrative, entirely unaware of the growing anxiety and sadness enveloping Lex as he listened to his friend's suffering, "that her death for a little while seemed to help things because it kind of forced Clark had started coming back into town again when people felt too bad about his mother's death to pick on him. And, he was slowly getting people to realize that he wasn’t the guy that Lucas was making him out to be.

But, whenever Clark showed up in town Nixon practically chased him back out, hounding him with the most horrid questions. Even during the tornados, he kept after Clark until Clark left the new gym, which was the town's designated storm shelter, and drove through the worst of the storms to get home. We only heard about what happened next after, Clark got out of the hospital again.

When Clark left, Nixon left too- he followed Clark all the way home and it must have really ticked Mr. Kent off because he and Nixon got into some sort of fight down in their corn cellar while they waited out the storm. No one really knows what it was about, but Pete swears that he heard Nixon threaten Mr. Kent that Clark could be taken away in the blink of an eye and it would be entirely legal, if it ever saw a courtroom, so it might have been something to do about Clark's adoption. No one really knows, but…"

"What does Mr. Kent say it was about?" Lex wondered if the teens had just ran off of idle speculations, or had they gotten the nerve up to ask.

"Mr. Kent didn't say anything, Lex. He didn't get a chance to. Pete said that Mr. Kent decided that they had to take the argument outside after he saw how much it was upsetting Clark. While they were out there, Nixon shot and killed him then ran despite the tornados headed that way. When he heard the shot, Clark argued with Mr. Ross to let him go up, but Mr. Ross thought that the sound had just been a cracking beam or tree limb and wouldn't hear of it. By the time that Clark convinced Mr. Ross to let him go, his father was dead.

Clark took off after Nixon without looking back, and nobody knows for sure what happened after that. Nixon had beaten up Clark pretty well (bad enough to put him in the hospital again); so it was clear that they had run into each other, but after what he did to Clark's dad, no one thought twice when Nixon was found dead. He had been hit in the temple with a rock and killed, and Clark didn't have an alibi. But, instead of questioning Clark, the sheriff just declared Nixon one of the tornado's fatalities. He'd gone to school with Jonathan and they had been friends up until homecoming, and I don't think it hurt that, while he was looking for Nixon, Clark had saved Lucas when his truck was picked up by a twister. The sheriff seemed to think a lot of that was feeling pretty generous towards him. Later, after he came here, we had dinner one night, and Clark told me that the Sheriff had even apologized for how the town was treating him, taking the major responsibility for their attitudes on his baseless suspicions of Clark. Come to think of it, that may have been the last time I saw Clark peek out through Cal."

The dryness of Chloe's fingertips sweeping across his cheek, brought Lex's surprised attention to the fact that he had been crying for his friend's overwhelming losses. He understood now how Clark could say that what his parent's wanted was a moot point, and no wonder he no longer wanted to think of himself as that person: the person who'd lost everyone in his life that he probably identified himself by.

After sweeping his palms across his eyes in embarrassment, Lex took a moment to steel his emotions before he glanced up, expecting to see impatience, at best, but more likely disgust and derision. Instead, Chloe was studying him with an openly curious gaze that was tinged with wry humor."

"You may be Lionel's fruit, but you certainly rolled far from his tree." Chloe pronounced as she laughed softly.

Catching his breath softly, Lex stared at her in astonishment. Almost no one had openly recognized and commented on his orientation, due in large part to his youthful frantic attempts to build his reputation as shallow, self-centered, womanizer (all forgivable traits in Kansas), before anyone picked up on whatever clues his Uncle Morgan had seen when he labeled the then 14 year old Lex, "Lionel's little fruit."

Much to his surprise, instead of being enraged by the title, Lionel had been faintly amused even approving of Lex taking men to bed stating that even Alexander the Great had his Hephaestion, and it was Lex's prerogative to use whatever skills gave him the best advantage of the relationship. In fact, Lionel had only placed three restrictions on his 14 year old son's "trysts": first, Lex had to continue putting on a good show for Luthorcorp's conservative stockholders; second, Lex had to pick partners who offered some social, business, or political advantage; and third, Luthors. Never. Bottomed.

Looking back, Lex was almost ashamed by how readily he had accepted Lionel's restriction and how many evenings he had wasted with women, who could be distracted and bought off by a pair of fancy earrings. All of them, all of those meaningless dates to uphold his image as he broke away from his father's control, had been apparently been utterly worthless if a small town teen could see through them. Shaking his head to clear it as he considered what to say to her, Lex turned away from her wondering if his chance to have a friendship with Clark was over before it had begun.

"Does that bother you?"

"What?" Chloe asked with a seemingly confused voice, but Lex wasn't buying it after her comment.

Without thinking, he fell back into a defensive sneer that he hadn't used since the last time he had seen his father and asked again, "Does my being "Lionel's little fruitcake" bother you so much that you'll have a problem trusting my assistance?"

His sneer abruptly faded at her quiet look of confusion. She might be seem confused, and indeed, might honestly be; however, he remembered her deft and sharp-tongued questions from her interview. True, she had kept to the topic and hadn't wandered into the more personal details that other reporters fed themselves on. But, whether that had been simply the mark of a previous innocence or true integrity, he had no way now of knowing.

"I…" A sudden flash of light in her eyes signaled an epiphany of his meaning: "I… oh, no. I didn't mean that. Despite your aubergene shirt and heather slacks, that really wasn't my first assumption; it's the age of the metrosexual you know. No, I was only misusing an adage. You might have heard it – that an apple never falls far from the tree. In this case, even if you fell close, I have a feeling you have rolled a bit from Lionel's shady branches, and found a bit of sun and soil of your own."

"Really? That's quite a poetic image. But, I do apologize, looking back on your words, I can easily see that meaning implied as well."

"How formal you've gotten so suddenly." Chloe smirked, recognizing his defensiveness. "Anyway, if I'd take offense to something like that, why would I have Clark as a friend? Or, more to the point, how do you think he could stand having me as one? He's had enough persecution for a lifetime."

"Clark?"

 It was Lex's turn to look mystified and Chloe's to smirk.

"Clark." She confirmed simply, pleased to see some sign of interest from him.

"I honestly wouldn't have thought… he hardly seems… or seemed…" Lex was almost speechless. In either form, Clark or Cal, Lex would not have guessed him to be. As innocent and wholesome as Clark had seemed before, Cal – bruised and scarred by the events that he suspected Chloe had only glossed over – seemed even less prone to be… But, then, it was almost ridiculous for Lex to apply the same stereotypes to Clark that he had always hated the thought of being compared to himself.

"He carries himself like a fighter. I would never have suspected." At her grim expression, Lex redirected his comment: "What?"

"He is a fighter, Lex. Not that he wants to be, but it's the only way he could think of to get close to Morgan Edge. Edge runs a number of fight clubs and if you impress him, you can work your way into being one of his security guards. So, Clark's been paying the fight manager to get him into every open fight he can get into."

"Morgan  Edge? Why does he want to get close to Morgan Edge?" Lex's uncle Morgan was about the only man Lex knew of that he thought was more dangerous than his father, if only because Morgan seemed to enjoy getting his hands dirty, where Lionel preferred to delegate the dirty work.

"Well, I told you that Clark went looking for Nixon?" Lex nodded in response before she continued, "Somewhere along the line, he found Nixon's car and grabbed Nixon's briefcase and laptops to spite the reporter and to be sure that he had taken away any notes that Nixon needed to write the story he'd been after. After the auction, he just seemed to disappear, and no one had any idea where he went – not even Pete. Then about six months ago, I got a call from Clark asking me to come to Metropolis for dinner. When we got together, he told me that he'd found a comment in Nixon's notes that said Nixon was being paid by Edge to get information on both Lucas and Clark. But, he didn't know why and was trying to get close to Morgan to find out why the man would hire Nixon."

"And, let me guess, this is where you come in? Please tell me you aren't working for Nixon, too?"

"Yes and no … in that order."

"Please, Chloe, this is serious. Edge is dangerous."

"I know that. That's why I got into this in the first place. Clark can't keep fighting like this, and it will be even worse if he gets into Edge's inner circle. But, he had to know why, so I started doing some research and found a few links between Edge and your father." She finished hesitantly, uncertain of what his reaction may be.

"There are." Lex confirmed, but wouldn't go further despite her curious study of him.

"That's what I thought, so I used my dad's keys (he's one of the plant managers) to sneak into Lionel's offices."

She went on to explain, she was currently in trouble with the law because after breaking in, she'd grabbed some files on both Lucas and Clark in Lionel's private office at the plant and hidden them until she could get back and find out why Lionel was interested.

"I know why." Lex answered grimly.

"Well?"

Lex briefly sketched out what he knew about one of the two being the second Luthor heir, and asked for about the diner that Clark had mentioned and how to contact Clark because he needed to tell Clark and warn him to get away from Edge. After she did, Chloe gave him a broad hug and wished him good look, then thanked him for helping save Clark.

Bemused and not quite certain what to say, Lex left. After he left her, the guard who'd earlier answered her cries returned to her with a smirk holding out a cell phone to Chloe. The cell phone seemed to ring almost as soon as she touched it.

"Miss Sullivin, I trust that your meeting went well?" Lionel's smarmy voice echoed from the other end of the connection as he asked her about everything his son said.

"Yeah, I told him everything you told me to and stressed how much Lucas did to harrass Clark… Just like you had told me to. Does that mean you will keep your end of the bargain and leave me and dad alone?"

"Of course," he assured her, in a light humorous tone, "But only if you'll be discreet enough to take their little secret to her grave."

"Of course, "Chloe agree nervously. "The last thing I want to tell anyone was about how I had betrayed my best friend."

"Oh, of course," He aagreed smugly, "I know you will." 

When she handed the phone back, the guard grabbed her wrist. Before she could effectively fight him, he used a pen injector to give her an overdose of insulin. Checking her pulse, he waited until he was certain she was dead then finally spoke into the cell phone: "It's done ." 

Back in the Luthorcorp penthouse, Lionel and Edge snapped the cell phone shut and grinned back at Edge.

"What about Kent? Do I let him keep winning? What's his part in this anyway?"

"The prize." Lionel answered abruptly.

"You're taking stupid risk's to bring Lex into the situation, Lionel."

"Now Morgan, despite his recent lapse, Lex was Luthor trained. He has it in him to be a shark like his me, but if he can't use that to survive, perhaps he should sleep with the fish If Lucas can't beat him, he doesn't didn't deserve to take over."

"But, Murder?"

"I've never known you to quail at murder," Lionel sneered. "But, never worry, it's worth it if only to get Lex back in the game."

End