Title: Waiting on You
Author: LillSakura
Email: Lillsakura@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13
Challenge: Waiter
Notes: Blah. Blah. Blah. The disclaimer: I don't own Smallville.
Summary: Clark, mucking around in Smallville, is suddenly forced 
from his comfort zone by none other than Lex Luthor. A typical day 
in the life of Mr. Clark Kent.

It started with a casual glance, a quick smile, a skip in his heart 
beat. The sudden rightness captured him off guard. The room seemed 
to hum- as if singing a tune to a familiar song- and the 
overwhelming urge to smile or laugh or act startled him, forcing an 
unconscious decision to blush. An immediate response, an amused 
smile, now shined on the man's face; it was the only indication 
Clark was not imagining things.

A bump on his shoulder knocked him back into reality, jolting away 
the resonate, and the intensity of the blue eyes fled Clark's mind 
as his concentration now rushed to the piercing green eyes demanding 
his attention. 

He looked at Chloe, eyes sneaking a look at the man and then back to 
Clark. She tilted her chin up, alight with knowledge. He barely 
suppressed a groan; of course, she knew, she always knew. His best 
friend since eighth grade, he would be astonished if her killer 
journalist instincts missed one detail about him. 

"Batting your eye lashes will not get you your car, Clark-Bar." And, 
of course, being her best friend since eighth grade, there were few 
things he missed about her. The alarming jealousy in string of words 
strung through, never so pronounced. She loved him, and she was not 
about to have him falling head over feet for some stranger. 

Glancing back at the mysterious man, Clark laughed, "I don't know, 
if that Armani says anything, I'd say he has a Lamborghini up his 
sleeve somewhere."

" There's a thick layer of flannel separating you and Mr. Metropolis 
over there." The illuminated protectiveness radiating from her eyes 
vaporized the harshness of the words.

He grinned at her, gently ruffling her hair with his hand, "C'mon, 
Chlo', let a boy dream. Maybe he'll take me outta here and give me a 
castle or two." 

She rolled her eyes, backing away from his pestering hand. She gave 
the man a once over, judging everything and thriving on her 
intuition, "Just what you need, a prince charming to suppress your 
natural rights. He'd probably chuck the keys to those castles in 
lake, and then where would you be?" 

The tiniest of smiles struck at the corner of her mouth, ruining the 
abrupt facade of indignity.

"M'dear, I will always have you to save me." He sent her a wild 
grin, and she returned it with a laugh.

"A slight change for the better, I can't have that hero-thing going 
to your head." Just being able to hear her say that, without the 
tense awkward silence trailing behind, made Clark suddenly feeling 
light and happy. 

The smooth comfortable banter had taken months to rectify. After a 
series of dates, love announcements, and revealed secrets, Clark was 
not sure he would ever get his Chloe back. The awkward silences, 
disastrous arguments, and outrageous accusations, nearly shook their 
relationship beyond the saving point. 

Once the tears settled and the wounds scarred, they tentatively 
began to talk, progressing finally into a stronger friendship. 
(Plus, now Chloe had more mutant action to report on, since Clark 
was usually in the middle of it. Even in the last couple of days, he 
had managed to save a roaming driver from Lake Mutant Molly, who 
kidnapped anyone who turned her down for "a slippery surprise.") 

"Hey! Kent, table five needs more water." The brunt, direct voice of 
the manager, "Mr. Joe to you," cut through their teasing. Mr. Joe's 
voice became distinctively lighter, friendlier, "Chloe, dear, I need 
you to cover for Meghan, she's takin' a lunch." 

"Yes, Mr. Joe!" She chimed at him, a plastic grin plastered so tight 
it ached.

"Chloe, you're my best employee; there's no "Mr." needed. It's just 
Joe." He tossed her a wink, his murky brown eyes leering at her. 

Clark watched as the short stature of the manager disappeared into 
the crowd. He began snickering and using an exaggerated southern 
accent he swooned, "Oh Chloe! Ma best employee! The shinnin' star in 
ma night sky! The only star in ma dreams! And oh-uff."  

He would have continued his ode, but the blonde had shoved a tray 
into his arms. 

"Shut up. Don't make me ask Joe to have you making coffee for the 
rest of the week." An inside joke, well worn, and down to the last 
threads. Every time Clark went near the coffee maker, he had a 
sudden sick feeling spread through his body, almost to a point where 
he could not function his body. Chloe had noticed, concerned at 
first, and then a teasing joke of the invulnerable man not being 
able to handle coffee.
 
"Ai, ai, Ma'am." They shared a grin, now noticing the hustle and 
bustle of the restaurant began kicking up for the lunch hour. With 
the orders of Mr. Joe and the tedious and bothersome joys of serving 
and waiting pending their tending, the two friends separated unaware 
of the crystal blue eyes watching their banter. 

The man gave a thoughtful smile, tossed a twenty on the table and 
left. It would cover his order and leave an obscene tip for his 
waitress. He had decided. 


~~~ 

Clark had not expected to see the man again. A well dressed, smooth 
talking, metropolis man was a rare find in Smallville. Even with a 
baldhead, the man held himself with such regard as to suggest a 
clear superiority among the crowds. He wreaked of power, an essence 
so bombarding it set even the most unmotivated employee scurrying 
away. 

So, it completely floored Clark to learn the man had applied for a 
job. No, not the managing job, but rather a waiting job, and of 
course the man was hired. Rather than feel suddenly cheerful about 
it, Clark stomach took a sudden plummet. Never one to ignore his 
guts' reaction, Clark instantly staked out Chloe. If anyone knew why 
this intimidating man was working here, she would. 

"I don't know." 

So, maybe she would not know. Clark looked at her, really seeing 
her. Worrying her glossed lips and pushing back her cropped hair, 
the idea of not knowing was tearing Chloe apart, considerably if 
visual appearances branded themselves on her. It was days like 
these, where Chloe fell back to human level, to wear things did 
affect her, where she didn't have all the answers, that made Clark 
remember why she was so endeared into his heart. 

"He's Lex Luthor of the Luthor Enterprises. Worth 2.2 billion 
dollars, and being paid 4.50 plus tips. He denied a position at 
LuthorCorp, packed his bags, and here he is. Maybe Lionel disowned 
him? But that does not explain why he is in Smallville, you know, 
home of the corn, meteorites, and cows. Clark. We are working with 
the Lex Luthor, and I don't know why." The comment rather tore her 
up; there was no doubt about that. 

"Actually, I'm worth 2.67 Billion." Smooth, piercing, blunt, 
powerful. Also eavesdropping on the conversation. 

Chloe's eyes flashed at a point behind Clark, marking her prey. It 
was a look Clark had seen when they were in working at the Torch, a 
look Clark rather not get in the way of. Stepping out of the way, 
Clark pivoted to see Lex Luthor standing prime and dignified. 

The intense blue eyes focused on Clark, taking in his body, 
lingering on his eyes, before the blue eyes trailed back over to 
Chloe. "As of this morning."

Clark, having had Martha and Jonathan Kent (the latter only 
affecting the childhood years) furnish their morals into him, 
started, "Sorry, I'm Clark Kent, and this is Chloe Sullivan." 

"Lex Luthor." He gutted out a hand, offering partnership, 
friendship, a pleasant working environment. 

Before Clark had a chance to shift, Chloe had grabbed the offered 
hand, in spite of the intended target. Chloe, a hawk with a 
predator's eye, had just sunk her talons into Lex, and there was no 
way she was letting go until she was full and content. Lex had no 
idea what he was getting himself into. 

Before he could be an accomplice to Chloe's machinations (or what 
she calls "getting the scoop"), Clark made up a quick excuse to 
leave, abandoning Lex with the harassing-- "scooping" --Chloe. 

"What brings you to Smallville? Relatives? Scenery? You know, 
there's not much out here that could compare to the city life..." 

Clark almost felt guilty. 

~~~

Clark never conversed about Chloe's interrogation of Lex, but he 
knew it had to be successful because she had stopped pouting. She 
attempted to enlighten him about it, but every time she opened her 
mouth, he made an excuse to abscond. 

In fact, Clark had been managing the "disappearing act" more and 
more. In the four months Lex had worked at the Beanery, he may have 
run into Clark twenty or thirty times, and the total amount of words 
passed may have added up to 500. The busy work environment kept 
Clark clean of his city prince, and therefore kept Clark clean of 
making a fool of himself. His pretty-eyed colleague could be 
charming and breathtaking, as long as he kept his distance. 

Years of the "Lana Lang Trailing" had tattered Clark's heart. In 
truth, he discovered people were never who they appeared. Lana, with 
her dazzling russet eyes, pledged a perfect world, and yet she was 
unattainable, ensnared in her mourning. She lured Clark in with her 
normality, a bittersweet escape from the obscene mutants running 
around. For all that she was pure and beautiful, she remained caged 
in her world, and only an ideal man could have her, and Clark life 
had allocated him his share of mutations.

The mutations had also taken its toll on Clark. Very few people had 
earned the privilege to know about Clark's powers, Chloe being the 
most recent. Although Smallville was crowded with mutations, nearly 
1/8 of the population, the tolerance level was minimal, and mostly 
they went by ignored. So ignored that when a few randomly went 
missing, only a handful of people noticed, and none of those people 
commented. With these escalating prejudices forming over the past 
years, Clark was very wary of his "abilities" and who to trust them 
with. 

Walking into the Beanery, a slow Monday morning, he noticed the only 
other employee opening was Lex. Resigning himself from the pedestal 
about to fracture, Clark put a courageous foot forward. 

Only, he had not bothered for such dramatics, because Lex barely 
acknowledged his company. In fact, Clark could have been a fly for 
all the attention Lex gave him. He was not sure whether to be upset 
or grateful. 

The trepidation, the intimidation, the worry, was all naught. 
Whatever had clicked between the two of them the day Lex entered the 
Beanery had surely snapped, leaving nothing left to hope on. It was 
almost comforting. If Lex did not like him, there was no reason for 
Lex to fall off his pedestal. 

"Start the coffee, would you?" The casual over glance, as Lex 
started setting the napkins at the tables, did wonders for Clark's 
ease. 

At least now, he knew Lex and Chloe did not discuss him, as the 
coffeemaker was one of the first things she warned their associates 
about. Putting the slight dread aside, Clark quickly did as he was 
told. The sudden sickness came and went as he distanced himself from 
the machine, making the five-minute chore a prolonged ten-minute 
trail. 

Finally, he finished, and he began the morning routine. It was dull 
and bland, leaving nothing to the imagination. Everything came 
prepackaged, so there was nothing excepting loading and unloading. 
Wrap the silverware, lay out the napkins, and prepare the menus. It 
was always the same. 

So when he was fetching more silverware out of the storage closet, 
the smell of smoke surprised him. It was a faint, barely detectable 
aroma, but the scent still made its presence known. Running back to 
the cashier desk, Clark found the faint stench had become smog of 
smoke, sullying the entire restaurant. 

How had the fire spread so fast? Glancing around, he saw a pile of 
napkins, brilliantly lit and ready for take off, right next to a 
dysfunctional coffee maker. 

Grabbing the fire extinguisher, Clark headed for the coffee maker, 
ready to flag down the flames. The pain was endurable, at a 
distance. Except, he found he could not get closer, and the flames 
ignited suddenly, ragging up a rebellion. No amount of extinguisher 
fluid could save the Beanary now. 

Choking through the smoke, Clark dashed out of the café, finding a 
patient Lex talking on the cell phone, possibly to the fire 
department. 

Seeing Clark, Lex abruptly closed his cell phone, "They're on their 
way. What took you so long to get out here?"

" I tried to put it out." 

Lex gave Clark another perusal, taking in everything again. He 
chuckled evenly, as if it was the most outrageous answer the city 
man had ever heard replied and he could find no other way to express 
it. He shook himself from the momentary mirth, setting his 
incredulity aside, "Of course you did." 

Perhaps it was the way Lex said it, his tone a little too blunt, a 
little too callous.

"Is it bad to prevent a disaster?" A tentative question, extracting 
just a bit more information from his supposed prince, a bit more 
words, a bit more hope that he was not just another big-city 
tormenter.

Lex opened his mouth, but must have thought better of it and 
shrugged instead. 

Perhaps it was the fleeting look, once again Lex staring past Clark 
and discounting him. Perhaps it was the silly notation that Lex was 
different than the superior city-boys and their engorged heads. 
Perhaps it was the echoing shatter of a picture losing its glass 
frame. 

Whatever it was, the booming crash echoed in Clark's heart even 
after the fire trucks and police and Chloe had arrived. 

---

After Chloe hounded firemen and police officers alike, after the 
trucks had cleared, after the damage had been accessed, after the 
town gossip spread, after Lex had cleared the area, Clark was at 
last by himself. 

A tremble of worry sank in his stomach, a harbinger reeking 
throughout his system compelling him to head straight home. Never 
one to ignore his intuition, Clark set path- 

Only to be hindered by a canon of blonde and style. And such as the 
characterization of a canon, when Chloe ran into she sent sparks 
everywhere, relentlessly pounding away information at him. 

"Clark-Bar, big trouble, came from Lex's, must abandon the scene, 
c'mon." A jumble of words, and she was off leading Clark away. After 
the preliminary bang, there was little energy left, and the next 
words were slower, more complete, "They said the fire was set 
deliberately, and well, with only you and Lex being there," Chloe's 
worried voice trailed off, trembling a bit in a insecure melody, the 
bombarding boom had drifted off to a faded echo, a beat almost 
drumming the suspense.

It was the look, an impeding doom, and finally. 

A blitzkrieg of realization hit him, blasting in from all sides, 
gusting away his arguments before he even began assembling them. 
Finally, finding his voice in the rubble, he bellowed out, "They 
cannot possibly think I started the fire? It's me, Clark Kent, clean 
reputation with the shiny Boy Scout pin?" 

Even though Clark resented hearing people say those things about 
him, at times like these, shoving those particulars back out into 
the open made him feel better.

She did not deny it. She did not even try to reassure him that there 
was no feasible way they could incriminate him with this. Instead, 
she offered an alternative, "Look, Lex has been talking to the 
police. He's been stretching his influence to get you off the hook, 
but as for getting your job back...." 

It was hopeless, he supplied in his head. It was hopeless, because 
although he did not do anything, Smallville was always about finding 
a scapegoat or an easy explanation, anything to keep from facing 
reality. Clark started the fire because he was the last one in the 
kitchen. Tina Grier lost 40 pounds because she had an eating 
disorder, and she went away to a mental hospital. The random fat-
drained body were a result of a virus. Keep it simple stupid. 

In the wreckage of actuality, Clark's rationality took a dive, 
compelling him to say a unnecessary, "So much for that car." 

He did not need the car. He knew it; she knew it. He hated driving. 
He knew it; she knew it. In a small town there was no use for the 
car. He knew it; she knew it. 

And yet, he still wanted the car. Now, even with damage control 
running about, the word had extended across Smallville. It would be 
silly to think the "pyro arsonist" Clark Kent would ever be seen 
working at another business here. 

"Clark." She sensed the desperation of his words, his vain hope of 
making something out of the pit he had fall into, trying to fall to 
the bottom so he could begin his way back up. 

Smallville was a bottomless pit. She knew it; he would live it.

---

Even though Clark worked up the courage to find Lex, thank him for 
his kind acts, and (probably) never see him again, it still took him 
five days. Even after those five days, the first words out of his 
mouth were rudimentary, as if Jonathan Kent's spirit seized his 
vocal cords, 

"I can't believe you actually live in a castle." He had half a mind 
to ask him if he kept the whip and chains in the dungeon or the 
bedroom, but Martha Kent's conditioning already had begun to punish 
him for his thoughts. He had no idea where the frank anger arose 
from, as his intentions were only pure.

But he had yet to vocalize his anger, yet to extinguish the burning 
rage crisping at his patience. 

"Clark, I was expecting you." The piercing eyes gleamed at him from 
a desk across the room, and although the eyes did not smile, there 
was one on his lips. Either Lex was simply ignoring his boorish 
behavior to be polite, or he expected the anger to be irrationally 
thrown at him. 

And suddenly the rage sizzled down, dowsed with a fine cup of 
veracity. Lex probably had really tried his best; Chloe would not 
have given him any news but the truth. 

"L-" He paused. Was he supposed to call the once cherished prince 
Lex or Luthor? A look at Lex, and he decided throughout the displays 
of benevolence, Lex deserved not to be called his family named 
discarded months ago. "Lex, I came here to say thank you. I know we 
have not known each other well, and there was hardly any reason for 
you to even try to talk sense into the police officer. I mean, you 
and I both know I did not start that fire. That should have been 
enough."

Lex analyzed the boy in front of him, taking in everything from the 
slackened posture to the sincere affection in his eyes. He knew what 
he saw in those eyes, and although it would be fun to trail the 
puppy along to Metropolis, he refused to see the boy in front of him 
regarded as any less than his true potential. 

"I'm afraid there might have been a mixed message along the lines. I 
thought I would be the one thanking you." 

"I didn't do anything." Clark yielded, shakily drawing the words 
from his lips. 

Lex continued at his words, ignoring Clark's uncertainty, "You 
intrigued me, Clark. A simple fascination, one I could easily have 
overcome, but lacked the willpower.
"In the first week of working, I found out more about you than any 
hired man could ever hope to hold. A impeding force, waiting to 
bless the world with kindness and generosity, and yet, tangled in an 
aegis of attachment, inhibiting progress. 
"You have a master's in journalism from MetU, a rather impressive 
resume, both to which sit dusty in a back drawer. Did you ever plan 
to move ahead with your life? What was keeping you back? Why not 
make something of yourself? I passed it off as adolescent rebellion- 
until I met Martha."

" My mom?" If Clark had expected anything when coming here, it 
certainly was not here. 

"A seemingly brittle woman, but surprisingly fierce, ready to face a 
bullet for her son. She is terrified her only son will bottling 
himself up in Smallville, rather than moving on and venturing with 
Chloe into the big city. She is worried his dislike of the city may 
be wearing on you." He paused, a slight smile arose on his face, "Do 
you know the affect you have on people Clark? The way you are seen 
here- an angel among men. Why wouldn't you want to help as many 
people as you can? The city holds so much potential for you."

"I am not an angel." Clark blurted out, "You're deluded. I may show 
up at the right places at the right time, give a helping hand to a 
stranger, but that's not an angel. I'm not some holy saint that 
won't confess you sound like a creepy stalker. Because you do." 

"You are seen here as an angel, but I confess I never have seen you 
of that sorts." Lex smiled, "angels cannot lie." 

Fear slithered through Clark's veins, a scaly snake, selfishly 
draining his warmth. "Everyone lies about little things." 

"A truth- in the midst of lies. Ah, I am sure I can dig one up." Lex 
did not once move from his chair, an intimidating position of power. 
He was not forcing Clark to stay, but the constant eye contact 
commanded Clark's muscles to tighten, forbidding him to move. 

"You take a job at my work, question people about me, stake out my 
mom, call me a liar. It's getting rather easy to tell why you are 
always compared to your father." Clark, although locked in movement, 
still could freely access his words. 

"Ah, your fiery passion. It shows in your work, you know that? Once 
riled, you get pretty carried away. I like that." Lex seemed to 
notice he was dwelling off topic- a rare event for the polished 
businessman, steering himself back on the tracks, he announced, "I 
owed you a reward. So I give you freedom, something I have watched 
and saw that you yearned for the most."

"Working in Smallville, stalking me, my friends and family, 
backtracking through my files--- it was all as a "thank you?" What 
did I even do? I didn't even know you before you worked at the 
Beanery. And how did you give me free...oh no." Clark was not a 
journalist major for nothing. He actually was great at putting 
pieces together, finding the veiled implication. It was just at 
times when the puzzle was more sinister than he originally thought 
that he worried. "Please tell me that was some sick city-humored 
joke."

"Clark." But Lex could not get his two words in, because Clark ran 
them out a thousand miles per minute.

"Did you set fire to the Beanery because I needed push to the 
outside world? Because I had better things waiting for me on the 
other side of the match? Because I was tying myself down to 
Smallville?"

"Clark." He tried again, this time knowing he would barely get the 
name out before being interrupted and slightly okay because there 
was nothing left to do but let Clark work out his frustrations. 

"Right. I can handle the background checks, in fact, I can 
completely overlook them. But you're holding horses with thread if 
you think I'm not going to the authorities--"

Lex's turn to cut in. "They won't believe you. Nothing was damaged. 
In fact, Mr. Kingleys made a large profit off the building, and all 
the employees are being compensated for their time."

"Oh good, because I always wanted everyone to be perfectly happy 
with a toasted building. Do me a favor? Next time you decide to help 
a stranger find his or her way- don't burn down a building." Clark 
ran out of the room, too thoroughly upset with the blue-eyed wonder 
to even continue with the tête-à-tête. 

-----

Clark never discussed with Chloe what happened when he went to thank 
Lex. Fortunately, he had not revealed to her he was going, or else 
who knows what he may have said to her.

A deep roar of disgust lay uneasy in his gut, racked with hate and 
fear of Lex, as well as ignominy with himself for liking the 
stalking tyrant. 

The roar never calmed, even when the moving trucks were seen packing 
away the mansions inner workings, heading them back into the city 
where they came from. Locked in the unfortunate blessing of 
Lex's "gift," Clark would soon be forced to abandon his hometown, 
wishing and hoping time would heal this wound inflicted upon his 
reputation. 

It would be four more years until the two came face to face. 


----

The shadowy buildings loomed over the streets, casting a darkening 
doom upon the setting. The urban roads were torn apart, littered 
with sporadic holes and trash. The dimmest lamp lit a varied area, 
shuttering on and off with the nights hours. 

A speeding tan car broke the miserable district of vast emptiness. 
Coming to a screeching halt, the noise merely echoed across the 
deteriorating buildings, the sound cracking crumbs of the weaker 
structures. 

Noises broke out through the derelict area, as the two passengers 
stepped out of the car.

"Next time, Lois, I drive. That was four red lights you ran--- in a 
row!" The outrage of the man, tall and bulky, handsome and 
mysterious, was lowered by the gusty whispering of his voice.

"Shut up. My car, my driving. You can walk, Coffee-Boy." The 
shorter, shapely figure threatened back, her voice slightly echoing 
in the abandoned town.

"And you can take Jimmy on your next ruse to die before 30." The 
woman identified as Lois shuddered at the mention of 30, making the 
threat of the overzealous newbie seem like a welcoming sign. 

"You're lucky you can write- I have half a mind- umph." Clark's, 
the "Coffee-Boy," hand covered Lois's mouth, hearing the slight pad 
of feet coming from around the corner.

"Someone's coming. Go into the restaurant, find Snealzs, get the 
interview. I'll be right out here, looking to see if find a sign of 
life that might know more about these robberies." 

The restaurant- one of the many ruined buildings of the street, had 
no lights to shine the "Bell's Kitchen" posted above the door, and 
the glass tinted windows, a dark hue in the dim light, were 
shattered. Without fear, Lois disappeared behind the haunted doors 
of the most popular restaurant of Gnoles, now apart of the slums of 
Metropolis, and once a popular attraction for the entire city. 

In the time it took Lois to be kicked out of the restaurant, having 
greatly offended Snealzs, (a quality in which usually kept her from 
the more personal side of the reporting job, but Clark insisted she 
do because of the seedy area) Clark managed to find two people to 
confirm that the robberies started around the time LuthorCorp tried 
to buy up the land but was refused, two or three years ago.

As they drove off, leaving the dying neighborhood behind, Clark 
could not help but feel a little extra work was needed.

-----
 
It was effortless, to fall back into the simple practice of serving. 
No one looked at you, no one spoke to you. It was easy. Of course, 
now the job came with the added benefits of being disregarded and 
being able to spy. 

LuthorCorp was growing out of control. Terrorizing the citizens with 
their growing influence in state and government, barely any 
companies were saved from being bought out. Small business might as 
well invest in LuthorCorp stock- not to mention the various 
increases in crime rates, the roaring corruption. Just last month 
the mayor had vetoed an energy bill that would have decreased the 
amount of electricity used by each person and consequently would 
have lost LuthorCorp millions each year. It was no wonder that five 
days after the veto, the mayor had a lumpy back pocket. 

The tolerance shakily began breaking away at that point, and several 
assassination attempts in the last weeks plagued Mr. Lionel Luthor, 
who made no show of acknowledging these bare misses. Sooner or 
later, one of those shots would not miss. 

In the amidst of hundreds of millionaires and billionaires alike, 
one could not tell of the ill seeking the billionaire by looking at 
him, as his placid face remained the same throughout the night. Only 
a quick uplift of an eyebrow changed his demeanor, and no sooner had 
this emotion shown than it had been perfectly erased. 

Following the men who caused this change, Lionel Luthor's 
accompanied date was unlatched from his arm as he and a two other 
businessmen headed toward the back to take about some ventures they 
were planning. 

A perfect opportunity, one Clark had been waiting weeks for. If 
Snealzs would not volunteer the information, Clark would just have 
to find it out by himself. If his mutant powers could help him 
protect this city from men like Lionel, it would only be injustice 
to not use them. 

Casually making his way to the area sectioned off for rest purposes 
in a way such that it was not noticeable he was making an escape, he 
now was infinitely glad he convinced Lois he was better because he 
was less known. (He constantly got his way when flattery came into 
the picture; Lois' big head inflated quite continuously when it went 
unchecked.) 

Passed the closed doors, he merely set his dish (yes, he really did 
have to carry it around and offer it to the mingling people) onto a 
nearby table, and then proceeded to rush into a brightly lit, 
glaringly porcelain chamber, the bathroom seemed to be relentless 
against his eyes. Channeling his hearing, he caught the last of a 
sentence.

"I expect the money on my desk by Friday." The head of Blair and 
Sons Motor Industry. 

"Don't be foolish- it would be too suspicious, you already have the 
media searching your every drawer." The silky voice, full of danger 
and waiting to strike. 

"Do you want Gate out of the scene or not?" A low threat, backed by 
nothing but words. A poor attempt to threaten the billionaire. `

"Do not sully my hands with your impatience. We have a deal, do not 
steer from it, lest I have to rectify the problem myself."

" You're out of your league Luthor, you can't possibly do this 
directly and not have Jr. and the reports tagging you down. It's 
amazing he doesn't know about this now." A new voice, most likely 
the short man in Berkley's law firm. 

"Ah this – Jr.- fellow is just another obstacle is the long run of 
business. He will soon cease to be a problem, but let us not veer 
off track. I am not worried about Joseph; he is an insect to the 
tiger hiding in the grass. 

"No, no. It is a leak, a certain Taylor Birks, who you men should 
really be worried about. Ah, yes, Mr. Birks. Wasn't he employed to 
you, Sam? He has grown quite a conscience, rather dangerous in his 
line of business."

" I would take you down with me."

" No one would believe you. Forget the money, make Gate disappear or 
certain facts will reappear. I would hate to lose such two business 
partners." 

Silence danced among the tense air, playing with the cords of 
frustration, drawing them tighter and tighter, until finally one 
snapped. 

"Gate will be gone." Defeat sang it's beautiful voice. Sometimes it 
seemed, not even the whimsical sounds of music could calm a fierce 
tyrant. Life is unforgiving. By twelve midnight Thursday, when their 
plans of actions had carried through, both of the CEOs would be 
laying in a pool of their own blood, their last note a resonant 
scream, followed by several rest, a quiet ending for a dramatic 
piece. 

A turning knob, a click allowing access out, and the soft shut of 
the door concluded the meeting. 

Clark, always looking out for the fellow citizens, quickly banked 
the names in his head. He did not know who Joseph Gate or Birk were, 
but knowing Luthor, they would be deceased by the end of this week. 

Obligation, or perhaps more of friendship, drove Clark into 
informing Lois, asking her to do the dog's work of the partnership 
until his shift was over.

Happily, she agreed, babbling off a list of possible scenarios 
before hanging up. 

A smooth click, the dooming turning of miniature pins, sounded in 
Clark's ear, and without further investigation, he knew he was 
locked in the bathroom. The soft pace of feet, so familiar, but so 
unknown, stalked closer. Suddenly the rhythm stopped, two feet, 
impatience glaring from the black shine, stood right outside the 
bathroom door. 

The shine, the shine, the shine, he could not ignore it. No super 
speed nor any of his other mutant powers could save him here. The 
enclosed walls suddenly shrunk, a wild uproar ceased his senses. He 
had to get out of there before he and all his mutant self passed 
out. Forcing himself to relax, he mightily, tentatively opened the 
door, ignoring the urge to burst out of the cell and flee from the 
claustrophobia. 

"Hello, Mr. Kent." The smooth voice, so promising and so deceiving. 

"Lex- Luthor." Flustered, again. Caught. In a stall, cell phone 
still held in his left hand, food tray- where did he put that again? 
A red hue boiled up, and he threatened it back down. "Did- Did you 
follow me in here?" He pushed past him, out of the stall. Aha, 
outrage. Much better. 

"Simply worried when a waiter went missing. You know, when I helped 
you in Smallville, I did not mean for you to become a waiter in 
Metropolis." Lex chuckled, flashing him a coral set of teeth. 

The smile ran through his veins, the blood pumping faster, the heart 
racing faster—his mind suddenly struck with a cold fear: "Stay away 
from me. I do not want your help." A fleeting, anxious feeling 
floated into Clark's gut, encouraging the thrumming of his blood. 
The lunatic in front of him had not seemed to radically alter over 
the years.

"But you don't really need my help do you? I'll save immolation for 
another day." A slight smirk, more friendly (if you could call a 
lunatic friendly) than cruel, and then the conversation turned 
serious. A dark shadow cast itself on Lex, and a warning fell from 
his lips,  "Clark, you're playing with sharks. There is nothing they 
will not do. Expect everything, expect nothing. Do not trust anyone, 
least of all your friends. Businessmen are tyrants."

" And are you a businessman?" The shadow moved off of Lex, hitting 
Clark's left hand, as if slowly infecting him. 

"A slight trade below, I'm afraid. But, in your line of work, I am 
sure you knew that?"

Ah yes, the collapse of LexCorp, the end of a terrifying reign. 
Filled with possibilities, charity organizations, and thousands of 
other helpful tidbits, LexCorp was doomed. Slight slips, rounded 
edges, had LexCorp not been eaten by LuthorCorp, LexCorp could have 
become dangerously powerful. The mightily fall, an anguished cry 
ringing through the city, thousands losing their job due to 
LuthorCorp cuts, the mere four minutes summarized everything. 

"Perhaps the fall was a miracle? Fatum erat." The snotty reply was 
meant to hurt, but his companion smiled. 

"Fatum sumus. If anything happens, call this number. Give your name 
and you'll be sent directly to me. Sharks, Clark. A life vest will 
not save you." A card, with shinning gold print, was handed to 
Clark, who took it without contemplation. 

An agreement, a truce, he did not understand it himself. He hated 
the man in front of him, the one who ripped away his secure setting 
in Smallville and forced him to abandon his miserable mom. (Who, 
although she wanted him to go and escape Smallville, clung to him 
until the very end.) And yet, he held Lex's eyes, promising, "If 
anything ever happens to you, I'm sure you have a data file or a 
drawer full of my contact information. Don't be afraid to use it." 

He couldn't understand what made him say that, but he felt 
alarmingly surprised he meant it. Even the joke, lingering on bitter 
memories, was lightly meant, a sort of diminishing the tension. 

Lex stepped away from the threshold, allowing Clark access to the 
outdoors. 

Perhaps something had changed in the man. 

-----

A pile of notes scattered the desk, print outs and access codes and 
pictures were smeared across the desk in random order. A busy day at 
the planet, topped off with Clark's lead, and finally, finally 
something was coming out of it. 

Joseph Gate arrived in Metropolis around three years ago, ready to 
begin his own business in Gnoles. At the time, the place was well 
known for it's extravagant restaurants and elegant antique shops. 
Although those days were over, and his restaurant long closed, Gate 
still resided in the area, the building and house still owned by 
him. 

And perfectly, the number had not changed in the past three years. 
Taking the late hour chance, as Lois was known to do, she dialed the 
number. 

A gruff, sluggish voice responded, "'Lo? Who's callin'?" 

Clearing her throat and making it as serene as possible, a difficult 
task for someone with a nagging thread pulling her towards the 
Pulitzer, Lois retorted, "Ah- Mr. Gate? This is Lois Lane, from the 
Daily Planet-" 

"Whatchya callin' her for ? I didn't do nothing." Defensive. 
Something really big had to be going down. 

"Actually, I was wondering if you knew anything about the burglaries 
going on-"

 Click.

"Joseph? Gate? Hello? Dammit."

Perhaps she should take Clark's advice and go for a more subtle 
approach. The idea of resembling the sickly sweet farm boy in any 
form revolted her, and she decided she would just find some other 
way. She would have her Pulitzer.


---- 

Ralph Snealzs was a common city businessman, so common indeed, there 
was nothing outlandish about him. In the early 2000s, his restaurant 
had won awards dignifying it as most prominent restaurant. During 
that time, he had been married and happily divorced. Also, once 60 
grand in the hole, he was now receiving insurance from his 
restaurant's robbery in Gnoles. 

So common he was, he had a tapping set up, covering the range of the 
street, waiting for a misplaced sign, waiting for a sign his 
paranoia was not in futile. 

Belle's Kitchen, his life, his treasure, was nothing more than a 
wasted dump. He sat with frantic worry over the days proceedings. 

At last! A fellow owner in Gnoles, Gate had just called a reporter. 
Driven with fear, he quickly moved to cover the spill. Taking the 
trace, a number and a house, he knew what he must do. There were 
some things in life that were better left unknown.

As a common city businessman, it was his duty to make sure they 
remained secret. 

----

Monday morning, Clark and Lois went over her notes, and no lead. 
Monday morning, and a call from Chloe- lasting no more than two 
seconds, which happened frequently because she always called him to 
ask a question but suddenly realized the answer and hung up before 
he could answer- and no contacts. Monday morning, Gate had 
supposedly fled town; Monday morning, Snealz had taken to become a 
dummy, unable to talk unless the ventriloquist of a lawyer put the 
words into his mouth. Monday morning, and still Lionel Luthor knew 
better than to speak to amateur reporters. Monday Morning, Clark had 
yet to call Lex- not that he ever would, be he still thought about 
it. 

Monday morning and Chloe went missing.

Clark was the first to know, followed five seconds later by Lois. 

Clark informed the police officer he received a call from her a few 
hours earlier. The police officer informed Clark Chloe was last seen 
a few days ago, and a neighbor had complained about her cat's meows. 
Perry informed Clark they looked like he swallowed a cockroach. 
Clark informed Perry he was taking a personal day. 

Leaving without further notice, Clark bolted out the door, the 
disease of worry spreading through him and attacking his rationality.

---

She was dimly aware of the faint pain in the back of her head, 
growing progressively noticeable as her senses began to return. A 
voice murmmering in the background, pacing back and forth. The loud 
clunk of the feet making it's appearance through a pulsation sound 
in Chloe's mind. 

Over the thudding sound of feet, Chloe could distinguish the 
syllables of the words until they began to make sense, forming 
compound sentences- ah ah! There was the noun. Clone. The clone's 
progress was proceeding well. And! There was another noun. Lionel. 
Wait! 

Chloe's mind  without more ado backtracked, reviewing the 
information and sharply tuning itself. Luckily, she could jump back 
and process the given information. 

"I don't want to be involved with this! My part involves a 
restaurant, not whatever the hell some maniac built below it. Clear 
my name or I swear to God- Taylor? What does he have to do with 
this?" The harsh hush of his voice rang through the cracked walls.

For the first time since being awake, Chloe noticed she was in an 
deserted restaurant. She figured as much, due to Joseph Gasper's 
call. She did not know why he called her, but she never turned down 
the gruff voice of a terrified man. He was in trouble, that much he 
had not said, but it was implied. He promised her he didn't mean any 
of it, promised he just got caught up in business. He was a 
businessman, he was supposed to do all he could to protect his 
business. He start incoherently babbling about the Luthors and 
proceeded to hang up. Right after, Chloe called Lex. 
 
Lex and her had remained on a friendly relationship, strengthening 
over the downfall of LexCorp. Lex, although understanding she could 
not mention her sources name due to journalism ethics, offered to 
hire her help, even stay with her a few nights until she was less 
spooked. Two nights and several backaches from a lumpy coach, Lex 
was released from his obligation. Chloe had not received anymore 
calls, and if she were she was to call Lex. Once agreed, Lex still 
had Mercy watch over her. 

Even under Mercy's guard, eight hours, 36 minutes, and 17 seconds 
after being left on her own, Chloe was captured by a man she had 
known, but certainly not the man she talked to on the phone. 

The rounded face of Snealz stared at her, whispering, "I'm sorry," 
over and over, even as she passed out from the chloroform. 

And even now, through her blurry vision, Chloe saw herself laid on a 
bed made of cushions, covered with a blanket and a glass of water 
beside her. No chains, no rope. She might as well be an obligatory 
victim through all the care he had gone into making her comfortable- 
well, as comfortable as possible in an abandoned restaurant. 

Once again, the voices picked up in her hearing range, "Powers? From 
where? Kent? His lover? No, no. Don't tell me anymore. I hear, see, 
and speak no evil-- as long as I do not hear nor see evil." He 
abruptly hung up the phone, shaking and worried.

Clark? Lex? Clones? Lionel? Looking in her pocket, yes, he hadn't 
taken her phone. Signal? One bar. Good. She called Clark, just 
getting him and losing signal as he picked up. Dammit. 

She thrusted her phone between the cushions, incase Snealz decided 
he would turn on his "favorite reporter" who he had entrusted so 
many leads in. Sometimes, people you knew the most, flabbergasted 
you the most. 

---

Even with his mutant powers and journalist training, Clark was 
hopeless. Calling his mother, she informed him that the best thing 
to do was relax and let the police take care everything. Her gentle 
anguished voice, always so broken after Jonathan's death, always so 
regretful - she was never the same kindhearted women he remembered 
from his childhood years- calmed him with familiarity. 

Lex Luthor had been the last person seen with Chloe Sullivan. Had 
the tyrant kidnapped her to prove an insane point to Clark? Quit 
waiting and become a journalist or you'll lose the only inspiration 
you ever had? Maybe he should just inform the businessman he really 
was a reporter and he would give Chloe back. 

Somehow, Clark did not think Lex, although quite capable physically 
and mentally, kidnapped Chloe. Otherwise, why in the world would 
there be a large crew of men hired by Lex looking for the missing 
person? Not the scoundrels Lionel would have hired, whose men were 
more for the purpose of burying than digging, but rather honest, 
good working humble men. 

Rebelling against his mom's words, Clark took on watching Lex's 
employees, scouting them for information. It was a floating idea, 
but the broken red vase, shattered in the attack, had an odd piece 
among the remains. The darker shade of red, glaring different colors 
at different points in the light, looked oddly familiar. Forensic 
science told the investigators the glass was not from anywhere in 
the room, but an outside source. 

This information, passed on to Clark through the use of his special 
abilities, gave him a shimmer of hope. More information, passed by a 
telephone company about recent phone calls, gave him all the 
confirmation he needed. The last call Chloe received was from Joseph 
Gate. Taking the lead, he wound back up into Gnoles. 

The streets, still lubrigious and uninviting, were less ominous than 
before. No lights, but on a hunch, Clark knew he would find what he 
was looking for. And if running into Lex Luthor, glamored out in a 
five hundred dollar shirt and a ridiculously expensive pair of 
pants, happened to be on the road to finding Chloe, so be it. 

Lex looked at him, and sighed as if he expected this, "Somehow, I 
think I may have known you would be here."

Lex did not bother questioning Clark on how he received his 
information, in fact he just smiled. His whole demeanor had changed 
in the years since Smallville. No longer was he an attending 
businessman. He had played that part, formed LexCorp, say the final 
annihilation of LexCorp,  and now he idled around, working for his 
father, doing nothing more than paper work. No, this Lex Luthor was 
not a businessman, this man had hung up his suit and retired. 

"I just got a call sending me information about Chloe. The police 
are coming in ten minutes, but I thought I'd give it a look around, 
play a bit of Hero." Not waiting for Clark, Lex entered the 
building, slowly opening the door, glad when there was no creaking 
breaking the haunting silence. The slight pad of feet, calming and 
worrying, and ten million other things Clark did not think about, 
disappeared into the partially lit building. 

For all the careful procedure, they might as well have banged open 
the door, for in the next second, Lex fell through a few rotten 
boards. Before he could think, Clark was on the floor at an 
unnatural rate, grabbing Lex's hand and saving him from crashing to 
the bottom. Hoping the shock had unhinged his senses, Clark lifted 
Lex, helping him dust off from the wreckage. 

Knowing that stealthily trying to approach would now be useless, 
Clark left Lex and ran into the main room, trying to find them 
before anyone managed to get away. 

Only, no one was there. The abandoned restaurant was actually an 
abandoned restaurant. No Chloe held in the corner, begging for her 
life as this insane Gate character tried to murder her. 
The lead was at a dead end, time to turn and find a new road. Lex 
came behind him, a few minutes later, slightly limping and holding 
his arm, which Clark now noticed to be bleeding. 

"Hey, watch it, I left you to rest, not kill yourself trying to walk 
across the room." Clark checked over his body with his x-ray vision, 
a fleeting relief coursed through him. Nothing sprained, nothing 
broken. 

"No harm done, I heal quick." He scrutinized his eyes, sending a 
slight challenge, as if the statement were so profound that only a 
select few had heard it before. Perhaps Lex thought Clark that 
important, and was challenging Clark to address his feelings as 
well. Perhaps not. 

"I suppose that comes in handy when you are related to Lionel 
Luthor." Clark smiled, not prepared to address his relationship, the 
tension, the thumping of his heart, the yearning that was once again 
returning-- even in the amidst of his best friend's kidnapping. 

"Well, it's countered with having Clark Kent at my side. My Mr. Hero 
of sorts." 

The statement to Clark sounded odd, having more meaning than he 
could ever imagine. He saved him from the floor boards' doom, but 
the damage had he not been there could not have been so severe the 
cops would not have been able to handle it. 

Lex tore off a piece of his shirt, tying it around his wounded arm, 
preventing further blood loss. "Even if I do heal quick, blood is a 
nasty thing to lose." 

Taking off his jacket- Clark laid it down on Lex's shoulders. "I 
would hate to have you explain to the authorities how you managed to 
get so tattered without a victim in site. Falling through a hole 
does not sound nearly as heroic when there's no damsel in distress."

Lex did not remark on how the dark colored jacket hide the spill of 
blood, instead he opted to change the subject, putting the concern 
for Chloe first, " Did you try all the rooms?" 

With my x-ray vision, thought Clark, but he wasn't about to tell 
that to Lex. "Yes."

Lex nodded, not bothering to double check his word, showing more 
trust that one would assume of someone in the line of CEOs, but as 
Clark had discovered before, Lex was not such the businessman 
personality. 

"I'm going to check with Snealz, he's been quiet lately, but maybe 
he could tell us if he saw anything." Clark stated, leaving an 
opening for Lex to join him, if he so wished. 

Lex nodded, "Let's give the police our statements and head out. I 
don't suppose this Snealz character owns a restaurant too? I think I 
might be getting sick of them. Wouldn't it be ironic if I died in 
one?" 

Clark, ever the one for superstitions, knocked on the nearest 
wall. "Lex, keep thoughts like that to yourself next time, okay?" 

Lex, noticing the affect of his words, nodded, "I promise we will 
find Chloe alive and we will all make it out okay. Perhaps we will 
go out for that tea Chloe's been addicted to lately."

Clark laughed, "You're behind on the days- Chloe's sticking strictly 
to coffee again. Easy to make and plenty of it late nights in the 
Planet."

" I don't suppose you drink that dirt too?" Lex questioned, heading 
out in front of Clark to the police, who by the sound of it, just 
arrived. 

"Not since I worked at  the Beanery." What could have come out as 
harsh and angry, came out as a slight joke of old times, as if they 
were two friends reminiscing on old times. 

"Yes, that evil coffee maker." Lex laughed. 

"You knew about that?" Clark's eyes bugged and suddenly he realized 
by just how much he had been set up that day. Lex would have started 
the fire where he was most vulnerable, in order he would not 
diminish the wild flames by any method. 

"Clark, soon you'll realize there is nothing I don't know."

-----

The dramatic freeing of Chloe, as put forth into Clark's head, took 
place the very next hour. Or, Snealz, hearing the police sirens so 
close to his door, jumped out of dodge and fled the scene, leaving 
a "napping" Chloe alone in the corner. 

After three minutes, Chloe hopped out of the building and ran toward 
the sound of the police sirens. 

Well, she would have ran, but still lethargic from the chloroform 
and having only coffee and water in her system, she may have made it 
a half of a mile before her bones screeched "no more." 

Walking the rest of the way, she regained her breath as well as 
composure. All the better, for when the flashes and yells, and 
dozens of microphones where thrust into her view, she look quite a 
doll rather than a deranged mutt. 

Chloe had found Clark, rather than Clark finding Chloe. 

----

Chloe had become distant, as was normal with kidnapping. She told 
them nothing about who had kidnapped her, nor the words shared. 
Setting back, all three in a booth in a coffee shop, Chloe on one 
side by herself with the supposed lovers setting across from her, 
Chloe really looked at them.

And they really did look like lovers. She supposed the past couple 
of days brought them closer together. The hostility between the two 
had all but disappeared, replaced with a mutual acceptance- and 
perhaps more. 

The light in Lex's eyes, although it was always there whether he was 
seeing Clark, or talking about Clark, seemed now more mystical, as 
if he found his holy grail. 

And Clark, perhaps had Clark once again found his prince. Even 
through the monstrosity of the earlier years--- Clark would kill 
Chloe if he knew burning down the Beanery had been her idea--- had 
tempered. 

Which meant they were both in trouble. Lionel Luthor was a vicious 
pit-bull; he could look surprisingly affable and saccharine, even as 
his victims hand rest mischievously detached in his mouth. 

Lex had mentioned clones in Smallville; Lionel had tried to make a 
clone of him to follow dutifully through the business world, 
becoming his puppet. The clones never lasted more than a couple of 
days, and finally the research was ended.

Chloe remembered how much strain had been put on Lex- knowing the 
control his father had on him, until he had ultimately sent out to 
start his own business. He succeeded well, too well in fact. Perhaps 
that was his undoing, Lex was never much of a businessman, he didn't 
have the guts, the over glace. No, he was much better suited as a 
caring brother in society. 

Chloe refused to destroy the Lex he had finally managed to become, 
refused to drive him back to the business world he had so reviled. 
No, Lex had sacrificed enough. It was her time to give back to her 
friend, as well as her best friend, what they have offered her all 
along. A chance. 

----
 
Threats thickened, and finally, it became too much. The police 
ransacked his broken building, the structure finally collapsing on 
itself, falling to it's grave in a rush of tumble and timber. Who 
hears a tree falling in the middle of an deserted forest? He 
certainly did. 

He felt it as well, he breathed it, smelling the decayed wood, 
tasting the forgotten succulence, he certainly saw it, the dream now 
shattered beyond repair. He could take the money, start new. Snealz 
would want him to. Snealz, his beloved friend, always by his side, 
always with him. Business partners, he was glad Snealz had left 
town, leaving his soul only slightly besmirched of his hideous 
crimes. He betrayed Snealz, to the highest degree. There was no 
point, he was a dying red star. 

But now, he realized, the pressure was on, there was no escape. He 
was a mere puppet in a line of evil doings. He would complete his 
work, and he would be killed; he would not do his work, and he would 
be killed. 

Was the triumph worth the cost? Did it matter? He was a dead soul 
anyway; he might as well be a useful dead soul. 

He promised Snealz he would pursue his dream no matter what may 
come. They would pursue it together, and he broke apart torn by his 
own greed. He would do this for Snealz, so when he finally knew of 
the betrayal, he would as least know it was worth something rather 
than nothing. 

-----

The pressure, the need to be repent, came to one other that 
thunderous evening. The devil it seemed, had been making his tours. 
Only, this one, willingly sacrificed everything at the price of good 
rather than evil. She would not be the puppet, she would be the 
actress. She could pretend to be manipulated, and she would do it. 
For her friends and for her self. 

Some things were too great to leave behind. 

Sometimes fate had a comical way of presenting itself.

Sometimes following the devil led to virtue. 

----
Four Months Later
---

"Wait- you're meeting Lex Luthor, the Lex Luthor, for lunch? It's 
apart of an expose right, please, please tell me you don't really 
trust this guy? Do you remember the last months of LexCorp. He's a 
monster." Lois Lane- now known to slaughter the victims until the 
truth is revealed. 

She had become gradually better, realizing she must hold her own 
temper as well as patience. Coerce the victim to you, let them tell 
you all they have to say, and then nail them relentlessly in the 
newspaper. Let no page go unturned, this is a newspaper and the 
people will have the truth. 

And the truth with Lex Luthor lay in history, in their newspaper no 
less. The tyrant, cutting thousands of workers due to a bad 
contract. It was her first piece, and would remain with her as an 
achievement upon her wall forever. 

Although both Chloe and Clark had mentioned what a great guy Lex 
could really be, well, in their versions of great guys. Neither 
Chloe or Clark ever flat out said "he is wonderful," but it was 
implied. Oh the implications. 

If she could round up a gang of reporters, there would probably be a 
poll of how far Lex and Clark had gone. They had to be lovers, or 
soon to be at least. 

So of course Clark's judgment was skewed. And Chloe had known Lex 
forever; it's always difficult to see the flaws in the friends. 

No, no. She was alone in this investigation. For four months the 
burglaries had been on the back burner, simmering into a Pulitzer. 
Once this investigation broke, once the story was out, once the 
ending had finally come- she would have her Pulitzer.

Nothing was stopping her- not even the silly fleeting enchantments 
of love. 

---

"I would suggest you run away from Lionel Luthor before you're 
utility runs out. He is dangerous.

Rob Gane" 

The note stood posted on her door. A caution, a pledge. She trashed 
it. 


---

Taking quiet stroll through the park, a simple and sweet feeling 
clouding Clark's head. Side by side, he and Lex meandered among the 
picturesque setting. Hundreds of bushes, forming into a cutout of a 
portrait, the idea stolen from a park somewhere in Columbus, 
surrounded them. Music soared around them; the rustled the plants 
gave a more lively set to the picture.

A serene picture of a utopian world. Everyone was casually dressed, 
except the businessman on the ground- even the small detail of a bow 
was trimmed on the "businessman-bush."

----

"It has been completed, sir. One week, four days, 17 hours. Ripening 
succeeded. Age 14. It will take another week to make sure after the 
rapid growth he slows down properly." The voice droned on, giving 
facts without feelings. This was his duty. He would make Snealz 
proud of him.

"Flaws?" The demanding voice urged, feeling himself annoyed with any 
mistakes.

"We cannot reenacts any scars he may have received during his 
childhood years." The worthless hours, banging the clone, attempting 
to perfect the scars. So silly, when makeup will do just as well. 
People never notice the difference anyway, the fake can become the 
real.

----

Clark looked at Lex, remembering the "date" (which, Clark refused to 
call a date to anyone but himself) they shared last week. 

The billionaire had shed his suit and traveled out to a lazy 
luncheon down by the planet. Clark, convinced they would have had 
nothing in common, that he was wasting his time, actually enjoyed 
himself. 

As a lonely outcast, Lex had found a love in history and movies and 
(if Clark ever told anyone this, he would face a wrath more 
terrifying than Chloe's cookies) Warrior Angel. Clark, who had not 
been able to stop imagining Lex in a set of wings and decked out in 
a spandex suit, finally gave into the childish impulse to laugh, 
agreeing that it was better Lex Warrior Angel than try to become 
him. 

Lex replied that if only Clark would become Warrior Angel for him, 
he would have his own personal savior, and then he would bother to 
read the books. 

The present tense of the verb brought up a series of revelations: 
Lex had a warrior angel collection, missing only two, Lex was still 
fascinated with Clark (for whatever reason,)  Clark did not mind 
that fascination, and perhaps they should go try this "date" thing 
next week. 

However, by the time next week had come, a worry had clouded itself 
around Clark. 

"Have you talked to Chloe lately?" Clark inquired, throwing some of 
his hot-dog bun into the man-made pond in the middle of the park, 
with imported ducks and fish.

"Journalist are rarely ever free," Lex replied dryly, reminding 
Clark of the many failed attempts to meet up before this. 

"She's been working around the clock again, ever since the 
kidnapping. I know Chloe said she was fine, that she never even met 
her supposed kidnapper. She was heavily drugged, sleep deprived, and 
coffee driven- that she managed to even walk surprised me. But she's 
been pushing her limits. Perry wants her to take a vacation; she's 
not having it." He looked to the ducks, fighting over the piece of 
bread, as if it were the last piece that would be offered to them. 

---

"No matter what we do, his hair will not stop growing. If this 
really is a success, his hair will have to be shaved every three 
hours."

" Three?" Again, outraged and demanding. 

"Perhaps accelerated do to the birthing process. We have high hopes 
the growth will slow down when the clone reaches twenty-eight." 

--- 

Lex cupped Clark's chin, forcing Clark to look into his eyes, "Even 
if the whole world turned upside down, and she became a mere puppy 
following her master, she would still be working on a story." Lex 
smiled, adding lightly, "She'd break away as soon as she smelt 
something fishy."

Clark smiled back, comforted by the billionaire's words, "I thought 
cat's smelt fish?"

His hand smoothed over Clark's face, "Chloe is a cat- independent 
and taunting- she's always going to smell fish." 

His heart beat irregularly. The hooded eyes poured into him, and he 
forced himself to break the tension with a small bit of humor, "So I 
guess she smells you?"

Lex moved away, ruffling Clark's hair, "Are you implying I am a 
fish?" 

An offended laugh followed Lex's words, "You could never be a fish, 
maybe a steak." 

"I'm steak now?" Lex stood up from the bench, giving him a mock-
outrage look. 

"Quite a delicious piece as well." Clark grinned at him, and then 
tossed the rest of his bun into the pond.

Shaking his head, Lex started walking off, "No wonder you are 
hopeless in relationships." But, Lex still laughed, turning back to 
Clark, "C'mon, Farm boy." 

---

"I have an offer." Having worked with him for over four months, she 
knew his words meant more than he would say. Quid Pro Quo never 
worked well with Lionel Luthor, he would be relentless with demands.

"Yes, Mr. Luthor?" She did not look up from her desk work, papers of 
information, all collected by her, summarizing data for the tyrant. 
She did not want to appear too eager, but she could not help her 
bright eyes fill with hope- was this it? Was this the chance she had 
dreamed of for four months? 

"I have run into quite an obstacle as of late." He stated, a matter 
of fact, leaving nothing to work with. 

She looked uncertainly at the man, so perhaps this wasn't the chance 
she dreamed of. "I don't know that-"

"It has come to my attention- you have a friend, a dear Clark Kent. 
A son of Martha Clark, or did she keep the name Kent?" The light, 
careful way he mentioned her name caught Chloe off guard, He almost 
sounded as he- as if he had loved Clark's mom, the broken, 
distraught woman. Perhaps the relationship had progressed into 
something dangerous, something so dangerous it had broken her 
spirit. Perhaps it broke his humanity too. "I never really 
understood the tragedy of a spouse dying. My wife was always so 
distant, when she died it was as if a favorite portrait was 
destroyed. Easily replaceable, but nothing would quite fit the 
same." Maybe not.

"I work-"

"I do not accept carefully calculated lies. You've known him for 
years, long before you worked with him." Lionel stated, not 
bothering to scold Chloe more for her understated declaration.

It was useless to deny it, "We've been friends since eighth grade."

" Both originating from Smallville. Quite a mysterious town, you'd 
be surprised to find out how many Metropolitans are actually from 
Smallville." He shook his head, laughing at himself in his 
head, "Help me, and I'll give you that Pulitzer you have so desired. 
That Pulitzer that every journalist desires."

" You've mistaken me- what says a friend, especially such a nice one 
as Clark, isn't more important that the Pulitzer?" Play it offended, 
don't let him-

"Nice guys are always liars, but you know this, don't you? Ever feel 
the anger, the tart memory of the lies tying your relationship, the 
envy of someone knowing him more- even when you have been best 
friends for how many years?"

" What do you mean?" Was this what she thought it was? Did he know-

"Wouldn't it kill you to know, I have in very good authority that my 
son and your best friends are now lovers, have been so for quite 
some time. Did you know that?"

The pain hit her. She knew Lex and Clark were close, but closer than 
her and Clark? The heartbreak filled her. She thought she had ridded 
herself of these love sick feelings the day Clark had told her he 
was gay. But then, she thought that the power of their relationship 
was strong enough so Chloe would be the first to know. She had 
always been the first to know. She thought she'd always be the first 
to know. Apparently not. 

"I don't believe you." She bit out, "Clark would have told me."

Lionel tossed pictures onto the table, showing her his cards. 
Images, shared kisses between Clark and Lex in the park, the two 
entering into the Penthouse, a ragged Clark leaving it the next 
morning, more intimate kisses in various places. All out of place, 
all so extravagant. All so completely fake.

Vengeance ran through her, how dare he try to turn her against her 
best friend. Her mind was immediately made up. 

"You surprise me, Mr. Luthor. I hadn't realized you've been doing so 
much research." Her voice a forcefully airy. 

"Give me everything you know about Clark, and I'll give you that 
Pulitzer- or whatever else you may dream to have." A beautiful 
offer, one a lesser journalist so enthralled with the Pulitzer would 
take. 

Chloe looked at him, frowning slightly, making her unhappiness 
known, "Just because he might be an ass, doesn't mean I want him 
dead."

Lionel laughed, the first sign of something other than his usually 
mad businessman demeanor. "Chloe. It would look bad if a businessman 
such as I were to kill a noble man such as he. I can't go around 
killing reporters just because I don't like them."

" No ties, no strings? After it – no contact? No blackmail?"

" Chloe, my reputation must be exaggerated. I would never do such a 
thing, unless in dire situations. This is just for learning 
material. Such a strong, independent person could ruin the world as 
we know it. I want to prevent that, save him from himself. No harm. 
Just control."

"I-Alright." She had signed her soul to the sea witch, dressed in 
the form of a businessman. Already she felt the curls of the eels 
holding her down under the water. 

----

No more robberies took place for another two months, so the 
backburner story was shut out from the scene. Once simmering, now 
cold. Or- that's what they told Perry, who was a stickler for the 48 
hour nonsense. 

Hanging up the phone, Clark slide over to Lois, whispering, "I think 
I might have a lead-" 

Bright brown eyes looked up at Clark, "Random tip?" Her voice 
sounded doubtful, superior in judgment. She still thought Clark had 
no idea what he was doing.

"No- that guy? Joseph Gate? I got an interview with him. Lex set it 
up. I think he might have just said Lois Lane-- you're more well 
known." It was rushed through the bustle of putting on a jacket. 

A look of disgust ran through Lois' features. Even her hair seemed 
to deflate a little. Turning back to her work, she scoffed, "Luthor? 
Why don't you just jump in front of a bullet? Actually, that's 
probably what he's having you do." 

Lois never let the hate go, in fact, it may have been building 
throughout the past months. She even seemed to be hating Clark more, 
for whatever reason. 

"He's not that bad-" He attempted to say, but Lois was having none 
of it. Even if they had known each other since their early teen 
years-- Lois and Chloe were cousins, and Chloe thought it would be 
wonderful to have her two favorite people meet so they could all be 
friends and have their own newspaper—Clark would never understand 
Lois, or Chloe come to think of it. 

"You can go alone." Final. He has been dismissed, and off he went 
alone. 

He might as well not have gone at all, because Gate did not show up. 
However, on the table where they were supposed to meet he left a 
note: 

"Snlz = Rob" 

----

"I'm just confused what Snealz has to do with any of this. He's been 
our source for years. I wish I could talk to Chloe but I have been 
out of sorts with her lately."

Lois looked at the paper, analyzing it- looking at the shorthand, 
seeing something, anything, that would help her. 

"Maybe it doesn't mean anything. How do we know Snlz is Snealz? 
Maybe Luthor put it there to keep us off track." She dropped the 
paper back into Clark's hand, "I suggest trashing it."

Clark looked at her, really seeing how much this story had 
transformed her. Transformed everyone really. He had set aside a 
long burning hate that had stuck with him for several years, Chloe 
had become more reasonable her works, sticking to less dangerous 
stories, and Lois had let a hate divide itself between her work and 
rational. He could not say the change was for the better. 

He tried again, talking aloud, helping his mind absorb the 
information, trying to look for a different side to this puzzle 
piece, "Maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe it means Snealz robbed his 
place? For what? Insurance? He was in debt, but then how would Gate 
know this? Maybe it was part of a conspiracy? LuthorCorp was looking 
into buildings in that area, paid people to rob the areas-- getting 
rid of the business, allowing him to buy the land up. Why that land? 
Property is expensive, maybe to lower it down a bit?" 

Lois looked up again, sighing and coming back to sit on Clark's 
desk, "Clark? Does any of that make sense to you?"

" We have seven robberies. All pertaining to that area. No traces, 
one kidnapping. It's weird."

She had found some leads, which would tie Luthor to the robberies, 
but she still needed to meet up with a few more sources. So, maybe 
Lois should fill Clark in on her information? But the slight lull of 
the Pulitzer tugged at her heart. She could bare to lose some 
brownie points with Clark if it meant she got her story. Partners 
were only partners when they needed to be. No, she decided to keep 
the puppy reporter on the one subject that pestered him the 
most, "That kidnapping is weird. Chloe's been completely mum on it, 
it's rather frustrating. Has she mentioned it to you?"

As yes. The sore subject with Mr. Clark Kent. The communication 
between them had become that of an old friend you accidentally bump 
into. Awkward hellos, and freeing goodbyes. 

"Mentioned? I would love to have heard from her at all. Lex told me 
she probably is getting over the shock, and the kidnapping is 
finally hitting her, and to let her come out and seek me. But, well, 
five months? I don't know." Clark sighed. 

Check. Point. Match. Lois had won this, and now, less worry about 
the underdog stealing her lead. Even just having a byline for this 
wouldn't be enough- it was hers and hers alone. 

----

"You don't want to do this." Lex struggled against the knife 
pressing into his throat, slicing so thinly only a sliver of blood 
escaped, trickling down his neck. The beat of his heart speed up, 
and for the first time he was really scared for his life. The 
funeral march sung in his head, and he wasn't even sure his Hero 
could save him. 

"Mr. Luthor orders, sir." A drone, simple and obedient. The man had 
no free thought, having it been destroyed through pressures. He 
would prove himself, he would live for something. Snealz would be 
proud. Snealz. Snealz would forgive him. 

----

"It is time. In twenty minutes, send the message. He'll arrive, and 
I'll grant you your reward. You have been a very good source, Ms. 
Sullivan. Most thorough, most agreeable as well."

" My name will serve no connection to this. I'm here for the story 
and nothing else."

" I admire that."

" Just remember it." 

---

The drugs were injected through a vein, and although he was still 
awake, he was more docile and less dangerous. 

Dragged below a building, the dark corners of the street familiar 
and so very dark. The shadows casting down upon him and his 
kidnapper. Only through the halls did light shine, did some kind of 
lighter tone fill his mind. And hope! 

There was Chloe, standing tasseled and tired. She must have been 
kidnapped too, through whatever they both had gotten into; she 
didn't looked drugged- she must have been here for hours. Her mind 
would be clearer for thought. He tried rushing toward her, only to 
be sharply reminded of the knife threatening his throat. 

And suddenly, his vision darkened, black dots formed in his eyes, he 
fought it off, coming back from his dilemma to see Lionel behind 
Chloe, directing her with a wave of his hand. 

What was going on?

"Ms. Sullivan, I think it may be time for the third member of our 
party to join us, don't you think? Why not give him a call. Ah wait, 
I suppose he is the fourth. Lex, I would like to meet the new and 
improved you."

An eerie melody, as if the wind had whispered through the enclosed 
room, sang slowly, and out of a corner came a six foot monstrosity, 
completely bald, in a black suit, tucked with a white shirt, a 
button undone at the top, a relaxed posture, blue eyes glued 
straight to his brothers, a carbon copy of Lex. 

---

Snealz watched his friend, coming out of the shadows for the first 
time in several months. He knew there were some things Taylor 
wouldn't tell him, refused to mention. There were some things that 
Snealz knew and refused to mention. Their broken friendship had 
nearly torn them apart. No longer were the two of them the business 
partners they had dreamed, but rather broken men. They were 
destroyed by the pressures of society, and now there was no saving 
them. 

Even Joseph Gate, once full of so much optimism and candor, had 
fallen to the perversions of Lionel Luthor. An honest man from 
Smallville, Joseph had meant the big sharks in Metropolis, 
innocently believing a fresh new start possible. After suffering 
through a long line of minute business, Joseph had taken a loan from 
Luthor, believing interest would be enough to keep the head shark 
satisfied. No, Joseph had been the first to receive the offer to 
sell his building, and he had been the first to refuse. He had not 
been safe since. 

No, three innocent men taken by the ties of the schools of sharks 
haunting Metropolis. 

And now, Taylor had committed the greatest crime. Rushing off to 
ameliorate these trappings, to save them all from these sharks, to 
save them all from the impeding shadows- Snealz knew what had to be 
done. 

---

For the first time since knowing Lex, Clark had not been immediately 
let through to his office at LuthorCorp. A little worried, Clark 
tried again. Still nothing. 

So maybe the impromptu lunch had been a bad idea. He began walking 
back to the Daily Planet, enjoying the brush of clean air. 

Nothing amiss,  except no less than a minute later, an urgent text 
message from Chloe telling him to meet her at Gasper's ASAP.

Immediately, Clark called Lois. A story was a story, and he was her 
partner.

---

The haunted room, filled with ghosts of the past, a laboratory of 
deception and impurities. This room was death. No forgiveness, no 
acceptance. A decayed room, built on hope and joy and friendship, 
reduced to death and unyielding, hopeless truth. No man in this line 
of business was safe. No man who let himself be manipulated by work, 
letting go of his or her own feelings, was safe. Business wasn't 
safe, not without hope, not without feeling. Not with these tyrants 
running around, cutting corners, dreaming of the greatest, 
forgetting why they want to be. Forgetting friends and family for 
greed. 

"Are you surprised?" Lionel laughed, a cackle,  breaking through the 
wind's melody- besmirching it with an off-key note. "I've been 
working four years for this, and finally. A perfect son. Are the 
drugs wearing off? Ah yes, made just for your mutation. If you will, 
Mr. Birk, I would like to get this over before any heroic acts 
interrupt us." 

The living corpse prepared the man for death, his chilling fingers 
jutting in wild jerks, knotting the rope as tight as possible. 
Finally pinning him back to the shadowed walls.

By tying it now, in front of Lionel rather than in the car ride 
over, submitted Lex to his father, showing him just how much power 
he didn't have. He was never going to be free. He had just been 
demoted to a fish. Lionel was going to show him what happened when 
little fishes played with sharks.

So intrigued with the corpse's movements, the three did not notice 
the shutting and closing of a door, the silent footsteps moved among 
the shadows. The hero of the story was here, and he would prove 
himself, just as Birk had wanted, but could yet do. 

Lionel stepped to Lex, giving him a kiss on the cheek, as a loving 
father would do to his child who is being sent off to war. "I have 
hated you from the beginning. A sickly child turned into a bald 
freak. It was quite ironic when you escaped off to Smallville- the 
place you lost all your hair. Of course, with all the surgery I 
doubt you remember that. Did you know you met Mr. Kent when he was 
yet a babe? No, I suppose the two of you were fate. I think you'll 
appreciate knowing he is on his way now; Chloe has just called him. 
"Don't count on him saving you. I know of his powers." 

Lex struggled against the restraints, looking at Chloe, only seeing 
the dead confirmation in her eyes. "No! You wouldn't do that, 
Chloe." A bored looked, combined with a raised eyebrow met his 
plead. "What did the sick fuck do to you?"

-- 

A slight shift in shadow caught Birk's eyes, he recognized the 
figure, knew it was potentially dangerous, but Lionel did not 
command him to take the figure out. He had no orders to follow. He 
must do as Snealz wanted. Snealz wanted. 

--

Lionel laughed, "When will you learn? Friends are only as good as 
their worth. Do you want to know Clark's worth? A Pulitzer and the 
truth. What a liar, that nice boy has become."

A voice behind him, standing next to the unmoving clone, spoke for 
the first time, "How did you find out about Clark?" Inquisitive. 
Journalistic. 

"A dear Ms. Martha Kent, actually. With Jonathan's failing health, 
she was forced to take a job, and she found on in Metropolis. I took 
quite a liking to the women, very fierce as most redheads are. Quite 
wonderful, I think I may have actually loved her. Alas, the affair 
was short. Too many secrets attacking her, one too many may have 
spilled. Just the benefits to passion- losing your inhibitions."

Lex was exceedingly glad Clark was not here to hear this.

"Of course, her husband found out, and a week later he died. She did 
not come back after that."

No, when Lex got out of her alive (and he would, he told himself,) 
Clark would never know about this.

"And I thought I would never get the chance to know all the super 
boy's powers – and here, Chloe entered my life. She filled me in on 
the rest. Which bears the question- how did you find out? I can tell 
you know, maybe have always known."

Lex spit at him and Lionel slammed him face into the wall. "Such 
insolence! Yes, you will be better." Stepping back, Lionel took out 
a gun, "Goodbye, dear child, you won't be missed."

The shot resounded through the walls, cracking them more, shattering 
a few glass pieces.

----


"I'll meet you there- okay? Go- Chloe might need you." Not to 
mention, the planet was nearer to the Gnoles than LuthorCorp, but 
she did not add that. 

Clark nodded, even if Lois couldn't see it, "Alright. Just please, 
stay safe. If anything gets too rough, get out."

Having no intention to do as he said, Lois simply 
replied, "Promise." 

----

"I hope your life finds meaning, for I have lost mine, and even as I 
lay dying,  I realize this is in vain. I have given my life for a 
Luthor." Taylor Birk broke off in hysterical laughing, the faint 
light above shinning on him, freeing him from his past. His laughing 
rang through the room, singing his irony, until he choked on his 
blood. Although the laughing ceased from his throat, still the room 
rang his tale. 

"No! No!" Awoken from his shock, Snealz moved from his hiding 
position, dropping to his friends. "I was- I didn't want-" He 
stopped, clarity running through him. Had Taylor not jumped in front 
of the gun, he would have himself. Indeed, he had intended to. 
Perhaps it was not Luthor at all who Taylor had taken ,the shot 
for, "My friend, my dear friend." He wistfully began. 

A hero, Taylor had died. A hero, Taylor will remain. 

Another hero, one less corrupt, one suffering fewer battles, broke 
through the door. "Chloe!"

" No! Clark- get out." Lex shouted, recognizing the voice, wrenching 
at his binds wildly. "Chloe told him your secrets- get out of here 
before-" 

Chloe had covered his mouth. Petting it gently. "Lex. You're ruining 
the fun."

Clark, unaware to what he walked into, one dead body among two 
Lex's, his best friend, and two businessman, albeit one former. And 
apparently his best friend had betrayed his secrets to Lionel 
Luthor. 

He looked at Chloe, trying to find a reason to doubt this betrayal, 
a reason to shout she was still his friend, a reason not to feel a 
horrible sickening feeling. 

She had been emotionally unattached for five months, maybe the 
kidnapping had scared her so much to confine in Luthor? Maybe he had 
been spending too much time with Lex? Maybe he just didn't know her 
as well as he thought. No, no. Chloe was his best friend, she had to 
be. There was a reason. There had to be. She couldn't do this. 

"Ah- The green rock, sir?" Chloe teasingly asked, stirring up 
roaring feelings within Clark, even thought she knew very well 
Lionel didn't have one. 

Luthor grinned, understanding Chloe's question, admiring it. "Ah, 
yes. A rock we just won't need. A hero is a hero. Even with a dead 
friend, the hero will not leave without the body."

" Lex," he addressed the clone, "take this time to leave. Wait at 
LuthorCorp. I do not want any unnecessary harm coming to my son."

Chloe smiled, "Would you like the knife now?"

The pain grasped Clark and pulled. What was Chloe doing? He had to 
believe, he had to. 

Another darkened figured entered the room, followed shortly by one 
other. All of this went amiss with the drama of the next statement. 

"No, actually." Chloe's face dimmed, taken by surprise. Lionel 
grabbed something in his jacket, pulling it out on display, "I have 
a bomb." 

A simple statement, with chaotic reactions. Clark immediately 
started forward.

"Nuhuh. The underground is tapped to a connecting bomb, if my feet 
are pulled from the ground, if I am removed from the bomb in my 
hand, or if I feel threatened and feel the need at push the trigger, 
the bombs will all go off. And we all will die."

" You'll die too."

" I have a clone waiting for a brain transplant if anything wrong 
should occur. Or has anyone been wondering whatever happened to 
Joseph Gate? Experiments can be so handy. As long as my brain 
survives, I am alive. You, however, won't be."

Lionel clicked something in his jacket, "Five minutes and counting. 
Such a track to ride just for a more obedient child."

The time was ticking, and Clark looked around. All these people 
would die if he didn't do something. He couldn't let this tyrant 
win. They hadn't come so far for it to end in these decaying walls. 
The stench of death already reeked its sorrow, no more would suffer 
for this man. No more would lose themselves to the business of 
death. He had to do this, all it would take was one snap of the 
neck, no more problems, no more. So why wouldn't his feet move?

Clark couldn't kill him. He wouldn't. The sickly sweet boy was 
really too sweet to take a life. Once again, protecting a friend 
matter more than anything else. No harm could come to Clark, he was 
invulnerable, as proven through various trails. It wasn't until Lex 
entered the scene that the trouble really started. Of course there 
was something that had to be done. There was no going back from 
this. 

One person's sins were their own. She protected Lex and Clark, and 
now she would no longer need to protect them. Taking the slender 
object out of her hand, she steadily raised it, allowing her arms to 
stop shaking and aiming. She pulled the trigger. 

She saw the bullet speeding toward the target, she felt the harsh 
pull of the gun, fighting against her balance, fighting against her 
choices. The spark of the gun, shone deep in Chloe's eyes, and 
perhaps now, perhaps now this would end. It had come to this, and 
finally, finally, maybe a certain peace would begin its rhythm. 

The death was less dramatic than it was suppose to be. The bullet 
slammed into Lionel's head, spewing the blood across the floor, even 
the crimson smear looked tainted. No light shinned on his soul.

Lionel was dead, and he would not be missed. 

---

The ticking noise of the clock woke everyone from the shock. 

A heavy boulder lifted itself from Clark- and Clark found himself in-
between crying and laughing, "I knew it, dammit Chloe, don't ever do 
that to me again!"

Ralph Snealz, not ready to tempt the ticking bomb, shouted, "C'mon, 
let's get out of here-"

The door slammed shut. 

All four heads turned to see Lois Lane, dressed to kill in a 
stunning black outfit, "Well damn. I didn't want it to come to 
this." She pointed her gun at Clark, "But I can't have you, even if 
you are my partner, stealing my Pulitzer from-"

Another shot rang out, this one unforgiving with no regrets. "C'mon, 
let's get out of here. I'll grab Ralph, what a blubberin' mess." The 
gruff, short stature of Joseph Gate walked into the room, heaving 
Snealz over his shoulders. "Well, c'mon. There's a bomb, don'tchya 
know. Gez, kids these days."

He walked out of the room, leaving the rest to trip over themselves. 
Chloe grabbed Lois, who she noticed had not been killed, but rather 
shot with a rubber bullet. Relief flooded him. 

Clark ran to Lex's side, snapping the ties and lifting him in his 
arms, "One day, you'll have to explain to me what the hell happened 
here. And how the hell you knew about my powers."

Lex rolled his eyes, "Shut up and save me."

Clark, noticing the thirty-two seconds on the bomb, shot out of the 
building, meeting with Chloe, Joseph, Lois, and Snealz- who- Gate! 

Still playing Mr. Hero, Clark quickly assessed, "Gate is still in 
there. I'm going-"

"He's dead-" Joseph – was that Mr. Joe? -- having not known him 
other than a fellow businessman, had no feelings for him.

"So he doesn't deserve a proper burial?"

Immediately setting up his mind, Clark put Lex down, acting on 
impulse as he kissed Lex, passionately promising his return, but 
giving a first and last kiss if he did not.

"NO!"

Shooting back into the ticking building, the only thing that 
followed Clark was the sounding Boom of the bomb, covering the 
protesting shout.

----

It was raining, as appropriate in the setting. It was raining a new 
day, washing away the lies and bitterness of the months, years, 
decades past. This was a new beginning. The death, they promised 
themselves, would not be in vain. There would be a better day 
awaiting. There would be a rainbow on the parting clouds. 

There would be more music, there would be that peaceful rhythm so 
desired for. 

The rainy clouds were bright, pure white and shining down on them. 
There was no darkness on this day. Even the ground seemed to be 
accepting this sacrifice as a gift rather than a burden.

Dressed in black, but having a clear shine to his face, Ralph smiled 
down on his friend, tossing him a rose. They were friends to the 
end, understanding each other through the betrayal, through the 
broken promises on both sides. Ralph robbed a building, giving 
Taylor a conscience to what he was doing, the consequences of his 
actions. Taylor jumped in front of a bullet, giving Ralph a new 
chance to start over. Friends, they were, to the end. 

Silently in the background, Chloe stood watching the proceedings, 
understanding the trial of death and betrayal. Joining her, Clark 
walked with Lex, both having been attached by the hip since the 
bombing. 

With the loss of a father who never loved him, who had cloned him, 
who had been willing to kill him, it would take awhile for Lex to 
recover from the tragedy, but recovering he was. The business world 
had tried to murder his soul, but he survived, and he would fight 
every morsel against it. 

With Clark at his side, his Hero in so many ways, the first good 
thing in his life, the first flame that did not extinguish when the 
oxygen ran out, that stuck through to breath the oxygen awaiting 
around the bend.

Calming walking up behind, Clark put a hand on Chloe's shoulder, 
startling her, clarifying her attention. She stared into Clark's 
eyes, the friendship, the familiarity; she needed to give him an 
explanation, one she had yet managed. 

"I-" 

Clark smiled, tightening his hand on her shoulder, and pulled her 
into a hug, "It's okay. I know you didn't mean it. I didn't think 
you could."

Even in the moments of doubt, there was always hope, always the ring 
of true friendship in the back of his mind. There were things Lionel 
could not destroy. For all he may have loved Martha Kent, he could 
not destroy the love because he did not understand it. To him, love 
made a man weak. It was a weakness as well as a strength Lionel 
would never have had. 

"It's just- Lionel knew about you, or something about you. I gave 
him false information, and he believed every word of it. Oh God, 
Clark, you're mom told him."

Lex tensed at his side, and Clark registered the information. "My 
mom?"

" She had an affair with Lionel, and it killed Jonathan. God. And 
then all the information he had on you. I couldn't be tell you 
anything, because Lionel may have been tracing my calls, and Clark I 
was just so scared."

The shock, the light betrayal on his mom's part. His mom, who had 
always urged him to say anything about his powers to anyone, had 
told the greatest monster of them all. 

"You mean my mom? Martha Kent?" A comforting hand laid itself on his 
waist, pulling both him and Chloe to a group hug. 

Lex kissed his cheek, "She didn't mean it; my father manipulated 
her. I didn't want to tell you. She's a good woman who was easily 
strayed by a shark. He's gone. It will rest in peace." 

Chloe pulled away from the two of them, having received too much 
comfort in the past minutes, and began ranting in her usual form, 
expressing her emotions and bulldozing them. "I don't think I ever 
want to think about any of this again. Too much trust misplaced. 
Lois tried to kill us. Would have. Lois. My cousin. She was 
practically my sister." 

Lois' betrayal had hit Clark hard. As a partner, he thought he knew 
her better than Chloe. Perhaps a bit obsessed with a Pulitzer, 
perhaps a bit too involved with work. But to go so far as to kill 
for a story? 

He wasn't sure he could ever write again, not without feeling the 
pain of Lois tugging at him, calling him back to a realization: no 
one was safe from the dehumanity of business. Once too caught up in 
the mechanical way of life, once too greedy, once too impersonal, 
business could destroy anyone. Success could never be more important 
than life. Life is success, success is not life. 

Arms tightened around him, and perhaps business wouldn't destroy 
everyone. Looking at Lex, Ralph, and Mr. Joe, they had survived. 
They understood there were some things more important. Even Chloe, 
having been giving an easy path to success, chose to be true to her 
friends. Perhaps not all was lost. 

Perhaps the chiming church bells where singing of a new day. 

---

LUTHORCORP TERMINIATED

Clark Kent and Chloe Sullivan 

Lionel Luthor, CEO of LuthorCorp, was reported dead Wednesday 
October 19th, 2008. In his dead, a trail of betrayal and 
destruction. 
Luthor blackmailed several building owners, including Ralph Snealz, 
owner of Bell's Kitchen, using the basement for illegal experiments. 
Another owner, Joseph Gate, being blackmailed through a loan granted 
in 2005, threatened to bring the story to the press. Luthor hired 
two men to rob him as well as several other business owners' who had 
refused Luthor's offer. With the increase in crime, the business 
dwindled, and many owners caved to Luthor's pressures. 
The increasing inhumanity stopped the lead scientist, anonymity 
granted, in the experiments, but under intense threats he began them 
again. These experiments included creating a clone of Luthor's son, 
Alexander Luthor. Finally succeeding, Luthor trapped his son and 
Chloe Sullivan down in the laboratory. 
Planning to shoot his son, only the bravery of the lead scientist 
stopped the intending bullet. After the failure of his, the crazed 
billionaire dentate two bombs, one beneath the building and another 
in his hand. 
Fighting for their lives, Sullivan shot the billionaire and the 
group rushed out of the building, leaving ten seconds until the 
building exploded.
The clone was later found dead outside the building, having been 
shot with a gun, the owner later identified as Lois Lane. 

---

"Do you think it was wise to leave out Lois' part in this? Doesn't 
the public deserve to know the truth?" The crazed Lois Lane had 
landed herself in Belle Reeve, raving about her Pulitzer.

"Lois is too renowned for it to not have caused uproar, I think the 
shock was too much for her anyway. I don't think she'll be out of 
there for a while. No harm done." Clark replied, stealing his 
boyfriend's attention with a kiss. "Either way- it looks rather 
perfect there."

Looking at the framed story, centered in Clark's office among 
various pictures of Chloe and Lex as well as himself,  Clark felt 
rather relieved than happy that the story was finally published. 
Already several follow ups were being planned, exposing other 
businesses involved with the cloning. 

Magically appearing, Chloe bonked Clark on the head, ruffling it and 
pushing him over. Looking at the frame, she announced, "I think I 
like it better in a silver frame- wanna switch?" She laughed, 
happier and more at peace than she had been in the past half year. 
It was a good polish on her. Jokingly, she added, "Think we'll get a 
Pulitzer?"

A groan of irritation and of displeasure flooded Clark. "Don't even 
joke about that. We got the truth out, and now- now, well, now we 
eat." 

The three had decided against any more restaurants, opting instead 
to cook their own meals. With two industry-dependent people as Chloe 
and Lex, neither could last very long. 

"I think I'm going to let you two go- I still have a story to write. 
You know how it goes." Still a workaholic, but still permanently 
faithful.

A random thought hit him, and Clark turned to Lex, "You never did 
tell me how you knew about my powers."

Lex made some motions with his hands, "A certain hero saved me some 
years ago. Made me stay in Smallville. Ever recall a crazed water 
mutant wanting to rape drivers? And behold, a beautiful hero saved 
me; I saw everything. I had to know more."  He did not elaborate, 
not that Clark ever expected him too.

Clark would have been more ashamed about his blatant use of powers, 
but then again, his mom had yapped them all out to the Luthor Daddy 
anyway. "I should have left you alone with her, taught you and your 
snotty self that perhaps it isn't all fun and games. I probably 
would have saved a building or two."

Lex looked playfully affronted, "There was only one building, if you 
may recall." Lex closed his arms around Clark, looked at the framed 
story, "What are we going to do now?" 

Plucking the hands off him, Clark turned and asked, making his voice 
serious and curious, "Ever want to be a waiter again?" 

Lex pushed him, "Don't even joke about that. I'm thinking about 
doing something for humanity, becoming some kindhearted man or 
something. Taking after you."

Giving Lex an incredulous look, Clark laughed again, trailing out of 
the building, reminding Lex as they entered the elevator, "I don't 
know, what kind of kindhearted soul believes in – what was it? ` 
immolating a building?'"

" Look, Superboy, it got you out of Smallville, didn't it?" Lex 
granted, pushing the main level button, waiting for the doors to 
close so he could get out of the Daily Planet.

"Indeed, where ever would I be without you?" Clark murmured, kissing 
him again as the doors to the elevator closed.

Lex leaned away from the kiss, "Probably out rescuing some cows."

"Instead I get the fishes. And cats rescuing fishes. Strange cit-" 
Lex quieted his words with a kiss.

And perhaps the peace was a new murmur of its own.