---

"Um. This lead? You didn't happen to send it to Lois Lane, did you?"

Clark had been debating, for several weeks, whether Lex was strangely averse to showing surprise or if he was simply really good at guessing what people would say or do next. The point was now settled as Lex's hand stopped stirring the eggs and his whole body went tense. "You ... how did you ... Clark, did you look in my briefcase?"

Clark didn't do anything nearly as cool as tensing his body and stilling his hand. Instead, he spat out a bit of orange juice and blurted, "It's locked!"

Lex's moment of shock seemed to have passed, which was really unfair because Clark was still trying to get the orange juice off his chin. Lex was calmly transferring the eggs onto two plates. He wasn't smiling. "So, you tried to look in my briefcase."

"I noticed it was locked when I moved it," Clark attempted. "Into the closet. Because you left it in the middle of the living room." Yes, Clark, now's the time to start a domestic argument.

Lex didn't dignify this with a direct response. Instead, he pushed the plate with the larger portion towards Clark. "Clark, relax. I'm not angry."

"You're not?" Clark said desperately.

"No. Do you want a cup of coffee?"

"But --"

Lex poured Clark a cup and sedately made his way to the kitchen table. "Sit down. We should discuss this." Lex wasn't being Lex the Domestically Incompetent. He was being Lex the Inhumanly Cool, the Lex Clark had first met at his scholarship interview. It was funny how he could do that while wearing purple silk pajamas.

Clark, at a loss, obediently picked up his plate and cup and sat down opposite Lex.

"So, you didn't look in my briefcase -- which I keep locked. I thought for a minute I might have forgotten to relock it before I went out yesterday. You obviously tried to open the briefcase, out of idle curiosity or maybe something else. But that doesn't matter, because you clearly were thwarted. What I want to know is, how did you find out it was Lois Lane I sent the lead to?"

Clark remembered this feeling. This was the feeling he'd had when he was five years old and he'd lifted something too heavy in front of a neighbor. The way Mom had grabbed his hand and squeezed. The way Dad glared. It was as though Clark had suddenly moved into a world where there were a hundred unspoken rules and he'd unwittingly broken every single one. "It was my assignment, from the Monitor. My editor gave me an e-mail from Lois Lane. She said she didn't have time to pursue this lead, but she didn't say where she got it. Wayne seemed to think it was something boring, but when I started looking ..."

Lex appeared to be contemplating this revelation. "She's a much less competent reporter than I thought ... or maybe she's just inexperienced. I mean, if she'd taken half a minute to investigate the truth of the document I leaked, she would have jumped on the story." Clark's mouth went dry when Lex shifted his cold gaze to Clark. "As you did, I'm sure."

"I was going to take it back, when I realized you owned Cadmus," Clark said quickly. "It was a clear conflict of interest, but then I didn't know how I'd explain that to my editor. Since the marriage is a secret, I mean."

Lex leaned back in his chair and shook his head, as though saddened by Clark's stupidity. "But your substantial LexCorp scholarship isn't a secret. And it's certainly as good a reason as the marriage." Lex studied Clark. "Something wrong with the eggs?"

Clark realized Lex thought Clark was lying. "I ... I didn't think of that," he protested lamely. For a guy who claimed not to be angry, Lex was giving off some serious anger vibes.

Lex finished chewing a mouthful of his own portion. "Of course you didn't. So, you went ahead with the investigation, because, as you say, your editor didn't think there was much to the story. No harm done, right? But then you found out Uyeda was denying all knowledge of a deal with Cadmus. And I expect Cadmus said the same when you contacted them."

Clark didn't think it would help him to admit he'd failed to get so far as properly contacting Cadmus.

"So, you tried to look in my briefcase, hoping I'd have some confidential documents about the sale. Of course, you couldn't have used them, even if you'd succeeded, because I would know you had looked, but maybe you were hoping for some explanation so you'd have another path to follow."

Clark tried for a casual sip of coffee, as if all of Lex's mental machinations weren't boggling his own rather fast mind. He suspected the sip came off looking more nervous than casual.

"Which brings us up to this morning, and back to Ms. Lane. Have I missed anything?"

Clark slowly shook his head, wrapping his hands around his coffee cup. He didn't think now was the time to confront Lex about the possibly illegal use of meteor rocks in his company's research.

Lex brought his own coffee to his lips, as though he was modeling what a truly casual sip should be, then he continued. "Are you working for my father?"

"What?" Clark squeaked, sending a dribble of coffee the same route as the orange juice. Superhuman reflexes really weren't working for him today. When Lex only tilted his head, awaiting an answer, Clark said the first thing that came to him. "You really think your father would hire someone as incompetent as me?"

Lex shrugged. "You made the coffee machine work."

"Clearly a genius, then," Clark returned sarcastically.

"No one ever said my father had the best judgment when it comes to employees. My half-brother is a case in point."

Clark couldn't suppress an eye roll. "Lex, I'm not working for your dad."

Lex almost smiled, and that tiny motion of his lips released at least one of the awful knots that had formed in Clark's chest. "So you were just after this story? I didn't think you were so ambitious, Clark."

"Well, like you said, I didn't think it was a big story, until I started hitting all those dead ends," Clark explained. "I just wanted my first story for the Monitor to be good. I really didn't think of using the scholarship thing as a conflict of interest."

"And my briefcase?"

Clark blushed deeply. "Moment of weakness. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have violated your trust like that."

"I'm not angry, Clark, remember? I told you, trust has to be earned, and if I had been foolish enough to trust you with my unlocked briefcase, I could hardly blame you for taking advantage."

Clark wasn't exactly on the high moral ground here, but he couldn't help responding. "No, I shouldn't have even tried looking. That was one of our rules. I had no right." Curious as he still was as to the reasoning behind Lex's deliberate information leak, Clark couldn't bear the thought of asking Lex to explain when this issue of the briefcase still lay between them. It was strange -- he and Chloe had done worse, frequently, while writing for the Torch -- but Clark couldn't stand the sudden coldness in Lex's attitude.

Lex seemed to accept this apology, because instantaneously, his stiff demeanor fell away and he leaned in towards Clark. "Let me tell you how you can make it up to me."

He was so close and so overwhelmingly inviting compared to a moment before, Clark backed up instinctively. Lex's regard was just as intense as his distrust. "How?"

Lex reached across the table, as though he wanted to take Clark's hand. Instead, he plucked a piece of rapidly-cooling scrambled egg from Clark's plate. With a grin, he popped the food in his mouth and announced, "You can write that article."

Clark had married a man who was either very intelligent or slightly unbalanced -- possibly both. It was the only way to explain this situation.

"So the whole thing, about Uyeda selling his research to Cadmus ... it's a lie?"

Lex was a patient genius-slash-psychopath. He didn't seem to mind having to explain again. "It's a mislead. Cadmus is hiring Uyeda away, with a two million dollar signing bonus. Uyeda and Cadmus have both been on a media black-out about it because Met U hasn't yet been told."

"But you want me to break the story?" Clark asked. His head was kind of hurting from trying to follow the convolutions of Lex's strategy.

"Right. Uyeda's going to have to come clean to Met U sooner or later ... and if you break the story, then it'll deflect some of the anger he's likely to be facing from the Dean of Research."

"Because ..."

"Because the Dean'll be spending enough time trying to figure out how you found out -- don't worry, you can always claim to be protecting your source -- and how he didn't, Uyeda will be able to slip away relatively easily. Besides, Met U has been shutting down his research on a few fronts ... they'll probably be glad to be rid of him, in the end."

"Why have they been --" Clark began, but Lex kept going.

"The bonus for LexCorp is that we get press coverage for acquiring a prominent researcher and pursuing some fairly promising research in the field of cancer treatment."

Clark nodded, then opened his mouth to try his question again.

"The bonus for you is that you're not just going to blow open the Monitor with this story ... you'll knock the Planet on its ass. It'll be a hell of a kickstart for your career as a journalist."

"But Uyeda --"

"And the best part is that my dad will be so busy throwing a tantrum over how I snatched Uyeda out from under his nose, he'll stop snooping around you and our little living arrangement."

"The research Uyeda's doing --" Clark began, relieved to finally have space to speak. Then Lex's words hit him, full force. "Your dad is snooping around me?"

Lex shrugged. "Just because he's disowned me, it doesn't mean he's lost all interest in my life. I'm sure he's keeping close tabs on me, which means he's keeping tabs on you too."

Clark stared at Lex, his mind whirling with shock. "But you said your dad didn't know! What, he found out about the marriage?"

"Of course not," Lex said dismissively. "But he's noticed that I moved out of my penthouse and into this place, and he must have also noticed that I have a roommate. Naturally, he would have dug up everything he could on you."

Clark was trying very hard not to panic. When he panicked, things tended to go into slow motion, and Lex's words were disconcerting enough without them stretching out even longer. "He's, what, investigating me?"

Lex laughed lightly, as if Clark's anxiety was quaint in some way. "Clark, part of the reason I chose you for this arrangement is that your history is squeaky clean -- good, wholesome farm kid, raised on organic produce, with a propensity for helping people out and getting great marks in school ... and just enough teen angst material thrown in for believability. Don't worry. If my team couldn't turn up anything bad about you, I really doubt my father's going to succeed."

"Team? You had a team on me?"

"You didn't think I was just going to marry you based on the details of your scholarship application, did you?" Lex scoffed.

"Well, yeah!" Clark answered in a rather undignified squeak. "Jesus, Lex!"

Lex tilted his head and sat back in his chair, his whole posture screaming, 'Tell me another one, Clark.' "Come on, I'm sure you dug up every old tabloid and rag in Metropolis and read all about my tortured youth before you decided to accept."

"Actually, I didn't!" Clark returned, horrified. God, how much had Lex discovered about Clark's activities in Smallville? True, the police reports tended to play down Clark's involvement in strange activities -- the sheriff was Dad's buddy from high school and did his best to keep Clark's name out of things -- and the Ledger seemed to spend more time focusing on Metropolitan crime than Smallvillian freak incidents ...

Lex chuckled, disbelieving.

"So, what, your dad thinks we're just roomies? That you've befriended your scholarship recipient? Is that what he thinks?" Clark blurted, coming back to the first horrendous revelation.

"Mmm," Lex mused, grinning. "I believe the exact words he employed at the benefit last night were 'your little rentboy' and 'your flavor of the week'."

"He thinks we're ... that we're ..." Clark flushed frantically and stood up, unable to keep still a moment longer. "And you didn't correct him?"

Lex shook his head, still smiling. "Clark, as far as my father's concerned, the only extraordinary thing about you is your beauty. If I told him you and I were just friends, he'd never believe me."

Clark opened and closed his mouth several times, but was unable to reply, except with an outraged, "Your dad has a dirty mind!"

Lex laughed outright.

"He does!" Clark insisted.

Lex stood up, taking the breakfast dishes over to the dishwasher. "Life with my father is a game, Clark. The only way to survive is to make use of how devious his mind is ... for every twisted idea he has, you have to keep him looking for another bend in the path. I had to book a flight to Tokyo on our wedding day so my father wouldn't figure out I'd really gone to Grandville. And, sadly, I could have used that money."

In an instant, Clark understood Lex's take on the briefcase incident, his strange methods of garnering press attention, his opinions on earning trust, even this whole ridiculous marriage. Growing up with a father like Lionel Luthor, Lex couldn't help but view everyone else as having ulterior motives for everything they did. Clark watched, filled with newfound sympathy, as Lex stacked the dishes (wrong) and closed the dishwasher door. Suddenly, Lex seemed so fragile, so mistreated, so ... so young. Lex's bare scalp seemed like a hideous vulnerability, and Clark had to resist the urge to go over and gather Lex into his arms.

"Not everyone's like that," Clark spoke, finally. Lex smirked, straightening up and looking over at Clark. "No, really, Lex. Sometimes people are just ... good to each other."

Lex still looked like he expected a punchline any minute.

"I'm not saying people don't do each other wrong ... I mean, I've done more wrong than I'd care to admit ... but people do good things, too, just for the sake of goodness."

Lex's smirk deepened somehow.

Clark had one last arrow to sling. "I'm adopted, you know. My parents ... they took me in, and god knows I'm not a perfect son, but they loved me more than anything else in the world, even when ... when they shouldn't have."

"The summer you ran away," Lex provided blandly, but the smirk was gone, replaced by something more akin to envy.

"Then ... and other times," Clark acknowledged, unwilling to show his surprise that Lex knew about that lost summer. "People can be like that, too."

It was only an instant, really a Kryptonian instant, but Clark saw Lex look at him with startlingly vivid longing and disbelief. Then it was gone, and the smirk was back.

"We should do this exclusive interview thing," Lex spoke. "But I'm going to shower first, if it's okay."

Lex's form retreated down the hallway towards the washroom. Clark had never expected that Lex Luthor might need saving, but he did. Clark only hoped it wasn't too late.

The article which Clark published did as Lex had predicted -- not only was Wayne suddenly treating Clark like an indentured servant (which, the other Monitor reporters assured him, was a good sign), but the Planet picked up Clark's story and reprinted it in an expanded version with his name on the byline, on the front page of the city section. Clark was one of the youngest reporters ever published by the Daily Planet, and he had the meager freelancer's check to prove it.

Clark's parents had the article framed and hung it in Clark's loft over his old desk. Pete clapped Clark on the back and called him 'my man' repeatedly. Somewhere in New York, Clark had no doubt, Chloe was sticking pins into a voodoo doll wearing plaid.

Clark himself was somewhat less impressed with his success. Sure, the article was well-written and thorough, and of course, it was a journalistic coup for the Monitor ... but Clark felt like he'd cheated, somehow, having scored his exclusive interview more by luck than by merit. If it hadn't been for his connection to Lex, Clark wouldn't have managed to extract the story that he did.

And that story was woefully incomplete. The written explanations which Lex had provided for Uyeda's research made no mention of the viral vector treatment which Uyeda's undergraduate had described. There wasn't even a vague euphemism Clark could pick at, some random phrase he could bite into. Instead, in the place where the treatment should be, there was a very specific, "Viral vector SQ13-B demonstrates positive immunological effects, as shown by Uyeda (1997)".

Clark had looked Lex in the eye at this juncture in the interview and said, "But where does this vector come from?"

"Clark, there are countless viruses in the world that occur naturally, and for almost every one of those, some scientist has mapped out its genetic code and toyed with the genes it carries to see if any of them have useful application for pharmaceuticals. This particular virus infects a particular bacterial strain -- it's hardly a threat to humans, if that's what you're implying."

And, really, there had been enough of a story to cover, between Uyeda's secret defection, Met U's silence, Cadmus' profile, and the potential benefits of the research itself, that focusing in on a minor point of protocol seemed like it would cause more trouble than it was worth. Clark had obediently stuck to the material provided by Lex and produced his article by 4 p.m. on Monday. He was a success and his parents and friends were proud and really, everything was all right.

Except, sometimes, in the middle of the night, when Clark lay awake trying to block out the sounds of the city, he knew the real reason he hadn't pursued the angle. Clark was afraid. He was afraid of Lionel. He was afraid of the meteor rocks and every terrible thing they'd done, every wish they'd fulfilled. He was afraid of labs and government agencies and long metal tables and bright white lights and every nightmare that had come to him since his sixteenth birthday and that conversation in the storm cellar.

And Clark had let his fear of being found out decide the issue -- Clark published the story, in its incomplete form, because Lex thought it would draw Lionel's attention. And if Lionel ended up looking too closely at an article about the effects of meteor rocks ... Clark really wasn't certain his fear was unjustified. No, it was better to keep the article clear of green glowing rocks and the Wall of Weird and Smallville, better by far to focus the older Luthor's interest in the direction of his son and Dr. Uyeda, not towards the one thing that could possibly kill Clark. After all, Lex's research was trying to help, not harm, and Lex wouldn't knowingly market a product that hurt people, even if he might slip some things past the FDA. Lex ... he wouldn't.

Dad always said, "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't." Clark figured if Lex had to be a devil at all, he must at least be the devil Clark knew. And with that small comfort, he sometimes found rest.

Clark had heard Lex shouting over the phone often enough that he'd become familiar with the names and even the personalities of most of LexCorp's major players. Mark was good, but needed a lot of bullying combined with reassurance. Steven had an inclination to slack off and Lex was always struggling to keep the guy overloaded with work. Nancy was kind of anal retentive and she lacked imagination, but Lex was good at talking her down from recurring mild panic attacks. And Ben was the one guy that made Lex laugh on the phone.

Lex explained to Clark once that his executive team wasn't exactly conventional. "They're all about my age, maybe a little younger ... mostly acquaintances from my boarding school days, people who have moved on past clubbing and making trouble and want something more to do with their lives. Some of them have absolutely no business sense, others have no ambition."

"Sounds like a bunch of winners," Clark had joked.

Lex had shrugged. "They're willing to throw themselves in the ring with Lionel Luthor, which is more than I can say for most people. I can't say I trust them all equally, but I think they have the potential to make this company fly."

Lex must have had a much broader definition of potential than Clark, however, because the rowdy group of half-drunk football-watching maniacs currently in their living room didn't seem like they could fly a paper airplane, never mind a corporation.

"Clark!" Lex called cheerily from the sofa. "Meet the LexCorp gang!"

"Hi Clark!" echoed the rest of the gathering absently, most raising a bottle of some sort in salute.

Clark dropped his backpack on the floor and stared. Rule number two -- thou shalt not have company over unless the other person is away. Lex was breaking rule number two. Moreover, he had just casually introduced him to about six people who had seen him walk in the front door without knocking. Surely they'd notice Clark seemed kind of at home for a visitor?

"Grab a drink, have a seat," Lex called, turning his attention back to the football game.

Clark wasn't sure how to respond. He needed to go to his room and pack a suitcase for Thanksgiving weekend -- Pete was going to be by to pick him up in about half an hour -- but he couldn't just saunter casually down the hall, could he? "Um. Lex?" Clark asked.

Lex's eyes snapped back up. "Oh, sorry, Clark, I didn't introduce you to everyone. This is Mark, Nancy, Baldwin, Steven, Yolanda, and this is Ben."

Ben, the funny one. He was sitting next to Lex on the couch, grinning at Clark as though Clark were the punchline to a joke he hadn't told yet. "Hey, Clark," he said smoothly.

"Hey," Clark returned, shifting his weight. "Um, Lex?"

"Mmm?" Lex queried, distracted again by the game.

"Can I ... talk to you for a second?"

Nancy, who seemed slightly drunker than the rest, burst into giggles at this. Clark flushed, not certain why her laughter bothered him ... but all eyes were on Lex as he extricated himself from the tangle of his employees and made his way over to Clark.

"Yes?" Lex said quietly, just as some play on TV elicited a groan from the gathered company.

"What ... Lex, what's going on?" Clark hissed, seizing Lex by the elbow and steering him a little ways down the hallway.

Lex was completely unconcerned by Clark's panic. "We're having a pow-wow about an upcoming acquisition. Thought we'd make a night of it. Aren't you leaving for Smallville anyway?"

Clark raised an eyebrow sharply. "Lex. How can I leave without them noticing that I'm taking a suitcase with me?"

"Why can't they notice that?" Lex returned, mystified.

"Because they don't know we're married?" Clark pointed out. "What, are you drunk?"

Lex's gaze suddenly sharpened. "Of course not. They don't have to know we're married for you to get your suitcase, Clark."

"But they'll see that I'm living here!" Clark protested.

"I think your shaving cream in the bathroom and your plaid jacket in the closet and your giant shoes in the entrance already made that obvious."

Clark didn't know how to answer this, except to blurt, "Rule number two!"

Lex blinked. "What?"

"No visitors unless the other person's had time to clear out! You know, including giant shoes and shaving cream and plaid."

Lex laughed. "Clark, my execs know that you live here. You didn't think they would be ignorant of something like that for long, did you?"

"You told them?" Clark said, more loudly than he'd intended.

Lex made a small shushing motion with his lips, then planted his hands on Clark's shoulders and gently pushed him towards his bedroom. "Clark, don't make such a big deal of this."

"They think we're ... that we're doing it, don't they?" Clark asked, aghast. "Like your dad."

Lex pushed Clark again, still gently. "There are only so many reasons that I would be living with a young man such as yourself. Would you rather I told them about the sham marriage?"

"No!"

"Then what do you want me to do, Clark?" Lex said reasonably.

Clark was flushing more and more as he contemplated the fact that at least seven people in Metropolis, possibly more, thought he was Lex Luthor's rent boy. "Tell them that you're not paying me, at least," Clark insisted, hardly believing that he was speaking these words.

Lex smirked. "We're ... what? Madly in love?" Clark had never been on the receiving end of a taunt from Lex before, and the words were surprisingly cutting.

Clark must have shown some of his hurt in his eyes, because Lex squeezed his shoulders in reassurance. "Better than me being a ..."

Lex smiled, seemingly amused by Clark's inability to say the word. "Okay, lover boy. You're my one and only. Happy?"

Clark wouldn't precisely label his predominant feeling as happy, but there did seem to be a strange dash of something pleasant mixed into his overall misery, perhaps induced by the still-gentle touch of Lex's fingers on his shoulders, so Clark nodded once before heading to his bedroom.

When he re-emerged, he found Lex back on the couch next to Ben and everyone slightly more inebriated than before. It wasn't unlike the after-grad party last spring, except without the meteor-infected kid who was vomiting fire. "So ... I'll go outside and wait for Pete," Clark announced uncomfortably, shifting under the gimlet eye of Nancy.

Then Lex was on his feet and walking towards Clark, instead of just waving absently as Clark had expected. "Have a good weekend," he said solemnly as he approached.

"Thanks. I will. I'll ... um. Bring you back some pie." Clark's words faltered as Lex first hit and then passed through the line normally demarcating Clark's personal space.

"Sounds great," Lex breathed in his low, suggestive voice. His hands were still jammed into the pockets of his wool pants but Clark felt like Lex's arms were right around him, he was so close. Nancy was giggling again.

"I'll be back on Sunday night," Clark concluded, his voice getting higher. Was Lex going to kiss him or hug him or was he just going to stand there, just so close and so ... smug?

"I'll miss you," Lex said, again in the low voice, and somehow those words made Clark's hands come up to Lex's waist, if only to complete what Lex's whole stance and tone were suggesting. Then Clark couldn't just stop there, like some kid at a junior high dance, too shy to make a move, so he swooped in and pressed a kiss into the center of Lex's forehead.

Clark's heart was hammering when he drew back again, so loudly that, to him, it drowned out the sounds of the game on TV. Lex's eyes were half-open and he was looking up at Clark with a mixture of amusement and surprise. Then Lex moved in, brushed his lips against Clark's ear, and whispered, "Not bad for a straight guy."

Clark laughed aloud, quickly coming unhinged, then stepped back, picked up his suitcase, and lunged for the door. "Bye."

"Bye, Clark!" hollered the crowd in the living room.

Lex was ... he ... Clark firmly decided not to think about what had just happened. Instead, he'd think about Mom's pie and the possibility of seeing Chloe this weekend.

Pete's little hatchback had nothing on the freedom of running solo along the highway between Smallville and Metropolis. For one thing, Clark's legs were folded up somewhere around his ears. For another, the ambient noise was somewhat less pleasant -- Pete had recently discovered the joys of early punk rock and they were listening to the Sex Pistols the whole way. Pete was completely unsympathetic when Clark tried to explain that the low fidelity of old recordings was quite painful to his alien ears.

"Naw, man, that's how it's supposed to sound," Pete enthused.

Clark poked at the ancient tape deck. "It's supposed to sound like there are hundreds of angry crickets eating away at my brain?"

"It's all part of the anger, Clark. Rage against the system."

Clark briefly considered this an invitation to rage against the sound system of the hatchback, but he managed to get his hands under control when he realized they were passing the "Welcome to Smallville" sign. Clark had run home for a quick visit only a few weeks ago, but this time he could go into town without facing awkward questions about his manner of arrival.

"God, it looks so small," Clark observed, and even though it was a hopelessly cliched thing to say, something inside him felt a little squashed upon viewing Main Street with Metropolitan eyes. The last time he'd spent a long time in Metropolis, his return to Smallville had been flooded with emotion. This time, there was a strange detachment, like Clark was visiting someone else's hometown. Fordman's had a big 'Happy Thanksgiving' banner in the window, the same one they'd used every year as long as Clark could remember. The photograph of Whitney in his Marines uniform was beginning to fade from sitting in the sun for almost three years.

"A bunch of us are getting together down at the Beanery tomorrow night," Pete announced as they pulled into the Kent farm driveway. "You coming?"

Clark took his time extracting his backpack from between his feet while he tried to devise a tactful way of finding out --

"Chloe's not coming. She's staying in New York for Thanksgiving," Pete spoke, answering Clark's unspoken question. "Just some guys from school, maybe some of the girls, too. Come on, you can talk about your big article in the Planet."

Clark opened the car door, glancing up to see Mom and Dad standing on the porch, smiling eagerly. "I don't know, Pete. I don't think ..."

Pete shook his head, annoyed. "I understand feeling uncomfortable in Metropolis, Clark, but Smallville? Come on, it's home. No one's gonna bite."

"My parents -- I should be spending time with them," Clark explained hurriedly. "My dad needs help with chores, you know his heart's not so great."

Pete just scowled. "When are you going to get over her, Clark? Seriously, it's getting old. You're going to stay single forever because of one bad break-up?"

Clark hopped out of the car and tugged his suitcase out of the back seat. "It's not about Chloe, Pete."

Pete rolled his eyes. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where we'll be."

It was hard for Clark to imagine what his parents' life was nowadays. He knew the mechanics of it, of course, the patterns and motions that governed their time ... but the substance of their existence was a mystery. Maybe it was the conceit of an only child, but Clark honestly couldn't envision his parents alone together in their empty nest.

Mom chattered cheerfully about the autumn fair and the book club she had joined, and Dad told Clark in bluff, manly tones about the new bull he'd acquired. There were pieces of middle-aged gossip, too ... someone's elderly mother with Alzheimer's had made a scene at the last Crows game, and someone else's daughter had won a state-wide music competition. Clark listened dutifully, trying to understand if things were better or worse without him. They certainly seemed calmer.

Clark must have taken the chaos with him to Metropolis, because for the first time in his life, it was kind of peaceful being in Smallville -- just as long as he resisted thinking about Lex and the tangled mess Clark had left behind him in Metropolis.

Clark made it until midnight on Thursday night before he gave in to temptation and called Lex.

The cell phone rang four times, which was strange because Lex always answered on the second ring -- not too eager, nor too slothful, even Lex's phone answering habits were carefully planned. "Lex here."

"Lex? It's me."

A sleepy sigh -- but Lex never went to bed earlier than 1 a.m. -- then the reply. "Hey, Clark. What's up?"

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"No. You didn't ... I was just watching TV."

Clark tuned his hearing closely, listening for the telltale whine of the TV screen, but couldn't hear it. Lex must have turned it off already. "I just ... Lex. I had a question."

"Yeah?" A tiny sound in the background, like someone drinking water, at the same moment Lex spoke. He wasn't alone.

Clark forced himself to focus on the conversation. "If your executives know what they think they know ... and you don't trust them, not completely ... how can you be sure they won't go to the press? I mean, part of the deal was that my parents can't find out." The question had been niggling at Clark ever since he left Metropolis the previous day, and he couldn't wait another moment to hear Lex's reassurances on the matter.

A definite noise, this time, soft but distinct, of flesh sliding on flesh. It could be just Lex running his hand over his scalp, as he did when he was tired or stressed. Or it could be the mysterious visitor. "There are several answers to that, Clark." For a moment, Clark thought Lex couldn't outline those answers because of the other person's presence, but then Lex continued. "First of all, my father's got almost every newspaper in Metropolis in his pocket, one way or another. He's determined not to have the media focused on me right now, because he knows that any PR is good PR for a young corporation like LexCorp. So, in some ways, he's on our side in keeping this quiet."

"But the Planet published my story," Clark pointed out.

"Well, the Planet's a different game altogether. They publish what they please, but they're not drawn to sensational stories like the tabloids. I really doubt you'd find an article about our little love nest on the front page of that paper, not unless they could dig up a good corporate scandal to go along with it."

"But you don't know. You don't know that they won't publish it." Clark knew he sounded frantic, but he couldn't help it. "Lex, you have to be more careful!"

Lex's next comment was slower in coming. "Clark, you knew there were risks coming into this. I promised I'd do my best to protect you and your family, but you were aware that it might not be within my power."

"But you didn't have to go and tell your whole executive management staff, did you?"

"Believe me, it'd be a lot more dangerous for me to play secretive with my top employees than to tell them that I'm boffing a college freshman. These people need to trust me, and I can't gain that trust if I'm obviously hiding something from them."

"Well, how am I supposed to trust you when you don't let me in on this sort of thing?" Clark said at last. He'd seen his mother deliver this sort of line with a lot more panache when his father was being a bastard, but then Mom had that whole pouty lips thing going. Clark would have to hope his pout was being transmitted over the phone line.

"Clark ... you don't need to know everything that's going on. In fact, it's probably better if you don't."

"This marriage is a partnership, isn't it? I don't recall promising to obey you and submit to you in the wedding vows," Clark said forcefully. This was another Martha Kent gem.

Another long pause, then Lex sighed. "No, you're right. I should have warned you about everyone knowing." The shift of fabric, and Clark suddenly wondered if Lex was in his bedroom. If he was in bed. And why wasn't he alone, if that was the case?

"It was kind of an unpleasant surprise," Clark replied distractedly. "And now I have to act like I'm being boffed by a CEO." The words were out before Clark could reconsider them.

Lex laughed, obviously surprised at the way Clark had turned Lex's own phrase back on him. "Do me a favor, and try to look like you're enjoying it."

Clark laughed too, even as he blushed. Then there was the shifting fabric noise again, followed closely by the flesh on flesh sound. "I'll try," Clark answered hurriedly. "I should go. See you Sunday."

"I'm expecting that pie, so don't forget it," Lex answered teasingly.

"Got it. Pie. Goodnight, Lex."

"Goodnight, Clark."

At Martha's urging, Clark attended the gathering at the Beanery. The ranks of 2005 Smallville High graduates had been slim to begin with -- four years of meteor mutant attacks had taken their toll -- and now were even thinner with most of the class having scattered across the country, away from the repressive reach of their hometown. The group that met at the Beanery consisted of the few grads who were attending Kansas State or Met U, mingled with the even fewer grads who had elected for Grandville Community College or were working for family businesses in town.

It was an odd assortment of people, tails and fragments of cliques, and the evening was spent in somewhat stilted conversations interspersed with communal recollections of some of the stranger moments in their high school careers. There was a surprising number of statements beginning with the words, "Did you hear about --" or "I heard from --", all concluding with a story about someone whose existence was more interesting than anyone who found him- or herself at the Smallville Beanery that night.

All told, it was kind of a depressing experience. Clark was glad to find himself wedged in the hatchback again on Sunday afternoon. The major drawback in heading back to Metropolis was that Clark again had to tolerate Pete for company. The Sex Pistols had already been abandoned in favor of some indie band that Pete had discovered in his older brother's collection, but the conversation, such as it was, was just as awkward as the gathering at the Beanery had been. They tried several topics -- on Clark's side, midterms and the Monitor, and on Pete's side, a pub crawl and the girl two doors down from him in the dorm -- but everything seemed to fall flat.

Clark wondered when he and Pete had stopped being best friends and started being long-acquainted strangers. It was strange, especially given the general strife lately, but Clark was tempted to think of Lex as a closer friend than Pete was. Pete knew about Clark's abilities and origins, knew everything about Clark from the time he'd peed himself in kindergarten up to the time Clark and Chloe had had sex under the bleachers of the gym during a pep rally. But Lex understood Clark and his insecurities in a way Pete never had, in spite of all his knowledge of Clark.

"See you in English tomorrow?" Pete said simply when they pulled up in front of Clark's building.

"Yeah. Thanks for the lift, Pete," Clark answered with a big fake grin. Pete could tell it was fake, but he answered with one of his own.

"Anytime, man."

The very last thing Clark had wanted to see, upon returning to his apartment, was the overgrown and kryptonite-powered rottweiler who had nearly killed Clark the previous year.

The giant hickey Lex was sporting on his neck ran a close second.

One time, one horrible traumatic life-shattering time, when Clark was eleven years old, he'd seen his father touch his mother's breast, Jonathan obviously forgetting Clark was in the room. It had been a small thing, in retrospect, but Clark had felt as humiliated as if he'd walked in on some full-on pornfest featuring his parents. It wasn't so much the action as the intimacy which it implied, and the unwelcome vivid images it summoned, that had Clark bolting, full-speed, for the Fortress of Solitude.

The sight of Lex's hickey had a similar effect -- it was one thing to suspect intellectually that Ben the Funny Guy might have been staying over on Thursday night. It was quite another to see that he -- or whoever the mysterious visitor was -- had left his mark on Lex's neck. Because to leave that mark, there must have been kissing. And sucking. Someone had been allowed to suck on Lex's neck. And Lex was seemingly unashamed of letting the world know about it.

Clark's bedroom just wasn't far enough away from the rest of the apartment to qualify as any kind of fortress ... and the solitude bit was kind of ruined by Lex following him down the hallway and suggesting they rent a DVD and order food from the nearby Thai restaurant.

"You know, I kind of have to catch up on some reading ..." Clark replied lamely, standing in the doorway of his bedroom and trying not to look at It.

Lex smiled that knowing half-smile. "Don't tell me you're actually doing readings for a junior level course."

They'd had this discussion, way back in September when Lex was outlining academic strategies with Clark. "Don't even buy the books for most courses," he'd advised. "Take good notes and ask your prof a few intelligent questions near the beginning of term. That's all you need for a top grade."

Clark placed a hand on the edge of his door and began to pull it closed, unsure of how to reply to Lex. "There's a quiz on the reading tomorrow morning," he suggested. The hickey was just under the line of Lex's jaw, the strong angle of bone accented by Lex's fine white skin. Clark wondered if Ben the Funny Guy had been making jokes about Lex's young and naive boyfriend, who called in the middle of ...

"Clark, what's going on?" Lex asked, his smile dimming.

"I'm tired. My dad had me helping him with chores all weekend," Clark explained, trying a different tack.

"Did something happen in Smallville?" Lex was leaning in the doorway, one hand splayed on the surface of the door.

"My dad had a heart attack a couple of years ago and he tries to do too much so I do what I can when I get the chance," Clark continued desperately, moving the door again.

"Is this still about the newspaper thing? Because if you want, I can make a few contacts and see about buying some insurance against a media leak." Lex took a step forward, moving towards Clark again.

It was like one of those nightmares where Clark was trying to tell someone something vitally important but the person kept misunderstanding him, except in reverse -- Lex was unerringly reading the subtext of Clark's flimsy excuses and was unwilling to let Clark go. "Plus I should unpack or all my clothes will get wrinkly and I don't know how the iron works."

"Clark, if you're upset about this, we should talk --"

"You're fucking around!" Clark shouted, much to his own shock.

Clark was getting quite good at surprising Lex. Lex actually took an involuntary step backwards and released his hold on the doorframe. "I'm ... what?" he asked, completely stunned.

"You're ... you had someone over this weekend."

Lex's hand rose to cover the hickey, his brows slowly knitting. "And?"

"And I know the rule wasn't 'no skronking', it was 'no dating', and I know you probably have a hundred plans for how you'd keep anyone from finding out, and I know that there's no way anyone could prove you and whoever were doing it, but ... it bothers me, okay?"

Lex seemed completely at a loss for words, which was almost as disconcerting as the feelings Clark was voicing.

"I know this is just a business deal, Lex, but we're friends, right? And friends don't treat each other like this ... I mean, first you let your staff think that I'm some prostitute you brought home, then you make this big show of how in love we are, and then you just go and fuck around with one of them?"

"I don't see how that last part's any of your business, Clark," Lex said sharply, folding his arms across his chest.

"It's my business because you're making me look like a total tool. Even if it's just to your co-workers, you're acting like I don't matter, like my feelings don't matter."

"You don't even know that it was one of my employees that did this," Lex pointed out, gesturing towards his hickey and regaining his calm. "You're just assum--"

"It doesn't even matter who it was!" Clark exclaimed, overriding Lex's complaint. "Anyone who was in this apartment for more than ten minutes would see that you don't live alone! Whoever you were fucking, they thought you were cheating on me."

"Cheating on you?" Lex repeated, his voice brimming with irony. "Clark, we're not dating."

"No, we're married!" Clark returned vehemently, not sure himself why this seemed so important.

Lex seemed about to answer, but he suddenly paused and studied Clark. "That matters to you, doesn't it? That we're married. That we act married."

Clark shook his head in annoyance. "No, of course not."

Lex persisted. "No. It does matter to you. Otherwise, why would you be so pissed off? I mean, you're not even interested in me sexually, so why else would you get defensive of me?"

Clark blushed furiously.

"No, don't be embarrassed, Clark," Lex added hastily, but with a small amused smile. "I mean, it's only ... I never knew anyone who took marriage so seriously, let alone a fake marriage like ours."

Clark immediately felt like a giant naive farmboy, squirming under Lex's fascinated and entertained smile. "Look, Lex. I'm not ... I'm not saying that I believe we've vowed to be together for the rest of our lives," Clark managed at length. "All I'm saying is that as your friend, I wouldn't treat you the way you've been treating me."

"No," Lex said, simply. "You wouldn't. But then, you're too ashamed to publicly call me your friend, so the situations aren't exactly parallel."

It was as though Lex had suddenly slapped Clark with a fistful of kryptonite. "You ... I'm not ashamed of you, Lex!" Clark blurted, horrified Lex would think such a thing. But then, Clark had been the one who'd insisted on keeping the marriage a secret, adamant his parents and friends stay in the dark. Clark suddenly realized how that might appear to Lex.

Lex's eyes were guarded but the smile remained. "It's all right, Clark. I'm a Luthor, I'm used to it."

"It's not you, Lex! It's ... I don't want them to think ... My parents ... they wouldn't like --"

"They would worry that Lex Luthor will corrupt their son by luring him into some shady business scheme," Lex finished blandly. "Which, to be fair, I suppose I did. I understand entirely, Clark."

Clark stared, unable to formulate a logical response.

"I'm sorry if I upset you. It won't happen again," Lex spoke in a low tone, then walked back down the hallway. Clark heard the click of the front door seconds later.

Chloe was not a stereotypical girlfriend. She didn't get angry for obscure reasons and she didn't stop talking to Clark if he said the wrong thing and she never turned down a chance to make out in the barn. She disdained cliched feminine behaviors and condemned them in others. Though a bit prone to tears when she and Clark argued, Chloe was brutally direct in expressing her emotions and almost never failed to listen to Clark, even when she was angry. And the one time Clark had really managed to wound her and infuriate her, it was just as though a light had flicked off -- nothing more could exist between them past that moment.

If only Chloe had been a bit more traditional, Clark might have had a better idea as to how to proceed with Lex now -- because Lex was being a grade A archetypal wronged princess.

Clark tried being very polite.

"Would you like me to pick up some of that green cabbage stuff you wanted to try? I'm getting groceries after school today."

"No, it's okay, Clark. I'll get one of my employees to do that."

Clark tried acting as though things were back to normal.

"Lex, can you explain the difference between eukaryotic and prokaryotic cells again?"

"Clark, that's high school biology. If you haven't figured that one out yet, you're better off dropping this course."

Clark tried addressing the issue head-on.

"Hey, Lex, about me not wanting my friends to know ... It's not because of you. It's because of me ... I mean, my best friend Pete, his family doesn't have the best history with your dad, and even though he knows it's not you, it's your family, he ..."

Lex didn't need any cutting comments to prove to Clark that this approach wasn't working. He employed only a slight eyebrow raise.

Finally, Clark tried being unobtrusive.

Lex left a purple sticky note on the bathroom mirror on the morning of the third day Clark was avoiding him. It read, "I appreciate all the time and space you're giving me for random skronking of employees, but it's really not necessary. I meant what I said -- no more adultery. - L."

Then finals crashed down on Clark and he spent most of his time buried in books, too busy cramming to worry about his marital woes. The night before his last final, Clark was half-heartedly lamenting the fact that he'd run out of giving a damn about exams before he'd run out of the exams themselves, when the phone rang.

The display said 'Kent J M', so Clark picked up the portable phone. "Hello?"

"Hi sweetheart," his mother answered. "Am I interrupting your studying?"

"Nah," Clark said eagerly, closing his textbook -- Lex was right, they really were useless -- and settling in for a nice parental coddle. "Everything okay there?"

"Everything's fine. I suppose you heard about the big storm -- it really looks like Christmas out here now, with the snow piled up to our eyeballs."

"I hope Dad didn't shovel all the snow himself," Clark worried.

"I helped, if that's what you mean," his mother laughed. "And one of the boys in town came around with a plow to do the driveway."

Clark grinned, happy to hear his parents were doing well in spite of his absence. "Did you get my e-mail about my last story in the Monitor?"

"The one about the TAs dating their students? Sounds like you had fun researching that one."

"The best part was trying to find a TA who would admit it. Every student in the class could know about it, and the TA would just say, 'I make it a policy not to date my students.'" Mom laughed along with him. "And then I'd offer to keep their names out of the article, and suddenly it was, 'I don't know why we shouldn't date our students ... it's not like six years is a big age difference.'"

"Still, I'd rather you dated a girl your own age," his mother chuckled. "Any prospects?"

"Jeez, you're nosy," Clark answered in a teasing tone. "Even if there were, I'm hardly likely to be bringing anyone back for Christmas, now am I?"

"I'm not being nosy, I'm just --"

"Concerned," Clark chimed in. "I know the drill."

There was a rattle at the door and Clark looked up to see Lex dropping his keys on the counter. Clark would move them to their place on the key rack later on. Having come directly from one underground parking garage to the next, Lex was free of the snowflakes that had dotted Clark's own jacket and hair when he'd gotten home an hour earlier. Lex almost smiled at Clark, then seemed to remember himself and shifted the smile into a smirk.

"Alexander just got home," Clark announced unnecessarily.

"Where's he going for Christmas?" asked Mom, unable to pass up a chance for prying.

"Oh, I think he's got family to go home to," Clark lied, watching Lex drape his coat over the back of a chair and deposit his briefcase amid the detritus of Clark's class notes.

"That's good."

Lex settled on the couch, politely sweeping a few books aside, then pulled his laptop onto his knees and hit the power button. Clark (who was still going for the unobtrusive strategy, since he hadn't come up with anything else) began to stand, intending to move into his bedroom and out of Lex's sight, when a thought struck him.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yes?"

"You know, I might have a visitor come by over Christmas, if it's okay."

"Of course, your friends are always welcome to stay with us."

"Well, he's got a house in Smallville, actually, but I'm going to ask him to come for dinner or something."

"A house in Smallville? Is this someone from your high school?" Clark could practically hear Mom flipping through her mental Smallvillian rolodex.

"No," Clark answered, pretending to ignore the way Lex was suddenly watching him over his laptop screen. "Actually, it's Lex Luthor. After the scholarship interview and then the article in the Planet, he and I got to talking. We're sort of friends now."

Clark considered covering Mom's long silence with more chatter, but instead affected a serious listening face, as though his mother was applauding the revelation. At length, she spoke. "Clark, I'm not sure if you should --"

"He's really a good guy, Mom. I think you and Dad will like him a lot."

"Yes, but you know how your father feels about the Luth--"

"I don't think he has any plans for Christmas ... the whole thing with his dad, you know." And Lex was probably really pissed off that Clark had brought that up, but Clark knew what worked on his mother -- she had a weakness for strays.

"Oh, of course. Well, I don't suppose it could hurt to have him over. He's been so good to you with the scholarship."

Yep, and he's stopped cheating on me too! Things are great! "I'll be coming home on Saturday," Clark said, feeling Lex's gaze burning into his back. "I'll catch a ride with Pete again, probably."

"Drive carefully," Mom said in a distracted tone. Likely she was already formulating a strategy for breaking the news to Jonathan.

"We will," Clark replied automatically. "Love you, Mom."

"Love you too, sweetheart."

Clark set the handset down and tried not to be too obviously solicitous when he turned to face Lex.

Lex's face was a strange mixture of annoyance and tenderness.

"I'm not going to Smallville for Christmas," Lex said simply.

Clark grinned. There was a definite note of forgiveness in Lex's voice.

"That stupid mansion my father's saddled me with is freezing in the winter," Lex added bluntly.

Clark continued grinning, because the corner of Lex's mouth was twitching.

"And I'm definitely not having dinner with your parents," Lex announced.

Clark bounced a little on the balls of his feet.

"Clark. I'm not going to Smallville!" Lex repeated, trying to sound irritated and failing. "The place is riddled with bad memories -- that's where I lost my hair, you know. And also, just because you told your parents we're friends, it doesn't mean that they're going to welcome a Luthor with open arms. Besides, I already planned a ski trip to Vermont."

Clark arched an eyebrow. Really, for a person born into the corporate world, Lex couldn't lie for shit.

"I'm not going. Give your parents my regards," Lex concluded, lowering his eyes to his laptop screen again.

Clark knew it was pushing his luck to be this obnoxious so soon after Lex had forgiven him, but he couldn't resist whistling "Let It Snow" as he sauntered down the hall towards his bedroom. Lex was so going to Smallville.

Clark had stumbled into a parallel universe -- there was no other explanation. He was frantically trying to recall some sort of incident, possibly involving a head injury and definitely involving kryptonite, but it didn't really matter how he'd wound up in this incomprehensible world. All that mattered at the moment was that things were very very wrong. Maybe it was one of those tears in the time-space continuum that seemed to pop up regularly on Star Trek.

"And then -- he takes me down in the diving cage and he's gesturing like crazy, trying to tell me something, but I think he's just pointing at the sharks so I just nod and keep one eye on the giant rows of teeth -- and when we surface, it turns out he was trying to get me to hold his hair out of his face -- it kept floating into his field of view and he missed seeing the sharks at all."

Dad was killing himself laughing, but he gathered enough breath to ask, "Why couldn't he pull his hair back himself?"

Lex made a noise that would have been a snort, coming from anyone else. "He was holding this stupid expensive underwater digital camera -- this is in the early nineties, so it was huge, he needed both hands for it -- and he hadn't thought to strap it around his neck. So instead of dropping the damn thing or handing it to me -- because I couldn't be trusted, I was just a clumsy kid -- he spent the whole time watching his hair drift past in the ocean currents."

Jonathan was wheezing for breath, he was laughing so hard, and Lex, for his part, was smiling more broadly than Clark had ever seen him do. Clark cast a desperate look at his mother, seeking some explanation for the fact that his father and a Luthor were getting along.

"God, he was so pissed off at me, he made me wait for three hours until he could go down for another chance. One of the sailors finally tied his hair back, but it was too short for one ponytail, so --" Lex stuck each index finger out from the back of his head, miming pigtails. "He looked like a demented girl scout."

Clark hadn't ever seen his father laugh so hard -- he was ticking silently with laughter, wiping tears from his eyes. When he finally caught his breath, he reached across and patted Lex on the shoulders. "Son, it's a miracle you grew up as normal as you did, with a role model like that."

God, this was bizarre. His father had just called Lex Luthor 'son' -- it had taken ten years and the revelation of Clark's alienhood for Pete to merit that treatment.

"He's not that normal," Clark chimed in. Mom kicked him under the table, which must have hurt her a lot more than it affected Clark. "You should see him playing video games -- if he's losing, he'll physically tackle his opponent to gain the upper hand."

Lex was still chuckling sporadically, and now it was his turn to boot Clark under the table. "Mr. Kent, your son's telling lies. I would never --"

"You took the controller out of my hand, Lex!" Clark protested, but he couldn't help grinning back at his friend. So maybe there was a tear in the space-time continuum. At least it was working in Lex's favor.

"That was a penalty for you using codes I didn't know," Lex replied logically. "Everyone knows that there's a sixty second penalty for that."

Clark wrinkled his nose in mock disgust and was about to retort when Martha suddenly stood up from the table. "How about dessert?" she said abruptly, and now there really was a parallel universe anomaly, because Mom looked -- she looked pissed.

"Um, I'll help you," Clark quickly said, rising and helping her clear the table. Lex and Dad were now discussing the drawbacks of letting children play with video games -- and their opinions were eerily congruent. Clark followed his mother into the kitchen, noting the tense line of her shoulders.

"What's wrong? You don't like Lex?" Clark asked, toeing the dishwasher open.

Mom's eyebrows drew together as she began scraping plates. "Of course I like Lex, Clark ... why would you say that?"

Clark eyed her, taking each plate as she cleared it. "Because you haven't looked this ticked off since Nell Potter beat you out for best floral arrangement at the county fair."

Martha shot him one of those quick, placating smiles she seemed to consider adequate cover for her true emotions. "Lex is a very nice man."

Ah. Man. "He's only twenty-five, you know. He kind of acts older but he's really not much different from me."

"There's a world of difference between twenty-five and nineteen," Martha answered in an almost-light tone. "By the time I was twenty-five, I had been married for four years and we had you."

"Yeah, well, Lex isn't married," Clark rejoined, then hoped his mother didn't notice the way he immediately flushed when he realized that was a lie. Luckily, her face was turned away from him as she attempted to hide her own expression. Clark continued quickly, aiming for his mother's soft spot. "Plus, he's kind of lonely -- he can't really be friends with his employees because they work for him and his dad has cut him out of most of his circle. I think he really needs a friend."

Mom's way of wielding that knife might have been alarming if Clark didn't know for a fact that it couldn't cut him. "Clark, I'm not denying that ... I just don't know if you're the kind of friend he needs."

"Why not?" Clark countered, annoyed now.

"Because, Clark, he's older and he's had a lot more experience in the world and his version of entertainment is going to be vastly different from yours. I grew up in Metropolis -- I know how those kids live their lives, and it's not like it is in Smallville."

"Mom," Clark protested. "First of all, I'm not some little kid you need to look out for. And secondly, yeah, Lex might have had a wilder adolescence than me or Pete, but he's over that now. I swear, hanging out with Lex is like, watching DVDs and talking about football. It's not like he's taking me clubbing and racing cars."

Mom pursed her lips -- when she did that, Clark knew he was sunk. "I don't think you should trust him too far, Clark. The Luthors aren't known for their ethics when it comes to business practices. If he found out something about you --"

"He won't, Mom," Clark insisted. "God, what do you think I'm doing, using my heat vision for party tricks?"

Mom handed Clark two plates of pie. "Of course I don't think that," she reassured him distractedly. "All I'm asking is that you keep your distance. Make some friends your own age. Maybe spend some time with old friends from school."

Clark was following his mother as she led the way back to the dining table, too distracted by her words to notice their proximity to Lex and Dad when he blurted, "Mom! I'm not getting back together with Chloe!"

"Did I say that?" Mom returned, sounding a little irritated, which was a sure sign she had meant it.

"Who's Chloe?" Lex asked as Clark set his pie down.

Clark glowered at his mother. This is all your fault, he transmitted with a scowl.

"Now, Martha, don't go trying to patch things up between Clark and Chloe ... you know it's better the way it is," Dad interjected. Clark, sitting down, had to stop himself from pounding his head on the table. Lex was watching the exchange with interest. "It was just a high school romance, and those are best left in high school."

"I haven't said a word about Chloe," Martha replied earnestly. "Eat your pie, Jonathan."

"Who's Chloe?" Lex repeated, fork poised over his slice.

Clark shot him a dark look. "I'll explain later," he mumbled. This parallel universe sucked.

Clark didn't bother trying to delay the inevitable, once they attained the privacy of the loft. "This is Chloe," he announced, holding out a photograph for Lex to examine.

Clark hadn't taken any pictures of Chloe with him to Metropolis. It was as much an attempt to keep the phantom of Chloe away from his sham marriage as it was a gesture towards moving on ... but he still knew exactly where his favorite snapshot was. Unlike all the carefully posed pictures of the two of them -- the freshman spring formal, the sophomore homecoming, the junior prom -- in this photograph, Chloe wasn't just smiling brightly. She was laughing, bent over in giggles, the motion blurring her in the picture, her blonde hair whipped by the wind. Clark had been the one to take the picture, and she'd insisted it was terrible, but Clark loved it. "I look like a hunchback on speed," Chloe had protested. "You look amazing," Clark had replied, simply.

And she did. Chloe wasn't beautiful, not in the strict sense, but her vitality was overwhelming in person. A simple picture couldn't quite capture it, but this snapshot came the closest to reminding Clark of what it felt like to be near her -- as though every inch of the surface of his skin was buzzing slightly, as though at any moment, something incredible might happen. In the months after the break-up, the corners of the picture had become dog-eared and it was slightly bent from Clark's habit of brooding while cradling the photo in his palm.

Clark couldn't say why he'd chosen to show this, his most intimate memory of Chloe, to Lex. After all, Clark had intended to keep her in a separate part of himself, never to be contaminated by the mundane and oftentimes unpleasant aspects of his existence. Lex wasn't supposed to know about Chloe.

Except there was something about Lex, something about how he approached the world, like it was some giant puzzle someone had left for him to solve, how he seemed convinced of his own importance in the universe ... something about Lex resembled Chloe. Clark supposed he was counting on the call of the kindred spirit to explain his offering when words couldn't.

Lex didn't disappoint Clark. Instead of merely smiling and teasing Clark about past loves, he spent a long moment perusing the photograph, as if trying to divine what Chloe was to Clark, much as Chloe might have studied a picture of Lex. "I wondered," Lex spoke at last, handing the picture back. "I wondered who it was, that broke your heart."

Clark blinked in surprise. They had never spoken of heartbreak, except for Clark's oblique assertion that he wasn't into dating at the moment.

"I knew it had to be someone incredible, to make you feel like you'd never be in love again," Lex continued, raising his eyes to look at Clark. "She definitely seems like the type."

"How did you --" Clark began, startled anew by Lex's ability to read him.

Lex shook his head slightly. "It was crazy and I regretted it later, but I loved my wife more than I'd loved anyone before. I know what it feels like to have someone at the center of your world."

Clark looked down at Chloe's image, the vivid splash of blue that was her shirt, the strawberry smear of her open, laughing mouth. If somebody had asked Clark, at the time he took the picture, to define the center of his universe, he probably would have named his parents, their love for him. Yet, short months later, after ... there had been no doubt in Clark's mind that Chloe had been his true balancing point. "And you know what it's like when you lose that person, too," Clark concluded bitterly.

"How long were you together?"

"From the spring of freshman year until the summer after junior year -- it worked out to about two years."

Lex whistled, impressed. "That's pretty intense for a high school romance -- isn't that what your dad called it?"

Clark rubbed his thumb over Chloe's visage, obscuring it momentarily. "I was going to marry her." He waited for Lex to chuckle, but no laughter seemed forthcoming. Clark looked up to see Lex's gaze still riveted on him. "I know it sounds stupid, but ... Chloe knew what she wanted in life -- she wanted a Pulitzer, she wanted to live in Metropolis, and she wanted me. I could never quite believe that I ranked so high on her list."

"Your dad didn't like her?" When Clark looked askance, Lex explained. "You seemed surprised that he and I got along -- I assume there's a history of him not liking your friends."

Clark shrugged. "Chloe -- she wasn't exactly Dad's kind of girl. When she came over for dinner, she would act like Mom cooking was some sort of antiquated ritual." Clark skipped over the part where Chloe had dug too deep into Clark's adoption back in freshman year, the way his father warned him about getting too close to Chloe. Suddenly, Clark felt naked, vulnerable, with Lex watching him study Chloe's image. Clack quickly stuffed the photo back in its drawer and forced a grin at Lex. "Ancient history, right?"

But Lex wasn't prepared to drop the subject, not yet. "She worked for the school paper? And your break-up ... that's why you quit the paper, your senior year."

Clark nodded abruptly. "She made it pretty clear she didn't want me around."

"What happened?" Lex asked.

Clark's heart squeezed as he remembered the moment, the human-sized split second that had spun into an eternity of indecision, watching the kryptomutant's bullets move inevitably towards Chloe, her eyes wide open and focused on the death heading her way. The step in front of the projectiles, the elastic snap against his back, the way her human vision slowly caught up. The look of shock on her face.

"I didn't trust her when I should have," Clark said, simply, letting the weight in his voice implore Lex not to ask anything more.

You can't tell anyone, Chloe, you have to keep it a secret, please please please don't say anything, don't put this in the Torch, oh god, I had to choose and I chose this but you have to promise, you have to ...

She was still shaking, running a palm over his back, over the places where the bullets hit, the little holes like mouths in his shirt.

Chloe, please say something, say that you won't do it, it's so important.

You think I'd do that? Crossing her arms over her chest, backing away. All this time, I thought you were trying to protect me, by not telling me what I already figured out for myself. And you were only looking out for yourself, weren't you? You thought I'd ... that I could ... How could you ... God, who are you?

"It's a huge thing, when someone asks you to trust them completely," Lex spoke, jolting Clark out of his unpleasant memories. "Maybe she was asking for more than you could give."

"My dad says he likes to have faith in people," Clark replied, his lips feeling numb. That phrase had haunted him in the weeks following the incident, Clark certain that at some point, he should have known that Chloe was worthy of his faith in her.

Lex smiled wryly. "Your dad also owns a shotgun."

Clark looked over at Lex, puzzled.

"It's amazing, the things we got to talking about while you and your mother were in the kitchen," Lex offered, smiling a bit more. "All I'm saying is that platitudes like that are useful generalizations, but real relationships are messy and they don't always fit into categories and rules."

Yes, an alien in love with a reporter certainly fell outside the bounds of normality. Clark smiled back at Lex, suddenly feeling his heart lighten a bit. "Except our relationship ... six rules, right?"

Lex laughed, taking Clark's jibe in stride. "Rule number seven -- there are no rules," he pronounced.

Clark's smile widened. "Fight Club."

"Actually, in Fight Club, rule number seven is 'fights will go on as long as they have to'," Lex corrected.

"Well, which rule is 'there are no rules'?" Clark demanded, trying not to grin at Lex's display of dorkiness.

"That's not a rule in Fight Club."

"As long as I get to be Brad Pitt, I'll go along with anything you say," Clark replied gravely.

"Lex Luthor?" Pete repeated indignantly. "Man, I didn't believe it when I heard it, but you're saying it's true?"

Clark sighed heavily, gliding slowly towards the boards of the hockey rink where Pete was sitting on the bench, unlacing his skates with ferocity. "Pete, I didn't tell you because I was afraid you'd react like this."

"Why shouldn't I?" Pete retorted, snapping a lace. "Clark, you know how I feel about the Luthors."

"I know how your family feels about Lionel Luthor," Clark corrected patiently. He'd known, once he and Lex were spotted together at the Beanery, that it would be only a matter of time before Pete found out, but Clark had been reluctant to break the news himself. Instead, Pete had related the so-called crazy rumor in incredulous tones and Clark had been forced to admit the truth. "Lex isn't even a part of Lionel's company anymore -- he sold all his shares to start LexCorp."

Pete was tugging at his skate, which was kind of cute because since he was six, he'd relied on Clark to help him pull his skates off. Pete's arms were disproportionately short for his body -- it was one of the weird little secrets Clark shared. "He's a Luthor, whether he works for the man or not."

"Pete, don't be like that," Clark exhorted, wondering if it was safe to approach the blade of Pete's skate -- it couldn't hurt Clark, but a good kick would cut a hole in Clark's new jeans. "Come on, he's a good guy."

"You know what? He could be a goddamn superhero and I'd still be pissed off. Clark, you didn't tell me yourself! I thought I was your best friend!" Pete was whapping his foot against the concrete under the bench, trying to lever his skate off of his foot.

Clark opened his mouth to reassure Pete, but the words stopped before he could form them. "Are you my best friend?" he said instead, beginning to feel the slow burn of anger.

"What, now Luthor's replaced me?" Pete snarled, the skate finally loosening marginally.

"Pete, we've hung out maybe three times since September. You can't honestly tell me that you haven't noticed."

Pete shook his head. "It goes both ways. You haven't come to a single thing I've invited you to ... you hide away in that apartment of yours and chase down stories about bus passes for the newspaper. And then you start hanging out with a Luthor?"

"I wish you'd stop saying his name like that," Clark spoke darkly.

"And I wish you'd stop acting like you're not partly to blame in all this. I thought we were past the point where you kept stuff from me. I tell you everything."

"It's not the same," Clark retorted sharply. "What do you have to talk about? Beer. In case you forgot, I can't even get drunk like a normal person. Maybe I'd prefer you kept some stuff to yourself too."

Pete looked up at Clark, glowering. "Fine. Have it your way." Then his face did the shift from Angry Pete to I'm Not Speaking To You Pete. Clark hadn't seen that Pete for a few years at least. It was the cue for Conciliatory Clark.

Clark stared for a minute, then pushed off the boards and skated away.

It was the most screwed-up Christmas Eve ever. Mom was still acting strange, getting quiet when Clark said he was going out to meet Lex. Dad kept chiming in with his hearty approval. Pete was being an asshole. Lex was being sympathetic and strangely friendly. Clark hadn't finished his Christmas shopping (okay, that wasn't that abnormal). And Chloe --

Chloe was actually making eye contact with Clark, across the crowded aisles of Fordman's. He'd seen her come in and had expected she'd beat a quick retreat when she spotted him amidst the tennis shoes. Instead, when she looked up at him, she met his gaze. It was sort of like that moment on the Discovery Channel, when you knew the lion was about to take out that antelope. Clark had never felt like an antelope before.

He tried a weak smile. To his shock, Chloe echoed the gesture.

"Clark, do you really need another pair of --" Lex began, spotting the box of sneakers in Clark's grasp. Then he noticed the direction of Clark's gaze and followed it. "Oh. That's her, isn't it?"

Clark's heart was doing a strange skipping jig. Chloe was walking towards them. "I need to -- I should --" Clark stammered, thrusting the shoes at Lex and backing up.

"No, stand your ground, Clark," Lex ordered in a level voice. "Steady."

Clark obediently forced himself to stay put, even as he mentally calculated the risks of speeding out of the store before Chloe could reach him. Panic was stretching the interval into minutes, hours. Clark shook his head, trying to regain a normal sense of time. But Chloe ... she hadn't spoken to him since ...

"You never get your shopping done in time, do you?" she said, right in front of him, smiling. "I guess college hasn't changed Clark Kent."

Clark stared, unable to process this event.

"Lex Luthor," said Lex, inexplicably. But then he was extending a hand and -- oh.

"Chloe Sullivan. I heard you two had become friends. That was a great article, about Cadmus. Must have been good exposure for your company," Chloe answered.

Lex was smiling in that way that meant he was hearing two different meanings in one sentence. "It was," he said simply.

Clark got his tongue unstuck. "Hey, Chloe," he managed, but shit. It was really too late in the conversation to be doing greetings.

Chloe looked back at Clark, and a glimmer of sympathy in her eye showed she understood why Clark was acting like an idiot. "Hey, Clark."

That was all they got out between them before they were interrupted by the bright jangle of Chloe's cell phone. Clark glanced over at Lex, who was pretending to examine a pair of puffy silver running shoes -- at least, Clark hoped he was pretending. Lex outwardly seemed calm and politely distant, but Clark could tell he was busily calculating the dynamic between Clark and Chloe, drawing conclusions about them based on even that briefest exchange. Looking at Lex had a grounding effect, and Clark felt his lungs inflate completely for the first time since Chloe had walked in the door.

Lex looked up to see Clark watching him, and he smiled a quick bitter smile in response. Lex was ... he was jealous, Clark realized, startled. Clark was about to make some gesture of comfort, some overture to show that Clark wasn't going to abandon Lex in the shoe department of Fordman's, when Chloe's voice, pitched high and distressed, reached him.