Archive of Our Own

Six months later

Light streamed into the room. Though vacant for many years, it did not smell like dust, but rather the gentle scent of lilac and fresh air. They lowered their charge to the bed. Not a sigh or grimace was uttered.

Jonathan stepped away from bed and with a slight look to Lex headed out the door quietly. The door closed with a small snick.

Lex stood at the opposite edge of the bed, his gaze fiercely trained on the person in it. Sunshine streamed in from behind him framing the bed in a mixture of gold and dark. Clark stirred lightly within the sheets, but for the most part remained silent.

Like Sleeping Beauty, Clark looked so very peaceful in his world of slumber. His skin was near flawless in its tawny and smooth terrain. Lex ran a gentle hand through Clark’s tumbling curls. He was careful to not jostle them too much. Clark would be awake soon enough and he needed all the rest he could get.

Lex returned to the first floor. His steps echoed in the hall with a constant tip-tap that seemed to move counterpoint to sounds of cheery laughter of his children. He came to a stop at the doorway of the former office turned living room.

The room hadn’t changed much since they had spread their wings and flew from the confines of their Smallville cage. There was life in this room, so much that it made what had passed through the halls before seem muted. The room was toasty as it should be on a cool spring day.

Martha sat in one of the plush leather chairs with Conner on her lap; her hands mimicking the itsy bitsy spider while Conner’s followed along. Lena read to her grandfather, who mimicked the sounds of the animals in the book.

The sounds of their laughter were a balm to his soul.

Noticing him in the door, Martha stood with Conner in her arms; her smile was beatific at best, not completely betraying the cluster of emotions that were swirling within. Lex automatically reached for his son. The warm weight against his chest was familiar and wholly welcome. He rubbed Conner’s back, more in an effort to soothe himself than his son.

“We can take the kids tonight.” Martha offered.

Lex looked over at Jonathan and Lena, and despite their seemingly good fun, he couldn’t help but feel jealous at not being able to do the same these days.

“That’s okay. Clark will be awake soon enough.”

Martha nodded. She stood there watching Lex and Connor, her eyes tight and sad around the edges. All evidence of the strain of the past six months. He wondered how he looked.

“Good…I think I’ll go up and see him.”

That was the full extent of their conversations these days. Martha was still angry and Lex figured she had a right to be. They didn’t speak about it. Just like they didn’t speak about what brought the busy little family back to its roots.

Jonathan, it seemed, pointedly ignored Lex in favor of time with his granddaughter. Lex figured it was better that way. Conner stirred in his lap.

Like a good father, he would show him how the itsy bitsy spider climbed the waterspout.

As night settled on Smallville, Martha and Jonathan made their exit along with plans for all of them to get together for a picnic at the farm. The appearance of the entire Luthor clan would be tentative based on whether Clark was up to it.

Martha hadn’t liked it and Lex wasn’t quite ready to show her again how wrong she had been before.

As Lex watched his family against the flickering golden dance in the fireplace, he caught the scent of activity in the kitchen. Good, he thought. Enrique had delivered his message to the staff. The children were to have an early dinner before being put to bed.

The rest of the evening would be spent quietly alone with Clark. It would be an evening of affirmations.

Already, he found himself thawing at the sight of Conner showing Clark the spider his fingers could make and Lena’s cheery cadence as she read her new book was simply delightful. The blotches of green, yellows, black and blues made Clark look like some exotic entity especially when highlighted by the fickle flashes of light.

There was no need to analyze how wrong it was that he found Clark more beautiful than that day on the cross in the middle of the cornfield. He coveted every precious moment with Clark.

“Lex.”

He snapped out of his thoughts. “Yes, Clark.”

“Why are you so far away?”

Lex smiled. “This is a better view.” Clark gave him a bright smile, that gradually shrunk into a grimace as pain took over. They had come back home to allow Clark to heal. They had all the time in the world. Their castle was safe. The enemy slayed. Their hero dead, but their family survived.

It was tempting to put on a glove on his left hand, to clearly distinguish it for what it is—a weapon.

He was like a man possessed, right? And had found a collaborator in one of his greatest opponents.

Bruce might have been twelve shades beyond crazy in some matters, but the man’s doggedness to believe that Clark was dead, his stubbornness had shifted their relations between to a steady détente.

The creature had been called Doomsday. It was meant as a ploy. Just a means of distraction while the real e vent occurred. His father hadn’t learned yet that his inventions were never as docile or goal-oriented as they seemed.

The world had seen the terrible destruction wrought by an ungodly monstrosity with the strength of Superman and the tenacity to continue fighting. Lex had seen his own folly. It wasn’t the children that Lionel had meant to take. It was the one thing—person that had any real sway over Lex’s life.

While they were all distracted by insuring the safety of the children, Superman—Clark went to face his death unknowingly.

The phone rang. Loud and annoying. He glared at it momentarily.

Just glared.

Then, his gaze softened. This wasn’t the phone, not his main line. This was the *phone*. The one that only two people had the number to; he reclined back in his chair and stared, considering all the reasons why such a call would come. There was usually a six hundred to one odds that the call would pertain to his father.

If last night hadn’t happened, then there would be no reason in his hesitation.

He took the phone. “Mercy.”

“Protocol 46, sir.”

Protocol 46: the potential use of kryptonite. Apparently, Clark had decided to force his hand.

He took the express elevator down to the penthouse. Of course, as he entered he could hear the furious and impatient sounds of Clark pacing across the carpet. There were bags packed and tossed on the sofa. Lena’s princess luggage and Conner’s diaper bag.

Clark just glared at him. Eyes furiously trained on him beyond Mercy’s shoulder. She stood between them and Hope held her position in front of the window. Clark was seemingly trapped, more so by his own stubbornness than any machination on Lex’s part.

“I told you.” Lex began.

Clark stopped pacing, eyes, green eyes gone blue—glacial and beyond sub- thermal. “You can’t keep us here.”

He sighed an annoyed sigh. After all these years, why was it now when he was so close that everything seemed to be slipping away. Making Clark understand w as tantamount to fulfilling the plan. “True. But Conner and Lena are my children as well. I think talking would be best, but not at this moment.”

Clark crossed his arms over his chest, slipping into his Superman pose. “ Then when?”

“Later.”

“That’s not good enough.” Clark grit between his teeth. That good old stubbornness was rearing its ugly little head.

He was ready to say ‘tough’, and issue some sort of semi-threat and placating offer when the building rattled mildly and the backdrop of the city behind them was now covered in smoke and flames. A second explosion filled another spot in the distance with swirling flames of red and orange.

He could hear the vibration of the JLA communicator.

Clark’s eyes never broke away from his as he reached for it.

“This is not over, Clark.”

This was still Clark before him. “It’s been over for a long time, Lex. It’s time that we face that.” Clark stepped towards the balcony windows and zipped into his costume. He flew off without another word, just a look of righteous anger sent Lex’s way.

Lex had always been an early riser contrary to popular belief. It was Clark, who should have been a natural after all the years of doing pre-dawn chores when it came to rising with the sun. No, Clark never had been fond of too early mornings.

Lex could understand what drove a man like Bruce. He knew perfectly well what obsession was just by looking at Clark. He laid there listening to Clark’s gentle sleep noises. This was how he slaked his thirst—his hunger, for the mundane things that he lost six months ago.

It was one thing to be filled with anger. Warm silence at best. It was entirely another thing for it to be like a vacuum, void of sound and heat.

As Lex rose, he was careful to not jostle the mattress too much. Not that anything would happen if he did. Clark slept like the dead these days. Long deep slumbers in the sunlight.

Shelby picked his head up as Lex approached Clark’s side of the bed. The dog’s possessiveness of Clark hadn’t changed in the years that they’d been cohabitating. Unlike a normal dog, Lex wasn’t sure when he would be rid of Shelby.

Now, he wasn’t sure he minded the dog’s closeness.

Circumstances had changed.

Lex went about getting ready, showering and dressing. Today, he’d wear a black suit and blue shirt. No more black on black. Those were the colors of mourning, and he’d been right in that respect; there was nothing for him to mourn.

Clark was still asleep as he took one last look at himself. He looked the same always. At least on the outside, he knew. Diverting his attention to Clark, he scanned all the bruises and swellings, and could see a little progress. The A.I. had said it would take months.

Months were but a drop in the bucket when considering how nearly every part of Clark needed to be repaired. Undo the impossible, subvert obliteration. “I’ll be back.” He whispered and shut the door.

When Lex decided to remove himself from LexCorp affairs until his husband recovered, his advisors called it a brilliant move. Others saw his family as more victims of Doomsday’s destruction. Then, there were other’s like Bruce who believed Lex was manipulating the situation for his own gains.

It was another day of the same old stuff argument, simply a change in location.

He hadn’t been to the Fertilizer Plant in years. Usually, his appearances had been on the lower levels, investigating and usually shutting down Lionel’s little projects that the employees above had no clue about.

Sure, Lex had experiments and secrets. The only difference was that Clark had some knowledge of them; maybe not full disclosure, but enough. A sufficient knowledge to skirt the thin line of lying. In Smallville, they used to call him Lionel Jr--Jonathan Kent more than others. Now, they only talked about him being the next governor if he ever put his mind to it.

Funny, being contrary to everything Lionel taught him had given him everything. He was the David to his father’s Goliath. Their battles had been fiece, open and destructive. At the end, Lex came through smelling like a rose dressed in dazzling white, so crisp and clean. A family. Success. Power.

Lex smiled to himself as he exited his Porsche. Hopefully, the old man was roasting and spitting in whatever corner of hell he inhabited.

So, he returned his thoughts to meeting Bruce. He’d try to be civil, but not gracious. They were meeting here on his turf after all. The plant had hundreds of people working in or around the building. Public enough without being accessible to the media or any late hangers on to his father’s dead war.

The Plant was supposedly neutral ground. Neither Metropolis or Gotham. It was Clark’s territory and the origin of the relationship. Therefore, it was also Lex’s territory. The Plant also offered witnesses and the resounding fact that he couldn’t kill Bruce no matter how much he truly wanted to.

At least above ground.

Gabe Sullivan greeted him as he approached the administrative offices. The man was still as dapper and enthusiastic as when they’d first met. Maybe, even more so now that he was in charge of the entire Plant. Of course, the smile Gabe offered turned into a look of sympathy as they shook hands.

“Lex.”

“Gabe, it’s good to see you.”

“The same.”

Lex already knew the next question. How was Smallville’s favorite son? “He’s getting better. But he—we are all doing okay.”

Because the recovery in the fortress took so long and Clark had virtually disappeared, a rumor had started that he’d actually died. Now, Lex found himself dissuading people of the notion. Gabe had been one of the first to offer sympathy to the Kents, which had come to a shock to them. Thanks to a phone call from Chloe, the correct version of things had been disseminated quickly.

“Good.” Gabe ushered him forward.

“Has Mr. Wayne arrived?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, you’re not late. He arrived early…Surprisingly.” Everyone was aware of Bruce Wayne’s philandering and irresponsibility. The man had burned down his ancestral home.

“Thank you.” Bruce would arrive early, just to spite Lex. Maybe use his free minutes to do a little exploring of his own. Their détente was already wire thin. “Mr. Wayne can be very surprising when he wants to be.”

Gabe smirked. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

Seeing Bruce recline in the plush leather conference chairs made it very easy to buy into the feckless playboy image. Here was the image of the devastatingly handsome dullard in an expensive suit and enough money behind him that there was no way he could spend it all.

Then, Lex remembered.

He took a deep breath, put his smirk in place, and stamped out the desire to punch Bruce squarely in the face.

“Bruce.”

“Lex, thanks for having me.”

“Oh, the pleasure is mine.”

No handshakes or other pleasantries were exchanged. This was strictly business. “Let’s take a walk.”

For the sake of this conversation, they would make use of the rooms below.

Lex led Bruce to what essentially amounted to a storage closet. Locating the false brick yielded the unveiling of the key pad in which Lex punched the code. A false wall slid away and an elevator door opened. They stepped inside. The ride down was silent and felt way too long for a ten second trip.

The lower levels had long since been shut down. Yet, all the equipment was left in such a way that if research was needed again or containment was necessary, it could all come back online without hitch.

Lex showed Bruce into a moderately comfortable office and shut the door. Lex sat across from Bruce waiting.

“How is he?”

Wrong question. The right answer, though, would have been saying that they’d destroyed every trace of Lionel’s experiments.

Lex shook his head. “The right question would have involved mentioning Doomsday.”

Bruce’s gaze narrowed becoming piercing blue beams. “After a joint investigation between the League and the Department of MetaHuman Affairs, the investigation confirmed what we already knew.”

Lex sank deeper into his chair. “My father.” Bruce nodded solemnly.

Lionel had been so proud of his last bit of malevolence as his breath petered out beneath Lex’s hand.

“Your father--” Bruce grit through his teeth. “ Scientists used Superman’s DNA as the host material for the monster and then manipulated its gene expression with a protein-kryptonite gene therapy.”

Lex rubbed his temples. Of course, his father would reverse engineer Superman.

“It gets worse. There were photocells implanted into its skin to radiate small amounts of red sun energy. There’s no doubt that Lionel intended to kill Superman.”

If his father wanted Clark dead this badly, there’s no telling what else he’d set up as the backup plan. “How can we be sure there are no more?”

“Your father knew the odds of Superman surviving an altercation with the creator were slim to none. If it had failed, the backup measure was an internalized kryptonite bomb, one that most certainly would have killed both of them and a third of Metropolis.”

Months of recovery were a godsend compared to the alternative. They sat in silence for a few moments. That last tidbit had essentially ended their business. Now, Lex was ready to leave the presence of Bruce Wayne.

“I want to see Clark.” Bruce had a nasty little habit of making requests sound like demands.

Lex stood, and walked to the far window of the room, allowing him to look down on the once thriving lower research levels. His jaws were set in a tight line. Now was the time for him to say exactly what he needed to. It felt good to have Bruce sitting in the disadvantaged position, waiting for Lex to grant him permission. Granting permission might not matter that much to Bruce, but it gave Lex one hell of an ego boost to deny Bruce from getting any closer to the thing that was his.

Clark was his.

“Bruce, I don’t believe that’s a good idea.”

“Lex.” Bruce said in a warning tone, clenching his teeth. “Care to explain why not?”

Did Bruce honestly believe Lex would allow him within ten feet of Clark injured, healed, or otherwise? There wasn’t much that Clark did that Lex didn’t know about. The footage hadn’t been the standard grainy black and white, but the sharpest and clearest high definition images the cameras in the new LexCorp security division were designing. As small as the head of a tack and nearly as flat as a sheet of paper towel; no one would be able to find it, not even Clark. The trick had been getting it into Clark’s quarters on the Watchtower.

Lex’s brows rose in an amused fashion. “I doubt I really have any explaining to do at all. If I recall, it was you who was breaching into territories that didn’t belong to you. Do you know what they still do to thieves in some countries? Cut off the offending hand…I’d say you’re getting off easy.” They had been allies for the simple reason that Lex’s denial was just as strong as Bruce’s paranoia. Never believed Clark had been dead. Now, presently six months later, the world mourned the loss of Superman and these two powerful men argued over possession of Clark Kent.

The sudden tightness around Bruce’s eyes told him all that he needed to know. Bruce understood that Lex had seen them—watched him and Clark kissing in Clark’s private quarters. There were at least three occasions that Lex had seen personally; he couldn’t be sure how many more remained in the hours of footage.

“We’re talking about Clark and not stocks, bonds, or any other commodity.”

“I know damn well who we are talking about. I also understand perfectly well that Clark is so much more than anyone can ever give him credit for. Forgive me, if this is the jealous husband speaking. Clark and I have weathered many storms before. This—is by far the worst. I think he may have lost sight of some important things; I can only blame myself for that. But know this, Bruce. Three kisses or more in that rotating space tower aren’t going to change the simple fact that Clark and I have a destiny. We’ll get through this. Whether he remembers--”

Bruce rose to his feet and gripped the edge of the table as his eyes bore into Lex. “You can’t keep him prisoner. He’ll remember eventually. ”

Lex leaned closer to Bruce. Their noses separated by centimeters, rather than inches. “Au contaire, I’m not keeping Clark prisoner, not in any way, shape, or form. I am simply providing him with the best environment to heal. The last thing I would want is for him to have a setback, because he was stressed. He needs his family more than ever.”

“Even if he were to remember you wouldn’t allow him to leave.”

True.

Lex’s lips curled into a full on smile. “It’s not a matter of allowing Clark to do anything. Once he recovers, we’ll talk and make the appropriate provisions.”

He moved away from Bruce. “Come within five feet of Clark and I’ll have you strapped across a bed in Arkham faster than the Joker can escape. Now, I believe it’s time for me to show you the way out.”

“How are you doing?”

“Good…I’m tired.”

At times like this, he wanted to go against his nature and call Clark something , use an endearment that just wasn’t in him to use. Darling. Baby. Dear.

Words that soothe.

Words that bind.

Lex wondered if Clark remembered that he was leaving. There was a niggling voice that he might suffer Munchausen’s Syndrome. He watched Clark stroke Shelby’s fur. The dog gazed back at him with sharp intelligent eyes, unnerving as if he could read Lex’s thoughts. One could never know with the meteor enhanced.

It didn’t matter anyway.

Lex watched Clark’s face take on a distant look. “A penny for your thoughts.”

Clark’s eyes refocused on a spot in the far corner of the room. One that actually contained a colorful blanket and mound of toys that belonged to Lena and a playpen that was all Conner’s. “It’s his birthday…”

Lex’s breath caught. “Yes, Conner’s birthday is in two weeks.”

Clark had remembered. The quickening stutter of Lex’s heart wasn’t all that welcome.

“Conner’s…” Clark paused, as if searching. “It’s his first birthday.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” Clark suddenly apologized. He seemed to deflate suddenly. “It—feels like I should be able to remember, but…”

“It’s hard, I know.”

Clark nodded silently in response. Lex reached out for him, and drew up short as Shelby growled lowly at him. Clark hadn’t even paid the dog any mind; Lex trained a wary eye on the dog and made contact further still. Clark’s hand rested upon his own atop his shoulder.

“You remember something and that’s all that matters.”

Lena’s first birthday had been over extravagant. More so than he thought Clark would ever tolerate. She was the newest Luthor born in nearly twenty years. Her survival of the first year as such demanded the biggest birthday party to ever hit Metropolis.

She was practically American royalty; it was only fitting that the celebration of her birth reflect that.

As Lex began to mentally plan Conner’s birthday party, he couldn’t help but feel like his son was getting the short end of the stick. Conner’s birthday had come at the start of a long rather disastrous period for him and Clark.

Lena hadn’t been planned, but she gave them enough time to prepare. Conner was a total shock. Or so Clark said before. Kryptonian physiology seemed to always come with some new trick or function at random times.

Martha and Jonathan wouldn’t be opposed to having Conner’s party at the farm. They’d keep it small—family only. As Lex pondered how family had become the staple of his very existence, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Hope giving someone a thorough chewing out.

Lex left his office and ventured towards one of the ante rooms, finding Hope instead standing slightly beyond the open main door with Enrique standing at her side, taking the inquisition solemnly.

“How did this happen?” She asked in a scolding tone.

Lex stepped into the bright spring sunshine. “ How did what happen?”

Hope drew back from Enrique just slightly and with a quirk of her brow implored the butler to show Lex what had set her off. They walked away from the door and up the drive until they stood about halfway to the fence.

Enrique stopped, pointing at a spot where the grounds inclined slightly. “There.” He gestured.

Hope stepped into the grass and Lex followed her, curious to see what they’d found. He hoped it wasn’t some sort of mutant. These days his patience was less forgiving to the death threats and hostage taking types.

She walked up to the mound and stopped short, allowing Lex to stop and move around her to see what lay ahead. “Shit.” His breath caught and slipped away gradually from the vice within.

“What happened?” He asked as he took a step closer to the mound of flesh, matted fur, and flies.

“We don’t know. One of the groundsmen found him.” Hope cleared her throat. Undoubtedly, the smell of decaying meat was irritating her throat and eyes. Lex found himself blinking furiously as well.

The flies and smell were enough to make his eyes water. Figuring out how to tell Clark Shelby was dead.

As Lex stepped out of his car and scented the lively farm air, there were only two things on his mind at the moment. One was the image seared into his brain of Shebly’s decaying carcass, colored burgundy and tawny brown against the stark fresh greenness of the grass, an exact opposite to Shelby’s state of being. And then, the slight look of worry on Clark’s face as he called out for his pet to come. When he’d looked to Lex for answers, Lex only shrugged and felt his stomach sinking within.

There was enough hanging over all of them for an eternity already.

He’d always worried that Lana Lang would haunt Smallville. Memories of her would linger and drive Clark mad with the possibilities of what might have been and a years of unnecessary angst. He was lucky that the remains of her connections to Smallville seemed to wash away with heavy summer storms and her decision to become a twenty first century expat.

Clark was very sullen then. They didn’t talk often, but when they did whatever was said maintained the friendship, fed it healthy amounts of trust and unrealized desire. The burden of secrets was too hard for even the world’s strongest man.

In his senior year, Clark lost his memory. Between the efforts of Chloe and Lex, he recovered it quick enough to save the day. Sometime, thereafter Clark had started to watch Lex differently. His eyes lingered too long. Those visits that had trickled off increased with a frequency that almost rivaled their first year of knowing each other. There was a new spark in Clark’s eyes.

Having all that focus on him, minus the accusations was an insatiable feeling, addictive and intensely satisfying.

One night, as Clark’s final semester was drawing to a close, they had set aside an evening to hang out. First, a few games of pool, then dinner. Finally, a movie—whatever Clark wanted to watch. Surprisingly, it was something independent and a bit pretentious for Lex’s tastes, but it kept Clark rapt from start to finish. They settled into a comfortable silence as the credits rolled.

“Did you enjoy the movie?”

Clark nodded. “It made me think.”

“Care to share your thoughts with the rest of us?”

Those big green eyes turned his way, melting all his remaining layers of skepticism for the evening. It wasn’t fair that one look could arrest him so. “If you could have one thing what would it be?” Clark asked.

Lex wanted many things. Most of them involving Clark. The most important thing he’d been waiting on since day one. “Truth.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s all I want in life.” Lex watched Clark closely. Observing how Clark seemed to collapse in on himself for a moment, wilting as he came to some decision and then looked Lex in the eye again. “And you? What do you want most in the world?”

If Clark said Lana Lang… “To give you want you always wanted. The truth. ”

Clark said he was eighteen now and could share his secret with whomever he pleased and trusted. The key words here were trusted and secret. All the other words that came before or after were just supplementary.

They were friends before their courtship began. No one understood it, but that was fine with them. It seemed that Lex pursuing Clark was what actually drove Lionel from his new squeaky clean image and philanthropy.

Years of courtship come before Superman, who preceded in many ways Clark becoming an award winning journalist. Then, there was the transition of their courtship for something far more longterm—marriage, which seemed to shock even more people once Lex finished his run as State Senator. Lena came along not long after and Conner a few years after that. Doomsday should have been the end of their story. Instead, the monster only slowed the pace a little.

In a moment of nostalgia, Lex opted for the piece of machinery that would forever keep him and Clark linked: the red pickup. Hope and Enrique loaded the Shelby onto the flatbed and had covered the mangled corpse with an old tarp.

The drive to the Kent farm was short and quiet. The entire ride his mind was divided between the inevitable heartbreak that would weaken Clark just a bit more, another crack in barely solid ice, another thing to hold him back from healing. Then, there was the tarp that caught his eye every so often from the rearview mirror. He took it easy on the drive, but the body slipped and slid just a bit with every mild turn to counteract its inertia.

Shelby was dead. The beast that had regarded him like many of its human counterparts with restrained contempt was cold and stiff in the back of his truck, just waiting to break Clark’s heart.

Lex stopped before the farmhouse and simply waited. He listened to the tick-tick of the engine, deciding at the end of its clicking to finally depart the cab.

“Lex.”

He saw Jonathan standing at the mouth of the barn talking to a black man that looked vaguely familiar. It was Earl Jenkins. Jonathan slapped the other man on the shoulder and start walking his way.

“You coming in, Lex?” Jonathan stopped at the base of the stairs.

Lex paused and stared up at Jonathan. “Actually, I might need a minute…We found Shelby on the grounds this morning?”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone must have hit him.” The Shelby of memory was golden and vivacious, the one that rested beneath the tarp was covered in gore and patches of dirt and filth, those big brown eyes were fixed and grey.

Jonathan’s posture fell into a tired stoop. This was another blow for Clark to deal with. “How did Clark take it?”

“I haven’t told him yet…I wanted to know where I should take it—Shelby before the kids came home.”

Jonathan nodded, giving Lex a knowing glance. They’d been forced more and more into understanding each other—one family man to the next. As much as it still pained him in some ways, Jonathan knew that Lex was different—better than Lionel and completely dedicated to his son and their children.

“Out in the back forty, there’s plenty of space. Let me get my coat.” Jonathan began to stand when Lex rested his hand on the older man’s arm.

“Let me do it. Keep the kids occupied a little while longer.”

Jonathan silently agreed. “You know where the shovels are.”

Lex did indeed. “One more thing, Jonathan, I was thinking we could have Conner’s birthday party here. Something small…Just the family.”

“I sure Martha would be happy to make the cake.”

Sensing the end of their conversation, Jonathan climbed the steps and returned to the house. From the open door, he could hear the sweet babbling of his son and the animated chatter of his sister.

“How’s Clark doing? Jonathan said he was getting better.”

“Yeah, one day at a time.” It had been years since Lex had seen Earl Jenkins. The intervening years had been good to the man; there was no taletell sign of his meteor induced tremor.

“I always liked Clark--” The statement was laden with the unspoken addendum that Earl wasn’t too fond of all things Luthor and couldn’t help feel like Clark’s injuries, or maybe even, Clark’s life outside of Smallville—his seduction from the flock had been Lex’s doing. “I heard Jonathan’s suggestion, but I think I know of another place.”

“I’m listening.”

“The old cemetery. At the back of it, you’ll find a statue of a girl angel. She’s supposed to guide the way to the lost, follow in the direction where her hand leads. Walk for a few minutes and you’ll find it.”

“What?” Lex asked.

“The Pet Cemetery. You’ll know what to do when you get there. ” In the breeze, the children’s laughter was bubbly and joyous. Earl issued him a two finger salute and went about his business.

Watching the man walk off towards his own business, Lex was sure he’d just missed something very important.

Once Clark launched off the balcony, Conner’s crying made it apparent that Lex would be spend the rest of the day in the home office. Lena had moved from his lap to the glass coffee table with her coloring. Her genius needed the large glass expanse to reach its full creative potential. Conner, now quiet, swung lazily in his jumper, lulled by the sweet tinny of a carousel of Disney tunes.

The gentle noise was actually comforting and perfectly counterpoint to the muted action taking place on the television screen or the sporadic bang and boom that seemed to rattle the building. His chin was cradled by his thumb and his index finger automatically caressed his cheek. Every so often, his eyes locked with Lena’s when the noises were too great to ignore.

Smart girl.

Hope was seeing to building security and consulting LexCorp operatives about the damage the latest scourge of Metropolis was meting out. So far, LexCorp installations had been lucky. The monster’s destruction seemed easily focused on Superman; all other accidents were simply incidental.

Mercy was a few floors below, making sure business continued as usual.

Lex was…bored and edging closer to pissed. Every couple of months, there was always something new, a new villain, a new menace, something set out to dole out destruction and take up Superman’s time.

Goddamn it. This was their time.

His last conversation with Lionel had been especially acerbic, and if anything, he started feeling the effects the night before. He wanted Clark to wrap this up. Hit the monster with some hard hits. Screw a bit of collateral damage; LexCorp could afford the publicity and charitable contributions to pay for the damages.

Conner had the right idea by sleeping away the afternoon. Despite the determined spark that had filled her eyes earlier, Lena was wilting as well.

He settled for returning his focus to the television instead. The latest close-up of Superman showed a familiar fire of determination burning in cobalt blue eyes and stress and strain tightening the corners. But Lex’s real focus was the vivid red painting those lush lips scarlet from the free stream of Superman’s nose.

His annoyance began to shift to concern when Superman was knocked across the harbor, landing in the side of a warehouse. The monster—as Lex continued to call it—launched itself across Metropolis Bay, doing its best imitation of Charleston Heston as Moses splitting the calm of water of bay in its wake.

Color him concerned, because Superman had yet to rise from the rubble and debris of the warehouse. He unmuted the sound and heard a single word that stopped his heart.

“Doomsday.”

Lex looked towards the harbor. The sonic boom and flash of light from across the bay blinded him….

Stripped his mind clear.

He instinctively reached for the button.

And waited for the field of sunflowers to die in his wake.

It was funny how Lex reached the cemetery. The journey had been ninety percent via memories of Clark’s description. Five percent of Lana explaining to him her macabre visiting ritual. The rest had been sheer luck alone.

This was the dead of night and Smallville was pretty rural, lacking in lighting in certain areas of the town. The truck handled the dark dirt road just fine. It was Lex who had the problem navigating. The darkness had a way of making things look vastly different from memory’s recollection.

Then again, if he hadn’t waited until sunset things might have been better. He’d made his appearance with Martha and Jonathan. Then, he collected his children. He whisked them home. Clark was in the solarium resting.

He was prone to standing in doorways, always content to watch. The image of his family together—Conner toddling over to Clark’s outstretched arms, Lena spinning in circles about Clark’s chair; it was far too perfect.

Lex killed the engine; thinking of the memory was the first of many. All new with many more to come.

The headstones were just as he recalled, uneven and weathered, exactly what one would expect to see in some cardboard cutout of a Halloween graveyard. The irony of how mundane it was made Lex wonder when a sixteen year old Lana Lang would come trotting between the grave markers and spark a conversation about the achievements of her now long dead parents.

There was no horse.

No sightings of pink.

Just him among the dead of Smallville.

Shelby laid in his arms stiff and cold. The tarp moaned in his arms. His breath came in white puffs as the temperature dropped. He looked to the back of the plots and found the angel of wayward souls and abandoned hearts. She pointed to a path surrounded by a dense thicket. He had a little flashlight, but the weight of his charge and shovel kept his hands occupied.

Lex stepped between the headstones and found himself standing between the open hand of the angel. A couple of breaths later, he already assured himself that he was crazy, and went off onto the path into the wilderness. Shelby never uttered a sound.

So, he took to the path and walked about twenty yards when the path reached another clearing. This one wasn’t so much a clearing, but rather what he could make out as the pet cemetery. The sign, etched hopefully by a child, said Pet Semetary.

He stepped inside the small rickety wooden fence. In the light of day, the little wooden markers undoubtedly were labeled with names like Snowflake, Fluffy, Goldie, Rex. The list went on and Lex looked for a spot. On the whistle of the air, Lex swore he heard the nameless laughter of children. Or maybe, it was their crying.

Continuing to walk, he was careful to not step on any of the graves. The deeper he walked, the less room he found. The markers eventually stopped, Lex found himself ready to curse Earl, because before him downed trees laid upon the ground like woven threads in a tapestry. Beyond the wood, he could make out a slab of concrete. One that he’d seen before years ago. He tested his weight on the downed trees. Finding that he wasn’t going to fall into some hole in the ground, Lex proceeded forward.

The stone circle was from the dark ages of their relationship. He’d fought his father here. On another wooden sign at the mouth of this clearing, the moonlight painted it just so that he could read the first line of incomprehensible Kawatche. The second line in child-like scrawl declared, “Deadfall.”

There were a few more markers in the section. All spaced apart and weathered. His eyes lingered upon the stone slab, expecting to see him and his father rolling around, snarling and snapping at each other. Instead, there was silence and dropping of the temperature.

He rolled up his sleeves and dug a hole far away from the slab. Shelby fit perfectly inside, tarp and all. When the earth was patted smooth, he whispered his goodbye to his longtime nemesis. There were enough skeletons in Lex’s past; this was one he had nothing to do with.

As Lex walked through the cemeteries, he took care not to disturb any of the graves. He‘d come to understand darkness and isolation. It was the chill down his spine that shook him.

When he returned home, the first thing to hit him was the warmth of the castle. The silence hit him next. In the hall, his footsteps made the only sound, somewhat muffled by the dirt.

The fireplace was lit in their room.

“Where have you been all day?” Clark looked gorgeous in the moonlight. Though fading, the beautiful shades of rust washed Clark’s skin in an amazing light. He looked much better today. Really, he did.

Lex bussed Clark’s temple. “I had some errands to run.”

They settled down for bed. His arms automatically sought Clark’s warmth.

“Where’s Shelby?”

“He’s out for a walk.”

“Make sure he comes in. He doesn’t like sleeping outside.”

Lex swung Lena around in his arms. He ignored the nervous curling of his stomach. “I’ll let the staff know.” Then, he resumed to drown his worries in the sound of his family.

He turned off the light; Lex would swear he heard the sounds of scratching at their balcony doors. He told himself it was just the wind and went back to sleep.

Hours rolled by. Then days slipped away.

He sat by for three days. Like the rest of the world, he watched this monster bat away any attempts of defenses put up by the Justice League and return to his haunting single-minded focus of destroying Superman.

Unlike all the other times when something sought to end Superman, this thing looked as close as ever to winning. Hope and Mercy gathered every piece of intel they could, and that amounted squarely to zero. It might have been unacceptable for the US government to be in the dark.

LexCorp having absolutely no information about Doomsday, save for the general consensus that he sought to end Superman, was entirely unacceptable.

As the sun began to set, the chase around the world returned to Metropolis, Lex saw the stoop in Superman’s back. He’d been so angry; his thoughts had barely turned to Clark—instead of Superman.

He’d never forget Lena asking him, “Where’s Daddy?” Such an innocent question, free of guile and knowing. Clark was Daddy. He did early mornings, bath time, and made breakfasts that had smiley faces—always no matter what.

It’s all coming to a head in Metropolis Park,

Superman looked tired. He just knew Clark was near the end of his rope. Doomsday seemed barely winded.

“Finish it, Clark. End it.” He said to the air.

The camera zoomed in on a true look of determination. Superman’s eyes were blue and red, blazing with a rabid fire. The earth shook with a thunderous boom, and the skies over Metropolis darkened with a cloud of smoke and debris like the mushroom cloud over Hiroshima.

It all became iconic history after that. Superman was dead. Lois Lane held his body. Doomsday was slayed and the monster was quiet and still. The Justice League stood at a distance, the shock kept them away. Behind them police and citizens who’d been besieged by the beast stood in awe.

Their hero was slain.

The one word sprung from those ruby lips was ‘Lex’. Like a modern vision of the Pieta, painted in reds and blues, Lois’ tears sprang anew, as she heard the broken voice.

The world shifted beneath his feet.

Lex’s eyes snapped open. The sun shone brightly through the balcony windows, giving Lex a well timed wakeup call. His breath came in short spurts, hard and hot, and his heart pounded like a drum in his chest. Lex rolled over on to his back and stretched his arms. His fingers sought the warmth of golden silken skin, but came up short, instead grasping a handful of cold sheets.

Clark was gone.

With that realization, he sat up and groaned against the tinges and aches that were slowly finding themselves into his back on a more daily basis. He shuffled into his robe and slippers, and headed for the hall. He rapped lightly on Lena’s door and found her snuggled up tightly in her bed. Decked out like a princess, her arms hugged her favorite teddy bear—a gift from Grandma Martha. Her dark curls spilled over her pillow and she looked like an utter angel.

Lex closed the door silently and continued on his journey to find Clark. The soft sounds of mechanical nursery rhymes wafted down the hall, and Lex quickly deduced Clark’s whereabouts. The question was how.

He stood in the open doorway and simply watched. Clark sat in the rocker reading to Conner, who looked excitedly at the colorful pictures in the pop-up book. Conner’s head bobbled and his mouth lifted into a happy smile as Clark turned the pages and three dimensional animals came to life before his innocent eyes. Clark’s voice was soft and gentle. His fingers sporadically combed through the black curls that were just like his own.

Clark caught his eyes, causing Lex’s breath to catch. He looked amazing. It had seemed that Clark’s abilities had come back on line during the night. The golden hue of his skin was more apparent as the pallor and bruises seemed to have faded immensely.

Conner cooed and uttered joyful baby gibberish that was reaching closer to words on a daily basis. Clark crocked him gently and gave Lex a warm smile.

“Good morning, Lex.”

“Morning, Clark.” Lex replied.

A familiar bark startled him. Shelby trotted from across the room and heeled at Clark’s feet. The golden retriever locked eyes with Lex. His stare turned into the equivalent of a canine smile, revealing his pearly incisors and lengthy pink tongue.

His eyes were full of intelligent resentment.

Lex still remembered the cold dead weight of the dog’s carcass.

“Shelby decided to join us too.” Clark said in a tone that was too sunny. Too unaware of what had happened…of what he’d done.

Shelby’s eyes, usually black and noble, glowed red, then green and angry. There was no mistake in what he’d seen.

Clark pet Shelby’s head. There was no doubt, he’d made a mistake.

The phone rang. Automatically, he answered it. The sound of Lionel’s uncurling laughter grated his insides. “Now on to your destiny.” Lionel was dead and he just didn’t know it.

Superman died on cloudy windy afternoon.

The world mourned.

Lex raged and Lena asked, “Where’s Daddy?”

Lex kept a watchful eye on Shelby. The dog seemed to be aware of Lex’s surveillance, and in his own turn of play, Shelby stayed as close to Clark as possible. Trailing behind his wheelchair or following slowly behind his stuttering gait on the crutches.

His old chrome box found its way in the top draw of desk. The pistol inside served as extra security. Just in case the détente between him and Shelby didn’t continue. He felt uneasy leaving it in the castle, in spite of the day’s occasion.

Let it be said that Lex Luthor loved his children above all else. Behind his back like any other ghosts, Lionel’s cackle invisible on the back of his neck.

Martha made a single tier cake with red and blue frosting. Jonathan grilled hamburgers and hotdogs for the occasion. He wouldn’t take an ounce of help from Lex, saying that it wasn’t everyday that a man got the chance to celebrate his grandson’s first birthday.

There was a hearty spread sitting upon a classic red and white checker print tablecloth. Clark sat with Conner in his arms and jostled him gently. The single candle on the top of the cake was garish and yellow, but entirely appropriate for little kid’s birthday party.

Jonathan said nothing when Clark mentioned Shelby. He simply locked eyes with Lex. It was easy to read the disappointment there. Jonathan knew what he’d done.

“Dada, moo moo.” Conner pointed excitedly to the cow. Lena stood at the fence petting the big brown heifer.

There was no differentiating between who was Dada just yet. “Alright, sonny-boy.” Lex took Conner from Clark and walked him over to the fence.

“Papa, can we ride the cow?” Lena asked.

The adults chuckled at the innocent question and Jonathan came over to the fence. Jonathan rounded the picnic table, patting his leg as he went. “Ride a cow? What are you teaching my grandchildren?”

Jonathan went to the barn and returned with a saddled pony. “Now, you two can ride Lil Bit.”

Lena ran over to her grandfather, who swung her up and into the saddle. Lex could feel Clark giving him that look—the one that expressed mountains of concern and worry. Lex simply nodded in his direction and placed Conner in front of Lena on the saddle.

“Hold him tight.” Lex instructed, and turned over the pair to Jonathan.

Lex returned to the table and decided against going for a super overloaded carbohydrate desert. He’d eat pie instead anyway.

“You look better.” Martha said.

“Yeah…I feel better—not strong, but better.” Clark took a sip of lemonade.

Lex patted Clark’s hand. “Every little bit helps.”

He and Clark watched the children ride, while Martha watched them.

“Grandpa, I want a balloon.”

“Lena--” Clark admonished. Politeness was something that Clark had instilled since Day One in their children. The Martha Kent glare, though not passed on genetically, was nonetheless inherited.

“Sorry. May I have a balloon, please?”

“Sure.” Jonathan tied the reins to the fence and untied a red balloon for Lena and blue one for Conner.

Lex watched Clark bat his eyes repeatedly. “Are you tired?”

Clark issued him a beatific smile. “It seems like the sun is making me a little sleepy…A little drunk, if you will.”

“If you’re tired--” Lex began.

“I’m not tired…I’m happy.”

A balloon popped.

Then, it all happened so fast. The pony neighed in fright and jerked the reins from Jonathan’s hand. He cantered up, bucking back legs and trying to dislodge the riders. Lena screamed pierced the air and Clark was chanting, “No. No. No. No” in a mad litany.

Lex ran as fast as he could. Leaping over the coral and running for the horse. He closed in on the horse, hearing Martha yelling to Clark to stay put, and he was reaching, grasping for the reins that eluded his fingers and the pony skittered closer to the fence and Lena’s frightened eyes locked with his own.

There was only the sound of his own blood pumping in his ears as the horse ran into the fence, ejecting Lena and Conner. Lena’s flight was short and landed her in a pile of rotting grass and hay. Lex continued to run, chase after Conner who flew and cried.

Just a ball of crying primary colors.

Lex pumped his arms and legs racing to beat Conner’s descent to earth. Then, his foot caught on a bundle, a lump of hay. And he was snagged falling to earth himself, chin bruising and busting on the hard ground. The world became a void and his vision tunneled. The only spot of light was the falling star of his life.

‘Not again. Not again.’

His star crashed to the ground, burying itself amongst the too tall grass. The tunnel of his vision suddenly expanded into brutal Technicolor and then work-roughened hands lifted him from the ground. Lex found his footing, but his feet were slow to move, feeling leaden and completely disconnected from his body.

When he stood over his son, his hearing kicked back in and the sound of his breath in his ears overrode the sounds of Clark’s raspy and increasingly despondent demand for him to go forward.

It took only one step forward for his heart to stop.

So quiet.

So still.

Conner looked peaceful and sleeping. Jonathan was at his side, just trembling. He watched for the familiar signs of life and found none. He was suddenly much closer to the earth, his knees landing hard and he ignored the pain that shot up his legs and back. He reached out, his hand trembling as it touched Conner’s face.

Cool and still.

No breath, just still.

Lex lifted Conner to his chest and found him limp. Jonathan was breaking beside him. Martha and Clark…There was so much noise. He had to quiet them. They couldn’t wake the baby.

“Hush, little baby--”

His internal autopilot didn’t kick in until he turned around and saw Clark pale, stricken, and waiting. He wanted to be angry, because Superman was supposed to save people. But there was no Superman anymore. He was dead. And this was Clark bruised and broken, so human.

It was all a blur afterwards. Calling Sheriff Adams, then Hope. Watching them take Conner away was the worst pain imaginable. Like his heart and soul were stripped and boiling in acid. He was roasting.

The castle was silent that night. Hope had instructed the staff to give them the upmost privacy.

Lex watched Clark cradle Lena.

They couldn’t save him.

Lex failed again. He could practically feel Lionel sitting upon his shoulder, laughing and gasping for breath. Calling him pathetic and delusional, grinning mercilessly over just rewards.

His son…

His son was dead.

He felt soft warmth rubbing against his leg. Shelby heeled at his feet. The feral jaws grinned up at him, telling him all that he needed to do.

“I wouldn’t expect you to rightly say ‘Congratulations’. So, I’ll simply say ‘You’re welcome’, in advance.”

“You’re insane.”

“Call it what you will. I still did what was necessary. You’ve always been brilliant. Sometimes, too much for your own good. Then, other times never enough.”

The room was spinning out of control. His head…Lionel had gotten into his head. “How has this helped me?” His father had made him do this.

“You were always so shortsighted when it came to him. Everything has become this hard, because you chose him. You had everything at your fingertips. You could have conquered, but you coddled it instead.”

“Stop talking in riddles and give me a fucking answer.”

Lionel shook his head in sarcastic disapproval. “Lex, such language. I didn’t think you still had it in you.” He grinned fiendishly. “You aligned yourself with the most powerful being on earth. Instead of controlling it, you allowed it to change you, bend you to its will and philosophical molding. I thought I’d taught you better. Made you not—so weak! The alien was distracting you from what was necessary. You have a place in history, my boy. You let the world’s greatest resource fly through your life for years…and never pressed for what was yours. So, I took the proper steps.”

“You made that thing.”

“I released you from your prison and returned to you to the man you were supposed to become.”

“You could have killed him.” Lex turned away from his father seething. He neared a precipice that he dared not cross.

Lionel sighed. “Lex…Denial has never been becoming. Superman is dead. Clark is dead. You will grieve and then do what you must. You will use this as your platform and usher in a new era of science and technology. You will lead them, Lex. It can only be you, because a Luthor will be the greatest figure history has ever known.”

“My family--” It was like losing his mother, Julian, Amanda, and Pamela all at once. That fine casing inside was fragile, chipping away and crumbling at his feet. That darkness that had been buried so deep was filling him, spreading into every vein.

His light. Clark …he was being swallowed by the darkness.

“Our family…Our legacy.”

He could kill. He would kill.

Lionel said no more after that. Lex’s fingers squeezed every last bit of coherence out of the man. “No one makes my destiny, but me.” Lionel couldn’t issue another retort, recrimination, or utterance of disapproval.

Lex squeezed a little hard and the other man stopped fighting.

In the old cemetery, he traversed the same path, as quietly as possible. Don’t wake the dead, the voice said. He was back amongst familiar friends. Through, the rickety fence, he stopped and found the perfect spot. Then, they entered the Deadfall.

Clark hadn’t said more than two words since Lex had returned that night.

Clark lay with his back towards him. “I couldn’t save him.” His voice was harsh and dry, like all the energy had been stripped away and flayed like raw skin. “Oh, God--” The hitch in his voice set the event’s of the afternoon into replay in Lex’s mind.

‘No. No. No.  Lex wanted to say. This was disbelief.

“It’s not your fault.” ‘It was mine,’ hovered above them, waiting to be plucked out of the air.

Lex sat in his office, because he couldn’t tolerate Clark’s silence any longer. Reminding him too much of his mother in her moments of heartbreak.

Anything was better.

He tried to pick a fight, but Clark wouldn’t rise to the occasion. Instead, Clark gave him a withering look, grabbed his crutches and began a slow stalk out of the room.

“Where are you going?” Lex called.

Lex stepped in front of Clark, who wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m going to the fortress.”

Lex hadn’t expected that. “I’ll go with you.” Clark wouldn’t make it there himself without assistance. It wasn’t that he was too proud, just too hurt to ask.

“Fine.” At least, Clark had shown a bit of annoyance. It was better than nothing.

Floundering was something Lex couldn’t do. It was closer to madness. His father—Lionel had always subscribed to the idea that Lex was crippled by his emotions. If he’d actually known anything, he would have seen that Clark’s emotions gave him strength.

He could use every bit of that strength right now

Again, Lex sat alone in his office. His head in his hands this time. Thinking, just thinking.

The fortress could do a great many things. It had saved Clark on more than one occasion. Never had it repaired him like after Doomsday, but it worked. Why couldn’t it do the same for Conner? It had all the science and technology of one of the greatest civilizations to ever exist in the universe. It had to work.

Lex looked to the fireplace. It was easy to concentrate on the flames and not the fact that Clark was tremendously stronger than Conner. He’d been easier to save. Conner’s strength was just a thread and the world had been too strong for him.

He could hear the front door closing. Lena was staying the night with Jonathan and Martha. They were clinging to her. And Lex truly loathed sending her away. The castle was too cold, too sad, for a small child like her. She understood that Conner was gone, but she didn’t need to see her parents grieve like this. Jonathan and Martha would be better for her to be around.

Now, he and Clark had their space. Clark needed to rest; the trip had worn him out. Clark seemed far from better today. All the bright sunshine had just shone on him and nothing more.

Reaching for his glass of Scotch sitting on his desk, Lex wanted to feel the burn. Like an old friend, it was sure to distract him for a moment at least and suppress his emotions.

Conner was dead.

Like some crawl on CNN, the news of this kept flashing in his mind. Over and over, as if he’d ever forget.

Why hadn’t it worked? Shelby was walking around the castle somewhere. Where was Conner? He’d jumped the gun. Deviated from the natural plan. And now…

His son.

Their second unexpected miracle…was dead.

This pain wasn’t entirely his own.

Clark was upstairs, breaking into a thousand jagged little pieces. Father and son. Mother and son. Two men with the same loss. Their pain was of the same intensity, yet completely different in the language of the heart and body.

That darkness inside wanted to break and destroy. It walked inside of him like an animal in captivity, stalking from corner to corner of its cage. This beast that Lionel had forged and time had strengthened.

“Sir.”

His head snapped up. “What?”

Enrique stood in the doorway to his office, looking for all the world like he was ready for an anvil to drop.

“Sir, I believe there’s something outside you should see.”

Lex opted for taking a hard and fast swallow of the Scotch on his desk. The fire down his throat and in his belly gave him the kick to galvanize him into motion. “Where outside?” He asked, sounding perceptibly annoyed.

“To the garden, sir.”

Outside, as they approached the large garden, the one with the large topiaries and seasonally planted flowers, Lex slowed his pace. Enrique’s gait didn’t change. He simply continued to walk, Lex followed at his back, observing just how tense the line of the other man’s shoulders were.

They were going to the other garden. His mother’s garden. It was a shrine that no one ever spoke of—a place sacred by its sheer solemn air. They were hallowed by the warm sun as they walked from the main garden.

As they approached, Lex could see the outline of something in front of the fountain at the garden’s center. ‘It’ looked like it had been placed there, in front of the fountain, like an offering to a deity on high. Enrique stepped to the side, allowing Lex to have a better look at what lay behind the walls of sculpted rose bushes.

A massacre.

Simply put, animals—now carcasses lay silent and splayed open, festering and full of insect and microbic life in a joyous feast upon the degrading tissue. The time since their brutal ends had turned the blood marring their pelts a sickly and autumnal brown.

Necks were ripped open, little veins and arteries exposed the world, while their entrails…

Lex took a step back and gasped. The smell was horrible. How long had they been here.

“We don’t know, sir.” The question come out in his shock.

Lex stepped closer. Obviously, none of these animals, squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks, cats—none of them had met their ends naturally. “Christ,” he swore, inspecting a particular mangled corpse of a white rabbit.

The paw print beside the body was unmistakable.

The sky darkened, taking away the sun, leaving the ominous and terrible shadows to trace over the fallen bodies. Like death’s little lights, but something stood out to him then, in the shadows the outline of a small foot.

“Sir…”

“Leave it, Enrique.” Lex rolled up to his feet and turned to look at his butler. “Go home. Tell everyone they have the night off. Speak of this to no one.”

He looked back at the display. “We’ll clean this up tomorrow.”

The other man had paled some since showing Lex the scene. It stood to reason that he wasn’t too happy to be leaving this display of horror unattended. “Should we alert the police?”

Lex shook his head slowly, deliberately. “No, we’ll handle this ourselves.” First, he needed to handle something of his own.

It was terrible how quiet the castle was afterwards. No laughter—no effervescent giggles. Just silence. Or the random tread of footsteps on the hard wood floors. Servants did their duties and spoke not a word. Lex sat in his office staring at the fire.

He sat with his gun in his lap, waiting for Shelby to return. It had taken everything short of firing Hope to get her to leave.

The castle was completely unguarded tonight. He had no worries of what or who could get in, rather what was already inside.

Clark was upstairs asleep, stretched out on his side of the bed. He thought about locking the door, deciding against it at the last minute. Clark would be safe.

They said the sins of the father were visited upon the children. Was this it, he wondered. A tradeoff of madness for another chance at life.

The castle was empty the faintest noise resounded through the stone halls like a gunshot. The sound startled him, and he stood up with gun in hand ready to investigate. Years of living in Smallville combined with the training sessions between Hope and Mercy to fend off potentially disgruntled former LuthorCorp employees had left him ready for any form of the unexpected.

At any moment, he expected to see Shelby waiting for him with blood staining his golden muzzle. And as he moved through the halls, Lex was disappointed. He climbed up to the residence floor. His heart drummed a frantic rhythm as he climbed the final steps.

He was at the end of the hallway.

Shelby sat quietly. Fur golden and soft, there wasn’t a trace of blood on him. Not from where Lex stood. They regarded each other. His hand itched to go for his gun. He reached for it and then the dog moved. Shelby came to his feet and walked forward. He stopped three doors up, in front of Conner’s.

He looked at Lex again before raising his paw to the door and scratching lightly. Gradually, the door pushed open and Shelby squeezed between the door and the frame. Lex followed slowly.

The wood floors creaked beneath his feet. There were sounds beyond the door, mostly the tapping of Shelby’s claws against the hardwood surface. Gun clutched firmly in hand, Lex pushed on the door.

It seemed to take an eternity for it to come to a stop. In that time, Lex’s entire universe exploded and he felt the stirrings of his childhood asthma return. Shelby sat in front of Conner’s crib, while Conner stacked his blocks. Lex simply watched.

Still dressed in his red and blue. Not a hair out of place.

Conner placed another block on the growing stack. This one was off balance and caused the entire collection to fall. The blocks fell to the floor and were strewn about; Conner just laughed and clapped his hands so innocently.

Lex took a step forward and the floor squealed. Conner turned towards him, regarding him with his bright youthful eyes. Still very blue, but not the same. They were dull, deeper and less clear.

“Dada.” That was all his son could say.

Before Lex would have moved in to lift his son into his arms. Now, he stayed put regarding the toddler like a foreign entity. Conner reached for him again. Confusion filled his eyes and the playful veneer was breaking. His face crumbled while his eyes filled with tears.

Then, Lex moved forward. As he neared Conner, he could see the traces of dried red on the little boy’s clothing and his hands. He lifted Conner into his arms and rubbed his back to staunch his crying. It was the same cry too.

His son was in his arms again.

But his son was cold beneath his hands.

“It’s okay.” He whispered.

The very presence of the chill to Conner’s skin sent a chill down his own spine. Conner’s cries trickled to a stop and little arms could be felt on either side of Lex’s neck.

Shelby continued to sit, watching them. In his ear, Conner’s repeated ‘Dada’ in a little thoughtless chant. Lex took a step back, causing Shelby to rise to his feet. Nothing would happen in this room.
He backed out slowly. Once in the hall, he stared at Shelby, who continued to move closer.

The dog didn’t stop in front of Lex. He simply turned and headed down the hall in the direction of their bedroom. Lex watched the dog stop in front of their door. This time Shelby didn’t look at Lex, but continued through his version of doggie knocking and entering.

Lex simply followed much faster this time.

He opened the door as Shelby leapt on to the bed and Clark didn’t stir. That fact spoke volumes. Clark was more vehement than Lex about Shelby not sleeping on their bed. Mostly for Shelby’s penchant to sleep on Clark’s pillow.

“Clark.”

Silence.

He placed Conner on the floor, who whined mildly for losing his place in Lex’s arms. In the dimmed lighting, he could see Shelby’s eyes glow red. He waited for the snarl to come, the reveal of the demon that had caused the bloody little scene in his mother’s garden.

“I know it was you.”

Shelby tilted his head to the side, as if saying ‘and’. His silence beckoned Lex closer to Clark. Reaching out to touch Clark, he was shocked by the cold. The simple concentration of cold beneath his hand as he touched Clark.

He fell to his knees before he even realized it. His hands clasped the side of Clark’s face, finding nothing but cold and unyielding flesh. Now, he really was in the midst of an asthma attack.

A chain of silver and a stone of green. It’s glow illuminated Clark’s pale flesh. Lex had always sworn Lana Lang would be the death of Clark. He would have laughed if he wasn’t crying so hard. He hadn’t cried after Doomsday. He hadn’t shed one tear. Anger had been his outlet. Angry at so many for one thousand and one things, mostly for believing Clark was dead. This wasn’t entirely different.

He lifted Clark into his arms, who was deadweight, and buried his face in the origin of Conner and Lena’s dark curls. “Clark…I’m so sorry.”

He ripped the necklace off. It was the same one from the night so many years ago. He couldn’t even begin to wonder where it had been found.

Tiny arms wrapped around his leg. Conner smiled up at him. A true smile of a child seeking approval. This wasn’t right. ‘But this is what he wanted’, a small voice said from within.

Lex looked at Conner’s grin. It was completely guileless, but distinctly off. “What have you done?” He shuttered.

“Dee ball, dada.”

He knew perfectly well what Conner was saying. Deadfall. He was going to make the same mistake a third time.

He had nothing without Clark.

Conner sat in front of his desk, playing with his toys. He paid his trucks a respectable amount of child attention. Shelby lay with his head on his paw, half-asleep, half alert. Lex watched the pair in a scene so familiar, yet the underlying cause of it was heinous.

What had been wrought upon his family?

The entities sharing the office with him might look like his son and the family pet, but he’d seen their carnage. Were they demons? Possessed? Completely soulless.

He would have to bite the bullet and end this. End it now while he and Lena were still alive and intact. Suddenly, Conner started to giggle and Shelby barked. Lex looked away from the fire and found his breath slowed and stopping completely.

Shelby trotted forward and heeled, while Conner raised his arms to be lifted. Clark stood there, wearing a soft and understanding expression. He swooped Conner into his arms and patted Shelby’s head.

Lex took a breath with his eyes still locked on Clark, Conner, and Shelby. He had to admit Clark looked good. Very good and suddenly found himself feeling sick, the same kind of feeling his stomach got whenever he stepped onto an airplane.

“Lex.”

“Clark.”

Lex stood from his desk. The coolness of the gun at his back was comforting, though potentially futile. Bruce told him Lionel had kryptonite bullets. The old man had been a bastard, a truly well prepared bastard.

Clark stopped short of him and placed Conner on the floor between them. “I feel good, Lex. You made me better.” Clark said and punctuated the statement with a smile.

“You’re so…cold. You’re never cold. ”

Clark nodded against his neck. Hair falling against the skin tickled and smelled fresh and earthy. Just like Clark, he thought. Just like Clark.

“But, I’m here.” The smile was so sunny; the flesh so cold. “It’s time, Lex.” Clark beamed at him.

Lex was so absorbed in the hard press of Clark’s body against his. The feel was so natural. “Time for what?” So wonderful.

“You’re the vessel, Lex. “

He took Clark’s hand, their fingers twining into a strong knot of flesh—his lifeline. Those large hands were still the same, soft and uncallused. There was green in the recesses of Clark’s green eyes. Then, he felt the familiar press of soft lips against his; opening him up, tongue seeking entrance, soft lips pulled him from his thoughts.

Conner giggled at his knees.

There were crimson skies opening and crackling. Fields barren in his wake, and Clark, Conner, and Lena waiting for him smiling. He needed only press the button.

The beast was loose. The animal was out of its cage.

He broke away from Clark’s kiss. So cold now, but soon to be warmed by the fires to come. There would be light in his darkness.

Lex smiled. It would be okay.