The Memoirs

10:45 AM, Luthor Estate, Master Bathroom.

Their baby was dead.

Clark knew, in his heart, that he'd never in his life see a more heartbreaking sight. He knew that it was the last thing he'd see as he died, and Clark moaned softly as he felt the brand new link that he'd felt in his mind break and disintegrate as his son, the child borne from his body, died. "Mar-El." He whimpered. Come back. Don’t leave. Come back. "Mar-El." He touched the baby’s little foot, still warm with life, fingers slipping away in the next instant. "Mar-El. Come back."

"Mar-El," Lex whispered, rubbing his fingertips over the baby's face, his cheeks, his mouth, even his chest, trying to coax it to rise, to take another breath. "Please, Mar-El, my son."

"Lex! LEX!"

Dominic had lost sight of the boy, and every scream of his name wasn’t answered. He'd gone back for Lionel, and a weapon just in case, and ran back up the steps with his lover on his heels. All he had to do was follow the blood... and oh, God. He stopped in the doorway to Lex's bedroom, and all he saw was red. A sea of it, plastered to the carpet, and he gasped and stepped over the matted clothes. The scent of hard iron blood was everywhere, and Dominic’s eyes were wide as he wielded his weapon higher, glancing at his lover as he stepped into the bathroom.

The antique iron vase fell with a clang, and he gave his own wretched noise as he looked into the shower.

Clark’s body was shutting down. He felt it, felt his systems stopping, felt his body dying, and it would be welcome, now.

He couldn’t live knowing his son had died in his lover’s arms. And the selfish part of himself wished for death.

Lionel was hard on his lover's heels, and his arm went around Dominic's waist. "Good God." He'd never seen so much blood in his life, and his arms tightened around Dominic as he followed his gaze into the shower.

Lex and Clark, sitting together in what seemed to be a small lake of deep red blood, inhuman blood--human blood had never been that dark--cradling a small form between them.

Under his son's elbow, he could barely see a small hand with five little fingers.

"Oh, dear God."

Dominic couldn’t speak. He couldn’t speak. He just shucked out of his coat, squeezing his lover's fingers with a hand that had gone ice cold, and stepped into the enormous shower, crouching low. Clark was still breathing, very shallowly, and Lex... he saw the baby a moment later, the head full of hair, the soft, tiny little body, and Dominic’s eyes and throat filled with tears. "Lex?"

Lex was still sobbing, bent over the baby as his throat choked. He could feel Clark withdrawing, and he shot a gaze at his aushna'. "Don't... Clark, please. Kal-El... don't leave me too." His mind screamed at the thought, grabbing as hard as he could to the silver thread that linked him to his lover. "I won't--can't survive without you. Not now. Please, Clark."

Lionel reached up and turned off the water, getting soaked in the process but it was the least of his concerns. "Get them out. Both of them. Get them onto the bed, something. Out of the blood." He reached down to his son. "Lex... let me have the... baby." He held out his hands. "Son... let me have the baby. You need to get out. Come on."

Love you. He was shaking, trembling, cold. So cold. All of his body was flowing out of him, out, out, and he heard Mr. Luthor and Dominic and couldn’t see them. They were blobs, forms beside him, and Lex and the baby. Mar-El. His son. The pride of having a son, the privilege of it, and he nearly screamed as he heard the words from the older man. Don’t take my baby.

His son was still attached to his body, and he let out a soft, shallow sob at the thought of it.

Lex refused. "You're not taking my son." He didn't care who was asking. "You're not taking my baby." He dropped his head entirely, smearing his forehead with blood from the dead child and he didn't notice, didn't care. "Not taking my baby."

Lionel looked down, saw the situation. "Dominic. Go. Go to our room, and bring me the butterfly knife. We need to separate Clark and the baby. Don't think. Just do it."

"Lex, we're not taking him, but Clark is dying." Dominic said it loudly, and clearly. "He's dying, Lex. We need to get him out of here." Dominic was already sticky and smeared with red, and he crouched lower still, before he heard his lovers words. Separate Clark and the baby.

Christ.

He got up and slipped on the blood, righting himself as he turned and bolted out of the room as fast as he could.

He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to take the selfish way out of this. But even as he tried he felt his body slipping, and his mind began to chant soft words. The ritual of death, a blessing for peace that he blanketed over himself and his son.

Lex shook his head. "No. Clark's not going to die. He won't. He won't leave me alone; I won't lose both of them." He leaned back, resting his back against Clark's shoulder as he held the baby that was still bound to his lover.

Then he heard the soft chanting in his head, and he turned around, one arm cradling the baby as the other one shook Clark. "No!! Clark!! NO!!!"

Clarks eyes were closed. He wasn’t responsive anymore. Too much blood too soon. Too much pain, no preparation.

Dominic skidded back into the bathroom in that moment, grasping the side of the shower and hauling himself in as he handed his lover the knife. "H-here, Lionel." he'd never seen anything like this in his life, never in his life, and he crouched low again, ready to get Clark as soon as he and the child were separated.

Lex reached down and carefully put the baby on Clark's chest. "Clark, no, goddammit, no!!! You can't... you can't." He shook Clark again, then slapped him. "No, Clark... no." Lex started sobbing again, and he punched his lover. "Son of a bitch! Don't! You selfish fucker, don't you dare leave me alone with this! Don't you dare!"

Lionel swallowed hard, and grabbed his son by the shoulder, jerking him back. "Here. Get him out of the way," he said, shoving the boy at Dominic. Shedding the huge greatcoat that he'd never wear again, Lionel laid it over Clark's chest. He found the cord that still bound Clark to the baby and followed it down until he got to Clark's side. He could see a ragged, gaping hole in Clark's back but couldn't reach it, and instead, took a deep breath and severed the cord as close to Clark's body as he could.

He just wouldn't allow himself to think. Not yet. He had to react, and Lionel reacted. That was what he was good at.

"LEX!" Dominic screamed, grabbing his arms. "Lex, STOP! Christ, Jesus!" He grasped Lex close to his chest and held the fighting limbs tightly, pushing Lex’s face to his chest and turning so he wouldn’t have to see. So Lex wouldn’t see. And Clark's scream made whatever blood left in his head flow out.

Clark's chest arched up and he screamed, as loud as he'd ever screamed in his life. It was inhuman, the pain was outrageous, and being severed from his son brought him back. The death that he was walking into with open arms, the PEACE, was yanked away from him as he was disconnected from his child. He couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, but his heart began to beat again and his lungs rattled with shaky, painful breaths.

Let me die. He sobbed.

As soon as he heard the scream, Lex started fighting against Dominic. He was yelling at his stepfather, growling, inhuman words as he clawed through, trying to find his way back to his lover. "KAL-EL!" he roared, as he ripped himself out of Dominic's arms.

"Let him go." Lionel grabbed Dominic. "We're going to move them. You and I are going to move Clark out of the shower, and Lex is going to take the baby, because frankly I'm afraid of what he'll do if you or I try to touch it." He was seriously doubtful of his strength being enough to move the husky boy his son loved, but he had to try.

"Work with me. LEX!" Dominic snapped, grabbing his skinny shoulders and giving him a powerful shake. "Work. With. Me." He turned, gazing at his own lover for a fraction of a second that felt like ages, and grabbed Clarks side. His arm, ignoring the shaky breaths, and lifted Clark up. "Get his side. His side. Lex, get him. Lionel," All he had to do was point to the baby still on Clark’s chest.

Lionel nodded. "You're right. Lex... Lex! Listen to Dominic!"

Dominic simply nodded, lifting, and Clark began to moan. "Christ, God, help me!" The boy was huge, and he was dead weight. He outweighed Dominic by almost a hundred pounds, and had at least six inches on him, but he was determined to move them out of this horrible shower and never again come back.

Lex shook his head. Refusing to listen. "Don't touch my son." He actually bared his teeth at his father.

"Lex, listen to me. If you don't want to lose Clark as well, you are going to help Dominic move him. I can't. Do you understand that? Get Clark out of there, or he is going to die. Do you want Clark to die, Lex? Do you?"

Lex shook his head.

"Then do what you're told, for once in your life."

Lex picked his baby up from Clark's chest, cradled it to his chest for a moment, and then surrendered the delicate body to his father. He moved to Clark's other side, and with a strength he borrowed from his beloved, lifted the much larger boy.

Dominic bent just a little bit and lifted, harder, and for the first time saw the gaping wound in Clarks back. His back was ripped, side to side, and he saw the glint of bone and the..."T...the placenta, its still inside him." He looked up at his lover, skin bone white, and when Lex lifted , Dominic got his arm around Clarks upper back. "Lets go. Come on, lets go. Come on, Lex, walk with me, we've got to get him out. To your lab, your l-lab."

Lex nodded. Clark had shared his powers with him once before; Lex took them now. He jerked savagely on the silver thread until the barriers came cascading down, and Lex's body jerked hard as it was slammed with the enormity of Clark's powers. Lifting his now-featherlight lover in his arms, Lex looked over his shoulder. "Follow me." With speed he'd never known before, Lex ran, and was standing at his lab door in seconds. When the door didn't open, he wrenched it off the carbonized hinges and left it in a twisted heap on the stairs as he carried Clark into the lab and lay him face-down on the cold metal table.

Clark’s body deflated, as the powers, the pain of them, left his body, he felt....he felt peace. His skin was as soft as a humans, his body torn from hip to hip. Blood was all over his back, ass, hips and legs, skin torn in jagged pieces,...and the bone that had once caused him so much pleasure now was peaking out of the tip of the wound.

The placenta still lay inside of him, and he was in so much pain. So much pain. His eyes, green, tinged red and glassy, opened as his skin touched the freezing cold metal. He watched as two blobs ran in seconds later... Lionel, Dominic, and his son. His baby. And he wept. Mar-El. Mar-El, come back.

Lionel watched in shock, awe, and disbelief as his son seemed to disappear in front of them. "Come on," he said unnecessarily to Dominic, and ran after Lex, as quickly as human feet could carry him.

Dominic was drenched in the younger boy’s blood, and he grabbed Lionel’s hand, the baby tucked to Lionel’s chest, and he wept in horror and sadness.

"Bring the baby over here, give him to Clark." Lex's voice was surprisingly flat and toneless. "Look in the cabinet behind you; I need the iodine, the packet of sponges, and the roll of surgical instruments." He turned around, pulled the blood-stiffened shirt off, and started to scrub up to his elbows. "If you'll look in the bottom of the shelf where the animal cages sat there's surgical scrubs. I want you all in them, and bring me one as well. Dad, you'll need a hair net before you come near Clark again." He kept lathering up and rinsing off his forearms until all the blood was gone.

Dominic yanked off his button down shirt as he entered, listening to Lex without a word. He let the shirt drop as he watched Clarks wound ooze, and moaned in fear as he shakily opened the cabinet as he yanked on the scrubs shirt, stripping as he worked. He got the iodine, the packages of sponges, the roll of instruments. He handed them to Lex as he yanked on the scrub pants, and tried to rub the tears away as his chin trembled, hard, tears running down his face. His face was completely crumbled as he nodded, still rubbing and letting out soft sobs.

Lionel did as he was told, laying the baby beside Clark on the table, and then stepped back. He peeled off his own bloody clothes, pulled hair streaked with blood back from his face and tucked it away as his son had ordered as he dressed in the scrubs as well.

"Thank you." Lex shrugged into the scrubs he was handed, and dunked the instruments into the sterilizer. He pulled on his own pair of rubber gloves. "Dominic, are you going to be able to assist me?"

Dominic nodded, still trembling as he scrubbed his hands clean with soap and water before snapping the gloves on.

And Clark... Clark could see his baby. His infant was laying beside him, his tiny face. He looked just like Lex, covered with sticky blood, and all Clark could see was shiny, beautiful skin, clear green eyes and all that soft, deep red and brown hair. He lifted his hand with the last of his strength and took hold of his babies tiny hand, before he let himself shut down, and pass out.

Lex felt his lover pass out, and he pulled the instruments out of the sterilizer and looked at Dominic. "Get on the other side of him. Dad, come over here, get on the same side with me, and bring the metal canister behind you. I'm going to extract the placenta first, and once it's in the canister, I want you to seal it, and press the red button, which will vacuum seal it. When Clark's recovered, he'll help me dispose of it properly." Because somehow, Lex just knew not to throw it away. "I don't know how he'll react to anesthesia, so Dominic, watch him closely, and if he looks to be waking up, tell me, so I can talk to him and calm him back down."

Dominic was shaking, simply nodding as he neared, tying the mask over his face like Lex had his own, and gently rubbed Clarks back as he looked up at his lover. This was... unreal, and he knew he'd never been this scared in his life. He couldn’t stop the tears, as he was an Irishman and the lot of them were softies, but he stayed strong for what had to be done. Loyal, to the end. "I will. How are you going to sew his skin, if its invulnerable, Lex?"

"I don't believe it's invulnerable at this time, as I am in possession of his powers," Lex said tonelessly. "However, should the need arise, behind the lead vault in the wall I have several sizes of meteor rocks. If necessary, I will bring one of them out long enough to weaken him and his skin to the point of vulnerability."

"You have…" Dominic trailed off, and his terror increased. However, he spread the blue blanket over Clark's body, as Lex had instructed, a square hole falling over the small of Clark’s back, and part of his ass, where the skin had split. Didn’t dare touch the wound, just covering the rest of Clark’s skin so Lex could work, and he leaned down and gently crossed himself, whispering a prayer as he stroked the lock of blood-streaked hair from Clark’s face.

The baby was utterly beautiful. He looked like he was asleep, tiny eyes shut, auburn hair drying in the air. He was a beautiful child, whole, and no part of him was disfigured or strange. He was a normal, human shaped baby.

And Dominic’s heart seized in terror. He didn’t want a baby, if this could happen. He didn’t think he could make it through this, didn’t know how Lex and Clark were going to, and he simply stroked Clark's hair, giving the boy, unconscious now, whatever comfort he could.

Lionel set the metal canister that Lex asked for on the table by Clark's foot, and until he was needed, he sat on the stool at the end of the table. "Lex, do you want me to move the child--"

"Lay another hand on my son and I will kill you." Lex took a towel from under the dissection table and soaked it in hot water, using it to swab away all the blood that he could see. He looked through the selection of instruments and he started to work, his brain guiding hands that moved at superspeed as he used forceps to spread open the wound in his lover's back. "Voice transcript, timestamp date stamp," Lex said tonelessly. "Append surgical data to the precious examination files of Clark Kent; link video surveillance of this room to said file. Incision is approximately twelve to fifteen inches, running nearly the span of his entire lower back. There has been a great deal of blood loss during the birth. The sac that was observed during the prior examination seems to have ruptured in some way, possibly by the expulsion of the fetus, but is otherwise intact. I am at this time unable to replace the blood lost as there are no known compatible donors, and I am proceeding to remove the placenta and possible afterbirth from the body cavity." His voice hitched, but he didn't stop the movement of his hands or his dictation.

Dominic gazed up at Lionel, fear alive in his eyes, as he gently stroked Clarks hair before taking a stance further down the table, in front of Lex. "W... what can I do?" Questions weren’t for right now, as he helped his stepson spread the forceps, and did he ever mention he was terrified of blood? He'd seen enough medical dramas to know what to do with the small tubes and such beside the table, and he lifted one, looking for the on switch... found it. The small tube began to suck quietly, and Dominic asked softly, "Where? What can I do? Tell me."

"There, at the corner of the incision, where there blood is starting to flow again. Keep suction at that point, and keep my work area clear." Once the skin was separated to Lex's satisfaction, he paused for a moment. "The bony protrusion noted on the first exam seems to have been the cause of the incision, though I hypothesize that the bone began the incision very small, perhaps an inch or two, and as the fetus emerged from the sac, the remaining trauma was caused by the fetus tear--tearing it's way out of Cl--out of the host." He blinked hard, swallowing the hitches in his voice. "The protrusion has swelled in size, but has been deflating since the delivery. If it keeps deflating, I believe it will return to the same size and position it was originally in, and serve the same purpose until the next fetus has matured."

Dominic shuddered in horror as he set the suction tube where Lex had said, looking up the table where the baby's little head peeked from the sheet, and realized for the first time just how alien Clark was. God, and it scared him, but not because he was scared of Clark. But that beings like this existed in the world, and it was shocking, terrifying, amazing. He kept the suction going, stopping every few moments when he took too much liquid, and tried to keep a pattern up even as his hands shook. "Its alright, Lex. You’re doing famously well. You’re doing good. Keep going, my love."

Lionel met his lover's terrified eyes. He himself was starting to shake, starting to tremble as it hit him exactly what was going on. Adrenalization was beginning to run out, and Lionel pushed his way through it. The flat tonelessness of his son's voice was deeply disturbing to him, and he didn't know--he was at a total loss as how to phrase it.

Lex switched the forceps for retractors, and used the retractors to spread the wound open just a little wider. "The remainder of the placenta is visible, and Dad... if you will bring the container down here, I'm going to extract it."

Lionel leapt to his feet, and he brought the container to his son's side. "All right, Lex. I'm here."

Lex didn't say anything for a long moment as he took the forceps, and extracted the tip of the placenta. "Extraction has commenced. Placental material appears to be a long, continuous tube, severed at the end by a butterfly knife. The end appears to have sealed itself after cutting, as it is no longer bleeding. The tube seems to be about twelve inches long, approximately the length of my arm, and is attached at the other end to the sac." Lex took a pair of surgical scissors, and tried to snip it loose. Thankfully, it worked, and he watched in surprise. "Placenta has been detached from the sac; the sac has already sealed the breach and is attempting to repair the damage from the fetal exit." Lex dropped the length into the container that Lionel held steady, and Lionel sealed it. "Everything else appears normal; if there was afterbirth, it must have already bled out during delivery. Extraction is finished and I am closing."

Dominic watched, eyes widening in his face as the tissue in Clark's body visibly began to knit itself. He was in awe, trembling with the awe of it, and removed his suction tube so Lex could begin closing the--

Clark suddenly reared, violently, letting a long, shaking, shuddering sob escape him that was part scream of pain and part cry of sorrow as he shook, in pain, letting out an animalistic, throaty whimper.

Lex dropped the instruments onto the table and went around the front to look in his lover's eyes. "Kal-El... Kal-El, look at me. I need you to be still. Can you be still, aushna'?"

"Greynuk trenk wergehan, cle'ektant," Clark wept, weakly now, face gray as he tried to move, tried to do anything, but all he felt was inhuman pain and loss, in every sense of the word. "Cle'ekant." He sobbed. (I can’t go on living in this fucking world, he’s gone. He’s gone.)

"Cle'ekant," Lex agreed. "Allem c'oth. Allem kle'echt eskaros." He stroked Clark's hair with the back of his gloved hand. "Aushna',... allem kle'echt." (He is gone. You are not. You must survive. Aushna please... you must.)

His fingers were still wrapped around his baby's hand and he looked at his child, hazy and unfocused vision sharpening on him, and felt the very spirit of his child there, helping him, keeping him alive. The power of his child, or his "Mar-El. Mar-El, awerthalen." (Mar-El, my child.)

Dominic listened to them speak with wide eyes, fear in his own heart as he tried to keep Clark’s hips from moving to much, to disturb the tissues trying to knit themselves back together, and looked up at his lover with everything he felt right now in his expression.

Lex snarled at that. "Sha'werthalen!" he shouted. (our child) "Nesk awerthalen, sha'werthalen!" (Not your child, our child!)

Lionel shook his head. "Be quiet," Lionel whispered. "Don't disturb them." He felt his throat tightening though he wouldn't give in to the fear and the sorrow for his son yet. Later, he could. But for now, Lex and Clark both needed his head on his shoulders.

Clark just wept harder, fear and pain and blood loss and sorrow and now anger from his lover, and he wept as he held his little baby’s cooling hand. "Antuyer, antuyer netesk tremp." (Please, please don’t hate me)

Dominic just nodded, searching for Lionel’s hand for strength, and to give his own right back. He squeezed, taking off the suction machine, and swallowed hard.

"Neteski tremp allem, aushna'." Lex closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Clark's. "Netesk tremp; eskin pasch ched." (I don't hate you, aushna. Don't hate me; I did all I could.)

"Sa'lumkana aushna, daphstemlin'aq." Clark whispered, and his wet eyes grew hazy with tears and looming unconsciousness. "Hukiyna wr' freshta." He swallowed hard. "Trenk xrecta." He whimpered, rubbing his cheek into the stainless steel. (My mate lover, I love you. All was done that could be)(I fucking hurt)

Lex's tears matched Clark's. "Creshta, aushna'. Xreticia wr'drenda allectel dec'cresh." (Sleep, aushna. The pain will be gone when you wake up.) He stroked Clark's cheek gently. "Trakkta dush allem." (I am taking care of you.)

He nodded softly, but just a little, because he'd already fainted. Blood was oozing from his wound, though now the viscous flow of before, and he just… he needed to go back. Sleep. Forget he existed.

Where was his mama?

Dominic was blotting at the blood as best he could, trying to keep it from coming OUT as much as he could as he stroked Clark's back soothingly and gazed up at Lex was sadness and uncertainty.

Lex stroked Clark's temples until he was deep asleep, and he looked back at his lover's injury, slowly knitting itself together. "Take out the retractors, Dominic. Let his skin seal itself." He sat down on the stool at the head of the table, and left his head resting against Clark's. "I've done all that I can do."

Dominic nodded, swallowed, and his hands were shaking like hell as he slowly slipped the retractors out, the skin pressing back together by itself. He winced, softly and stood back, bloody metal still in his hand. And turned, set the metal on a tray, took Lionel’s hand, and went into the other room.

Dominic wrapped his arms, very tightly, around Lionel’s body, eyes closed as he pressed as close as he could, and dragged his lovers shaking limbs close to him. He held him, just held him, wordless.

Lionel held on to his lover, just as tightly, just as silently. There really wasn't anything to say.

~ * ~ * ~

Lionel and Dominic had long since left the room. He'd cleaned Clark up as best he could without waking him up and dragging him in the shower, and he rather let Clark wake up in his own time.

He didn't even know if their bedroom had been cleaned up or not, and he couldn't quite bring himself to care at this point. Mar-El, his son. Their son. The very rational part of his brain wondered how, exactly, he could feel so numbingly sad over the loss of a child he'd never even known about until a few hours ago.

The emotional part of his brain, that loved his child, told the rest of his brain to shut the fuck up and mourn.

He cradled Mar-El against his chest. He'd cleaned the baby up too, as he was cleaning Clark. He'd run a sink full of warm water and given him a bath, cleaning each little finger and toe, gently washing his hair.

He'd cried all the way through it, and now the baby was clean, wrapped in a clean white towel, and cradled against Lex's chest as he stroked the cold, stiff cheek. "Mar-El, sha'werthalen." (Mar-El, our son.)

Pain. Pain. It was awake, alive, clawing at his insides. Both from himself, and from the man he'd given his life to, and tears ran down the sides of his face before he'd even woken up all the way. He had never felt so sad in his life, as his eyelashes, sticky and difficult to untangle, opened. Wet tears clung to the soft dark hairs and his eyes fell on his lover, his beloved Lex, and his son.

He was covered up with blankets, and there were strange things in his arms....IVs. His skin felt so soft, so strange, his body so weak. His mind so numb. He knew what had happened, he knew the great loss he had sustained, as he'd gazed into his little baby's eyes, saw awareness, a soul, the innocent love of an infant for the person who had bore them. Saw a person, reflected in those green pools of color, who would grow and become strong, confident, beautiful...who would love his parents, and become the unselfish, good man Clark knew was in his heart to raise.

Because of him, because of his body, he had destroyed something that... there were no words to explain how precious that child had been.

He'd never forget those green eyes, green eyes the same color as his own, looking up at him as he fought to live... and Clark knew he never would.

Lex hadn't realized at first that his lover had wakened. His eyes were down on the baby, stroking his hair, rocking him softly.

Slowly, though, as though something were waking up in the back of his mind, he realized that Clark was waking up, and he met his beloved's eyes. "You'll... take them back, Clark. Your powers. I borrowed them, to get you down here, but I don't know how to give them back. Take them back, please."

His chin dimpled but he didn’t say anything, simply reaching a hand out from the cot, warm now against his flaming skin, towards his son.

Lex moved the stool closer, and gave the delicately-wrapped bundle to his lover.

The tears flowed faster, his voice gruff as his throat and chest hitched, and he set his son on his chest, so he could touch his hair. Soft as silk, his little face chubby and full, and Clark almost couldn’t speak. "H… his eyes were green. Green like mine. H... his hair? See? Its your hair." His fingertip traced. "Here, h… his nose, Mar-El, his nose is yours. And his lips are yours. A beautiful son." Forgive me.

His grief was complete. He rose his son up a little, closer to his face, so tiny in his little blanket when he pressed his cheek to the top of the babies head. "How tall is he? How much does he weigh?"

Lex rubbed his fingertips over beautiful, pronounced cheekbones. "He is beautiful, Clark." He pressed a kiss to Clark's forehead. "He's ours; our son, Clark. I want you to know something--God, I want to say so many things to you right now, but I gotta say one thing before that." His voice hitched. "I don't blame you. It's not your fault, Clark. It can't be. This is my fault." He stroked Mar-El's hair. "He weighs five pounds and seven ounces, and he's fourteen inches tall." His voice choked on the next part. "He--he has ten fingers, ten toes, all per--perfectly formed."

"Its not your fault. How would it be your fault? He came from my body. Nothing could have been done." Clark whispered fiercely at his lover, even if the fierceness was pronounced with sobs. His little baby weighed nothing, was so small, all his fingers and toes and his little belly button and his tiny face and Clark… Clark lost it. He gave the baby back to his lover and sobbed, hysteria bubbling in his chest as his grief consumed him. He cried for his lost child, his lover, himself. He cried over the pity of it, the agony and pain, and knew his lover would never recover from this. He'd lost his lover, he'd lost his life. He'd lost his son.

Lex's shoulder's shook as he cradled Mar-El to him. "It's my fault, Clark," Lex said quietly. "You and I... Christ how I love you, but... we obviously aren't genetically compatible. Humans and your people, I mean." He rocked the baby against his shoulder. "This is my fault, Clark. I nearly killed you, I killed this baby, our son, because I didn't know. I didn't know what was going on inside of you, I didn't know that I would cause this by making love to you." He stroked his son's hair as he rocked.

And he reared up, because this was his last chance. His body needed to shut down and repair itself, and Clark did something he hadn’t been able to do.

He kissed his son. He kissed his baby on the head, his cheek, his soft little face, and grabbed the back of Lex's head, pulling him so the three of them were pressed tight in an embrace. "Stop. Don’t. Stop. Lex."

Lex's arm wrapped around Clark, holding him tightly as he cried, cradling the baby between them. "Don't stop what, Clark? Loving you? Never. I could never stop."

"Blaming. Don’t blame. Can have your baby, I kn-know I can, I didn’t... I didn’t mean t...to, I didn’t, I didn’t mean for t-this to happen, I didn’t know, I didn’t know I could h-have babies and I...I d...didn't, not your fault, at all, my so-son is yours, I’m too young, Lex, don’t pull away, please, please for the love of God, please don’t pull away."

"Jesus, Clark, this isn't your fault." He hugged Clark as tightly as he could, pressing his head tightly against Clark's. "I'm not going to pull away from you, I'm not going to. I will be here for you through this as best I can be."

He nodded, kissed his baby again through the tears pouring from his eyes, as his body began to go limp. He needed to rest, he needed to sleep, he needed to shut down. "Don’t b-bury him," He whispered frantically, as he began to hear buzzing in his ears. "Not yet. Wait."

And he closed his eyes, and passed out.

"I won't." Lex left one hand resting on Clark's cheek, the other arm holding the baby tightly.

He had no intention of burying his son yet. He stayed seated on the cold stool in the sterile white lab, and laid his head on top of Clark's.

And wept.

~ * ~ * ~

She was a bulldozer. Always was. Always would be. And right now, the Chloe shaped bulldozer was blazing through Luthor Mansion demanding an explanation. Her blond hair was extra flippy, her clothes slightly skewed from her march to Whitney’s truck and back, and at the moment she had her finger in a Latino house boy’s face. "Where. is. Clark?!"

"I-I dunna know!!!!"

"FIND HIM!" She shrieked.

The shriek got Lionel's attention, and he left his hand on Dominic's shoulder for a moment, downed the entire glass of brandy in three gulps, and poured himself another before he could walk out of the room without shaking.

"Enrique, it's all right, I will handle this." He looked the young woman up and down. "Ms... Sullivan, isn't it?"

"Yes." She turned a glare up to the older man..."Lionel Luthor? Chloe Sullivan." She thrust a hand out. "Where's Lex?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Lionel quickly shifted his glass so he could shake hands with the young lady. "Please, come in. I'm afraid that Clark and Lex are unavailable at the moment."

"Forgive me for being rude, but I am in." she took another step into the house. "Where is Lex? Is Clark okay? Clark wasn’t feeling good and Lex was freaking out and I’m worried."

"Well, you certainly don't beat around the bush, do you, Ms. Sullivan?" He stepped out of the way entirely to let her and the young man that had walked up behind her into the house. "Mr. Fordman, is it? Come with me, please." He led the pair of teenagers into the room where he and Dominic were seated. "Would you care for something to drink?"

Dominic looked up, and tried to hide the tears that were falling down his cheeks. So he simply stood, took the scotch bottle with him, and went into the adjoining room.

"No." She blinked at him. "Where are Clark and Lex, Mr. Luthor?"

Lionel tried subtlety. "You would not believe me if I told you, Ms. Sullivan. Trust me on that."

"Look, sir." She glared at him. "I don’t mean to be pushy. Or maybe I do. I want to know where Clark and Lex are, and if they’re alright. And you must really think I'll leave until I get my answer. They’re my sha'nauch and I'll be damned if I’m going to leave them hanging."

Lionel slammed down his brandy glass, wincing at the tinkle of broken glass. "All right, Ms. Sullivan, if you must know, Lex and Clark are downstairs in Lex's secret laboratory, mourning the dead child that Clark gave birth to this morning in a pool of blood and a great deal of pain."

And Chloe... Chloe stared at him. And stared at him some more. And tears filled her eyes because she believed him, a palm going over her mouth as she stared in shocked horror. Everything in her told her not to believe it, every scrap of journalistic instinct...but something primal and deep inside of her did. And she stared at the older man.

"You wanted to know, Ms. Sullivan," is all Lionel said. "I told you that you didn't want to know, and that you would not believe me. But you wouldn't listen to me. And so there you have it. Believe me or not, it's your choice."

She stumbled back... would have hit the floor if Whitney hadn’t been there. She searched for his hand... then pulled her hand away from her face. "You twisted son of a bitch. Are you lying to me?"

Lionel's show of temper had been limited to the broken glass, and he rose, very calmly, and set the broken glass in his chair. Without a word, he walked out of the room, not really caring if Chloe followed or not. He started up the stairs to the main hallway, and then looked over his shoulder. "I do assume you know where Lex's bedroom is, Ms. Sullivan? Since you and Mr. Fordman found him after his unfortunate accident in the bathroom?"

She followed because she had no choice not to, grabbing Whitney tightly as she dragged him with her, and gazed up into his face. She could see his disbelief and pain, and she was trembling as she began to see the blood.

Whitney... was just sort of there. Something deep down inside of him, something he didn't understand, felt very sick. The something that usually clued him into Clark's feelings, or Clark's moods, and it was very, very sick in the pit of his stomach, and he didn't have words to say anything as he pushed Chloe out the door, to follow Lionel Luthor up the stairs.

He almost stepped on the first small drop of blood, but something told him to stop, and as he looked up the steps, the drops got larger, and more frequent.

It was coming together. In vicious, painful little pieces. Every time Clark sped off, every time he did something odd, every time he spoke in that strange language, the foursomes, the... everything. The way she could read the mood changes in Lex and Clark more then anything in the world, the way she could tell they were close when they were. She was scared, nausea clawing at her insides as she followed the older man.

Lionel threw open the door to Lex's bedroom. "For your information, Ms. Sullivan... my mother was not a bitch." He pushed it open all the way, so the lakes of blood could be seen clearly. "And this is where I leave you. Good day."

She screamed. Hard and shrill, and turned her face into Whitney’s chest. She clawed at him, getting a good handhold of fistfuls of materiel as her knees nearly gave out and she pressed close.

Oh, dear Jesus and God, please take care of Lex and Clark. Wherever they are, God, take care of them.

Whitney's eyes snapped shut, and his hand came up to cradle the back of her head, holding her face into his shoulder so she wouldn't see.

He couldn't stop seeing. Even with his eyes closed the brief sight of the huge lakes of blood, the bedclothes stiffening with it, the floor covered it, was enough to sicken Whitney. "Come on." He pulled her away from the door, against the wall, and he looked over his shoulder at the departing Luthor. "Mr. Luthor? Where's this lab?"

"If I told you, then it wouldn't be Lex's secret lab, would it, Mr. Fordman?" Lionel continued down the steps. "Why don't you try calling him, Ms. Sullivan?"

"Whitney...Whitney." Chloe whimpered into Whitney’s chest, where her face was pressed. Her eyes were red, her face puffy and streaked and pale, and she looked up at him as she began to shake. "Whitney, I c...can’t, Whitney."

"It's okay, baby." Whitney held her close, didn't let her pull away to look. He could feel the detachment of his friends, somehow, and he nodded in agreement. "I know you can't. Neither can I. But we can't leave them alone. We gotta do something for them." He kept his hand stroking through her hair.

She pressed her eyes into his chest, rubbing them as she sniffled, hard. This huge, horrible thing had happened to her friends and she felt so powerless, for the first time in her life. Powerless, without anyone to turn to, and she wasn’t even strong enough for her friends in their time of need.

God, how scared they must have been. She trembled and nodded... and because she was Chloe Sullivan, where ideas came to her like rain drops falling in a puddle, rooted through her purse until she came up with her cow themed cell phone. And she looked through her lists of phone numbers, until... until she found a phone number she'd put into her phone in secret.

What Lex never found out was for the best.

And she clicked send, pressing the phone to her ear.

Dick was kicked back on the couch, Playstation controller in his lap. He was kicking complete demon ass, and he hadn't even used the new Gameshark cheat codes yet.

Bruce's cell phone was ringing.

"BRUCE!" he bellowed, not yanking his eyes off the on-screen Dante. "Yer phone's ringin'!"

"So answer it," came the mellow shout from the bathroom, and Bruce smiled as he got out of the shower. "If it's my girlfriend, tell her I'll call her back."

"If you got a girlfriend, I'm kickin' your batty ass,"

Dick snorted, and he picked up the phone. "Hello, you've reached God's Hotline, can I help you?"

"DICK!" Bruce yelled.

"Bruce Wayne's secretary, can I help you?"

"Sam? I... I mean, Dick?" Chloe’s voice was very tiny over the receiver, her throat full of tears as she pressed close to Whitney. Her slender arm was around his waist, holding her love tight. "Is... is Bruce there?"

"Chloe? Yeah, he's here, he's in the shower. You okay, honey? What do you need?" Dick cupped his hand over the phone. "BRUCE! Get your ass in here, now!"

"I need Bruce. Please, get him on the phone." She said softly.

"I'm here, Chloe." Bruce took the phone from Dick's hand and pushed him back to his video game. "What's wrong?"

"Bruce, something happened. Something bad. You have to come to the mansion, okay? There’s blood everywhere and Mr. Luthor, and I... you j-just, you need to come. Please, Bruce." She started to cry all over again.

"Chloe, calm down. I'm here; I'm upstairs. Where are you?" Bruce slapped his lover in the back of the head and mouthed deep shit, Dick at him.

"I’m on the second floor. Me, me and Whitney. We're on the second floor, Lex is in the lab. Clark. Clark... he... just go, okay? We can’t deal, Bruce, please."

"Okay. Dick and I are on our way down there; Chloe, I want you and Whitney to find the housekeeper--what's her name, Ms. Bird. Get her to round up Lionel and Dominic, and between the three of them, they'll get you guys marshaled while Dick and I get a handle on whatever's going on, okay? What do you know?"

Dick nodded and jumped to his feet, pulling on a pair of jeans on over his naked ass and a burgundy t-shirt, then started pulling out clothes for Bruce.

"They were crying, Bruce, crying a lot," Chloe wept. "They were crying downstairs when we came in, Mr. Luthor and Mr. Senatori, they were crying and there's so much blood, Bruce, there's blood, a lot of i-it," She sobbed, pressing her hand over her mouth as she pushed more into Whitney for his arms. His protection. "Clark, Clark, he... he... please, you have t-to get to them." She grabbed Whitney’s hand tightly and began to lead him to find Ms. Bird.

"Okay. Okay." Bruce was jumping into slacks with one hand and Dick was holding his shirt open as he switched hands on the phone. "Chloe, calm down. Take a deep breath, and find Ms. Bird. She'll get you taken care of, but what I want you to do first is to go to Lex's office, and make yourself a drink. I know you don't drink, but do it anyway. There should be orange in there; cut the booze with the juice, and throw it back. That will calm you down, surprisingly enough, and then you find Ms. Bird. All right? Do you understand me, Chloe?"

"Drink, dr-drink and… Ms. Bird." She nodded, dragging her silent boyfriend with her because she KNEW he felt it. His skin was clammy and cold and he was so quiet. She kept him close, leading him down the steps as she rubbed the tear streaks away with her shoulder. "Thank you, Bruce."

"You're welcome. Now, I'm going to the lab with Dick; if you need me again, call me on the cell phone, okay?" Bruce finally pushed Dick away, and changed shirts, throwing the button up aside and pulling on a turtleneck. "Chloe... everything is going to be all right. I promise you that."

"Okay. Okay. I believe you, Mr. Bruce." Chloe whispered, and hung up.

Whitney followed Chloe quietly. He was just... there. But not there. He didn't have words for it, and so instead, he stayed quiet, following as he was tugged along by his girlfriend.

Bruce shook his head. "Come on, Dick. There's something bad going on." He grabbed his lover by the arm and they left the bedroom at a run.

Lex hadn't moved from the stool sitting at the head of Clark's impromptu surgical table. Mar-El stayed cradled in his arms, and he rested his chin on the baby's cool head. The hair was still soft, and he stroked his fingers through the reddish curls of his son's hair.

Clark was aware of his body, more aware then he'd ever been. He could pinpoint each spot where his skin was knitting, feel every nuance from the tissues that had been bared but an hour ago. He was so weak...so tired. He could barely find the energy to breathe, to shift the pain off of his back for precious moments before he had to lay back again.

He was aware of his aushna', broken spirited, and the body of his son. His little boy. He was aware of the IVs in his skin, and he was aware of the hollow emptiness in his heart. He felt like his chest had been ripped open, scooped out with a spoon, and sewn back up. Everything he was, every scrap of self that he had accumulated since he landed here on earth… was gone.

His grief was so strong that he didn’t remember English. He heard Lex whispering in it, but couldn’t quite bring himself to speak the unnatural tongue he'd been talking in for a good portion of his life. So much easier to use the clicks and grunts of home.

Lex reached out and stroked Clark's cheek with his hand, rubbing his lover's face gently. He didn't have any other words to say at the moment, only touches and feelings to share.

No movement needed. Didn’t feel his lovers hand, barely acknowledged his presence. So tired.

Lex felt the exhaustion his lover felt. Felt the exhaustion of constantly keeping his strength under rein, felt the exhaustion of keeping thoughts and muscles rigidly held so that his eyes didn't explode with beams of intense heat. He cradled his baby gently, other hand keeping touch on his lover, reassuring himself that Clark is still with him.

Oh... fuck.

Bruce wasn’t the type to curse. At all. But as he stopped at the foot of the steps, a slew of curses that would have made a sailor blush slipped from his lips. The enormous steel door that had rested in front of Lex's lab, keypad included, had been ripped from its hinges.

The six inch thick door lay crumbled like a Kleenex against one corner, and Bruce held out a hand to stop Dick.

If Lex was hurt, Bruce was going to kill Clark with his bare hands.

The jealous rage he'd seen in Clark's eyes just the previous day had terrified him. Would he hurt Lex? Maybe. Blood all over the floor, as Chloe had sobbed to him over the phone. Lex's blood?

Bruce took quiet steps down, and looked through the door.

Lex didn't even look up at the sound of someone coming down the stairs. He didn't care. He didn't care about a lot of things right now, only his son and his lover. And that was it. He turned his head towards the door to look, and that was it.

Dick whistled lowly. "Ho-ly shit."

Their link was so strong... but Clark was so tired. He didn’t want to try and think about the thoughts going through his lovers head, didn’t want to fight gravity, didn’t want to fight anything anymore. He couldn’t sleep... his body wasn’t tired. Just weak. Weak. An experience so new and raw he didn’t know how else to express it. His eyelashes sat at half mast, eyes lazed and half rolled back with his struggle.

He was so close to death. He knew it, he knew he was still in danger. And he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Bruce’s eyes were very wide as he stepped into the lab. He kept Dick behind him, protecting him just in case. Clark, on a table, asleep. Lex....ash gray, holding a bundle of something close, with a glass jar of what looked like blood and guts behind him. Oh. God. He took another step, and said softly, "Lex?"

Lex looked at Bruce and Dick standing there, and then turned his head again, back to Clark, and looked at the IV bags that were currently feeding saline and nutrients into Clark's body. "Clark... can they meet our son?"

Not a response. Just his half closed eyes, staring at the ceiling.

Son? Son? Bruce's knees went weak with horror, and he kept his palm on Dick's forearm behind him, as he stepped close. "Lex? Are you alright?"

Lex stroked Clark's face again, and then turned back to look at Bruce. "You should meet my son. You can't touch him; nobody can touch him." He sat up just enough to pull the blanket aside. "His name is Mar-El."

Dick was... shocked. "Bruce? Did... did he just... Christ."

Bruce stepped closer and peaked inside the blankets... and felt a heavy pang of joy, lips half spreading into a smile, before that same emotion turned stone cold in his heart.

The baby wasn’t moving.

"I won’t touch him." Bruce said softly, as he looked into Lex's eyes, searching. "Lex...is he dead?"

"His lungs weren't formed. He couldn't breathe." Lex slipped a finger into the stiff grip of his son's cold hand. "Isn't he beautiful? He has Clark's eyes."

The sudden horror, and grief, were like a wall, and Bruce took a step closer. "Lex...Lex? Look at me, okay?" A moment as he turned. "Dick, why don’t you look in on Clark?" Then back to his old friend. "Lex... can I have him? I’m not going to hurt him." He added quickly. "I’m just going to lay him down, okay? You're bloody, Lex."

"Yeah, you got it, Bruce." Dick pulled out from behind his lover, and went to pull out the stool at Clark's feet. "Hey, buddy. How you feeling?" Dick's eyes scanned the IVs and the contents of the bags and the needles pressed into Clark's skin. The wound was slowly knitting closed, but was still raw and gaping. Dick didn't touch it.

Lex shook his head. "I told you. You can't have him. Nobody can touch my son."

Clark didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. Didn’t respond.

Dick shook his head. "You don't look so good, man. You look like hell, if you want to be honest. You... you wanna come upstairs with me? We'll get you cleaned up--get you in the shower in mine and Bruce's room, and get you in some clean clothes. That sound good?"

"Alright, well... why don’t you lay him down, then, Lex? Okay? We'll lay him down so you can make sure Clark is okay... and I'll help you clean up." Bruce was speaking very softly, very gently, tenderly with understanding. "We'll just lay him down for a little bit, and get him later. Okay?" Bruce gently nodded at him, his voice smooth and soft as he gently touched Lex's shoulder. "I’m your friend, Lex. Trust me."

"Opt'yun aca'a'patra t'." Clark said under his voice, so softly, staring into space as his muscles gave a twitch of pain, which sent a roll of it through his body. He shivered, once, and lay still again.

"You don't understand. You can't leave him alone, Bruce. He's just... he's just a baby. Just a little, little thing, my son." He stroked Mar-El's stiff cheek.

He looked up at Clark's words, cocking his head and listening. "He doesn't feel like moving, Dick. He's not ready to go yet."

"Lex, look at me." Bruce took each of his shoulders. "The baby is dead, Lex. Having him here next to Clark isn’t the thing to do right now. The baby is gone, and Clark is not. Okay?"

Clark was so tired. So very tired.

Lex just met his friend's gaze. "I know, Bruce," he said, heartbreakingly soft. "But I can't separate them yet. I can't take our son from my aushna'."

Dick put a hand on Clark's shoulder, flinching slightly at the thick crust of blood. "Tell you what, Clark. I'll go upstairs, and I'll start running a nice hot bath, okay? You won't even have to stand. You'll be able to sit down and soak, and I'll help. I'll help you get all the blood off."

Bruce's heart was broken. Completely broken. This was beyond the scope of his every imagining and he gently nodded. "I know, Lex. But you have to do it. Keeping him here is not good, for either of you. I promised I wouldn’t touch him, but would you set him on the table over in the next room? We'll make sure he won't fall. Okay?" And as he glanced up, whatever was left of his heart broke as Clark began to cry. Deep, soft masculine sobs of pain, and he looked away and to Lex again.

Clark just wept, shifting just a little and unable to move more and he was weak. His baby was gone because he was weak, and he cried harder, pressing his arm to his face, the closest thing he could do, as he sobbed.

Lex shook away from Bruce, and moved so that he could slide his arms around Clark's shoulder, cradling their baby between the two of them. He couldn't even say not to cry, because his own tears were falling. He just wrapped his arm around Clark as much as he could and tried to share his lover's grief.

Clark wept bitter tears for long moments, until the little strength he'd gotten seeped out, and he closed his eyes to rest. Just to rest.

And passed out.

"Lex. Lex." Bruce said softly, but sternly. The baby....the baby that had come from Clark, Christ, and it was so horrifying a thought, so scary he could barely breathe and he was the fucking Bat, but this... was beyond the scope of human thought. He took Lex's elbow and turned the much younger man towards him. "You’re scaring Clark. Lex, you’re scaring him. You’re making it worse, get the baby out of here."

"I can't. I can't take the baby away. Don't you see? He'll... he'll... I can't. I can't take our son away, Bruce. I can't throw Mar-El away like he doesn't mean anything."

"He means everything, Lex, everything." He was still stern, still strong, as he lifted Lex from his partial lean onto his lover. "But he's gone, Lex." Bruce murmured it more gently. "And Clark isn’t. You have to do what’s best for Clark, Lex. You need to tell me what happened... why there’s so much blood. Listen to me, I’ve never led you wrong."

Just a moment of rest. Just a moment. The endless periods of unconsciousness and consciousness, sleeping and waking, time stretched in every direction so he really had no idea where he was, what he was doing there.

And every time he came to, the memory of his child was agony.

Lex kept shaking his head. "He said... he asked me not to bury him, yet. He asked me to keep the baby close, keep the baby with us. I won't let you take him away from us."

But this time, as he came around, Clark heard the deep, male voice of one of the men he hated most on this earth. Inside his head is not the same as yours so don't sit there and judge him for something you clearly don't understand. Didn’t understand. Didn’t understand. Thoughts and memories were a jumble, a release of fear from every corner.

He was so hot.

You control every aspect of Lex's life, and if you don't realize that, then you don't deserve him. Didn’t deserve. Didn’t deserve. And he shifted, pulling his elbows up under him as he tried to rise.

Lex saw the movement, cried out softly as he put his hand on Clark's shoulder. "No! Clark, stay still, stay down, please, you're not ready to move yet!!"

Dick responded to the panic in Lex's voice by putting a reassuring hand on Clark's arm. "Hey, man! Come on, let's get you laying back down, okay?"

Bruce's eyes stayed on Lex, even as Clark moved behind him, and shook his head. His words weren’t getting through to Lex as he looked helplessly at Dick.

"Trenkney." Clark muttered, slowly pulling himself up further. The pain was unbelievable, outrageous, but he had to sit up. No more laying down. He had to move, he had to move around before he lost his mind. He got up onto his elbows before his head fell, hanging low as he grunted in pain. He would be there for his lover. He would be there. He would bury his grief and be there. A good aushna', a good one, the best one that ever was. "Oakenepel."

"Kal-El!" Lex responded, moving quicker than Bruce could see to end up beside Clark, lifting with the strength borrowed from his lover so Clark was sitting up and Lex was supporting his weight with one shoulder.

"Poy'tlek enk Cades-Se." Clark whispered to his lover, as his eyes hollowed and grew glassy with pain. He couldn’t move yet, couldn’t do more then this, and even this was costing him dearly. (Listen to Bruce)

Bruce's eyes narrowed as he finally got a look. Clark’s back was split in two, the wound still gaping and raw, and he frowned, deeply. Lex was swallowed by grief and couldn’t function. But Bruce could, and Clark needed to be bandaged and stitched, and he watched as the blood began to seep from the wound again in an almost anger. "Lex, god dammit."

"Cades-Se neteskac palala sha'xrectia." (Bruce doesn't know our pain.) Lex tightened his grip on Clark and supported him as best he could.

"Shit, Bruce, it's bleeding again, it's going to split wide fucking open if he doesn't lay back down!" Dick hissed.

No one knew their pain. No one ever would. "Listen to them, Lex." Clark said softly, the words feeling foreign and strange in his throat. "I can’t be here for you. Listen to them... he is your closest person." He didn’t remember how to elaborate, so he left it as it as. "I can't be here for you. Let him. Please, Lex. For us."

Bruce nodded, eyes narrowed as he watched the conversation. He wasn’t Clark’s favorite person at the moment, but he thanked God for the boy, in his grief, recognizing what was happening. He didn’t give him enough credit, and would change his ways before this was over. Right now, he needed to get the baby away from his young friend. The baby, the beautiful child, was gone, and Lex couldn’t get attached. Not now.

Lex's hand seized tightly on Clark's forearm. "You... I can't... I can't let him take Mar-El away from us and me away from you. I can't, I won't.

"Bruce!!" Dick hissed urgently. He was watching the drops of blood welling faster at the split, and he grabbed the closest towel and held it against the wound, catching the blood. "Get him down, now!!"

"Mar-El is gone." Clark suddenly sobbed. "Mar-El is gone. He is not here, his soul has moved to the Other. He is gone, you are holding his shell. He is gone, Oakenepel. I die seeing you in pain. Give Mar-El to Bruce. He is good man, he will take care of Mar-El." Clark was choking on his sobs, and when Dick touched his back he arched and gave a hollow scream of pain. The agony was unbelievable, and the sudden movement had the wound open and bleeding profusely, as his arms squeezed tightly around Lex's waist. "If you love me as aushna' love, do as I wish. Please, Oakenepel."

"That’s enough." He grabbed Lex and literally hauled him down from the table, physically lifting him until he could set him in a metal chair that was near the table. He set him in it, made sure he was alight, and turned back to help Dick lay Clark back down. The boy was weak as hell, clammy skin, cold sweat, and he didn’t... he couldn’t deal with it, just as he'd said. Bruce's heart went out to him, deeply, and he left him in Dick’s care as he turned again and crouched in front of Lex's chair. "You’re my best friend. Let me help you."

"Shit, fuck, godDAMMIT!" Dick hissed. The blood was soaking through the towel and his hands were getting sticky with the thick, viscous substance. "Clark, lay the fuck down now!"

Lex shattered at that, and let out a harsh, hard sob as Clark kept saying that their baby was gone. He didn't fight when Bruce wrenched him away, he just tightened his hold on the baby's body and held Mar-El tighter to him. He didn't look up as Bruce laid Clark down on the table, didn't look up at all as Bruce crouched down in front of him. His chest constricted with every sob, and when Bruce stopped talking, Lex held out his arms and offered his son's body to his best friend.

Clark lay back on his belly, whimpering in pain as he closed his eyes. So weak, so much pain, and he couldn’t. He couldn’t anymore. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t survive this, and he wished, in every cell and fiber of his soul, for death.

As Bruce laid Clark down on the table, Dick switched out towels and pressed the clean one to the wound on Clark's back as he dropped the bloody one to the floor. "Bruce! Bruce!! Before you get started with Lex... I need first aid kit. I need something to clean this kid up with, Christ. Every drop of blood he's got in him is bleeding out!"

He'd never again experience such heartbreak.

Bruce took the dead infant from his best friend and swiftly rose, leaving the room just for a moment to set the baby in the adjoining lab room. it was sterile and colder then the main room, which... which was good.

As Bruce took his baby from him, Lex curled in tightly on himself, wrapping his arms around his midsection and almost howling in grief as tears rolled down his cheeks, collecting in the corners of his mouth before overflowing down his chin to splash on his hands, his knees, even the hard white floor.

And Bruce suddenly felt the weight of the child, the soft blanket he was wrapped in, and he felt weak tears flood his eyes. He swept the instruments off the table, not hearing as they rattled to the floor, and gently set the infant Clark had bore on the slab of metal. He was a beautiful little boy. Such a beautiful child, and Bruce gazed into his face for a moment before pulling the blanket over his head.

And heard Dick’s cry.

Bruce brushed his tears away and kept his mind clear as he rushed back into the lab, and saw what was happening. Clark's body was somehow trying to knit itself, but for every knit blood seeped out.

Shit.

He walked over and quickly pressed his hands over Dick's, just for a moment, as his brain rushed through what was happening. A duck and he grabbed two gloves off the shelf underneath the slab table, quickly slapping them on as he gave orders. "Dick, get the kit right behind you, its a suture kit. We've got to sew him inside before we sew outside. Look, you see how his skin is mending by itself? It's just going too slow. We need to use the sutures that disintegrate by themselves, they’re called number 77. Are they in there?" Lex's screams were sears on his heart, as Bruce tried to care for Clark. And each and every sob tore chunks from his body. "Clark? Clark, can you hear me?"

"Yes." Came the soft reply.

"We're going to help you. Don’t be frightened. I have a PhD, okay? Don’t be scared."

"I love you, aushna'." Clark whispered, almost dully, as he watched the wall. Lovely, white, swirling.

Dick moved his hands as soon as Bruce's gloved ones came to keep pressure on the wound. He turned and wiped his hands on his jeans and grabbed the kit behind him. "Yeah, got the suture kit." He jerked it open, and followed the numeric sort. "Yeah, we got 77, but we don't have enough, not for a wound of that size." Dick pulled out what they had and tossed it on the table. "Here, let me have the towel, you're not going to be able to do that with bloody hands." He held his up, already smeared with red.

"Look, Dick. Look, Clark's mending from the left to the right. If we saw from right to left, we might meet in the middle." Bruce quickly unsnapped the gloves and pulled on another pair, before he got the needle he'd be using and the sutures ready.

"Okay." Dick nodded, and switched positions with Bruce so that Bruce was standing on Clark's right side, and Dick was reaching around Clark's left side to keep pressure on the mending side. "There's a suction pump connected to the table; can you get it in there or do you need me to?"

"Keep your hands on the wound." Quiet, from the chair. "Lex, talk to me. Lex. Fucking hell, we need some help." Bruce growled. A glance and he saw Lex frozen, face an even ashier gray then before, trembling. "Fuck. FUCK. I’m going to get the suction tube, Dick, but only clear away where I can't see. He's lost too much blood, from what Chloe told me. Alright? Now." At the same instant he was giving Dick the tube he was pulling the towel up, and looking at the mess of his young friend's back.

"Just like when I came home shot up, Dick. Same thing. Don’t think, just do it." Bruce said it soothingly at his young lover as he separated the skin to look inside the wound. And was met with the tissues, already mending and knitting together, veins, arteries and muscle moving and writhing almost like looking a the bottom of a can of worms. It was moving fast, and Bruce knew immediately that he just needed to knit the thick gash. "Dick, get me the bottle of iodine behind you, now."

Dick nodded, and he bit his lip. "I understand." He took the suction tube from Bruce as it was given to him, and as Bruce peeled the towel back, he put the tube down where the blood was pouring out the most and obscuring the wound. "Iodine," Dick said softly, putting the bottle in his lover's outstretched hand.

Lex had no idea what was going on around him. He was curled up in the chair, skin waxy pale, sucking in rattling breaths that caught in his chest before being sobbed back out again.

Bruce uncapped it and poured it into the gauze he'd already grabbed, pouring some over Clark's skin as well as he began to blot. No use in causing infection, not now. Bruce swiftly set the bottle down and began to knit the skin together as fast and perfectly as he could, moving in and out of Clark's skin as he felt more then saw the young man go limp. "Calm, Dick. Its alright, baby, you’re doing so well. You’re doing good. When we're done, I want you to go get Mr. Luthor, okay?"

"All right. Soon as we're done here, get Lionel." Dick kept his hand steady, suctioning out the least amount of blood he could so that Bruce could see where he was sewing.

Bruce worked swiftly, carefully. He'd done this on himself more times then he could remember, and he was good at suturing, stitching, keeping skin together. And as soon as the stitches were done, eleven minutes later, he had over twenty stitches, the black thread startling against the white caramel skin of Clark's back.

But they were strong. And they would keep his skin together until his own body could mend it.

"Go. Go, now."

Dick stopped to wash his hands off in the sink, scrubbing them as clean as he could before shaking them dry, rubbing them on his jeans again, and bolting up the stairs.

As soon as he cleared the top of the steps, he started looking around. Noise was coming from upstairs, towards where he knew Lex's bedroom was, and he took the stairs two at a time as he ran. He skidded around the corner, and saw Lionel in the hallway. In one hand was a large brandy snifter full to the brim, and with the other hand,

Bruce unsnapped the gloves easily, fingers running over Clarks face, hair, making sure the boy was okay. He pulled the blanket, soiled but it would do for now, up tight over his naked skin, before he turned and crouched in front of his old lover. "Lex. Lex. Answer me." he said it loudly. Christ, and God, and the fear was overwhelming. His youngest friend, his closest friend, and he grabbed Lex's shoulders and gave him a fierce shake. "LEX."

Lex felt the shaking, but didn't react to it. His head snapped limply at the end of his neck, and he whimpered at the whiplash feel of it.

Lionel was steering a suit rack filled with clothing, both Clark's and Lex's. "Lionel! Mr. Luthor!" Dick shouted.

Lionel was... about a half sheet to the wind. He was only on his third glass, granted, but he'd doubled up on every glass he'd drank so far, so instead of three half-glasses as he normally drank, he'd had three full glasses, and was beginning on his fourth. "Mr. Grayson!" Lionel hailed in return as he continued pushing the clothing rack. "How can I help you today?"

Fuck a goddamned duck, Bruce didn't say he was going to be drunk! Dick railed to himself. "Lionel, come on. You've got to come downstairs with me, to the lab. We need to get Clark out of there. Bruce just stitched him up but Clark's covered in blood."

Lionel's eyebrow raised. "Lead on then, young man." He left the rack in the middle of the floor and followed Dick calmly, sipping from his glass as they went downstairs.

Dick growled under his breath at the drunk old bastard as he took the steps down to Lex's lab two at a time. "Bruce? We're back."

"Lex, goddammit, answer me. LEX!" Bruce pressed his hands to the freezing skin, the blank eyes, and did what he'd done the last time he'd come on his young friend like this. At the time he'd been high as a kite, but as he glanced over his shoulder at his returned lover and the older man, he lifted Lex. Bodily. Up into his arms, pressing the slender boy close, and walked swiftly with his burden around the lab and into the decontamination showers.

He set Lex down on his feet, standing right behind him, and turned the freezing water on.

Lex didn't react to the cold water at first. He just stood there, almost comatose. It wasn't until the water penetrated his clothes and the thick, insulating crust of Clark's blood on his skin that he felt it, and he reacted.

He whimpered. "Cold... turn it off."

"Dick," Bruce said it loud enough, calm enough, for his lover to hear. "Get Clark upstairs. Put him somewhere, but get him out of here."

The lab... was outrageous. Blood everywhere, soiled linens, medical instruments, gloves, packages from sutures and gauze. It was... a mess. And Clark needed to get the fuck out of there before he got an infection, and he'd surely die.

The soft words from in front of him were ignored, and he pushed Lex's head under the cold water.

"You got it, Bruce." Dick looked back at Lionel. "I'm gonna need your help, Lionel."

Lionel walked over to Clark, and crouched beside the young man. He stroked his fingers through Clark's hair once, and shook his head gently. "I'd like... I'd like to see my grandson."

Lex just shivered as the cold water rushed over his body and his head, and he tried again. "Turn it off, it's cold," he said, a little louder.

Clark was completely unconscious. His breath was soft, his chest quiet, and for the constant look of mutilated pain was gone. He was at peace, for the moment. Knowing his lover had given Bruce the child had been all he needed, and he could rest now.

Bruce shook his head, running his own freezing fingers over Lex's clammy skin, shocking him out of his shock, getting the blood flowing and his nerves moving again, praying to god he'd start trembling and trying to dance out of the water. "You’re staying, Lex."

"I don't want to stay. It's cold in here. I want to be warm." He didn't quite shiver, though he knew he should have been. "Let me go to Clark."

Lionel looked at Dick. "I said, I'd like to see my grandson, please, Mr. Grayson."

Dick sighed. "Bruce? Lionel wants... to see his grandson."

Neurons fired in Lex's brain. Part of a memory--Lionel holding a dead child over its bassinet, crying into the wavy brown hair that crowned his brother Julian's head. Lex saw it in his head as he'd seen it that morning, lurking in the doorway of his brother's room, gripping the doorjamb and not knowing what was going on.

Another soft sob broke out of his chest, and he shuddered, violently, scrabbling against the wall for support and punching through the ceramic tile in his haste. "Let him see Mar-El."

Bruce looked out of the shower at the older man... and nodded, just a little. His fingers gripped Lex's chest and waist, holding him still as much as he could, and finally nodded again. "He's in the sterilization lab, Lionel." He buried is face in Lex's back, trying to hold the boy still, trying to keep him still as he demolished--it made sense. Sudden, inexplicable sense.

Lex had Clark's powers.

Lionel nodded. "Thank you, Bruce. I can find my own way, Mr. Grayson," he said shortly, as he saw Dick starting to move after him.

He shivered as he stepped into the even colder lab, and saw the achingly tiny figure wrapped in a blanket. He sat his glass down on the countertop, and then crossed the room to pick up the baby.

The same memory Lex had just had, Lionel had now, only from a different perspective.

Lionel had woken at six in the morning. Julian was better than an alarm clock, Lillian had joked, and as he opened his eyes he expected to hear the sound of his son crying. When he didn't, he looked over beside him, and was surprised to see Lillian still sleeping beside him.

He got out of bed, slipping his feet into warm bedshoes and padded down the hallway to his son's room. If Julian was learning to sleep through, then he and Lillian both were going to be very happy campers.

He met Lex coming down the hallway from his own room, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Go back to sleep, Lex."

"I didn't hear Julian," Lex said sleepily.

"He's probably sleeping through the night; go on, son," Lionel said gently, and walked into the nursery where his youngest son slept.

And he knew instantly, something was not right. The form in the bassinet was too still, too quiet. The mobile over the crib still tinkled feebly as the last of it's battery ran out, but that was the only noise in the room.

He almost tripped over his own feet heading for the crib, and as he got there, he could see that Julian was so very quiet, so terribly, terribly still. He put his hand on the baby's chest, intending to pick him up, and then jerked it back with a cry.

The baby's chest was still and his blankets were cooling, as was his body. Lionel picked up the baby in his arms, blankets dangling askew, crying his son's name softly over and over again as he cradled the cooling body against his warmth.

Lionel looked down at the still form in his arms with wet eyes, and placed a soft kiss on a cold forehead. Julian's body had been almost that cold when he and Lillian had finally given him up, and Lionel's heart went out to his son as he held the still body of his grandson against his chest.

Lex hadn't even seemed to notice that he had partially demolished the shower wall, and he pulled his fist back, looking at it numbly as he shivered violently under the cold stream of water that fell over his head and his face, mixing with the hot, salty tears that poured from his eyes and dripped from his cheeks.

Bruce gently stroked Lex's skin, keeping him as close as he could until he began to struggle. And rather then someone getting hurt, as it was the last thing anyone needed, Bruce shut the water off and just, bodily lifted Lex again, right into his arms. And he carried the sopping wet boy into another room. Lex's small office where he did his paperwork. There was a large chair in the corner, one Bruce had enjoyed sitting in in better times, and he sat in it now.

And he kept Lex in his lap, pulling the boy as close to his body as he could, and he gave Lex what they had always held with one another. A place to be weak, a place to cry, a place to fear. A place where they were themselves, the rawest, deepest part. And Bruce held him.

"Shhhh. Shhhh. I’m here, baby. See? I’m here. I'll always be here for you. You’re so brave." Bruce said gruffly, pressing his face into Lex's head as he rocked him, holding him close.

"It's my fault," Lex sobbed into Bruce's shoulder. "If I had paid more attention to Clark, this wouldn't have happened. He wasn't feeling right yesterday and he kept saying he was all right and he wasn't and I should have listened to my gut. I should have listened to my gut and made him come down here then and maybe, just maybe, I might have been able to save our baby. He wasn't meant to have children with me, I'm not like him. He says we can, but we can't. I should have known." His throat closed again, and he sobbed harder into his friend's chest. Lex just shuddered violently in Bruce's arms, unable to get warm now. His arms went around Bruce's waist, crying and sucking deep, hard breaths into his chest, sobbing them back out again as he trembled, still pale and gray.

-fin-

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