The Memoirs

Clark shifted, just a little in his unconscious sleep, eyelashes fluttering before he stilled once more. He was aware of the vicious cold, of the pain, but couldn’t quite make himself awake enough to do anything about it. And as it was, it wasn’t really that important.

Lionel had many things to say to the baby in his arms, but none of them would come out of his throat. In the end, he looked at each little finger and each little toe, kissed each tiny palm and the sole of each tiny foot, and then wrapped the baby back in the blanket, kissed it's forehead again, and laid it reverently back on the table. He paused by the door to the lab, draining the brandy glass in two gulps, and stepped out to rejoin Dick. "Here we are, young man." He stroked Clark's hair gently, and leaned down to talk to him. "Clark? We're going to need your help, young man. We're going to try and get you upstairs, where it's warm, and we can get you cleaned up. I can't carry you alone, and neither can Dick. You're going to have to help us, Clark, because we simply cannot do it alone. Do you understand me?"

He did. But he moaned softly. No. Please, I can't move anymore. Lex is crying. Can’t you hear him? Go to Lex, go to my aushna', my sa'lumkana. Go to him. Please, I’m not worth it, I wish to die, leave me here.

Tears trickled from Clark’s closed eyes, down his still expressionless face.

Lionel cleared his throat again. "Clark Kent. Listen to me, young man, and listen to me very well. You are a lot of things, but you are not a coward. I will not let you take the coward's way out of this. You are going to get up, as much as you can, and you are going to help us get you up those stairs, and to the elevator. Because if you do not, then you are proving that you are not worthy of mourning the child that is lying in the other room. You are proving that you are more content to wallow in your own self-pity than to attempt to care for yourself. Lex cannot care for you. He can barely care for himself. Now get up, Clark. This moment."

Lionel forced out every word through a tight throat. It was impossible to say those things to a parent who had just lost a child, but he was crippled by his own memories of his own inaction and he could not lose Clark to it as he'd lost his wife. He hadn't acted, and Lillian had died. He'd not let Lex lose Clark the same way.

He wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t. But he hurt. He hurt so much. But he wasn’t a coward, no one called him a coward, he and his weren’t cowards. No.

Lex. Lex. Oakenepel. Thread destroyed, torn asunder, barely felt his lover through the screaming emotions churning like a boiling sea through their minds. And Clark allowed his eyes to open. it was so hard, but vision came back slowly… so that he focused on Lionel, there where he lay on his belly on the cold slab of steel. Days ago he and Lex had had so much fun on this table, and now he knew he'd never again lay eyes on it. He looked at Lionel, Lex's father, and trusted him more then he ever had another person. He had to get up. Had to. Had to. Except he couldn’t.

Lionel's eyes met Clark's without flinching. "More than anyone else in this room, Clark, I know your pain. But you must."

"H...." His voice was scratchy, raw, deep and trembling. "hu... hurt. Hurts." He managed softly, as he tried to move. Tried. So cold. "I-Ice."

Lionel moved to slide his shoulder under Clark's arm. "That's why we want to get you somewhere warm, Clark. Come on."

Dick sprinted to Clark's other side, and supported him with his shoulder and an arm around Clark's waist. "I know it hurts, Clark. But we'll get you in a warm tub. The heat will take the pain away." Fuck not getting the stitches wet. Clark was healing himself; the stitches could fucking well get wet and rot. "We'll get you warm, and then once we've got you cleaned up and in bed, I'll talk to Bruce about getting you something for the pain."

His expression crumbled, as he slowly brought arms of lead up, again. His back tugged and yanked with each movement, each movement, where his son had come from. And he wept, constant crying, the sounds of a mans broken heart as he shakily took hold of the shoulders each of his arms had been pulled over. "Mar-El."

"Mar-El was a beautiful child, Clark," Lionel said, his throat chokingly tight. "But he is gone. And giving your life will not bring that baby back. Believe me, if that could happen, I would not be standing here today, my son would be. You have to survive, because he didn't."

"He is gone." Clark whispered. Denial had lead to grief only moments ago, and the crushing realization of what was happening was such a shock it took his breath away. He was so cold, and as his fingers gripped the men’s shoulders and as he sat up, he moaned in agony. It was consistent, never going away, except now his skin yanked and tugged with each movement. He moved all the way, because he couldn’t stand it, slipping off the table to his feet... and his knees crumbled from under him as his eyes blurred and his ears were filled with sudden white noise. "He came from me." He whispered softly.

Lionel went to his knees with Clark, and Dick struggled to support the dead weight that tried to drag him down. "Lionel... can you work your magic again? You got him to his feet, now get him moving before we drop him."

Lionel wrapped Clark's arm firmly around his shoulders, and put both arms around the boy's waist, struggling to pull himself up. "Yes, he did, Clark. He came from you. But you can't let him take you with him. Lex is depending on you, Clark. Are you going to let him down?"

"I’m so sorry. I hurt your son." He could barely move, but he understood what the men wanted, he felt it and heard their need through the screaming waters of his mind. He straightened his legs... tried, tried so hard, and rose, got them to lock as he grunted in pain. "My aushna' is so sad." Move, move, so cold, so naked in front of these men, and he wanted to hide, find somewhere to hide until he was strong again, until he could care for his heartbroken lover. "I am a bad aushna'."

"You are both sad, Clark," Lionel said, rising as Clark did and supporting the boy's weight with his own. "You have a right to be sad. You... Clark, you are not a bad anything. You are not a bad mate to my son; he loves you and that alone is proof that you are exquisitely special."

Dick led the way through towards the door, picking his way carefully through the bloody rags and such on the floor. "You keep him moving, and I'll direct us," Dick said quietly.

"Of course," Lionel answered back, just as softly.

Cold sweat had broken out over his body, muscles quivering as they walked. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. Unreal, this was unreal, this couldn’t be happening. He was Clark Kent, farm boy, went to class, wrote naughty fic and was gay. Had a lover, had a group of friends he adored. This wasn’t happening to him. He hadn’t gotten pregnant, he hadn’t had a child who had died in his arms. His arms. Little arms, little legs, perfect little belly button. fingers and toes, and little ears. Tiny lips and big green eyes, gazing at him in total love. His little boy had looked at him the first time and the bond had been so complete, so utter. The link had been created as easy and fast as water running down a river, and he'd felt every single thing his little baby did. He'd felt his little heart beating, his belly churning with an infants hunger, and had felt the lungs that refused to inflate because they were only half formed. Had felt his babies innocence, like a soft breeze on the ocean, pure and perfect. He'd felt his child struggle, as he'd had fear, as his little baby tried to live. He'd felt every moment of his child’s brief life, and had taken away his fear in those last few moments. Had told him, in a language only the birthing parent and child have, that it would be alright. That he'd been blessed, and loved intensely for the moments he'd been on the earth. He'd infused his little babies soul with the picture of his parents, so that in his next life he'd find them and be complete. Had felt his child flow away and stay in his own soul, stay in Clark’s heart until he was certain his father wouldn’t die. And he'd been awake when he felt his son pass on.

Clark cried. He stood between both men and cried for his infant son, cried for his child.

Lionel gripped Clark's waist tightly in his arms. He knew exactly why Clark was crying. He knew the pain and the emptiness and the fear and the hate of the world that took an innocent infant from loving parents. He knew. He knew, and half-dragged Clark towards the steps as much as he could. "Clark... you cannot. Not here. Not until you are warm and safe in Lillian's bedroom. Then you can cry. Now, you have to survive."

"I can’t." He sobbed, even as he walked, even as he moved. The only thing that was keeping him here, that was keeping him from taking his own life, was Lex. He couldn’t leave Lex alone with this, couldn’t leave him for his own pain. Their bond, their hearts, their emotion, their love forbade it. And because he did love his lover with what a man felt for his chosen mate, he walked. Each step was shooting pain, each movement agony, but he moved. For Lex.

"You can survive, Clark. You can survive. You must. Or I will have lost both of my sons."

"Oakenepel." Clark sobbed, because he knew. Even as they stopped in the elevator, and the pain dissipated just for a minute, he knew. He knew Lionel understood, he knew he could help him through this because he'd been through it himself. And he felt closer to Lionel then he ever had anyone in his life, in that exact moment. Lionel would help him, help him. "Help."

"Of course I will help you, Clark." Lionel changed his grip from a steering grip to a hard, tight hug. "I will get you through this, if you will listen to me and let me help you." As he hugged, he started easing Clark up the steps.

"Christ, but I heard you coming." Dominic rushed down the steps. He was still caked with blood but his hands were clean. He'd met Ms. Bird in the kitchen, and they'd been just about to go up the steps when he heard their voices. And there he was, as always, meeting them and backing up as they walked. "Lionel, what can I do?"

"Help Mr. Grayson and I get Clark upstairs; in fact, take Dick's side. Dick... I need you to go upstairs. Go to my wife's old room. Ms. Bird will take you there, if you can't find it. It's done in burgundy and gold, and it has a bathroom attached to it. I want you to run the water hot, as hot as you personally can stand it, and fill the tub. Lay out towels, soap, everything that you can find. When you're done, come back and find us, and help us get Clark into the bathroom. Can you do that, Dick?"

Dick nodded. "Yeah, I can do that. It's on the back hall right? With the big windows and stuff?" At Lionel's confirming nod, he surrendered Clark's arm to Dominic. "I'll have it ready for you."

Dominic ran his fingers through his short hair, rubbing at his mouth a second later. He was terrified, but not for the first time he was keeping it to himself. He nodded at his lover, hard, and tenderly took Clark's arm, pulling it over his shoulder. "Christ, he's so cold." He said softly, gazing at the hung head and the tear marked face of the taller boy, and gently began to walk. "There we are, you're doing magically love, just go slow as you need."

"Should have known. Should have known." Clark whispered, as he gazed at their feet. "No baby for us. In my dream, there was no baby. Should have known. Should have known. could have... saw him die, Lionel, die in my arms, my baby looked at his daddy and I couldn’t save him."

Lionel nodded at Dominic. "I know he is," he said quietly. "That's why we're getting him upstairs. The sunlight in my wife's bedroom, combined with the hot soak in the bathtub, I believe that will get him warm."

Dominic swallowed around the hard lump in his throat as they walked. "Shh. Shh, Clark, love, there was nothing that could have been done. Come on, now, one foot in front of the water love. There we are. Walk. Walk slowly."

"No baby yet," Lionel said firmly, swallowing back his own pain as Clark's words ripped old wounds wide open. "I have seen you with Dominic's family, Clark. I refuse to believe that you will not have a child of your own." He pulled Clark more firmly against his side, forcing him to stand a little straighter as they negotiated the steps. "You cannot save the world. You simply cannot. There are things beyond your control, and this is one of those things." Horrible, painful words that had been shoved down Lionel's own throat by friends and family after Julian's death. "If it was within your ken, that boy would still be alive. You have to accept that you cannot fight death. You cannot catch the Grim Reaper at the door and force him to give back the life he took. Your child was loved, deeply and intensely, for the time he was here, and that is what you have to believe in."

"But I’m Superman. I’m Superman, I have powers, I have powers and I can’t... I’m supposed to save people, sup--" He let out a vicious moan as pain ripped through him as he stepped wrong, gasping and arching his back as they moved.

Dominic was terrified. Speechless. He didn’t know what to say, simply moving down the long hall, where sunlight and the sound of water filling a bathtub was coming from the open door. Almost there, almost there. Almost.

"You have powers, Clark. That makes you special, not responsible for the welfare of the entire world." He gripped Clark firmly. "Come on. Work through it. We're almost there." He didn't let go of his grip on the boy's waist. "Clark, think. Lex has your abilities now, I don't know how, and I'm not sure I comprehend it. But do you blame him for not using those abilities to save your child?"

"My poor Oakenepel." Clark wept softly. "Destroyed, family gone, he pulled away. He's not coming back." It hurt, it hurt, couldn’t take the pain anymore and his knees began to shake as they walked. He was going to faint. He didn’t want to, he wanted to be strong, but he was going to faint and he was going to hurt both men if he fell. So he tried. He tried. tried.

The sun was blinding when they stopped in front of the door, and Clark winced and looked away.

Dick Grayson was waiting for them as they crossed the threshold. "Come on in, guys." He got on the side with Lionel, and took the weight from the older man. "Tub's full, got Ivory soap and hot water, all the clean towels I could find, and there's clean clothes on the bed. How's that sound, Clark? Get clean, get warm?" Dick rubbed his chest gently.

Lionel surrendered Clark to Dick, and he sagged against the bed as he watched them disappear into the bathroom. His chest felt constricted by tight iron bands, and he wanted nothing more than to lock himself away in a very dark room until everything stopped hurting.

But he couldn't. His fist rubbed at his chest, urging the bands to loosen as his back screamed in protest for the first time now that he allowed himself to feel it.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. His feet moved all by themselves, spongy carpet turning to cold floor, and a bathtub. Bath. Hot water. Blood gone, pain gone, sleep. Peace. Peace for his body, his body.

Dominic stopped them at the bathtubs edge, and gently wrapped a hand tightly around Clark’s hip. "Pick your foot up, dear. Pick it up. I know, I know it hurts, but my hand is here, I’m going to help you. Come on, lad." He'd seen his lover, could see him now on the bed trying to stop his own pain as he helped Clark.

His foot. Up. had to get in the bath. Clark lifted his foot and screamed in agony, the sound reverberating off the walls as the bone, the bone rubbed everything WRONG and he set his foot down, abruptly, into the hot, hot water.

"I know, I know love, come on, almost there, I know it hurts so bad but the tubs large enough for you to lie down in it. Come on, love, come on," Dominic insisted, palm on the back of Clarks thigh as he helped. Clark gave another shattering scream and between himself and Dick they got the boy down. "There. There, love. There. See?" He didn’t look at the water tinting itself with blood. "There. There."

All he could do. This was it. Clark closed his eyes, and zoned out.

Dick gritted his teeth as he helped Clark into the water. The scream felt like it was shattering his eardrums, and as soon as they got Clark in the water, Dick got his knees beside Clark. He was already bloody from the stitching, and he didn't care. "Go check on Lionel," Dick said quietly, picking on one of the cloths and the new bar of soap. "I'll get started in here."

Dominic turned, immediately as soon as Dick said the words, and rushed into the bedroom. "Lionel. Lionel. Can you breathe?" Heart attack. He pressed his hand to Lionel’s chest, his hand to the fast beating heart. "Lionel. Baby, talk to me."

"I'm not having a heart attack," Lionel said, his eyes still closed as he felt Dominic's hand on his heart.

"Don’t die of heartbreak, then, my love. I know. I know. I know it, you don’t have to tell me." He reached forward and tugged Lionel into his arms, sitting next to him on the bed as he soothed a palm over his lover’s back. "I love you, my darling, my angel love. I know. Don’t shut down yet, we need you."

And he gazed over Lionel’s shoulder, startled, because he caught the side antique clock. Eleven thirty? it was only eleven thirty? He felt like an eternity had passed, a massive amount of time.

Lionel wrapped his arms around Dominic's chest. "I'm not shutting down yet, either, although the thought did cross my mind." A deep, steadying breath. "I love you, Dominic. So much. You are my sanity, and..." and oh, this was hard for him to say. "And I am going to need you a great deal over the next weeks and months."

"I’m here for you. I’m your stand-on, beloved. This is going to be so hard... how could this have happened? He was fine this morning, Lionel, he was fine and suddenly there’s all that... all the blood. Lionel, how are they going to get over this?" Dominic whispered.

Lionel shook his head. "I don't have the answer to that, Dominic. I wish that I did. I just know that they will. As Clark pointed out, his vision of us showed us and our child... but also, Clark and Lex together. If I can remind him of that in the coming days, then that will be what I can rely on to get him through this until he and Lex can..." he sighed. "Talk. Grieve together. Do what they must."

"Lex is destroyed. Lex is so..." Dominic’s voice wavered, and he brought him closer to him, kissing his lovers cheek. "The baby is so beautiful, Lionel. I want to help you, I want to help them. You must tell me how, because I don’t know the way." Dominic whispered, and nodded tightly as his fingers squeezed Lionel’s. "They'll work through this, and be better men for it, Lionel. Have faith. Have faith."

"Believe me, Dominic... I know how they feel. Both of them, I know." His stomach twisted as he thought. "I know how destroyed Lex is; I know how destroyed Clark is. And I promised that young man that I would be there for him."

"I know it, darling." Dominic said it softly, stroking Lionel’s cheek softly as he held him close. His arms were around his lover, his husband, blond goatee rubbing softly into Lionel’s cheek as he tried to keep his sadness at bay. "They’re looking to you, Lionel. I'll be here for you to look to."

At that, Lionel straightened in his beloved's arms. "I should be in there with Clark instead of Dick."

"Lionel... remember why you call my Jiminy. I’m not just your conscience, beloved." Dominic let go of him, and gently brushed his lips with his own. "Go to him. I need to go help Ms. Bird, baby."

Lionel returned the gentle brush of lips with a desperate, hard kiss as his hands bit unintentionally into his lover's biceps. "Be careful," he said. "Don't hurt yourself, and I'll send Dick to help you. I think I can handle Clark on my own."

Dominic returned the hard kiss, offering any comfort he could, and stroked his hands through Lionel’s hair as he held him close for just a moment more. "I love you, Lionel."

"I love you, my Dominic, my husband." He stroked Dominic's cheek with the back of his hand, half-surprised that his knuckles didn't leave a red smear of blood on his lover's skin, and then slowly pulled his arms away. "I promise you, I'll be all right and I'll call if I need you."

Dominic pressed his face into the side of Lionel’s own, rubbing skin before he got up and nodded. Another soft kiss to the crown of his head, and he was gone.

Lionel drew himself up erect, and strode into the bathroom. "Dick, I think I can handle this. I want you go help Dominic and Ms. Bird, and then check on Lex and bring me back news when you're done with them. All right?"

"Yes, sir." Dick was glad to surrender the rag and the soap to Lionel, because Clark hadn't spoken or moved since being put into the bath. "Good luck, Mr. Luthor."

"Thank you, Mr. Grayson." Lionel lowered himself on stiff joints to his knees, and looked in dismay at the red water in the tub. "Well, Clark, I believe we need to get you a refill here." He reached between the young man's feet and pulled the plug to start the tub draining. "Can you lift yourself up just a little and let the water out from behind you?"

The water was so hot... so good. It felt searing, pinking his skin as Clark’s muscles and body appreciated the luxury of simple water. He was half turned away, his hip hiding his genitals in what was left of his modesty. He hated everyone seeing him, everyone looking at him, hated being so bare in front of so many people. Hated so many people knowing every intimate detail of his life, his body, his mind, his heart; hated being something to be looked at and pitied.

And maybe that’s why he didn’t hear Lionel right away, flickering his half mast gaze up.

Lionel saw the pose that Clark was settled in, and reached up wordlessly, pulling down one of the larger towels and gave it to Clark to cover himself with. "I need you to raise up. Just enough to let the dirty water slide out."

Oh, God. That meant moving. The bone hurt against his skin and insides but he shifted… trying in vain to get up, to move, to follow directions. Easy, mindless orders to get to a common goal. Except even the easiest of orders had him struggling, grasping the sides of the tub with shaking hands as he tried to rise.

Lionel saw the difficulty immediately. "Forget it, Clark. Never mind. Just... roll on your side. Can you do that, without it hurting you?"

He nodded. Rolling was good.

He rolled, and remembered rolling onto his back, in the middle of his bedroom, having just come home from school. Ripping his clothes off as he fought to get cool, agony, agony, and Clark trembled at the memory as he turned further onto his side, keeping the towel over himself.

"Don't roll any further quite yet, Clark." Lionel watched as the last of the red water drained out of the tub, and then put his hand on Clark's shoulder. "Now, sit back down while I refill it. Was the water too hot?"

"N...no. Good." Soft croak as he rolled back over, half laying and half sitting, conforming to the shape of the tub. It was comfortable, laid back, meant for cozy bubble baths and comfort, and he shut his eyes just for a minute as he listened to the water. Splash. Splash. The shower, running down on him, inches away, so close to survival and he jerked himself from falling asleep.

"No, Clark. It's all right. You can sleep if you'd like." Lionel threw down the dirty, bloody cloth that Dick had been using, and picked up a new one. "Is there anywhere in particular you'd like me to wash first, anything that's bothering you?"

"No." He said softly, to all of what Lionel had said. No sleeping, no particular order. Everything hurt. "I...it was normal. A normal birth, for a man." He was desperate to get the image he'd felt from Bruce out of everyone’s heads. "Spine... tears back. The baby co-comes out, like from a woman. Only... only in the back. And fast...so fast. I...I reached, reached behind, because… because I felt him moving. Was going to pass out, but he b-brought me back. He was there, Mar-El. His foot…I touched his foot first. Saw it first. Big feet, like daddy’s."

Lionel took Clark's hand in his own, and gave it a firm squeeze as he put the soapy rag on the back of it, starting at his knuckles and working over the back of his hand. "Did you... Did you have any idea what was happening to you? Lex... didn't know. He never said." Lionel kept his eyes on Clark's hand and arm. "Is the towel big enough? Or would you like me to get you something you can put on until we're done here?"

"No. Trust you." Clark said softly, eyes closed. "I didn’t know. No idea. It hurt, all morning. Slow, then faster, and faster, until it was agony. And I began to bleed, on the way home. I thought....I thought it was from... from somewhere else. But no. My back. It split, a little, I felt the cut and it hurt so much. I was so scared. No idea. Thought it was a new power emerging, but when the blood started, knew that wasn’t it."

Lionel felt terrible for the young man who had gone through so much alone, simply because he didn't know what had happened to him. "How... how did the wound on your back get so large? And Clark... how could you lose so much blood, and still... be alive?"

"But then, there he was. And he fit in my hands he was so little. I had to twist back and get him." Clark whispered softly. "I think that ripped it more. Had to reach back for him. He wasn’t born the normal way… I think he was at an angle. Because his foot was hanging off my back." Clark shrugged softly at the second question. "I don’t know. More blood, inside me, maybe."

A breech birth, Lionel thought to himself. "There's... there's a term for that here, Clark. It's called a breech birth, when children are born feet first, instead of head first." Lionel could not get the image out of his mind of little infant feet, trying to kick and claw their way out of a wall of impenetrable skin. "What... what was wrong with him?"

Clark shuddered, because he saw the image in Lionel’s head. He saw it, through the link of blood Lex had to his father, and Clark’s eyes filled with tears. They tumbled down his face, because that’s exactly what had happened. No one had been there to help him because Clark had insisted he was alright, and his son had fought to live. "Are you frightened of me?" Clark asked softly, the well of tears tumbling down his cheeks.

Lionel rested back on his heels at that question. "No, Clark. I probably should be, if I had any sense about me right now, but I'm not. All I see in front of me right now is a hurt, scared, and physically wounded parent who lost a child."

Oh. Hearing it made it so real, and Clark tried to push the hysteria away. Not yet. Time for that, soon. He swallowed a wall of it in his throat, raising a hand weakly to rub against his cheek. "His lungs. Everything else was perfect. He had perfect everything, except his lungs. He survived as long as he did because of the third lung. It still had liquid from inside me to live for a few minutes."

"Third... lung?" Lionel shook his head. "If that's the case, then Clark... you cannot blame yourself for this child's death. You had nothing to do with it; you didn't choose for the boy to be born partially unformed. I don't know why and neither do you; you may likely never know. But know this; it was not your fault, Clark. It simply... wasn't." He picked the cloth back up and started scrubbing Clark's forearm, rubbing his fingertips unknowingly over the tattoo that he and Lex shared.

Clark gasped. The mark felt raw, like an open wound, and when Lionel touched it pain spiked in his head as fiercely as the contractions of birth had. And he saw his lover, through Lex's eyes. Saw Bruce holding him, felt his grief, and he whimpered, loudly, pulling back from Lionel and holding his arm tightly. "M... mark. Mark. Lex."

Lionel recoiled as Clark pulled his arm away. "Clark? I'm sorry, what did I do?"

And Lionel had helped so much, and Clark couldn’t not tell him. "Mark. Mark, with Lex. Feel him. He's so sad. He was holding our baby, Lionel, he couldn’t stop holding him. But Bruce made him put Mar-El in the room… Lex is so sad. Lionel, you have to go to him." Clark whimpered again, closing his eyes. "You saw? You saw Mar-El?" He asked it suddenly, fiercely.

"Let me see your arm, Clark," Lionel said firmly. "I won't touch the mark again, but I am going to finish bathing you." And then he jumped, more than a little startled by Clark's ferocity. "Yes, I did. I saw him. I held him; Bruce showed me where he was, and let me see my grandson."

"He is beautiful." When he looked at me, his soul was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. "He is beautiful." Scared him, scared Lionel, and he held his arm out to him. He was just so proud of his child, so proud of his beauty and his little soul. "He would have been a beautiful person."

"He is beautiful, Clark. He has the best of your features and Lex's together, including the dark red hair that Lex would have had." He took the cloth and kept scrubbing, deliberately avoiding the mark on Clark's forearm, instead moving up towards the crease of his elbow. "I'm not going to leave you, Clark. Lex is, for the moment, being taken care of by the one person he will listen to--Bruce Wayne."

"It is my fault he died." He said it softly, and turned his gaze away from Lionel, making sure his towel was covering what it needed to. "Too young. Just molted, and I was too young and I didn’t know. I didn’t know, but now... now, I do. Ignorance asks a high cost." Clark whispered. "His lungs weren’t formed because part of me, the part that forms them is not inside me yet. He paid for my ignorance. He was born to experience pain. I’m a little boy, so disgustingly inadequate of everything around me. I know that is true, Lionel. I want to be like you, and my father. I want to fence and plant crops. I want to be a man. And I’m not. I’m not a man. I’m a child, and now my child is gone and Lex's life is ruined because I was a stupid little boy."

Lionel glared firmly at the hurting young man in front of him. "Clark, let me ask you a question. For the moment, though I know it's difficult, try and think this through, and don't answer immediately. Do not. But think about it." He paused a moment, carefully phrasing his question. "If a woman miscarries her child, like Dominic's sister Belinda did, is it through any fault of her own, or is it simply a flaw in her body that she has no control over?"

A woman’s flaws couldn’t be helped. But sometimes it was a woman’s fault. And sometimes it wasn’t. But Clark knew, he just knew it was something inside of him, something inside of him that did this, and he hated his body. He never again wanted to have anything to do with it. Lex hated him, so he wouldn’t have to worry about being intimate with anyone ever again. No. No, no. "There should be no flaws. A woman knows if there are flaws. I did not, because I didn’t know. Should have looked deeper, I could have found out."

Lionel nearly swore before he reminded himself of something. "Clark... how old are you?"

"I'll be seventeen in two days."

"And at the tender age of seventeen, do you think a single individual on this planet knows everything that there is to be known about their bodies?"

His chin trembled. Hard. "But I’m different."

"You're of a different race, Clark. Yes. But you were raised by a human family, on Earth, among humans. Taught your entire life to act as a human. Perhaps that was a disservice, perhaps it wasn't. My point, Clark, is this." Lionel leaned in a little closer. "Differences don't mean a goddamned thing, son. You are only seventeen years old. You don't know everything. I didn't know everything at seventeen. Lex didn't, as much as he will tell you otherwise. If you want to be human, Clark? Then you must judge yourself by human standards. If you want to be different, then you must judge yourself by the standards of your people. Remember, though, who raised you. Remember the standards that you know, and that you live by."

Clark’s chin tremble turned into his entire face crumbling, and he began to sob all over again. Those harsh, deep sounds of pain, as he turned his face away. He couldn’t let this man, this man who meant more to him then Clark would ever let on, see him in such weakness. He'd never stooped so low in his life, and Lionel GOT it. Lionel GOT how much he tried to be a good man, and how people expected so much of him that he couldn’t possibly hope to achieve. With just a few words he took the weight of the world off of Clark’s shoulders.

And unfortunately, it was the only thing that had been keeping him from breaking down.

Lionel dropped the cloth into the tub, put the soap to the side, and pulled Clark forward, into his arms. A tight, reassuring hug was all Lionel offered. No more words, just silent, unspoken sympathy and commiseration.

Clark wrapped his arms around him, as much as it hurt, and wept. He wept for his child, he wept for his lover, and he wept for himself. But most of all, he wept for the pity of it all, how horribly sad it was, how hollow he felt. "I d-don’t even k… k-know who I am anymore." Clark sobbed, pressing his face into Lionel’s shoulder.

"I know who you are, Clark, but that's only semantical. I can tell you who you parents are, and who your mate is, and who cares about you. But you, my boy, are going to have to look inside yourself to see who you are, and that is something you'll have to do alone, because I can't help you do that."

Clark nodded, just a little. He knew, he knew, but going through it was going to be...it was going to...how could he ever replace a love so strong when he could never forget that child? How could he ever forget?

Clark rubbed his face gently and let go, because the pain was too great. He lay back with a soft gasp, moaning softly and turning his face as the tears ran.

"Clark, I want you to look at me," Lionel said. "I mean, really, look at me." He'd caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he'd come into the room, and he knew that he looked every second of his near sixty years. Tired and drawn, face pinched with worry, he knew exactly the picture he looked like, and he wanted Clark to see it. "Tell me what you see, Clark?"

Clark couldn’t look for a long moment… just staring out of the window that sat adjacent to the bathtub. The snow was falling lightly, sky gray, and it was an appropriate day for what had occurred.

He rolled his head slowly and looked. And saw. And squeezed his eyes shut. "Y... you look so sad." He croaked.

Lionel's fingers gently squeezed Clark's chin as he turned the boy's face back to look at him. "Do you see someone who's capable of love, Clark?"

Clark nodded a little, looking up in pain as he brought one fist to his chest. Rub, rub the ache away, rub it away, and he was trying.

"Then if the ability is in me--me, Clark, of all people--then it remains in you as well. Because you have the largest capacity to love someone than anyone I have known." Lionel picked up the soapy rag and kept scrubbing.

"How? How?" Clark sobbed it, hair falling in his eyes. "How did you survive? How do you go on, when your wife, your baby, is in the ground? How can you live?"

"Because I had to," Lionel said quietly. "Even though I couldn't deal with him at the time, I had my son. I had Dominic, though in a different capacity than now. I had to have help." He looked hard at Clark. "I am about to tell you something that no one else knows, Clark. And I need your word that you will not repeat it."

He looked up at Lionel with the heart of a broken man. "I wont tell anyone anything. I can’t."

"After Lillian death, I sent Lex away. I... became a drunk, Clark. I drowned the anger and things that I felt with bottles of cognac and brandy until I realized that I could no longer function in my job. I went to a therapist, I was treated for depression, and to this day, I walk a fine line to keep my sanity. It is why I tease Lex so unmercifully, because if I took him seriously... then I wouldn't be able to function."

Clarks face tightened and crumbled. "Mr. Luthor, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. No one should have to go through that, no one." Clark said it softly as he lifted his hand from the tub and grasped Lionel’s, tightly. "I’m so sorry, Lionel. It never goes away. It never goes away."

"No, it doesn't." Lionel took the hand in his. "It doesn't go away. But Clark, yes, it does become bearable. Because you make it so."

He stayed like that, for a long few moments, eyes closed. His fingers flexed in Lionel’s, keeping them tightly in his, because in that old hand he felt the wisdom he needed. Peace. Peace. He needed peace.

He was passing out. He felt himself sliding helplessly under the water, and the pain was so heavy that he struggled, tearing stitches as he forced himself back up. "Out. Help me out." He gasped, coughing and struggling to straighten enough to get out.

"No. No, Clark, be still. You can't move." He reached down and started draining the tub. "Stop, be still. I'll bring you a blanket, you can rest here until you're ready to move."

"I w-want to get out, I want to go to sleep," Clark wept softly. When he was asleep, the pain was gone. When he was asleep, he could stop thinking. He didn’t want to, he needed to shut down. His child was gone. He needed to rest, before the grief took his sanity.

"I know you do, Clark. But you have to be still, so you can finish healing. You can sleep here, and then when your back is healed, then you can move."

"Thank you." He whispered it, softly. "Thank you. Go to my aushna'. Please. Please. I feel him. He hurts." Clark said softly, eyes already closed. "Please."

Lionel rose to his feet and pulled the thick wool bedspread off the bed. He carried it back into the bathroom, and waited until the water had drained out of the tub before covering Clark with the large blanket. "I know he is hurting, Clark, but so are you. And I know that Lex would not forgive me if I abandoned you when you needed help."

"I’m okay." The blanket was so good, so warm, and Clark pulled his legs in close in the generous bathtub so he could be doubly covered. Clammy skin warming, and he closed his eyes again. "Okay, here. Please. Please."

Lionel shook his head. "I will send Dominic."

No more. He couldn’t, anymore. He tried, tried in vain, but Clark had to let go.

He closed his eyes, and slept.

~ * ~ * ~

Ms. Bird had been a part of the Luthor household for the last thirty years. As such, she'd been long used to doing things that most people would have raised an eyebrow at.

Cleaning up blood and not asking questions were two of her specialties, and strangely enough, it didn't occur to her that it wasn't the normal operating procedure. and it didn't stop her from caring about the people she worked for.

Therefore, when she saw the drops of blood on the steps leading up the main staircase, she thought nothing of going back to the kitchen, picking up her scrub brush, a bucket of water, carpet cleanser, and a roll of towels. The towels, brush, and cleanser fit neatly into her apron pockets as she moved up the stairs, and started to scrub at the first dots.

As they grew into larger splashes, worry grew in her heart for the younger Mr. Luthor, who had come home bloody more times than she wanted to remember.

But still, she kept cleaning, because she knew too that if she were needed, she would be called.

Dominic was already in Lex's bedroom. A bucket sat before him, filled with steaming hot water and two sponges. He had a handful of towels beside him, and he was scrubbing in vain at the floor. Congealing blood and soap slipped through his fingers as he bore down, scrubbing harder at the enormous stains. He'd wiped the furniture down with shaking hands, cleaned down the wood as best he could. The fingerprints he hadn’t quite gotten too, but all he did was lift his bucket and splash the puddle with hot water, for as much as it did. He was half in it, trying to get it up, and he rinsed his sopping sponge into the bucket as he continued.

Dick Grayson had stripped off his jacket and his shirt, leaving himself only in bloody jeans and bare feet as he started moving furniture out of the room. He moved the small things first; nightstands, bedside tables, chairs with rolling casters on them. Most of the small items were clean, and as he piled them out in the hallway, the other two teenagers moved them to an empty bedroom, two doors down the hall.

Whitney was just... working. There were things to be done and he did them, and he didn't think about what he was doing. Mechanical motions, quiet answers to the questions he was asked, and minimal conversation as he moved furniture, pushed it around to make room, stacked chairs and such to the side.

Chloe hadn’t stopped crying since she'd gotten to the Luthor Mansion. She was working, quietly, without a word. Her makeup was streaked down her face, her hands shook, but her sleeves were pushed up and she was helping her boyfriend clean and move without a word.

Dominic rose silently and went into the bathroom. He emptied the bucket, one hand slapping the countertop as he struggled to keep himself together. Empty the bucket, squeeze out the red water. Ignore it, its not blood.

He looked up at himself, staring at a man he didn’t recognize, and refilled the bucket, walking back into the bedroom.

Ms. Bird was slowly working her way up the stairs without a word, soaking up the bloodstains on the carpet, scrubbing them out and then using the rug cleaner and the towel on them. Once she was done, she'd bring out the steamer, and steam the rest of the stains away.

Dick went out to the stairway, and looked down at the little bitty old woman scrubbing the carpet. It was like watching Alfred, so diligently was she cleaning. "Ms. Bird? Let me finish that... I think you better get in here with Dom. I think the boy's bout to go nuclear."

Ms. Bird pulled herself up and surrendered her bucket and brush to Dick. "Chu must do a good job," she chastised, and then hobbled into the room with Dominic. "Herr Dominic?"

There was so much of it. So very much. But Dominic got his bucket and his sponges, and got back down on the floor.

Ignore the gore in the shower for now. Ignore it. Nothing like that could have come from Clark. Nothing. Not this enormous lake in the bedroom, not the shower. No. So Dominic got back on his knees and began scrubbing again, soap, water, and blood going over his wedding ring.

Ms. Bird spoke his name, and he glanced up, startled. "Ms. Bird."

Ms. Bird looked out over Dominic a moment, and then at him in the middle of the floor. "This vill not vork. Chu... chu are a mess, and your clothes are only meking it vorse. take off the shirt, like Dick. Use it as a rag, to soak it up. Den scrape, like dis." She got down beside him, with the brush, and started just pushing bloody water into the bucket.

He nodded. Could do nothing else. He pulled his shirt up over his head, ignoring its state, and did what Ms. Bird did. Used the cotton to push at it, push it into the bucket. There was so much of it.

Before he grew angry. He just got angry and shook his head, climbing to his feet and helping Ms. Bird to her feet. Fury was in his heart, his veins, fury and anger and rage. He helped Ms. Bird into the hall and went into the bathroom.

Scrabbled, for a minute, through the drawers, before he came up with his prize. A pair of long yellow scissors. He turned and went back into the bedroom, crouching right at the door frame where the carpet met the one in the hall, and let the scissors dive. He brought them down, swift and true, memories of long, hot summers doing this very thing with his brother for a bit of money swimming in his mind as he yanked and shoved at the bits coming up... before he got a handhold.

He ripped upwards, popping out the staples holding it to the floor. He climbed to his feet furiously, ripping it right across the half empty room, before going back and starting on the thick foam beneath.

Ms. Bird yelped in surprise as Dominic started ripping out carpet. "Herr Dominic, vhat are chu doink?"

He shook his head, ripping the foam up with ease, until all that was on the ground was the heavy cement used to build the room. He ripped the foam up as well, yanking at it until it gave, until sweat trickled down the back of his white Hanes t-shirt, until the carpet was ripped up where the blood had been.

The cement floor had traces of the blood he'd just pulled up.

Dominic nodded, as if okay with his work, and half leaned out the door, barking at Dick. "Help me get the rest of this up."

Ms. Bird shook her head. But he was right. The carpet would have to come up. "I vill go and find you a knife; chu vill have to cut around de furniture until ve get the heavy pieces moved."

Dick looked up. "Holy shit, Dom. What the hell are you doing?"

Ms. Bird shook her finger at him. "Chu don't ask. Chu do vhat you are told." She looked up at Dominic. "Ve vill burn everythink. Pile it to de side, and I vill get the udder boy to help carry it out."

"Burn it, in the back of the house." Dominic nodded it. He knew. He'd been cleaning up, literally and figuratively, messes for LuthorCorp for many years. And he knew what they had to do. If anything, anything ever got out about Clark, they'd come looking for evidence. And Dominic would be DAMNED if they'd ever find any here. "Anything in the bathroom, Dick." Dominic instructed, stepping over the partially ripped carpet as he went into the bathroom. "Be careful, its slippery. I want all the towels, all the bottles, the carpets, in the pile outside. Anything that has blood on it, I want it outside. And I want bleach. Ms. Bird!" he called it from the door. "I want bleach, a lo' of it. Can you get me a gallon or two? We need to bleach this bathroom for the bottom up."

Ms. Bird nodded. "Ja, I ken bring you gallons. Ve have four downstairs. Ve also have de... concrete cleaner. De power vasher. Enrique usually runs it on de garage floor but perhaps Dick could handle it."

Dick nodded. "You got it, Dom. I'll pack up all the shit I've got, and I'll make sure that I get the bloody clothes from Dick and me and Lex from downstairs... fuck, one of us is going to have to clean up the lab too, there's blood everywhere."

"We'll do it." Dominic nodded firmly. The boy understood, and that helped. "Whitney. Whitney? I need you and Dick to take care of this here. I’m going to take Chloe with me downstairs, and get everything started down there." He turned and gazed at Dick. "I don’t want me sister or her young man to see this. If you hear her, keep her away. The less people who know, the better."

"I want the towel and the foam completely ripped up." Dominic instructed, firmly. "I want the blood in the bathroom scrubbed away. Even if you get it with water, do it with bleach. Every surface must be cleaned off, alright? Get the fingerprints off everything, as well. Any handprints on the glass, or walls. Throw away what you can't salvage."

Whitney's head popped out of the room down the hall, and he nodded. "Okay." He didn't say anything else, he just walked down to the master bedroom, and squeezed in the door.

Chloe looked up at Dominic, and bit her lip. Didn't know what she was going to do, faced with all this, knew she wasn't ready and knew she was letting Clark and Lex down. She nodded her consent as she moved to his side.

Dick nodded. "You got it, Dom. You want the place sanitized. I can do sanitizing." He bit his lip before he said anything else that would give anything away. "School's not gonna be out for another few hours; I'll go meet Shay and Pete at school and move 'em over to the coffee shop, and then to my apartment. That'll keep 'em away from here."

"I know, Dick." Dominic’s hard facade cracked, just a little. "I know, lad. Bless you for doing this, you're a good man for it." He nodded it, fiercely. "Keep them away. Me mama's in Metropolis, where she's to stay until late tonight. None of you leave, other then Dick." They had to have a debriefing. Once it was over, and Clark and Lex were resting, Dominic had ever intention of gathering everyone to talk. "Good work to you, lads." He turned and looked at Chloe, taking her arm gently as he led her away from the room, and down the steps. He was mucky, covered in sticky red, face and hair and arms and clothes, shoes, everything. But when it was over, he'd wash. He'd wash away his young friends blood and fall apart.

But right now, he knew very well that he was the only one keeping level about this. And he'd continue doing so, because people counted on it. "Chloe, we're going to stop in the laundry room. There’s enormous mops. We'll need two. The lab can be cleaned with a hose as well, as theirs drains. But we need to bleach."

Chloe nodded her head. "Yeah. Bleach. My dad says that'll get rid of anything, cause they use it at the plant a lot to clean up if they spill chemicals or... or poop, or stuff." Chloe wasn't aware she was wringing her hands as she followed the older man. "Mr. Senatori, this... what's... I mean, is Clark okay? It's... I know, it's weird, Mr. Luthor said... and it's just... can... did he?"

His sharp gaze turned and pinned Chloe as he walked down the steps, finally letting her arm go as they moved. He walked with purpose, striding into the kitchen with all the self assurance he seemed to have and didn’t, cutting across into the laundry room. "He did, Ms. Sullivan. And you will never speak to another living soul about it after today is over, are we clear? You will not ask Clark, you will not ask Lex, you will live with the memory and never again speak of it."

She jumped. "Oh--okay. But... he's... is he going... all that blood, is he okay?" She grabbed Dominic's elbow. "Mr. Senatori, please. Is... is Clark okay?"

Dominic turned from the shelves of cleaning supplies, Ms. Bird just having passed them back out, and looked at the girl. "Clark is most certainly not okay, young lady. But… I believe he will be. For now, we need to clean this up. This cannot leave this house, understood? His life will be destroyed. It can never leave this house."

"So he's not... dead?" The fear in her gut eased just a little bit. "I won't ever tell. I mean... he's my best friend, I've known him forever, and I swear, I won't tell."

"He's not dead." Dominic confirmed. He just wishes he were. "Get the two buckets, and the large mops there in the corner. " He hiked his pants up and crouched, pulling one of the enormous buckets of bleach out from the bottom shelf. It hit the floor with a dull thud and Dominic got a grip on it, lifting it. Heavy but not uncomfortably so, and a hysterical part of his mind reminded him to call Toni when he could.

He bit down on the laughing sob that ached to tremble free, sp he wouldn’t scare the young girl, and motioned to the door. "Hurry, lass."

Chloe jumped again, just a little as the bottle thudded on the floor, and the buckets clattered against each other as she grabbed them. "Oh--okay." She tucked the mops under one arm, and then had a bucket in each hand. "Okay. I've got it."

"Good. Lets go." He led the way back out the door, leaving the pristine kitchen and walking with his load down the hall. The blood began again down the hall, where Lex had carried his lover, the endless rivulets of it on the wall and furniture. Don’t think. Just do. Down the steps, down, where the metal door was completely torn apart, and into the lab.

And it shocked him, violently so, when he saw the state it was in.

And he leaned over to one side, and threw up.

Chloe just.... was shell-shocked. She didn't even notice Dominic throwing up at first. "Oh... God. He's dead, you lied, he's... oh my God." Chloe dropped the buckets and the mops, and her ass hit one of the bloody steps. The buckets hit the destroyed door, and she didn't even notice that.

Everything he'd ever eaten seemed to come up. Couldn’t help it. He tried and failed, and when he was done he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grabbed one of her mops and buckets, and walked across the room to the large sinks. He dropped the bucket in, the sound ricocheting off the walls, filled it wit water and more bleach then his nose could stand, and set the bucket on the floor. He dipped in a towel, half clean and half soiled, and began to mop up the blood. There was filth everywhere, everywhere and he grabbed the huge, industrial strength garbage cans that sat beside the sinks, dragging it to the center of the room. And he began to throw in the things they would burn, later. Towels, tools. He unhooked the suction machine and threw it in, as well, the sound loud and clattering.

Chloe pulled herself together, stepped over the puke pile on the stairs, and dragged the other mop and bucket into the room. she dipped her mop into the bleached water, wrung it out with her hands, and with trembling hands, started to mop up the blood.

Lex looked up at Bruce at the loud clatter of people. "My son--make sure he's safe, make sure he's okay. Keep them away from Mar-El," he said to Bruce, and it was one of the first things he'd said since he'd curled up on Bruce's lap and sobbed.

"He's alive, Chloe." Dominic managed it, quietly, as he began to wipe up the table. Everywhere, EVERYWHERE, and he couldn’t think, just scrubbing at it until all it needed was a layer of bleach. The smell was horrid, pungent, and he turned, dumping the water out, refilling, and going back to work.

Bruce had been holding the boy, gently, for hours now. It was nearly two in the afternoon, and he'd been more then grateful to hold him, rock him, consol him as best he could. He'd stopped shaking, and Bruce had managed to get a wool blanket out from underneath them to cover Lex with. He sat now, huddled in his arms and half on the couch and Bruce rocked him tenderly.

Chloe just kept scrubbing with the mop, soaking up blood and bleach, wringing it out, soaking up more, wringing it out again. Over and over again, until the small area of floor she was standing in was clean. Then she took a few steps over, and started again. Scrub, wring, scrub. There was a numbing comfort in the repetition.

He could see Dominic and Chloe through the window. "Its Dominic, Lex. Dominic is cleaning." He could see everything clearly from the office doors. "See? He's cleaning."

"Tell... tell him to stay away from the baby." Lex curled up. "Tell him to stay... away."

"You’re doing good, lass." Dominic said it, quietly, as he continued to toss things into the garbage can. Scalpels, gauze, towels. Everything they'd used was now sitting in the metal basket, and the floor was clear but for the blood.

Dominic set the trash basket to the side... and because he remembered what all Lex used to do in his lab, he turned and went into a small closet. There were supplies of every kind in there, and he retrieved the first flammable thing he could find, rubbing alcohol, and popped the cap, peppering the basket with it. He reached into his pocket, past his cigarettes and to his lighter, and he simply flicked it on and dropped it into the trash can.

It roared to life immediately, a dull fire but it would grow, and Dominic left it to catch more as he kept scrubbing.

"He's cleaning, Lex. If he goes near him. I'll stop him, okay?" Bruce murmured. His friend, his poor friend. He could do nothing but rock him, hold him, consol him. The pain was waves, the fear endless, and Bruce gently stroked his bald pate as gently as he could as he held him. "Shh. Shhh."

Chloe let out a scream as the alcohol whooshed to life in the can, and she danced back. Her hands were white on the mop handle as she pushed it, and she looked at the switches on the wall. All of them were labeled, thank God, and one was labeled exhaust fan. She turned it on, and the smoke from the fire was immediately sucked out of the room, as were the bleach fumes.

Lex jumped at the scream. "Who? Bruce, my baby. They're going to wake my baby up."

Whatever was left of Bruce's blood fell out of his face. He gazed at his friend, pulled him up, and cupped his cheeks, looking straight into his eyes. "Lex. I want you to stop. Stop it, stop it now. Stop it. Lex."

Lex shook his head. "They're going to wake him up if they don't keep it down." His eyes were slightly glassy, and didn't quite focus as they should. "Where did you put him down at, Bruce? Did you make sure he had a blanket?"

"I’m sorry, lassie." Dominic murmured before he began to clean again. The exhaust fan was quiet and purring, and it gave a good backdrop for his numb actions as he moved. He'd plugged the drains up with wads of paper, and was now sopping up what he could, dumping it out, refilling, and starting over. Over and over, and over.

He'd done the same thing when his parents had died. Bruce remembered it, vividly. Denial. It was denial, in its purest form, and it had taken Alfred doing what Bruce was about to do for his friend to keep him sane. "He doesn’t need a blanket, Lex. Mar-El is dead. He died, at ten thirty this morning. He died, Lex." the worst thing he'd ever done in his life was saying those words. And it was saying something, as he'd done a lot of shitty things since he'd been alive. "Mar-El is dead, baby."

"It's okay," Chloe said, and she kept scrubbing at the floor. "I just... yeah. It startled me." She couldn't hear Lex and Bruce talking over the exhaust fans. "Um... Mr. Senatori? Are you... are you all right? You... you look like you're about to pass out."

"Been a hard day, lassie." Dominic continued to work, getting the left hand side of the table scrubbed raw before he poured bleach on it, the clean mop scrubbing over the surface. The smell was outrageous, and he continued, rubbing it in until the entire surface gleamed.

Lex shook his head. "No. You're wrong. He's just... he's just asleep." Lex shook himself. "He's asleep, see? His lungs, they didn't work right. So he went to sleep, until I can figure out how to fix it, and he can wake back up again."

"He died, Lex." Bruce said it, softly, tears building in his throat. This was the worst thing he'd ever seen, and having it happen to the person he cared for so deeply was horrible. His worst imagining. "You did what you could, but he died. You and Clark did all you could, baby. Please, don’t do this."

Chloe moved over to the right side of the table, following his lead and scrubbing it hard. It was freaking her out so much to have her hands in what she knew was her best friend's blood, and she was trying really, really hard not to do it but she just couldn't not anymore. She burst out crying, sitting back against the wall.

Lex looked at Bruce carefully for a long, long minute. "You know, Clark was right." His fingers steepled, and Lex didn't even notice the streaked blood as he tapped his steepled fingers against his pursed lips. "You're a mean man, Bruce."

Dominic was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t hear her until she let out a sob. And that’s when his heart hitched and he turned to look at her. "No. No. Don’t you do that, Ms. Sullivan. No." He shook his head, firmly, fist locked tightly around his heart as he crouched. "No. You be strong, right now. I know you’re scared, lassie, but we have to do this for Clark. If anyone were to find out, his life with Lex as we know it would be over. You must be strong. for Clark, and for Lex. You can cry later. Not now. He's in the other room, with Bruce. Don’t let him see you crying."

"I’m a horrible man." Bruce agreed, quietly. "But I’m here, and I’m holding you, and I don’t want to leave you alone. You get attached, Lex. You did. But you have to say goodbye to your son."

"Why do I have to say goodbye, Bruce? He's not going anywhere. He's going to stay with Clark and I." He still didn't move his fingers from his lips. "I bet Clark's sleeping, the poor thing. All exhausted."

Chloe's hands fisted in Dominic's shirt. "I know, I know, I can't help it. I feel him, Mr. Senatori, it's weird, I don't get it, but I kinda feel him in the pit of my stomach, and he's so sad, and I can't take it, I'm sad and he's sad and he can't cry anymore, I just know it."

"I know, lass." Dominic gently touched her hands on his shirt, squeezing them back as he got on his knees before her. "He's out of his mind, love, with grief. Clark is upstairs, with Lionel. You cant visit him until later. But he kept saying he feels you, and Whitney, on the way up the steps. Chloe, I don’t want to hear about it. Not yet, not now. Right now, our job is to clean this up, so no one will ever find out. Okay?"

"Okay. Okay." She scrubbed her arm across her eyes. "Okay. Gotta... gotta protect him."

"Lex, god DAMNIT!" Bruce suddenly screamed, grabbing Lex by the shoulders and giving him a hard shake. It was like shaking pure steel, but he did it anyway, shaking him as hard as he could. "Your child is DEAD! Clark is DYING! God, DAMNIT Lex, don’t DO this to me! Snap out of it, NOW!" Bruce gave him another hard shake. "Your child is dead! You have to say goodbye, you cant keep him, he's gone. "

Lex turned his unfocused gaze on Bruce. "Clark's fine, Bruce. He's just resting upstairs. He's waiting for me and the baby to wake him up later, for dinner." He shook his head, and didn't understand why Bruce, his friend, was saying all these mean, hurtful things.

FUCKING HELL. Bruce gave him another hard shake, and looked him dead in the eyes as he spoke. "Lionel and my lover dragged Clark up the steps. I sutured him, after he began to bleed like a pig, everywhere. Dominic is out there cleaning the blood, Lex. Look. LOOK at it. Can you see? See it? That came from your lover. Your son died this morning. You held him in your arms as he died. Your son is dead. He will never again move, or speak, or look at you." And the tears that had built in his throat spilled from Bruce's eyes. The second time in his life he'd cried, and he felt ashamed of them as he shook his friend, his hand reaching back to give him a hard, ringing slap. "He's dead, and I won’t lose you too."

Lex's face barely moved from the hard slap, but it turned his head enough to look outside the office.

Chloe and Dominic, scrubbing like scullery maids on the cold white floor of his lab.

The cold tile of the bathroom shower, wet clothes sticking to his body as Clark bled and the little form in his arms shook and then stilled in his arms.

"He... can't be." Lex closed his eyes, pressed the heels of his hands against them as though he were forcing something out of his head. "He can't be. Not like Julian. He can't be."

"He is. Lex, he is. You loved him as deeply as a person can, but there’s nothing you can do." Bruce said softly, pressing his hands to each side of Lex's head. "There’s nothing you could do. Lex, you have to be strong. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so very sorry."

"Stand back," Lex ordered hoarsely.

"Lex..."

"Stand back, Bruce, because I don't know what's happening."

Bruce pulled himself to his feet, hands still on Lex’s head... and when he felt him shaking he let go and took another step back. "Lex, what’s happening?"

Lex's eyes opened, and two clear beams of shot out of them. The glass in the office door melted in an instant, and shot out into the lab. It hit the trash can where Dominic had started the small fire, and turned it into a raging, molten inferno.

Dominic heard the blast an instant before he threw himself over Chloe's much smaller body. The blast screamed over his head and he pressed his body close over Chloe's body, feeling his skin singing as he shut his eyes tightly. It was sucked back in an instant and he kept Chloe close, grabbing her around the waist and skittering down the wall out of the blaze of fire as he grit his teeth in fear. He didn’t know what had happened... something must have exploded in the can, and as he turned to look at the fire licking at the walls, he saw... no way out.

At all.

Bruce let out a cry of shock, ducking and dragging Lex down at the initial blast, as it exploded everywhere. "FUCK!" he cried.

Lex stared out, uncomprehendingly. The fiery beams from his eyes had disappeared, thanks to his access to Clark's knowledge, and he didn't argue as Bruce pulled him down. "Let me go. I can get Chloe and Dominic." His mouth worked strangely; he knew he was speaking, but it felt completely odd, completely strange on his tongue.

Chloe screamed again, and she felt Dominic pulling her down. Usually this was Clark's thing, and then the huge wall of fire jumped up around them and she was suddenly having Coach Walt flashbacks and she was back in the burning Torch office, and she just screamed again, and hid against Dominic.

Dominic dragged the girl, light with the adrenaline coursing in his limbs, down as far as he could down the long wall, and finally hunched over her in a corner. The bleach was lighting, and it would be moments before the mansion blew up.

His life was flashing before his mind. Growing up in Cobh, his Da', carrying him on his shoulders and offering handfuls of blond hair to hold onto as they walked the park. Leaving home, his brother Graham. The first day he met Lionel... the rape. The pain of it, the birth of his first niece. His wedding day. And Clark, seated in the shower, legs pulled to his chest, a baby in his arms as he bled himself dead.

And he waited death, as he held Chloe tightly to him and hoped she would survive. "Hold onto me." Dominic whispered to her, voice detached somehow. "Hold my shoulders, beautiful. Hold close."

"Lex..." Bruce ducked as something else exploded and he let go of his friend abruptly, fear lighting him as he did. "Lex!"

Chloe nodded frantically, her hands fisting into his shirt and holding to him as tight as she could, her cheek buried in his chest as she sobbed against him. She was terrified, scared, never felt this terrified before, and the last thought was Whitney, over and over again.

"Stay down, Bruce." He could see his breath puffing out in front of him as he spoke, and he knew that it shouldn't have because it wasn't that cold in here, but he didn't notice. He got up from the floor, and opened his mouth to call out to Dominic and Chloe.

Instead, great clouds of vaporous white breath puffed out of Lex's mouth. Everything the mist touched froze, and Lex's brain processed it instantly. He pushed out more breath, exhaled every bit of air in his lungs, and concentrated it over the exploding can and the burning lines of bleach. The explosions stopped, frozen in it's tracks. Lex couldn't stop the exhalation of freezing vapor from his lungs; before he could stop himself, everything was coated with a thick sheet of ice in the lab.

"Shhh. Shhh. God is with us. Shhh. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be scared, Chloe." Dominic whispered, holding the young girl close. Such a pity, she didn’t deserve this. Another explosion, harder then the first, and he stilled the trembling in his limbs as he held her. "Shh. Shhh."

And very suddenly, Dominic realized that heat wasn’t coming close anymore. He was still hunched, terrified over the girl, holding her close... but the licking fire had stopped. Only something that sounded like hissing. He pondered momentarily if he was dead, but Dominic figured, death didn’t include pink nails digging into his skin and a shaking, terrified girl pressed to his chest. He slowly, very slowly, looked up from his hunch, looking out over the lab.

And blinked, once, in terror. "Oh, Father."

Chloe didn't even open her eyes, wasn't even listening. She was just clinging tightly to Dominic, nails in his skin, hiding her face in his strong, strong, safe shoulder. "What?" she squeaked.

Lex suddenly ran out of breath, his lungs empty, and he fell hard onto his knees, gasping. Sucking air into his lungs, air passing through his mouth turning cold as he inhaled it, cutting like winter air as he refilled his aching lungs.

"W...we..." Dominic held her still, close, because he could feel her trembling, and blinked again. The lab was covered in a sheet of ice, all coming from... from Lex's open mouth. The ground all around them, the walls, the blood. Everything… everything was iced down tight, and Dominic stared as he slowly sat up. "Oh, Christ." Dominic slowly let the girl go, looking down at her. "Stay here. Dunna'move." He couldn’t walk. His knees wouldn’t work. So he crawled the short distance, over the ice, freezing cold, to Lex. His step son. "Lex?"

Lex looked up, and snapped his mouth shut. He shook his head no, and scooted back, as far as he could. He held both his hands up, palms out, to keep Dominic from getting any closer.

Staying. Yeah, that was something Chloe could do. Staying was good, and she sat down on the floor, on the ice and how the fuck? and she didn't even think to shiver as she tucked her knees up to her chest and just stared blankly.

Dominic stopped moving, eyes wide, staying away as Bruce stood in the doorway, staring at the destruction. "Lex. Is it still in your mouth?"

Lex looked back at his friend and nodded. He thought it was; he didn't know for sure and he didn't want to take the chance of hurting someone with it. His mouth still felt strange, but it was warming up slowly.

"Think about hot tea. Salsa. Potatoes off the fire. Soufflé. Coffee. Okay?" Dominic nodded it, gently reaching out to stroke the sweat from Lex's forehead away. "There we are. Come on. Sahara desert in your mouth?" He was terrified, and so close to losing it, but this boy, this boy had been a person he'd given his love, trust, and respect into since the first day he'd met him. But now he was his own kin, and Dominic would be damned if anything happened to him. "there we are. There. See? Calm yourself down."

Lex concentrated on breathing deeply through his nose, keeping his mouth closed and warming it from the inside out. Moving his tongue around, bringing as much saliva to his mouth as he could, anything to get it warm. He opened his mouth, and spat out several chunks of ice that had been created from the cold air and his saliva, but no more breath. "It's gone."

Gone. Just like his baby.

"There we are, love." Dominic said softly, getting a little closer as he gently set his hand on both shoulders of the young man. "There we are. Just breathe a bit, you're short of breath. Come on now, just calm down. You saved our lives, Lex, you’re a good lad. Thank you, Lex."

Lex spit out another chunk of ice, and looked up at Dominic. "You're welcome," he said with a shrug. It didn't really matter. Nothing really mattered.

"You saved Chloe's life, as well as your fathers. Your lovers." Dominic said softly, cupping Lex's face gently. "I’m very sorry for what’s happened to you, Lex." Nothing else to say. He was so very, very sorry, and there just weren’t words. "He was very beautiful."

"Yes... yes, he is." Lex stayed crouched on the floor. And then he leaned forward, as though he were about to impart the secret of the universe to Dominic. "But it doesn't matter who I save," Lex said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Because I couldn't save my baby."

Oh, and Christ. Dominic’s eyes widened and his heart broke. What was left of it, of the pieces he'd gathered to him like armor shattered, and he wrapped his arms around Le and hugged him. He hugged him because in him he saw the boy he once was, destroyed from the inside out, and he pressed Lex close to his chest as he hugged. "Yes. Yes, it does matter. Everything matters. You put your grief aside and saved Chloe’s life. My life. You could have let us die, but you didn’t."

Lex didn't move, didn't do anything but shrug as Dominic held him. "Nobody else needs to die because of me. It just doesn't matter, though. Because I can't help him. I can't bring him back. And he trusted me. He was my son. My beautiful, beautiful little boy, and I was his father. He trusted me to save him, and I couldn't. And that's why nothing else I do will ever matter." This time when Lex looked, his eyes were clear, and focused. "Because I failed him when he needed me."

"No. Lex." Dominic let go enough to look at him. "No. Your son was destined to die today. He couldn’t survive, Lex. You cant go back and change it, and even if you could, you couldn’t change what happened. He was destined to die today, Lex. Because he's Clarks child, because Clark bore him from alien heritage, you had precious few seconds no parents get. You got to meet your child, touch him, show him you love him before he died. You gave him everything, Lex. In his short life he knew joy, and happiness in the people around him. He knew love from the both of you."

Lex shook his head. "Doesn't matter, Dominic. Just... doesn't matter anymore." His gray eyes bore into Dominic's. "If your daughter dies, Dominic, then you can tell me all these things. But you don't understand. He was in my arms looking up at me and asking me to help him and I couldn't. Clark couldn't. We couldn't save our baby. I couldn't save my son." He shrugged. "It just... doesn't matter."

"I don’t understand, you're very right. But no amount of powers on this earth could have saved your child, Lex. He was born incomplete, and even if you could have saved him… would you have wished him a life of pain and suffering? Of surgery after surgery, of constant pain? Could you have done that to your flesh and blood, Lex?"

"Only would have been one." He didn't stop staring at Dominic, and he wasn't blinking, which had to have been creepy. "See... he didn't have lungs. But I know Clark's anatomy. I've been studying it. They're not that different from human lungs, and if I could have saved him, just for a little while, I could have done something. I could have given him lungs, I could have grown them or built one. But I couldn't even do that much."

"No, you couldn’t." Dominic lifted a hand and stroked Lex's face softly. "You couldn’t have, Lex. But you did what you could. You let that child see both his parents. You let that little boy into your heart, and for that was enough. You spent precious minutes with him when it counted, instead of running to save him. You did what you were supposed to do, Lex. Keep that little boy in your heart, because that’s where he'll always be."

"He should be in my arms," Lex said quietly, sitting down on the floor and leaning his back against the doorjamb. "He should be in my arms, right now, crying."

"Yes, he should. But life works in its own ways. It does what it wants, and we learn from it." Dominic let him go so he could sit, but stayed exactly where he was. Watching him, feeling Bruce’s and Chloe's presences around him just a little. "I’m so sorry this happened to you, and I’m so very sorry you don’t have your little boy, Lex. I’m so sorry for you, because you don’t deserve this pain, after all you've been through. But you cant remember your son and think of this pain. You have to remember him for how his beautiful little soul changed your life."

Lex didn't say anything for a long moment. "He saved Clark's life," he finally said when he spoke. "Clark said Mar-El stayed with him, just long enough to make sure that Clark was all right before leaving." His chin rested on his knees. "I'm tired," came suddenly out of nowhere. "I want to go home."

"I know, beloved." Dominic said softly, and offered his hands. "Come on. Lets go upstairs, okay? You should shower, and sleep. We'll go home. You can drink some water, and go to sleep. Trust me to help you, okay?"

"I want to see Clark." Simple requests, and it was suddenly all Lex felt capable of, he was so tired.

"Aye, he's in your mothers old bedroom. Your dad is cleaning him up...we'll go there first, okay?" The unnatural ice had already begun to belt under them, and Dominic offered his arms again, gently taking Lex's ice cold arms and pulling him up. "Come on, lad. Lean on me a bit."

"All right." But Lex pulled away from Dominic as he got to his feet. "I want to take Mar-El with me."

"No." Dominic said that, firmly but gently. "Lex, Mar-El has passed on. Don’t desecrate his body... don’t keep his soul on earth. Let him go in peace."

"I'm not leaving him alone down here. Not... not down here, not in this cold place." He wrapped his arms around himself, and it just demonstrated how thin he was. He picked up the canister that held the umbilical cord and the other things that he'd extracted from Clark. "I just... they need to stay together. This and the baby, they all need to be together, and I don't want my baby down here, cold and alone."

"Do you trust me, Lex?"

Lex nodded.

"Trust me, now. I'll take care of you, and I'll take care of him." I don’t want you near him right now. "But right now, Bruce is going to help Chloe clean this up. He wont be alone, okay? So come on, come upstairs with me. Bruce will take care of him." Dominic shot a sharp glance at the girl, and in his eyes he said plaintively, be brave. "Okay, Lex?" Back to his step son. "He won’t be alone."

Lex's eyes flickered over Dominic, over Chloe, who was like a warm rush inside of him, and then over Bruce. "Clark... Clark wouldn't want Bruce around the baby. He... he doesn't like Bruce very much, and I'm not sure... I don't think he'd be happy if I let Bruce stay down here with him very long."

Chloe was still curled up in her corner, and she nodded to Dominic, determined she'd be brave for her friend. She couldn't help a little shiver as she sat against the wall, and then she felt Lex's eyes on her and she flicked her own gaze up long enough to meet his, and her heart broke at the blankness she saw in him.

The lack of trust stabbed Bruce through the heart and out his back. But he said nothing, just standing there.

"But Chloe is here. See? And she's a feisty little thing. She wont let anyone near Mar-El, not without clawing their eyes out. See? So everything will be fine, he wont be alone." Dominic said softly. "Come on, love. Lets go upstairs, and shower and get warm. And see Clark. You need him like he needs you, love."

Lex looked back at Bruce. "Promise me you won't let anything happen to my baby."

"I promise."

Then Lex nodded tiredly. "Okay. Just don't tell Clark." He raised a sleeve stiff with blood and scrubbed his eyes and forehead. "I want to see Clark."

"Come on, love." Dominic looked back at Bruce and Chloe, fiercely, looking at the room the baby was in and shaking his head once before he took Lex up the steps and into the hall again. He led him down that hall and to the steps, where they were still wet from soap. "Be careful, Lex. The steps are a bit slippery, okay?"

"I can fall, it's okay. It doesn't hurt anymore."

"I still don’t want you to fall." Dominic said softly, taking him up the steps. He could hear Ms. Bird and Dick with the scrubbing machine, and the stench of bleach was raw as he led Lex down the hall to his mothers old room. The door was closed but light from the gray afternoon light shown underneath, and Dominic opened the door quietly. "Lionel?"

Lionel looked up from his chair beside the bathtub. He'd dragged the Chippendale lounger in there to recline and drink in while he watched Clark sleep, and he was nearly through the first bottle when he heard Dominic calling his name. "Quietly, Clark's sleeping."

Dominic nodded and led Lex into the bedroom quietly, closing the door behind him. "I’ve... Lex came up with me. He wants to see Clark." Dominic said softly as he entered the bathroom. His lover, already drinking, and Christ, he was so close, so close to losing it. Soon, soon. He turned his eyes from his lover and to Lex, and motioned quietly to the bathtub.

"Don't wake him up, Lex," Lionel said quietly, taking his son's hand and pulling him into the bathroom. "He hasn't been sleeping well." Once Lex was within his reach, Lionel wrapped his arms around his son, holding him tightly. "He kept trying to send me to you, and I wouldn't leave him. He was worried about you." Lionel's hand stroked over his son's bald head.

"I'm fine," Lex said automatically, looking at his beautiful, sad, hurt lover laying under the wool blanket from the bed. "I can't help him either. I couldn't help him, couldn't save my son."

The bond was fiercely strong. Clark felt it; it roused him from his sleep, until he shifted and his glassy eyes opened in a pale face. Oh. His love. The link was stronger now tat it was close, but he'd simply shut off the screaming mind coming from the other side. Every time he looked, he thought he'd lose his mind. He gazed up at Lex wordlessly from his blanket, fingers peaking just a little from the hold he had on it to keep his modesty.

Lex stared at his lover silently, then went to crouch beside the tub. He laid his head on Clark's arm, all without saying a word.

Clark didn’t move his eyes from Lex's own… keeping them locked, as hard as it was. He craved to sleep, and could do nothing until his back knit and he could get in bed. Lex's head on his arm, the weight of it, and Clark pulled his other hand free to touch Lex's face.

Lex brought his hand up to cover Clark's on his face, turned his cheek into the comforting touch of his lover, the soothing touch of the only other person who understood at this moment how hard it was not to scream. Still didn't speak, just stayed there, crouched beside his beloved.

Clark opened his mouth and spoke, the words slightly slurred and sticky in his mouth. "You have my blood." He brought his fingers over the streaks of it still on Lex's face.

"I haven't showered yet," was Lex's only explanation. He closed his eyes a moment and just felt Clark's fingertips stroking over his face.

"I am scared for you." Clark said softly, fingertips tracing Lex's facial features. "Don’t leave me."

"I won't." Lex eyes were still closed. "You're the only thing I have left, Clark. I won't leave you; I can't." Then he tipped his head down and opened his eyes. "Don't be scared for me. I need you well. I--I'm sorry. I should be taking care of you now but I can't. I'm so sorry."

"Your father is caring for me." Clark said softly. "He is. I’m scared." There’s so much pain. "I heard you. Will you do something for me?"

"If I can, you know I will." Lex didn't let go of the hand that cupped his cheek.

"Let our baby rest. You cannot see it, but he is gone." He began to tremble softly. "He is gone. Don’t be gone too."

Lex's eyes clouded over. "I'm not going anywhere, Clark." He gripped Clark's hands tightly. "Bruce... Bruce is watching over him now, so he's not... not alone." He swallowed hard. "I know... he's gone." Twin tears slipped down Lex's cheeks.

"He saw us. When he died, and he was with me when I was dying too. He saw us. He was so happy, I could feel it. He will find us in his next life, he will come to you and I, when we pass on to the Other. He felt love from us. There was no pain."

Lex's tears were silent, but they coursed harder. "He knew we loved him?"

"He was my child. He was born with knowledge. He didn’t understand, but he knew we loved him. He knew when we spoke, when we held him. He felt us before he was born, he felt you. He felt love. Our child did not die without knowing." Clark said it softly, watching his lovers tears flow. And there was nothing he could do, not when he didn’t have any more inside of him.

The grief was outstanding in its simplicity, and shocking in its power. "He was loved."

Lex dropped his forehead to rest against Clark's wrist on the side of the tub. "I'm sorry I couldn't save him. But I'm glad he knew. I'm glad he knew he was loved."

"No one could save him. I am sorry. I am sorry I have given you this pain." Clark shut his eyes, and let his head fall a little, to his chest, where it was warm against the blanket. He was so cold. "I want to sleep, Lex."

"You didn't. You didn't give me this pain, Clark." Lex gripped his lover's wrist tightly, and he looked up with his wet face. "You want me to move you to the bed?"

"Yes, please." He whimpered it. His back was better now, just enough. He wanted so badly to lay in warm sheets and sleep. He was so weak, so tired, so emotionally ripped apart. No more. "Maybe if I had never become aushna' with you, it would be better. Maybe it would. You would not be sad. You’re so sad." He slowly pulled himself up as much as he could, arms straining as he moaned in pain.

"Stop!" Lex shouted. "Be still, stop hurting yourself!" He slipped his arms under Clark's body and lifted easily, as though his lover were no more than a child. "Stop saying that. If you hadn't become my aushna' then I don't know where I'd be now." Lex pushed past Dominic and Lionel, carrying his lover to the bed and setting him down. "Do you want to lie on your stomach or your back, he said, hovering Clark above the sheets.

Dominic watched with wide eyes...trying not to look as he gazed at the floor. He gave his love a long, soft look in the next minute, filled with every emotion he was having. "I’m going to go help Ms. Bird again." He said softly, and left the room quietly.

Clark never thought that Lex would carry him, ever, but the feeling was... peaceful. Loved, taken care of, even if he knew Lex could do none of that right now. Maybe any more. He held him around the neck and pressed his face into it, trembling softly... And when Lex set him down he gasped and arched his back in pain. "M...my stomach. My stomach, please." He whimpered, muscles lax even as he held on.

Lionel nodded, and watched as Dominic departed. He made no move to stop his lover, made no bones about watching Lex move Clark. It was oddly unnerving, watching his wiry son carry the broad, tall boy like he was weightless.

Lex nodded, and gently, carefully turned his lover over onto his stomach, lifting so that he could adjust the pillows for Clark's head. He stroked Clark's hair gently, and sat down on the floor beside him, looking up. "I can get ice for your back, if you need it."

He shook his head, just a little. His arms came up to hug the pillow, trembling under the thick, warm blankets as he shut his eyes. "Go talk to your dad. Don’t stay sad. When you are sad it hurts me, aushna'. You make me so much sad." Not the right words but Clark couldn’t help it, shifting just a little as his bare shoulders flexed. "I love you."

"I don't mean to hurt you," Lex said quietly, eyes filling with more tears. "I don't want you to be sad." He wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them to his chest like the little boy he'd once been. "Don't be sad, Clark. I love you, please don't be sad."

"I am very sad." Clark whispered. "Do not tell my parents. They will not understand." The stubble seemed to have grown in just a few hours, and Clark rubbed a raspy cheek against the blankets as he got as comfortable as he could. "His name is means beautiful summer day." Clark said, nearly silently. "Because he was summer in the winter."

Lex nodded. "I won't tell them." He hugged his legs tighter. "I'm sad too, Clark... so sad." He rested his cheek on his knees and looked at his lover. "He... he is beautiful. Beautiful name, for our son." He blinked. "Kal-El. Oakenep-El. Mar-El."

"It is name of home." Clark whispered half into his pillow. And the next part he asked very, very quietly, as tears swamped his eyes. His lover was staying away. "Will you not lay with me?"

Lex nodded, and looked down at himself. "I'm... I'm not clean. Do you mind? I don't... don't want to get you dirty." He got up anyway, shedding bloody clothes as he stood, and crawled onto the foot of the bed and up to his lover's side.

He gasped, bore down at the jostling his lover made on the sheets until he was close. "For only few minutes. I will sleep soon." The tears kept trailing his face, now cleaned by a tender hand, and he wept softly as he pressed his face into the pillows. "How do we go on?"

Lex curled beside his beloved, and put his hand on Clark's arm, fingers stroking the mark gently. "I don't know. But we have to. We have to find a way."

When Lionel had touched it before Clark had felt vicious pain. Now, though, was overwhelming sadness radiating from his lover, and he pressed his face into the pillow and sobbed. Heart wrenching male sounds of the worst sadness he'd ever felt in his life, his entire body shaking as he sobbed into the pillow. He grasped it close because he refused to look at his lover, back hunching hard as he wept.

Lex's other arm slid around Clark's shoulders and held him close, rocking and shaking with his beloved as Clark wept, his own cries silent and wracking.

-fin-

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