The Memoirs

At least, he could have sworn he was asleep. Lex blinked tiredly, looking down at himself in more than a little surprise. He was dressed in Clark's superhero suit, from the boots to the cape to the El family crest on his chest.

And he just happened to be flying.

Which, he reflected as calmly as possible, really, truly, shouldn't be happening.

However, he shouldn't be in Clark's suit, either, so all in all? Flying wasn't actually that surprising. He blinked again, still feeling tired, and talked himself into the fact that this was a dream, and he was going to wake up soon, on the airplane with Clark, and they were going to smile about this because they couldn't quite laugh.

Only now, Lex was diving deliberately fast towards the ground and he wasn't waking up.

He hit the ground, and didn't wake up, not even when he left a hole in the pavement behind him, and came up through a manhole cover.

Which was seriously weirding him out, because Lex had never been able to not wake up from a dream before. He started to climb back into the air again, not even thinking about how he was doing it, and he heard a raised voice calling for help. He wheeled around in mid-flight, following the source of the screams, and landed at the top of a dark alley. A man with a gun had another figure pinned against the alleyway wall. What Lex meant to yell out was, let her go! But what came out was, "Unhand that person immediately!"

The mugger turned his head, but not his body. "Hey, look, it's that Superfreak character!" He pointed a gun at Lex and started shooting at him. Six bullets, all that was in the gun, and Lex looked down at his chest in surprise as each bullet sproinged off his chest with a metallic clang. He was even more surprised when, instead of running from an obviously bulletproof figure, the mugger threw the gun at him next.

The gun bounced harmlessly off his chest, just as the bullet had, and Lex's hands went to his hips. "It's time for you to pay for your crimes!" he boomed out, and then blinked. Since when do I talk like this? Lex thought to himself, and launched into the air. By the time he got to the end of the alley, the mugger had disappeared, and Lex turned to the victim. "You're safe now." Got the shock of his life when the victim came out of the shadows. "Dominic?"

Dominic's frail, very slender body was shaking like a leaf, braced tightly against the wall. He looked up, gulping air, and lifted himself up. "Grazie così tanto per l'assistenza me!" He said in a single breath, dusting his pants off and rising up to look at him, dazed and adoringly. "Realmente siete un uomo eccellente?" He suddenly laughed. "Superman!"

"I don't... have a single fucking clue what you just said, nor do I not get why you don't know me." Lex just sighed. "Let's try this again, because dammit, I can speak Italian." Deep breath and a pause. "Lei sono completamente il benvenuto per l'aiuto. Ma? Dominic? Lei non chi sa realmente sono, lo fa? Me è, è Lex."

"Lex? Ché nome piacevole. Qualunque posso fare per rimborsarli?" Then suddenly, without a single reason for it, he gave a loud, hard cry of anguish, and before Lex, his body began to cave in. He lost weight until he was nothing more than a skeleton, caving in on itself.

The bag of bones fell with a crunch of dust, until there was nothing but dust where he'd been standing there a moment ago.

"Adesso questo è-" Lex shook his head and changed languages. "Now this is getting very weird, dammit. This is my dream, I should have a little control over what's going on, don't you think?"

When nobody answered him, Lex sighed, taking flight once more and starting upwards.

He'd only climbed for a few moments, enough to barely skim the rooftops of the city, when he heard the loud, horrid screech of rubber on asphalt and he turned course down to meet it. He saw the car, skidding out of control, spared barely a thought for the fact that it was a Jaguar like the one Dominic had wrecked, and he landed right in front of it. He caught the nose of the car, and when it wouldn't stop spinning, he lifted the entire car off the ground, flew it a few feet ahead of the skidmarks and put it back down on the ground.

What he meant to say was, What the fuck are you thinking, driving that way? but what came out was, "Everybody okay in there?" When he squinted through the glass, he sighed. "I don't believe this. DOMINIC???"

Hair a bit longer, wearing a different shirt, Dominic gasped and panted for breath behind the wheel. His fingers were like steel on it, a thin ribbon of blood was dribbling down the edge of his nose from a cut on his forehead, and he was shaking like a life. "Christ. Lionel?" He looked to his right, saw no one, and looked back in front of him. "Where's Lionel?"

The windshield was long gone, after all.

Lex sighed. "He wasn't in the car with you, Dominic. Just you. I know this is hoping for a lot, but... do you have any clue who I am or, barring that, what the hell is going on?"

"Yes, of course, you're my step son. Who else would you be?" he undid his seat belt but didn't get out of the car... pressing against the blood covering his forehead. "Now that hurts."

"YES!" Lex came around and yanked the door off the car. "Oops, sorry." He hunkered down, and peered at the blood. "You're okay; it's coming from... the back of your head?" Lex peered further, following the line of blood back to... there were three little cuts in the back of Dominic's head, right where the burr holes had been cut.

Dominic jerked suddenly, and blood began to slip from the corners of his lips. He touched his fingers to his mouth, terrified, then to the back of his head. "That hurts."

"What hurts?" Lex asked quickly, looking around. Suddenly, there was more blood coming from the burr holes than should have, and he hadn't noticed it before, but Dominic's knee, the same one that had been injured in the fall, was twisted to the side against the console.

"It hurts, Lex. It hurts a lot. Why won't it stop hurting?" Dream Dominic asked, begging for an answer as he pushed Lex away and wrenched himself from the SUV, as hard as he could.

He never saw the SUV coming.

It hit him going sixty miles an hour.

"Dominic!!" Lex yelled out loudly, half expecting to wake himself up with it, and half waiting for the sick thud of body on pavement. It never came, and when Lex looked down the street, to see if the SUV was still in sight, the large vehicle had disappeared without a trace. And so, apparently, had Dominic.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?" Lex bellowed to the general world, which seemed strangely empty. He again got no response, and was beginning to get a little ticked. He didn't even get a chance to take flight, this time, when he heard a scream, and he looked up. Up to the top of the highest building on the street--which he barely recognized as the LuthorCorp tower in Metropolis--and he saw someone on top of it.

He shot upwards, fast as he could fly and he made a red and blue blur as he moved, landing on the roof behind the blond figure. "Hey. Don't do this. There's enough people dying in my life, I don't really want to add you to it."

It wasn't exactly a shock when the person that turned around to face him was Dominic.

"Fuck. You. What do you know about my life?" Dominic sobbed, hard and heavy. He reeked of day old liquor, his face and body were of a much younger version of himself. Long blond hair, no goatee, with heavy lidded green eyes and misery etched into every single vein. He threw the bottle of whiskey over the edge and a few moments later the sound of it smashing made him both laugh and cry at the same time.

His body, wiry, still having not come into its own, crouched down low. He buried his face in his knees, hands fisting in the long blond hair, as he howled his misery.

"I know that you've got people who care about you," Lex said carefully. "Your family--Megan, Lindy, Shayla. What's that pink skittle going to do without her big brother Morgan around to keep her in line? What about Graham? Riley? Little Ellie, with her white shoes and Mr. Bun-Bun."

"Who the fuck is Ellie? You stupid git, you've not a knowing cell in your addle minded brain to know of the miseries I've encountered! So fuck you, and fuck off!" Dominic yelled and sobbed at the same time.

"Your niece! Lindy's little baby girl!" Lex shouted. "And my father! Lionel Luthor! You know him, you know he cares about you!"

"Lionel Luthor?! My bloody boss?!" Dominic raged at him, and pushed him back, hard. "You've lost your goddamned mind." He snarled, and climbed up onto the edge of the concrete, where there was nothing but the sky and a thousand foot drop.

"No, I haven't!" Lex just sighed. Apparently this version of Dominic didn't know him either. "Look, Dominic, I know what happened to you was a horrible thing, but you can't do this. You've got too much to lose. You've got a family, a husband, a stepson, who're all depending on you. You can't do this."

"I've none of those things. My family is in Ireland. My sister doesn't remember who I am, and I have to see them everyday. I can't, I can't live anymore, I can't do this anymore." Dominic sobbed again, harshly, rubbing his fingers through his hair and clenching. "I can't see their smug faces and I can't feel anymore, I can't or I'll lose me mind."

Suddenly, it dawned on Lex exactly who this was, and what was happening. "No you won't. They're going to die soon, Morgan, in a car accident. You'll go to their funerals and see them put in the ground," he said, moving closer to the man on the edge of the roof. "Your family hasn't forgotten you; they're going to be moving soon, to Canada. Why they picked Canada God only knows, but they'll be moving there. Graham, and Rosalyn, and your little sister, Shayla. Riley and Marie, they're moving to Metropolis. Riley's going to come to work for LuthorCorp too, but if you jump now, you won't ever see any of that come to fruition. You won't get to see Ellie be born, or Lindy walk out on her husband. You won't get to marry Lionel Luthor, because you won't be here. Please, don't give all that up," he pled earnestly.

"You're spinning tales, you stupid fuck. Does this look like a game to you?" Dominic suddenly screamed at him. "Me, Lionel Luthor, me, sullied and dirty with my boss? Have you lost all semblance of bloody thought? I'm nothing, I'm a nobody, I'm hick from the backwaters of Ireland with barely any education. I can't, you realize, I can't do this, I thought I could but I couldn't."

"Yes, you can!" Lex took another step closer. "You can do this, you *will* do this, trust me, please. I know it's going to happen. Yes, you and Lionel Luthor. His wife..." Lex swallowed hard. "His wife is going to die. And you are going to be there to help him, and his son, through one of the worst times of their lives. You're going to see him in ways you never did before, and you are going to become so integral to him that he won't be able to live without you. Please... listen to me."

"You're lying to me." Dominic choked out, running his nails down his arms and shuddering as he crouched on the ledge again, in a defensive posture. "You're lying, I don't believe you, I don't believe any of what you're saying!"

"I'm not lying to you! How could I know about your family if I were? Huh? Okay. Let's see... Graham's your oldest brother. You, and he, and Gideon Gallagher used to streak through the streets of Dublin a few years ago, and Gideon got run over, a few years before you left. It put him in a wheelchair. Lindy--married to an abusive husband, name of Roddy. He beats her, and she's had miscarriages. But she's going to leave him, after she's pregnant now for the last time, and the baby's going to be a girl, her name's Eleanor. Megan! She's your twin sister--does modeling work, but she hasn't been discovered yet."

"You're as old as me, you...how can you know this? How can you know any of this? Its Sunday! How can you even be here?" Dominic sobbed, as he abruptly sat on the ledge, and then got down from it, feet unsteady as they walked towards him. "How can you know? No one knows."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Lex held out his hand. "But come with me, and I will. Just step away from the edge, and I'll tell you everything."

The strangest thing of all that even tear streaked, covered in filth, smelling like day old vodka, Dominic studied Lex's hand for a long moment, and then took it, tightly, in his own. "Why are you helping me?" He whispered.

"Because in about fifteen years, you're going be a very important man," Lex said quietly. "One that I won't be able to save then. I have to do it now, while I can still do something about it."

"Are you my son?" Dominic whispered, and the fingers he'd clasped around Lex's convulsed.

"One day? I will be," Lex answered softly, pulling him away from the edge of the roof.

"Are you an angel?" Dominic asked again, as Lex led him away from the edge, and his fingers tightened on those around his own skinny ones.

"Just someone trying to help," Lex said with a sad smile. "Wherever I can."

The blond boy, for that's what he was, a boy, wisped away like the clouds, turning to nothing and everything at the same time, and was gone.

"GODDAMMIT!!" Lex roared. "I am REALLY getting sick of this shit!!!" He jumped off the edge of the building, letting himself sail out over the city. "I don't even know why the fuck I'm here!" he yelled. "I should be dreaming about fucking Clark in a vat of whipped cream!!"

That didn't get a reply either, not that Lex really expected one, and he sighed. "Okay, Dominic. Let's find the next natural disaster you're awaiting rescue from." He flew for nearly twenty minutes this time, until yet another scream alerted him to something else happening.

For a moment, he thought he was replaying the mugging, but then he realized that it was a different man pinning Dominic--because that's clearly who it was this time, Lex didn't even bother with amazement--against the wall with a sawed off shotgun. He wasn't even surprised when, "Unhand that man, foul mugger!!" came out of his mouth.

He was surprised, however, when the person holding Dominic against the wall didn't shoot at him. Instead, he pressed the gun up against Dominic's shoulder--the same one he'd been shot in all those months ago.

"Don't do it!" Lex shouted, and when the man pulled the trigger anyway, Lex shot over and moved Dominic out of the way, barely in time to keep him from getting shot. The buckshot crumpled harmlessly to the ground as it bounced off his chest, and Lex sighed. "Don't throw the g--" He watched the stock of the shotgun bounce off his chest as the shooter fled. "gun," he finished.

"They always throw the gun. They always throw everything." Dominic whispered from beside him. Older, but not by much. "Lex, why are you wearing Clark's suit? He's going to be furious when he sees you."

"Finally," Lex muttered. "And yes, he is. Or, he would be, if I knew where the fuck he's at, or why I was wearing it in the first place, or why by some odd streak of luck, I'm the one flying around with a goddamned hero complex, saving your ass, and what the hell are you doing in my dreams anyway?"

Dominic shook his head softly, as a line of blood began to seep from his chest where the bullet fragment had ricocheted and slid into his skin. Blood began to pool in his shirt and drip down his thigh, as he slid down the wall.

"No!" Lex saw the spread of blood and yanked open Dominic's shirt, only to find the fragment embedded in Dominic's shoulder. "Goddammit, what is going on here! Talk to me, Dominic!" Lex did exactly what Clark had done before, and that was pick Dominic up and carrying him towards the end of the alleyway.

And like smoke, Dominic vanished from Lex's hand, leaving not even a trace of blood behind.

"AAAAARRRRRRGH!" Lex bellowed, slamming his hand into the wall and putting a hole through the building. Sadly, he didn't care. "THIS. IS. PISSING. ME. OFF!!" He put another hole in the building, matching the first, and sighed. "Okay, what's next?"

And then it hit him. He knew what was next. He'd seen Dominic get shot, hadn't been able to help him then--or now. He had seen Ethan mugging Dominic at the building site, and while he'd helped to break it up, Dominic hadn't talked to him about it--therefore, he hadn't talked now. Dominic hadn't gotten hurt in the car accident, but he'd called Lex afterwards and been all right--the only thing he couldn't figure out there was him getting run over by the SUV, and he put it in the back of his head. Instead of Dominic falling... Lex had stopped it. Dominic had accepted his help, and he'd kept Dominic from falling/jumping.

There was only one trauma left, for Lex to rescue him from, and it was the worst of all.

Instead of waiting for this one, Lex took off in a flash, scanning with eyesight and hearing, looking for anything out of the ordinary that might be what was coming.

And he found it. Oddly enough, it was an older, but still fancy Mercedes, parked outside of a restaurant who's canopy read Tratterham's. He recognized Dominic in the back seat of the car, wedged in between two other people, and he watched in somewhat fascinated horror as the man carrying the food out of the restaurant stopped, and dropped little white pills into the large Styrofoam tumbler of beer in his hand. "Hold it right there!" Lex bellowed, diving down. "Whatever you're doing, drop it!" He was surprised to find out that he was no longer speaking in cheesy dialogue, and he landed hard, cracking the sidewalk. "Dominic! Fuck. Morgan! Get out of the car."

Dominic, or rather Morgan, was staring at the man like he was crazy. Skinny as hell, big green eyes and lanky frame, and he blinked as he peered at the man through the open door of the car. "I'm sorry?" He glanced at his seatmates, then back at Lex in confusion. "Do I know you?"

Oh, just fucking great. Another one who didn't know him. "No, you don't. I'm just a friend, and I'm here to help you. Get out of the car; these people are trying to hurt you. He drugged the beer he's carrying; you're the only one here that drinks beer."

"What?" Morgan met Lawrence's eyes in the rearview mirror, and saw the hate in what were normally happy blue eyes. He shuddered, hard, and shoved out of the Mercedes until he'd spilled out onto the street, dragging his bag with him and glaring at the three men. "I'd a feeling something was amiss."

"Smart man," Lex muttered. "Get out of here, and if you bother this man again, I'll see to it that you have not only me to answer to, but Lionel Luthor, do you understand me?"

All three of the other men muttered, and Lawrence threw the drugged beer and the food down at Lex's feet and snarled, but knew better than to mess with the threat of Lionel Luthor. They drove off, and Lex followed them, with his x-ray vision, until they were out of sight. Then he turned back around to Morgan. "Are you all right?"

"I am." Morgan arched a slender brow, then. "Might I be asking who my savior is? How did you know they were going to..." He motioned a hand off behind the jag, and looked again at the man dressed in the odd red and blue suit.

"Because I saw him putting the pills in your beer. I figured if they were drugging anybody, it couldn't be for anything good," Lex answered, thinking fast.

"Thank you." Morgan's eyes were bright there in the street, lips twitching. "I'm glad to see there's a bit of human kindness left on this earth." And without further preamble, he leaned forward and kissed his lips, deeply, softly, but gently, giving an impish grin when he pulled away. "Would you... like to... ah... go back to my apartment?"

Lex closed his eyes at the soft kiss, and looked down at his hand. Surprisingly, his ring was still there, gold glittering in the sunlight. He held his hand up a little sadly. "Unfortunately, I can't," he said softly. "Not that I haven't thought about it," was added under his breath. "But this Superman has a man of his own to go home to. But," he said, before Dominic could do anything else, "it's not for lack of your attraction. Believe me."

"Well, thank you." Another grin, even as he looked down as well and traced the ring. "That's really nice. He must be a really lucky man. But... thank you, man without a name. If you ever want to ring me up," He reached into his satchel and took out a small card, with his name and number on it. "There you are."

Lex looked down at the card, and gave a little smile. Morgan D. Senatori. He gave a little grin. "Just a piece of advice for the future? Change the cards to read M. Dominic. More people will remember you as Dominic than as Morgan."

Morgan grinned at him and rolled his eyes playfully as he turned, and rose a hand. "See you around, and thanks again!"

"You're more than welcome!" Lex raised his hand again, and looked down at the card in his hand again. He flipped it over, expecting it to have phone number and address on it, but it was blank. All the front had was the name, and he looked up again. "Morgan?" he called out. "Can I ask you a very stupid question?"

"Aye, yeh can." Morgan stopped and turned, raising a brow at him, his long blond hair blowing off his neck in the wind and his satchel firmly across his jean jacket covered chest.

"If you were in trouble? Where would you go and hide?"

At that Morgan walked back, brow furrowed. "You're an odd one, Nameless Man. Why on earth would you want to know such a thing?"

"Call it... a hunch." Lex looked down at the still blank card. "I have a friend who is hurt, very badly. I'm hoping your answer will help me find him."

"I'm quite sorry for your friend," Morgan's brows furrowed tightly. "But... I'd say… if I were hiding, I'd go to the one place where I knew for a fact I'd be safe. A neutral zone, where there weren't bad memories clouding it, and where I knew for a fact I couldn't be hurt."

Lex nodded, but with a little sigh. "That's the answer I was looking for. Now I just wish I knew how to get there."

Morgan grinned, broadly, and turned to walk back down the street. "I'd try the office, love. He tends to like the sun streaming in through the window, onto the big couch." And with that he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

"WHAT?" Lex shot to his feet, and without meaning to have done so, shot up through the clouds too, nearly breaking the atmosphere like a shot.

- = -

"WHAT?" Lex bolted upright in bed--bed? He looked around, scrubbing his eyes tiredly. "Clark?" What in the--he was home? "Clark! The plane? What the hell is going on?"

"Lex?"

Muzzily whispered from beside him. Clark rose a tussled head and looked at his lover, still half asleep, and blinked twice. "Got home. Brought you here, so you could sleep. Feelin' be'der babe?" He asked, and heaved a tremendous yawn, stretching his body out.

"Sleep? Sleep?" Lex bolted out of bed. "Clark... you're never going to believe what I just had a dream about. Come on. We're going to the hospital. Now."

"Wha?" Clark looked up from the ruins of his rumpled shirt and stared at his lover. "M'so tired, baby, i's not daybreak yet. What's wrong?" He sat up though he'd rather have stabbed himself in the head then wake up, and yawned again, hard, groaning tiredly.

"Nothing's wrong," Lex said, rolling out of bed and getting dressed, not noticing or caring that Clark'd undressed him. "I just know how to save Dominic."

- = -

The United States was as filthy and barren as Gran had always imagined it to be. Smallville was nothing but wheat and crops, sky and no trees, and it was so unlike her homeland that she had refused to look outside for longer than was absolutely necessary. The air was as dry as husked corn, as was her heart.

Her baby boy, her little teacup, lay comatose and still on the bed before her. She'd come in that morning to fuss, gently moving blankets around, and adding another thick woven one to his legs. When the doctor had asked her not to, she'd snapped, 'Aye, because there's a lot of risk of infection when my loved laddie is to die in a few hours time, isn't there?'

She'd been left alone after that.

So she'd sat with him, as Gideon and her husband both were outside, and read to her little bonny lad from the thick book or Irish tales she'd brought with her. She read to him of King Lir and of Sarona and the Celts. She read to him of fairies and leprechauns and ghosts and kings. She'd read to her baby boy of all he'd loved as a child, and all he would see in heaven.

And she did it with love and acceptance in her heart. Grief, as it were, would come later.

Lionel had watched all the discs in his safe, over and over again. Fast forwarding through some, re-watching others, and had only stopped a few hours ago, when Clark knocked on his bedroom door to tell him that Lex had been so exhausted they couldn't wake him, and that Crystabel, Father Finn, and Gideon were there, waiting for him.

He'd turned off the television then, putting the precious video discs back into the safe and locking it tightly before washing his face, straightening his clothing, and headed out to the hospital. He'd driven the silent family to the hospital, and made sure they were allowed in the room before going back downstairs. He'd promised Crystabel that he'd come back after he'd made several phone calls, and they were all made.

The arrangements were made for Dominic's cremation; he had made the calls calmly, quietly, without losing his composure, but as soon as he'd hung up, he'd come straight to his husband's hospital room, only to find Crystabel still sitting there, the book on her lap, eyes watery, and he knocked on the door. "Crystabel?"

"Mmm?" She asked, not trusting her voice as she carefully marked her page. She'd just finished the story of King Lir and his four children, her babes favorite, and closed the book gently. She slipped the thick green knit quilt up closer around his arms to warm his icy flesh, the heat already rolling into his fingers and chest where he'd been cold, so cold.

Lionel came into the room at her answer, closing the door behind himself. "Crystabel, I have... I have a favor to ask of you." He sat on Dominic's side, and caught one of her hands as it tucked the quilt up around his husband's shoulders.

"And that is?" Her voice was tight, very light and airy to keep herself from crying, and she couldn't quite meet Lionel's eyes as she shifted and warmed her little teacup even warmer around the legs and feet.

"Dominic's asked... asked to be cremated," he said quietly. "Will you take... he'd want to go home, after all. To the cottage. Will... can you? Take half of the ashes to the cottage for me? Because I cannot. But he'd want to be there, in his home, with his family." He swallowed hard, not noticing that Crystabel wasn't meeting his eyes because he couldn't meet hers.

Her voice hitched at that and the tears welled, but she pushed them ruthlessly down. Her Morgan would not approve of her weeping like a common girl, not in front of his husband. "My dear, it would be my honor."

"Thank you." He squeezed her hand even tighter. "I am keeping the other half with me. They'll be put in the niche at my family's plot in the Metropolis cemetery, so that I will be near him when I join him."

"My Morgan loved no one on earth, dearest heart, as he loved you. You gave him meaning when he had none... the spark he had as a boy came back when you wed, and I believe he will leave us in peace and happiness." Gran said, so softly it was almost unheard, as she squeezed Lionel's hand.

Lionel just nodded. "There's one other favor I have to ask. I don't... anticipate living many more years myself--the Luthor's are not like your clan, and we tend to die at a rather early age. Would it be possible for my ashes to be mingled with Dominic's, and spread together behind the cottage, when the time comes?"

"No, dearest heart." Gran answered, softly, and squeezed his hands tightly, though her gaze was shrewd and calculating. "He would not want you to take your life, Lionel." This time, her red rimmed eyes met his, steady and strong, and squeezed again. "He would not wish to be the end of your existence. When the time comes, many years in the future, when your daughter is strong and healthy and married with great, great grandbabies for me, then and only then will I spread the ashes of your life over your husbands."

Lionel looked up then. "I don't intend to take my own life," he said softly. "Your daughter is doing that for me." He laid his head down on Dominic's shoulder, and didn't say anything else.

Gran kissed the back of Lionel's hand, gently, and set it on her Morgan's on his stomach, before lifting the book once more and starting the story of Tir-Na-Nog.

- = - = -

The situation with his husband's ashes could probably have been taken care of over the telephone, but he hadn't wanted it to happen that way. He had wanted to talk to Crystabel himself, and now that it was done, he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.

Lionel had left Dominic's hospital room not long after he'd spoken to Crystabel, but hadn't gone straight home. Instead, he'd spent over an hour driving around Smallville, sitting outside of the new LuthorCorp plaza and staring through the gates at everything his lover had accomplished there. The fountain, the daycare, the buildings themselves. The grounds, the sidewalks, the rugs.

He parked outside of Denny's restaurant for long moments, head resting on the steering wheel as he looked out at the same view of the boardwalk, listening to Dominic's voice in his mind talking about planting roses in the city.

He avoided driving through the areas where the roses had been planted, even when it meant going out of his way to do it, and nearly two hours later, he was back at the house, and back in their--his--bedroom.

He sat on the edge of the bed, picking up the remote and starting the disc that was left in the player--he and Dominic together, drinking and reading and discussing something LuthorCorp related, and he honestly didn't care. He just ran his fingertips over the screen as his lover's face appeared, and then went to the closet.

He had pulled out his lover's black suit, with a crisp white shirt and black tie and shoes, when he heard Dominic's voice in his head.

Oh no you don't, lovely. You're not going to bury me looking like a puffed up penguin. You promised me a hula shirt, and you're not going to weasel out of it.

Lionel just nodded to himself, and hung the suit back up in the closet, then pushed all the clothes to the side. He knew, for a fact, that nothing even close to a Hawaiian hula shirt hung in the closet, because he would have had himself a heart attack over it.

Therefore, he started going through boxes in the closet, pulling them out one at a time, and sorting through their contents.

Most of what he found were mementos and such that had been rescued from Felicia--matchbooks, pizza boxes, ticket stubs and cocktail napkins--and he piled nearly three boxes worth of those things on the floor until he got to the large crate at the bottom where Dominic's mostly-unused wardrobe lived.

Grunting softly, he dragged the crate out to the foot of the bed, and heaved it up on the mattress. Flipping the lid open revealed a whole new side of Dominic's wardrobe that Lionel had *nearly* broken him of.

Fluorescent t-shirts, ratty workout pants, threadbare sweats, and horrible polyester concoctions lived at the bottom of the crate. He pulled the clothes out, piece by piece, stroking over some and dropping others like dead animal carcasses, and then, at the bottom, he found a flat box. It had a Metropolis clothing store's name on the lid, and he lifted it. There were two letters inside, sitting on top of a brand new, folded up hula shirt, and they were both addressed to him.

He picked up the first one, opened it, and started to read.

Hello my dear.

If you're reading this than I have, as they say, gone on to the great white beyond. I do sincerely hope I didn't go in a too painful fashion, but at the same time hope it was with bangs and explosions. Not literally though.

Anyway, I know if you're looking for this than you, being the stalwart and handsome lover you are, remembered that I'd rather die (again) than be buried in the penguin garb. Honestly. If I'm to spend my last moments on earth as a bloody Ken doll I'll come back and haunt you. Plus it'll give the morgue boys a good laugh.

I went out the day you and I talked about the celi that I want, and bought this. I know it seems entirely too cryptic of me, but you do realize I prepare for anything and everything, right? Of course. You love me, you know me more than I know me.

I'm sorry I've left you. I've only taken this half seriously until this moment, but now I'm sitting here at the desk, and you're asleep on the bed beside me still wearing your shoes. And I don't think I've ever felt so sad or heartbroken in my life, knowing one day you might leave me or I might leave you. Just know, despite all of our problems and all of our issues, I love you more than life itself. I love you so much, Lionel, that there isn't enough space inside of me to hold it all and I spread it out in our lives to everyone we know, everyone we care about. I love you so deeply and irrevocably that I simply don't know what I'll do without you when its your time to go.

And I know you feel the same. But as I said, if you're reading this, than I'm dead or nearly so, and you need to finish things. Attached there's a copy of my will as of January sixth, two thousand and three. Inside of it you'll find everything you need, including what you're to do with all my shares and stock, as well as my personal effects. Most of it is, in fact, yours and Lex's. However, I have an account with New York Company that I'd like for you to give to a foundation for children. Any foundation. You and I will doubtfully ever have children, Lionel, and so I want the money I have to go to something worthwhile where even in death I might be able to help the many children who suffer on the planet each day.

Which sounds cheesy, I know, but there's about six million dollars for you to give away. You'd better do it in a good fashion.

I love you. Never forget me, but don't end your life. I know you better than you think, and I know losing me is going to tear you apart. But Lionel, if you honor me in any way, do one thing and one thing only. Don't push your son away. He loves you more than even me, I think, and would do anything for you. He's your flesh and bone and blood, and he just got you back. He doesn't deserve to loose you again, not now, not when you've both found one another after all these long years. He's you, down to the core, you know.

I love you, dear heart. I'll never forget you. I'll shine down on you from heaven, where Lillian and I will wait for you.

Yours,

Dominic

P.S. I bought the shirt in two sizes, in case I got disgustingly fat at some point. Do make sure I wear the right size, eh?

Lionel read the letter twice, stroking his fingertips over the comfortingly familiar scrawl, over the little scribble of Dominic's name that he'd never see again, and he folded the letter back up, pressing it gently to his lips before tucking it back in the envelope and sliding the envelope into his pocket.

He disregarded the second envelope for a moment, and pulled out the smaller sized shirt. It was a truly hideous garment, bright yellow with orange and green flowers, brown coconuts, swirls of blue and white that he supposed were clouds, sky, or possibly water, and splotches of red that seemed just tossed in there for no reason.

He laid the shirt out regardless, took out the pair of jeans that were tucked along side the box in the crate, and smoothed his hand over the wrinkles. "You could never pick out clothes to save your life," Lionel whispered, and then jumped out of his skin when the telephone rang. "Luthor," he answered tonelessly.

"Mr. Luthor? It's Dr. Bryce. I wanted to inform you that your husband is going to be removed from his respirator at three PM this afternoon," the doctor said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Lionel looked down at his watch. It was nearing ten AM now, and his fist clenched in the ugly shirt's fabric. "Thank you, Doctor," was all he said, before hanging up the phone.

He gathered the shirt up and pressed his face into it, breathing deeply for several minutes, then picked up the second letter, opening it and reading.

Last Will and Testament For Morgan Dominic Senatori

I, Morgan Dominic Senatori, hereby bequeath all of my property and capital to Lionel Phillip Luthor. He is to do with it what he hereby sees fit, with only two stipulations. To Alexander J. Luthor, I hereby bequeath my Jaguar AS, HP Pavilion Laptop, and all of my personal electronics. To Clark J. Kent, I hereby bequeath my novel, From Ireland, to do with as he likes. All of my personal belongings may be divided amongst my family in any way Lionel Luthor sees fit.

Morgan Senatori

Judge Peter Skanfrow

All to him. Lionel could barely believe it, looking over the notarized will and crumpling it slightly in his hands as he gripped it. "You took the time to make this will," he said to the empty air. "You took the time to make this and decide that you trusted me, Lex, and Clark with your possessions to divvy up as we see fit, but you couldn't have taken five more seconds and said hey, just in case of life support, I want to live?" The paper crumpled more in Lionel's grasp, but he smoothed it out, laying it on top of the Hawaiian shirt.

He didn't receive an answer, hadn't really expected one, in fact, and sighed. He carefully packed all the rest of the clothes and boxes away, leaving out only a pair of battered and worn sneakers, to go with the Hawaiian shirt and jeans. Lionel pulled out clean underwear and clean socks, and put those on the bed too, then tossed a black LuthorCorp duffel bag on the bed to pack them in.

There would be no autopsy, no organs harvested for donation. Dominic had made that clear, and Lionel supported it. Rosalyn had tried to force that on him, too, but Lionel had had enough proof--including Dominic's driver's license that clearly said NO ORGAN DONOR--that he had been able to stop that much, at least.

He looked at the television, pausing the playback on his husband's face as he just stared at the screen in the quiet room, breathing and the occasional throaty sob the only noise in the silence.

 

-fin-

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