The Memoirs

The ball room of the Metropolis Cancer Association was absolutely gorgeous. Done in a rich style from the forties, it screamed class and wealth, and why not? Lionel Luthor was the one who'd had it built. It housed all types of rooms--rooms for auctions, rooms for balls, rooms for dinners, rooms for dances. Part of it was a hospice, set on the grounds and as homey as it could be. The ballroom where the charity event for Lillian's benefit was happening was lovely--tile floors, an orchestra, lovely little cakes and candies and such. On display on the large stage sat four dresses on mannequins that Lillian herself had designed and worn during her short life, including the one she'd worn the first time Dominic met her, which would always stand out in his mind.

Red velvet. Yards of it, sweeping up the bodice and low on the chest, it was classy and understated but devastatingly sexy. A woman like her could have turned *anyone* straight.

At the thought Dominic looked up at his lover, and smiled at him. Lionel looked absolutely handsome in his tuxedo, with his hair fluffed to perfection and his gold glasses that matched the cuffs and tie tack. His mouth was a little firmer than usual, but Dominic tried to keep the atmosphere light. Tried, being the operative word, because they'd left their daughter at home for the first time since she'd been born, and though Dominic wasn't totally comfortable around her just yet, he didn't want her anywhere that wasn't right next to him, where he could feel her breathing. He hated it, and it felt as if he'd left a limb at home. Considering he had his cane, that was saying something.

Firm was one word for it.

Absolutely grim would have been another, equally appropriate word.

Lionel Luthor didn't *mind* surprises. He didn't mind surprise takeovers, he didn't mind surprise victories, last-minute contract signings, or anything else of that ilk.

He *detested* being on the other end of a surprise for a change, and ever since he'd arrived and been told by that bastard Knight that there was a surprise for later in the evening, after dinner, but would say no more about it...

Yes. Well. His mood had deteriorated considerably, and the fact that his daughter was at home and not *here* did not help his mood one bit.

Dominic winced as his lovers lips turned down into a severe glower, and he gently pat the inner crook of his elbow, where he'd grabbed Lionel as soon as that Knight bastard had approached them with his usual swagger and informed them of this... surprise. Surprises were generally not a good thing, especially not in the Sphere of Lionel Luthor. "You're frightening the women, Unca Mufasa," he whispered.

"I quite frankly do not give a damn about the frightened women, and if you refer to me as Unca Mufasa again, I shall remove your tongue, little cricket," Lionel snapped crankily.

Dominic had known this man too long to be offended. Instead, his dimples winked on, and he bat big green eyes up at him. "If you remove my tongue, whatever shall I rim you with, darling?"

"Your fingers," was Lionel's sulking answer.

The dimples curved even more. "You'd rather my fingers than my tongue?"

"No, but if you don't stop waggling it, you will have to make do."

At that Dominic let go of his lovers arm with a low hum and sauntered off in the direction of Charlie.

And Clark watched it all, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched Lionel watch Dominic walk away, and he couldn't help grinning at Shayla beside him. She looked utterly ravishing and elegant in the gown he'd helped her chose from Metropolis, from the gloves to the jewels, and he beamed at her. "You are worthy."

"Yeah. Tell that to your boyfriend, who looks ready to skin me and hang me up from the nearest gallows," she retorted, wiggling nervous fingers in the elbow-length satin gown as she fanned herself with the small beaded clutch of a purse. But she smiled up--and up, and up--at Clark, and put her head briefly against his shoulder. "You're a rock, Clark."

"I think Lex whispered that in my ear last night. I can't help waking up like that," Clark pouted, and flashed her his dazzling smile. "You look gorgeous. Your broach is just beautiful, shay--you've got a mind for art like this."

She laughed--couldn't help it, because when Clark smiled, so did everyone else--and put her hand through his elbow. "Thanks, Clark. And thank you *again* for talking Lex into the lapel pin. I know he's not wild about them, but... yeah." She rubbed the little enamel pin, in the shape of a ribbon. But instead of pink, it was a small beaded design, and she squeezed Clark's arm. "And the tie tacks. I swear he's going to kill me."

"They look great on him. He just won't say so, cause that's the way he is," Clark said, grinning down at her and putting his arm around her shoulders just because he could. "I think he's mostly jealous you get to wear this pretty dress and he doesn't."

"Yeah, well, I don't think that Metropolis' polite society is quite ready to see Lex Luthor in a dress," she snorted, and snuggled into his side, careful of her hair. "You think he'll like the bracelet?"

"Of course he will." He squeezed her shoulder and smiled down at her. "If he doesn't, I'll kick his ass." He paused, though, as he watched the woman who'd put together the whole thing get up on stage to announce the beginning of the benefit. In the crowd, Jimmy snapped photos.

Shayla took several deep breaths as the woman talked.

The bracelet was part of the whole evening's plans. When she'd seen Lillian's dresses several months ago, on tour with Dominic and Victoria, she'd been struck with an immediate idea.

The green dress, in particular, had had exquisite beadwork on the hems, bodice, arms, and neck. Each strand of beads was unique, but they were made to complement each other. Shayla had drawn the designs, photographed them with a digital camera, and spent endless hours working until she'd come up with the bracelet.

Three of the beautiful beadwork patterns had been painstakingly reproduced, each on their own metal strip--one of plain copper, one of gold-plated, and one of silver-plated. The three strands had been twisted together, the individual patterns melding to make one larger one for the bracelet.

Shayla was wearing one on her wrist, and when Adam had told her the price tag they'd be asking for them, well... she'd nearly had a heart attack. "He's going to kill me," she whispered softly to Clark.

"Which one?" Clark whispered back.

"LEX!" she hissed. "Who the hell do you think I'm talking about??"

"Well, I dunno. You've got a lot of people mad at you right now," Clark said, eyebrow raised down at her hiss as the woman began to speak. "Like, say, Dominic. Though he wants to kill me more than you. And Lex, for the mouth comment." He made a face.

She licked her lips at that. "Think we can fix that mouth thing?" she asked innocently, batting her eyes at Clark even as her nails dug into her arm. "Morgan will get over himself in due course."

"Maybe later," Clark said, eyes twinkling down at her before he gently pulled her claws from his arm. "You're almost up, honey," he murmured, keeping an ear on the woman and one on her. "You're going to talk, and then the dresses will come out, right?"

"Right. I'm going to talk, I'm going to present the bracelets for the women, the cufflinks and tie tacks for the men, and the lapel pins, and then they're going to start on the eight dresses they brought--the four on display are going first, and then the four in the back," she said, all in one deep breath. "You're still going to escort me out, right?"

"Of course," Clark smiled down at her. "Though I don't see why your new mystery guy won't. You do realize you're going to have to dish at some point--is he hunky?"

Shayla gave a light cough. "Yeah, he is. He's... tall, and he's got dark hair, and really deep green eyes, and a lot of influence with Lex."

Clark's eyebrow arched up high. "And he isn't me?"

"Right," she said.

"I have to tell you, I'm intrigued," Clark said, his lips twitching. "This new mystery guy sounds interesting. When do I get to meet him?"

Another light cough. "You, uh, kind of already did."

Clark would have asked more, but the woman on the stage announced Shayla's name and Clark straightened up and offered his elbow to her, before striding out. A chorus of claps met them, even Lionel and Dominic standing near the middle of the room, side by side again--Lionel with a nice, tall glass of champagne that Dominic handed him--and smiled as he left Shayla at the podium and went to stand to the side.

Shayla cleared her throat, and avoided looking at the first table in the row, where Lex was glaring at her from. Instead, she launched into the speech she'd written and memorized.

"Good evening. My name is Shayla Senatori, and most of you don't know who I am. But that's okay. I know most of you. I've seen you in the newspapers, I've rented your films, seen your movies at the theater, or bought your albums. And it makes me feel very good about my supporting all of you when you come here tonight, for this wonderful cause.

Which is why I'm here too. The Lillian Luthor Foundation has done a lot of things for Metropolis, this state, and for medical research into curing all forms of cancer and other serious medical conditions." She paused just long enough to take a drink of water from the glass on the corner of the podium. "I know that you're all here to show your support for this endeavor, and that's what I'm here to do too."

She turned around, not to Clark, but to the beautiful young woman who was pushing a small glassed-in jewelry case. "These are brand new items, created by me exclusively for the Lillian Luthor foundation. The bracelet was made for the ladies in the audience, and there are tie tacks and matching cufflinks for the gentlemen, as well as enameled lapel pins.

The designs are three-layered, as you'll see, and each of the strands you'll find are echoed in many of the dresses you will see tonight--they're based on Lillian Luthor's hard work. I can't take credit for anything but putting them together--what you see in front of you wasn't my creation, but hers. I just assisted in bringing it to you." Then she nodded to the wings, where Adam was standing, crisp tuxedo perfectly in place. "Mr. Knight has been assisting me in all this, and he'll be in charge of purchasing tonight. After tonight, the jewelry will only be available through the Foundation's website."

Knight.

Oh. Oh, dear God.

Could... but no. Shayla wouldn't.

But... Knight?

Ew.

He put it out of his thoughts and listened to her speech, admiring the jewelry from his limited vantage point. From where he could see it though it was skillfully put together, and beautifully done. He liked the ones she'd given Lex, and he couldn't wait to get his own. He'd already convinced Perry to buy several pieces for the charity, after all.

"You realize, Dominic, that I am going to murder your sister, and enjoy every second of it," Lionel hissed as he saw the jewelry, both in the jewelry case and the larger photographs that were mounted in frames behind the pieces themselves.

Dominic didn't even flinch. "They're beautiful. All the money goes to the charity--look at the gaggle of actresses over there." Dominic nodded his chin at a few of the female actresses who looked ready to crack open their pocket books right then and there. "I'll bet you Shayla will sell at least fifty pieces tonight."

"I don't give a damn," Lionel said dangerously. "She had *no* right to defile Lillian's work in this way."

Dominic flinched. "She didn't defile it, Lionel."

"She did. She stole it, took it without permission, and has vulgarly *publicized* it."

"I showed her the dresses, Lionel. It was me." Dominic looked up and met his husband's eye. "She's using her talent to bring your wife's memory to the world, and to raise money to stop what killed her."

"And she did it without permission, thought, or consideration to what my feelings on the matter might be, or my son's, because to my knowledge, *no one* was consulted in this matter." He turned the dark glare onto his husband. "You should not have shown her the dresses; they were none of her affair."

Dominic inclined his head. "Perhaps she thought it would be doing Lillian a great justice, to show that her work does not rot in some part of the castle. That her spirit lives on."

"Which then goes back to the whole concept of the dresses NOT being her affair!" Lionel cleared his throat, and put his glass down. "At the least, Lex and I should have been warned or consulted about this."

"I didn't know she was doing her designs based on Lillian's until you did just now," Dominic admitted, looking up at the stage.

"Which is why I am not blaming you, Dominic, I am blaming her. And her only and entirely."

Dominic gently nodded. "Don't be. If she were insulting you, you'd know it."

"I am already insulted," Lionel said, glaring at Shayla as she stepped away from the podium to a fairly widespread round of applause, and disappeared behind the curtains as the auctioneer stepped out to start auctioning off the dresses.

As soon as Shayla got to the wings where Clark was standing, she leaned heavily against him. "Lionel's going to kill me. He was staring daggers at me. Clark, I'm hiding behind you all the way to the airport, and then we're going to Tahiti, you and me and Lex."

"I don't know about the Lex part," Clark said, and winced down at her. "Shayla, why didn't you say that the bracelets were modeled after Lillian's dresses?"

"Cause. I wanted it to be a special surprise," she said. "You know, be something that Lex and Lionel could look at, and see, and be proud of it, cause they're close to her. And? Since Lex did all this great stuff for me, helping me out after I got sick and everything, I wanted to do something in return for him. And I know how much he loved his mom, so I thought he'd appreciate something like this." She frowned.

Clark sighed and rubbed his face as another round of applause happened out in the crowd, and he shook his head and took Shayla's hand. "Come on. Let's go mingle. Stay away from Lionel right now, all right? Lex is a forgiving guy, he'll be okay. Just… come on."

Shayla grabbed Clark's hand tightly. "Goes to show me," she sighed. "I shouldn't try and do nice things. I get bit in the ass every time." Another little quiet sigh. "I think... I think I can mingle by myself, if you want to go talk to Lex or Lionel, so they don't think you were in on it too."

Clark's sharp green eyes flickered down at her. "Shayla, you are of my own. I'm not ditching you to the lions and mufasas. It'll be all right, I promise. Just stay with me, okay?" he said, and plastered a smile on his face as h offered his elbow to her and opened the side door into the ball room.

She gave a soft snicker. "I might be yours, big guy, but I'm not the one you're gonna be sleeping with tonight," she pointed out, grinning wanly up at him as she put her hand on his elbow and followed him into the room. "You know, don't think I didn't see your reaction to Adam. He's not... a great guy, but he's not worst in the world either, and no, before you have heart failure, I'm not sleeping with him."

"You'd better not be. You're sleeping with me," Clark answered through the clenched smile on his face, as he led Shayla out into the crowd. Several people clapped and cheered at seeing her, and immediately Clark was surrounded by very... very pretty people. Musicians and actors, and Clark abandoned her to it, giving her the thumbs up behind the crowd.

He turned to look for Lex, ignoring Lionel's hateful glare in Shayla's direction as he found Lex standing beside Chloe--a Chloe who looked ravishing--and said, "Don't kill her," to his lover.

Lex's smile was so perfect it was about to crack. "I wouldn't kill that little skittlebrained Smurf for all the money in the world, Clark. I will leave that to my father. I will however, not stop him, and shall, in fact, sell tickets." His arm was a skosh too tight around Chloe's waist, but she hadn't complained, other than an elbow to his ribs.

And a stomp to his foot.

And maybe a pinch to his hip.

Chloe finally gasped for breath as soon as Lex let her go, glared up at him, and then let Clark kiss her cheek. "You're both pigs, and I'll thank you not to include me in any of your bickering and I will *actually* go and warn my best friend now," she huffed, and shoved past them to flounce off.

Clark blinked after her before dropping a soft kiss on Lex's upturned lips. "You all right, baby?"

Lex returned the gentle kiss. "Yes. I'm fine. Just... thrown. Why in God's name didn't she *tell* me, Clark? I could have at least warned Dad so he doesn't look like Mount St. Luthor is about to erupt over there," he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

Clark looked over Lex's lovely shoulder and saw Lionel--who was surprisingly calm--if it weren't for the champagne flute about to snap in his hand. "Oh, yeah. Tower of calm, that one." He looked down at Lex. "She just told me, and I quote, that she wanted to do something for you guys, and because you helped her after she was sick. She wanted to do something for you. It wasn't on purpose--she's a good girl."

Lex's teeth grit. "Remind me not to do any further good deeds on her behalf."

Clark shrugged his shoulders gently and ran a hand down Lex's back to calm him--and just because he liked it--and kissed him again once more before comfortably hooking an arm around his waist and ignoring the snapping photographs from somewhere to his left. Instead he looked up at the stage as the hostess got back on the stage.

"Before we proceed to the delicious dinner put together graciously by Sandine's," there was applause. "We're going to put the dresses on display. Given by the gracious Mr. Luthor," She pointed him out and the applause was much louder this time, as well as cheers. "for the foundation, they are an exquisite study in taste and skill, all lovingly handcrafted by the late Mrs. Lillian Luthor herself. Bidding starts at five thousand for these four dresses, and ten for these six," she said, and motioned behind her as the curtains were drawn away from the gowns for the first time.

The six dresses were amazing. All done with painstaking beadwork and stitchery, they glimmered in the light pointed at them, the lush fabrics laying heavily around each mannequin and swirling perfectly around the hips and bodice. They were dazzling, even behind glass as they were.

"The green dress in front is what spurred the create genius in Ms. Senatori. It will start at twenty thousand, to account for the jewels sewn into the gown itself. Bidding will begin after dinner--please feel free to look at the dresses."

Lex's fingers tightened around the stem of his water glass. He could feel the furious anger building up inside of his head, and he kept a very careful clamp on it.

He had helped his mother string the beads for that green dress, when she had been sick, and tired, and her hands had not been steady enough to thread the small beads, Lex had done it for her. Sitting at her feet or on the foot of her bed, sliding each bead over the needle and down the silver-white threads until his mother had said to stop, and he'd carefully handed over each long strand, holding it in place with his own hands while she'd carefully sewn the strand to the rich velvet.

He remembered helping her carry the soft fabric from room to room, remembered pushing the little dress-dummy around Lillian's bedroom to let her get an idea of how the fabric hung and swirled.

Remembered helping her choose and cut the ribbons to decorate the bodice.

The glass in his hand started to hum softly, vibrating as though a tuning fork had just been bounced off it.

It shattered.

Clark jerked next to his lover, eyes flying open in fear as he looked down at Lex's hand, where the cuts the glass had just made were seeping blood. "Lex?" he asked softly, and squeezed Lex's waist as he looked down at him. "Lex?"

The other glasses at the table started to hum and vibrate, and so did the silverware and the empty plates, rattling in their settings as Lex didn't take his eyes off the green dress sitting on the mannequin on the stage.

Dominic flinched back from Lionel's glass as it rattled in his hand, and he looked up to his lovers face. "Lionel?"

Lionel very carefully put the glass down on the table, and it continued to vibrate. "It isn't me," he said just as quietly, and he looked over towards Lex.

Who was completely oblivious to everything except the dresses on the stage.

Lex's bleeding hand sat on the table, staining the white tablecloth, and he didn't even notice it. The table itself started to shake, wobbling on it's legs before every glass on it shattered.

Like a shock wave, it spread, from table to table. Glasses shattered everywhere, in costume jewelry, in eyeglasses, on the tables. The glass around the dresses shattered, the glass cases around Shayla's jewelry shattered. The entire *room* started to vibrate gently, walls shaking and disturbing the hanging portraits.

Every table in the room was shaking, every dish was vibrating against the other, and Lex's eyes were still focused on the green dress as his fist clenched harder. Bright red blood flowed from the cuts on his hand, freshly squeezed out by his clenched hand, but it was meaningless warmth that spilled uselessly over his skin.

As the glass began to shatter Clark cried out and grasped his lover tightly, ducking down only moments before all the tall windows in the room that reached from floor to ceiling shattered outward, as if in an explosion, sending glass everywhere. Several women began to scream, and people began to run for the exits--those who didn't realize that it was safer to duck down and protect their faces.

It was Lex. Lex was doing it.

Clark grasped his face tightly as more explosions erupted everywhere--the face of his watch imploded, and somewhere behind him a woman screamed in pain. He held Lex's cheeks and called loudly. "Lex. Lex!"

It was as if nothing else existed in the world for Lex. He didn't hear Clark, barely acknowledged seeing him as his fist remained clenched. He sat in the middle of the flying glass, the splintering tables and shattering crockery as though nothing was happening.

There were nicks on his cheek, on his forehead, on the back of his bald crown. Warm trickles of blood eased down and he didn't care.

The mannequin that the green dress was resting on started to rock perilously back and forth, knocking the others to the ground as minute cracks started in the ceiling, raining down small clouds of dust particles.

"Lex! Aushna', trehnah toke ese!" Clark yelled, and without a second look, shoved his way through into Lex's mind.

It was a whirlwind of pain, screaming and agony filled, where nothing was at it seemed. He grasped the link to his lovers mind, tugging hard on it. Aushna!

Lex didn't care. He didn't hear it, he didn't acknowledge it. He felt the yank on his link and he jerked it back, snarling as he did it. The dress was his, it had been his hands that worked it, his fingers that strung the beads for his mother, her stitches that held the rich fabric together, and it wasn't going to leave his possession. And if he had to tear down the entire building to do it, he would.

The yank gave Clark a splitting headache, but it didn't stop him. Not by a long shot. He shifted back into Lex's mind, tugging lightly on the link instead of hard, and whispered, Kenep. Kenep, answer your aushna. Please, you're having a breakdown, you're hurting people. Speak to me, Kenep.

Lex just answered with a snarl, and the mannequin's rocking became more frenetic, the cracks in the ceiling just a little wider, the clouds of dust and plaster just a little more obvious than the near-invisible traces that had been lingering in the air.

The metal girders and the cement that had created the foundation and skeleton of the building groaned and creaked, as though they were being stretched out shape by an invisible force.

Aushna'. Aushna', they won't take the dress. It's yours, the dress is yours. It's always been yours--no one will have it but you. Clark's fingers tightened on his lovers shoulders as plaster rained down on them. He covered his arms over Lex's bald head, bleeding as it was, and tucked it tight against his chest.

Lex's head jerked out of Clark's protective arms, keeping his eyes on the dress as the other mannequins started to dance as well, some falling to roll on the floor, others rocking back and forth on their bases, and the green one, the focus of Lex's attention, was bouncing frenetically on the floor, causing the voluminous folds to swirl as though the mannequin was nothing but a lady dancing.

All right, well that was enough of that.

Clark grabbed his lovers cheeks, yanked him around so their eyes were connected, though Lex's were blank and remote, and gave him a hard shake as he reached in and gave a forceful yank on the link again. AUSHNA!' he thundered. Stop this RIGHT NOW!

Lex's head snapped, and his eyes seemed to lose the single-minded intensity they'd had as they stared at the dress as he shoved away from Clark. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" Lex roared vocally, causing one of the cracks in the walls to split further, sending portraits crashing to the floor.

"No!" Clark snarled back, grabbing Lex's face again, not caring that he was being shoved away. "You're bringing the building down around us, Lex! God dammit, stop right now! The dress is yours, I swear it to you, just *stop* this!"

"Do you promise?" Lex yelled, slapping Clark's hands away from him and glaring. He knew Clark's promises were to be trusted; if Clark promised him, then the dress would go back home, where it belonged.

"I promise," Clark said, as clearly as he could. Some of what made Lex *Lex* was coming back to his eyes. "Has your aushna' ever lied to you, Kenep?"

"No," Lex said quietly, the volume of his yells dropping back to near-normal levels. "You don't lie to me."

"No. I don't lie to you," Clark said just as quietly, and took Lex's hands gently in his own as the building fell down around their ears. "Kal-El loves his Kenep. He would never lie to him, not ever. Believe me?"

Lex nodded gently. "I believe. Kal-El doesn't lie to Kenep," he murmured softly.

The dresses on the stage all dropped to the floor, like marionettes who'd had their strings severed.

The cracks in the ceiling stopped widening, as did the ones in the floor and the walls.

The groaning and the menacing rumble that had built up vanished almost as quickly as it had come, leaving only the creaking of metal and cement as the damaged building settled.

Clark didn't bother looking around himself as the building settled down--the ground stopped shaking and the walls vibrating. "I love you," Clark said quietly, and reached forward to kiss his lips very softly. "I wish you'd said something. Oh, Lex."

"I love you," Lex answered back softly, stroking his fingers over Clark's cheek, then leaning back when they came back wet with blood, smeared from the cuts on Lex's own face. "I... don't know what happened."

"I know," he murmured, and gave Lex a little shove of healing properties through their slightly stretched link. He offered it as a token of peace, and gently swept pearl drops of blood from Lex's temple. "Everyone's left the building. Come on… let's get you out of here."

Lex felt the warm spread of Clark's abilities inside him, felt the wounds closing up as they spoke softly to each other. "Did... is anyone else hurt?"

Clark shook his head, and stroked pallid skin. "I don't think so. What happened, Lex?"

"I don't know," Lex said, keeping his arm around Clark's waist to hold himself steady as they started to pick their way through the remains of the building. "I just... I saw the dress, Clark, the dress I helped my mother make. The only one I was ever allowed to help with. I strung those beads, and held them down while she sewed them on. The more I saw it up there, thought of strangers taking and owning something that my mother and I worked together on for so many hours together, something that her heart and soul was in... it just made me so furious. I couldn't stand the thought of it."

Clark didn't let Lex walk more than two feet before he swept his lover up into his arms and held him close to his body. "Shhh. Stay calm--deep breaths. No one is going to take the dress, baby, no one. We're going to take it back home. I wish you'd said something, you'd known. You had a huge power surge, Lex. I have them all the time, before I get a new ability."

"A new ability. Wonderful. Just what I need when we're about to move to Metropolis, go back to school, and start an entirely new life. New life, new powers. Just... dandy." He didn't complain about being picked up or carried, instead looping his arms around Clark's neck and putting his head on Clark's shoulder.

The exhaustion was just hitting him, staved off by the infusion of Clark's healing ability but the drain of his powers was overcoming even that. "I'm... so tired," he slurred softly. "I'm all right. I just... recharge. Need to recharge."

"Go to sleep. I'll take us to the pent house," Clark whispered as Lex's limbs started to go limp against him. He stepped out of the doors hanging off their hinges and immediately saw Lionel and Dominic standing off to the side. The roar of voices, and the sound of sirens from the distance, echoed in his ears. "Lionel, Dominic. Are you both all right?"

"Yes, yes, we're--Lex!" Lionel saw his son lying limply against Clark's shoulder and hurried over, nursing a slight limp from having tripped over an opening crack on his way out. "Is he all right, Clark? Did he--was this his doing?"

"Announce it to the city block, why don't you," Dominic said from beside him. His voice was trembling softly, and when he saw Lionel's limp, he handed his lover his cane. "Is he all right, Clark?"

"He'll be fine. Yes… to answer your question, Lionel. We need...I need to take him somewhere private. Can I use the penthouse tonight?"

"Yes, of course." Lionel rifled through his pockets until he came up with the keycard from his wallet. "Here. And if you swipe this card at the elevator, it will use the express route and not stop on any other floor except for mine."

"Thanks," Clark said, taking it from Lionel with the hand under Lex's legs. "I'll call you in the morning," Clark said, and after looking at the crowd, turned and walked into the darkened alley beside the building.

From there he took off running, faster than anyone could follow with their eyes, across town. He kept to dark alleys and corners, until he reached the Penthouse.

He got Lex into the building and to the apartment as quickly as he could, and as soon as he stepped in, he sat Lex on the couch, locked the front door, shucked off his coat, and stripped his lover down. The cold skin under his hands made him quicken, and before he could let Lex fall deeper into shock, he took his lover into the bathroom, put the cold water on, and stepped inside with Lex in his arms.

Lex barely awoke when the cold water hit his skin, pushing feebly at Clark as he tried to get away from the cold and closer to Clark's warm skin, whimpering softly. "Too cold," he muttered.

"No," Clark said. Lex was awake, and that was enough for him. He stood Lex up, though leaning heavily on him, and turned the spray directly over his lovers head, so the cold water ran down his naked body. "Wake up. Open your eyes. What's four times eight?"

Lex pushed at Clark again, still weakly, and shivered under the cold water. "four... eight... thirty two."

"Twelve times fourteen?"

"hundred... sixty eight."

Clark pulled his lovers forehead back so the back of his head rested on his shoulder. Their similarity in heights put Clarks mouth by Lex's ear. "Twenty thousand, five hundred and six times 8?"

That took a few seconds for Lex's muddled brain to compute, longer than it normally would have. "hundred... six'y-four thousand... for'y eight."

"Yeah. Take a deep breath," Clark muttered, and shoved his lover ruthlessly under the spray.

Lex yelped, and shoved at Clark again. "cold... want out!"

"Nope!" Clarks voice was an iota too cheerful. "Told you to hold your breath! Don't drown, now," he said, and shoved his head under the spray which fell like icy needles on their skin.

Lex kept pushing at Clark, shivering violently under the cold spray. He wanted to give into the sucking black hole that was just waiting with blessed warmth and unconsciousness, but the cold water kept him from doing that, and he whimpered. Again.

As soon as Lex began to shiver and pull away from the cold, Clark knew it was enough. He cut the water off and stepped out, dripping everywhere, and wrapped Lex in a big fluffy robe without breaking his stride. He stripped off himself and quickly dried after sitting Lex on the side of the tub, and as soon as he was done he lifted Lex back up, tucked him to his chest, and walked back into the living room.

The fire place roared to live with a single glance from him and he located Lionel's liquor cabinet. From the back he got a bottle of whiskey and took it, and two shot glasses, to the living room. He filled one, and as Lex was bordering on unconscious already, tipped Lex's head back into the crook of his elbow and poured the whiskey down his throat.

Lex choked on the first drink that was poured down his throat, but he was too trained by reflex to do it for long, and within moments, had drained the entire glass that Clark had forced down his throat.

It was warm in his stomach, spreading fire from his belly throughout the rest of his limbs to warm him up after the horrific cold torture that Clark had just put him through, and he burrowed deep into the warm robe as he curled against Clark's warm, rumbly chest.

"There we go. Thinking a little clearer?" Clark asked the cotton lump nestled close to him, and took the blanket from the back of the couch, spreading it over the both of them.

"no," was the muffled reply.

Clark smiled down at the bald head, filled the shot glass again, and pulled Lex up enough to tip the glass to his lips. "Drink."

Lex shook his head grumpily. "tired. going to sleep." He curled up even tighter, so the robe was bunched up around his ears.

Ahh. Clark tipped Lex's head back again, and before his lover could speak again, tipped the shot into Lex's mouth and then massaged his throat once, so he swallowed it. Coughing and spluttering, yes, but swallowed it nonetheless. "My dad did this for my mom, once, after she found one of our prize bulls dead. It was a harsh winter that year, we didn't have much to eat. We relied on the bull to pull us through in the summer."

"fuck off." That came through nice and distinctly, if a bit hoarsely.

"Don't tempt me," Clark said just as cheerfully, though he was warmed by the voice and the words. He set the bottle and glass down ad tucked Lex close, hugging him to his side. "I've got you. You can sleep, baby."

Lex muttered something that sounded like, "domineering bastard," but it was all muffled and hidden in terrycloth robes and warm Clark skin. He just snuggled in as close as he could, and finally, let the black hole that had been waiting for him drag him into a restorative sleep.

- = - = -

The wheelchair-bound man slowly removed the helmet from his head, and placed it almost reverently back on the console.

Sometimes he wondered about the usefulness of the machine, because as tonight had amply proven, it didn't always get *all* the mutants. But he kept those concerns to himself, as always, and turned his wheelchair around with the little remote attached to the handles, then motored smoothly down the narrow catwalk to the round door.

It irised open, to reveal a worried knot of people waiting for him. Men and women, young adult to fully grown, they all wore nearly identical looks of concern mixed with wariness.

"Professor?" The red-headed woman straightened from her lean against the wall, and approached the man in the wheelchair.

Xavier's eyes flickered over every person in the group, from Jean to Scott, from Jubilation to Marie, from Bobby to Kurt, and finally, to Logan. "I believe we have work to do."

 

-fin-

go on to the next part