The Memoirs

Lex leaned back in the chair, letting the hard plastic back prop up the head it was suddenly too much trouble to hold up straight.  "Okay," he said to an empty room, closing his eyes and praying for a brief, thirty-second nap.  It eluded him, though, because all he could see was Clark flinching away from him and all he could feel was hurt.

 

Clark had used the bathroom...strangely enough, peeing red. Which was kind of funny, and he'd have to ask Lex if he was, too. He frowned at it, flushed, and tucked himself back in before turning to the sink. Ducked his head and washed his hands with soap...then splashed his face with cold water, trying to cool himself off. Alright. So seeing Chloe in between all of them was kind of hot, alright?

 

He looked up in the mirror and looked into his dark brown eyes....watching the woman in the background smile at him with a baby in her arms. He blinked a few times and the iris's were green once more, and...oooh, Lex was waiting for him.

 

He stepped out of the bathroom and walked back, whistling softly before settling in beside him once more. "Alright, sorry about that." A frown. "You alright, Lex?"

 

Lex raised his head and looked at Clark.  "No, I'm not.  What did I do?"

 

"What did you do?" He blinked a little and took a drink from the coffee Chloe just had. Her lipstick was still on the Styrofoam. "You didn’t do anything baby, why?"

 

"Nothing, Clark.  Stupid question."  Lex shook his head tiredly.  He must have misread something, read too much into a simple body shift, something.  "I'm just edgy."

 

"I know you are. C'mon...why don’t we go to your dads penthouse, and get some sleep? I don’t think Dominic’s going anywhere, you know? We could get a shower and some rest. I'll even cook for you, something non-toxic." Bright smile, and his eyes twinkled.

 

Lex dug out his cell phone.  "Call a car, it's the... third speed dial, I think.  I'll use the house phone and leave a message for Dominic at the desk, tell him where we've gone."  He handed Clark the phone without further explanation.

 

He took it and dialed quickly...speaking to a man on the other line, and hung up. Right before he gathered his lover up close and snuggled his nose against his soft, baby smooth cheek. "How are you doing, baby? Tell me the truth, not the 'have to stay strong' stuff. Are you okay?"

 

"No, Clark, I'm not all right.  I'm nearly exhausted, I don't remember what happened with Chloe, I know there's a whole chunk of that theory I've not yet worked out.  I know that now Chloe--the single most inquisitive person on this planet--now knows that we speak to each other in a language other than English, and it scares me how deep she might pry to find out what it was.  Not to mention the fact that it seems as though you were exposed to the red meteorite again, only it wasn't just you that was affected this time!"  He drew in a deep calming breath.  "The only positive thing that I see coming out of this is that you told me that you only blew Whitney, when I had had visions of him fucking you."

 

He listened without a word for a few long minutes...and slowly, tenderly, drew him into a soft kiss. Giving and loving, but he didn’t share through their special bond...merely because he forgot to. "A, we are going to get you home to a comfortable bed so you can sleep. Two, if I ask Chloe not to go into it, she wont. Because she loves and cares for me, and she’s a good female. Three, we were all effected by the red meteorite, yes. Which is really, really weird to tell you the truth...yes, because you're a mutant… but maybe because I shared myself with you, and now you... you have a little bit of me in there. Maybe?" A hard swallow. "I didn’t know you thought we'd fucked. If I had, I would have put your mind at ease sooner then this." He gently stroked the bald, prone skull, and brought it close to kiss the top of it. "I love you, Lex. Everything’s going to be alright... because I said so. Remember?"

 

"I remember," Lex said softly. "I don't like your theory, Clark.  Because if it's true, then it means you shared yourself with Whitney too, and that's just not something I care to contemplate at all."  He sighed.  "I didn't tell you what I thought, Clark, and I asked you not to go into it at the time because I couldn't stand to know."

 

"I’m sorry, Aushna'." Tenderly, and he rubbed his lips against his eyebrow softly. "Forgive me. I never meant to hurt you."

 

"You're forgiven, Clark.  Not because you did anything wrong, not because you hurt me, but because I know you won't stop being upset with yourself until I do," Lex said softly.  "You didn't hurt me.  I hurt myself, my thoughts, my imagination.  Not you, me."

 

He shook his head but didn’t say anything more... simply rising and bringing him with him, curling him in tight to his chest. "I want to go shopping with you again sometime." Out of the damn blue it was, and he smiled a little, tipping his head and pressing another kiss to his cheek. "Feel like spaghetti, babe? Or, we could order Chinese." A nod, and he slowly led him out of the cafe' and down the corridor.

 

"Chinese... spaghetti... all that sounds so heavy.  Could we possibly have... I don't know, tea?  And toast?"  He slid his arm around Clark's waist, hugging him tightly.  "I'll take you shopping this weekend, the after-Christmas sales."  He looked up, horrified.  "oh, my God.  Clark... I'm so sorry!  It's Christmas!  You should be with your mother and father!  Christ... I shouldn't have dragged you out with me."

 

He shushed him softly, setting a fingertip on his lips and kissing his forehead. "I called my mom about an hour ago… she's with Dominic’s mother. She didn’t know where my dad was, which… is a little odd. But other then that, everyone's okay. Don’t worry, alright?" He huddled him too, walking with him and searching for his keys in his coat pocket. "If your dad's better by then, I can give you your gift."

 

Lex shook his head.  "I haven't seen Jonathan since... he walked in on us."  He sighed.  "I'm sorry I took you away from your family.  I wonder if anyone had the slightest clue what is going on."  Another deep sigh.  "Fuck... I am so not looking forward to the phone calls."  Then, a blink.  "Wonder where your father is?"

 

"Yeah. Something happened, with Dominic, or something. She didn’t tell me much, so you know." He shrugged, careless, and smiled a little at him. "He did walk in on us. It was kinda hot. In that not hot way, of course. And hey, aren’t you looking forward to Shayla's call?" He brought his voice up an octave. "Where are you and your hunka hunk, AJ?!"

 

"With your father?  And Dominic?"  Long quiet pause that spoke to exactly how exhausted Lex was.  "Wonder if that's what Dominic and Dad fought about."  Then he grimaced.  "Clark... if you ever call me AJ again... I shall rip your tongue out."

 

He smiled and pushed the button for the elevator… blinking as it opened before them, and stepped inside. "You're a cute AJ. I don’t really care about what they fought about." He shrugged, and pushed the button for the bottom floor.

 

Then pushed the bottom for the highest floor, floor 32.

 

Then pushed it again, grinning as the elevator shook around them, and finally hit the first floor button, wrapping his other arm around his love. "You love me too much to rip body parts off. Especially..." A little lick along his neck. "When I couldn’t do that anymore." He leaned in… licked a stripe from the scar that split his lovers lip. "Or that." Then in, to brush Lex's tongue with his own. "Or that."

 

"Claaaark... did you just strand us in the elevator?" he teased, returning the kiss with a tired hunger.  His tongue pushed gently against Clark's, tasting him hungrily as his hands rested on Clark's chest.  "Okay... so no tongue ripping... but... no calling me AJ either."

 

"AJ, AJ, AJ." He made up for his lovers exhaustion by kissing him hard and sloppily, grinning when the elevator dinged their arrival on the bottom floor. "You don’t have the guts, Mr. Luthor." He stepped out, reaching for his fingers so they wouldn’t get separated in the crowded ER, the other hand going deep into his coat pocket.

 

"I have the guts, just not the inclination."  He clutched Clark's hand tightly.  "I hate this place, Clark... I think of people like this laying their hands on my mother... and now... my father... and I can't.  Just... let's go.  Please."

 

"I know. C'mon." He wove him through the sick and the dying, and then out, into the fresh, cold air of the night. "Let's get home." And they walked, for a few minutes in silence, Clark grasping Lex's hand against him… and eventually, bringing the slim palm with him to cuddle in his coat pocket. "Lex..." He linked fingers in his pocket, looking at him. "Is it okay I got kinda... kinda turned on? When Chloe was talking about... about the movie... and all?"

 

Lex stayed pressed close to his lover as they wove through the emergency room, and then leaned against his side.  "Yeah, Clark... it's okay.  That's why I suggested everyone wear loose clothing; I figure there's going to be more than one of us turned on by it."

 

"Did you notice she has really blond hair?" A glance at him, as he took out the keys. "I mean, I didn’t want to embarrass her and all, but...Lex, what on earth made us have a foursome? I mean....a foursome. Us! Who are complete dorks, here!"

 

"You're calling me a dork, Clark?"  Lex looked up.  "I told you, Clark... I think it was the red meteors.  We've seen how it... affects you.  It seems to have affected me the same way, though I don't know how or why it affected Whitney."

 

"Maybe he's from Krypton too." A solid nod, and the car alarm beeped as he took it off. "Chinese is sounding so good. Want to take a bath, too? I’m sure your dad wont mind you borrowing some of his clothes and all. And hey, hope someone cleaned the place up after your dad and Dominic used it. As much as I like them.... ew."

 

"I doubt it, Clark.  Because if he were, he would have been crippled by Lana's necklace as well, and not able to hang you up on the cross."  He leaned his head on Clark's shoulder.  "A hot bath... sounds nice."  A smirk.  "I mind borrowing his clothes.  There is a trunk of mine that stays in the third bedroom, on the off chance I stay there.  I have clothes of my own there.  And don't worry; housekeeping cleans the penthouse regularly, whether it's been lived in or no."

 

"Clothes from when? 1997?" A grin at him, and he opened the door for his lover, waiting until he was in to let it shut with a click. He walked around the car and slid inside, sighing softly. "Remind me to thank Dominic." As it was the LuthorCorp company car, and it so happened to be a BMW. "Lets get home."

 

"You say that like 1997 was a bad year."  A yawn and a stretch as he settled into the soft upholstery.  "Do you know how to get there from here?"

 

"No clue. And it was a terrible year. I'd just gone into puberty, and let me tell you something, when your voice drops about six octaves in the middle of the sixth grade, people look at you funny. Not to mention the fact that I was almost 8 inches taller then everybody else doesn’t really make me feel good about that year." He revved the engine and slowly backed out, blinker on and fingers behind Lex's seat, craning over his shoulder.

 

"I remember 1997 fondly, what I can recall of it."  His eyes drifted shut.  "Take a left out of the hospital driveway, then go down Antony St. until you cross over Fifth Ave.  Turn right onto 5th, and go straight until you get to LuthorCorp Plaza.  Park in the parking deck, and the penthouse is on the tenth floor of the Plaza."  He smiled in the quiet.  "1997 was the year of... Home Chemistry 101, or How To Design Your Own Drugs For A Better High And Higher Profit."

 

A chortle and Clark led the way around the parking lot... driving a little slower then normal people would as to not hit any people hiding in the parking lot, ready to jump free. He spun around and passed the ER entrance, skidding to a stop at the end where a red street light waited for them. "Want to know a secret?"

 

"I always want to know secrets, Clark... it's part of the Luthor mindset."

 

"This is the second time I’ve been to Metropolis. The first time was the other day, when we came shopping." He passed a grin over at his love, eyes twinkling. "It was really nice. But...maybe....can we go to the theater sometimes? See something… like, like Sleeping Beauty? I always wanted to see the ballet, even though I never told anyone." A nod, and he pulled out once the light was green, following his lovers instructions.

 

"We don't have to go to Metropolis to see the ballet, Clark.  The Moscow Ballet Company is on a four-year run in the Moscow National Theater, and Sleeping Beauty is one of the ballets in their repertoire.  If you'd like, we can fly over after the first of the year and take it in."  As though jetting to Moscow was nothing.

 

He almost hit a lamp post, righting the car at the last moment and staring at his lover. "What?"

 

"Would you like to fly over to Moscow and see the ballet after the holidays?" Lex repeated.

 

"Fly? To Moscow?" Blink. "As in fly, in a plane, for fifteen hours, to see the ballet?"

 

"Mmhmm."  Lex nodded against the seat, eyes still closed.  "Why not?"

 

"Because… it… i-it... You… and... do you do this often? Jaunt off to Moscow, to see the ballet?"

 

"I've gone to New York, San Francisco, Gotham, Paris, Sydney for the opera, and yes, Moscow to the ballet."  He cracked open one eye.  "Don't miss your turn."

 

He pushed the brakes and jolted them as he turned to the right, swallowing and keeping his eyes on the road. "That...Lex. I’m sorry if I’m having problems with that. Its just... my family is so poor. I cant fathom ever doing what you're saying...I'd feel so guilty. All that money for fuel and tickets and all...to see the ballet for a few hours. It… it'd be too much." He nodded, driving easily at 45 miles an hour, and shifted gears when they hit a hill, crawling up it.

 

"It's... it's nothing special, Clark.  It's something that we've always done, even my father and mother.  I remember how happy my mother was on her birthday when Dad packed us up on the company jet and flew us to Sydney for the opera, dinner, and fireworks."

 

"Because you're rich." He stopped at a stop sign, and for the first time in a long time, felt their difference as clearly as he felt night and day. "I’ve never even been to Metropolis before I met you, because we cant afford the gas. Actually...we could barely afford to eat. Sometimes our phone would get cut, or the water, or the electricity, because we couldn’t make ends meet. I remember my mom growing vegetables, and sometimes it'd be the only thing we had. The drought in 98 made us take out a second mortgage for the house, because we couldn’t afford to pay. Its just… we're so different. Sometimes I wonder what we saw in one another at all." He shifted in his seat, pulling up into LuthorCorp plaza. "Maybe we should call for pizza, instead, what do you think? And hey! Theirs a 7-11. I can go get some whipped cream."

 

Lex put his hand on Clark's arm.  "I know what I saw, Clark.  I saw the first person in a very long time who cared if I were alive or dead... who risked his life to save me, and who taught me what it was like to be a friend, a lover, and a beloved."

 

"It doesn’t change how different we are." He shrugged absently, and parked the car in front of the apartments...a uniformed man coming towards them to park their car. "Valet's. Heh." He climbed from the car and walked around it, offering his hand to his lover. "Lets go sleep. I’m tired."

 

Lex let Clark pull him out of the comfort of the car, and looked up at him.  "Clark... what are you trying to say?"

 

"What?" He blinked at him. "Lex, you've been acting strange. Are you feeling alright?" He set the back of his fingers on Lex's forehead, peering at him. "You alright?"

 

"I don't know, Clark.  I really don't know."  Clark's fingers felt cool against his skin.  "I must just be tired."

 

"Well come on inside, love. A bath and sleep will do you good." He nodded and led his lover through the lobby, elevators...the penthouse, and to bed.

 

And not once did he say a word.

 

~*~*~

 

The stars were out in full force as Whitney drove. She'd gazed at them for a little while, the only other light being the moon and the internal display clock that showed the time. 12:45 in the morning. She was so tired, but she couldn’t exactly sleep.

 

Not when Whitney had said all of two words to her on the way home.

 

She chewed on her lower lip... risking a glance at him, and then quickly back out the window, counting the stars and watching the moon as it sat on its dark clouds comfortably.

 

Whitney kept his eyes on the road as he drove, careful of the asphalt since speed and carelessness had been what had caused Lionel's accident.  He felt Chloe's eyes on him several times throughout the trip, but he didn't know what else to say to her.  Every time he opened his mouth to say something, he re-thought his words out and snapped his mouth shut, because everything he thought to say sounded... moronic.  Finally, he settled for reaching across the seat, sliding his hand through her hair.

 

The first acknowledgement in 50 miles, and she swallowed and looked at him again, eyes lowering just a little as he touched her. And decided to try, again. "I’m sorry."

 

"Chloe, you've got nothing to be sorry for.  I keep telling you that."  He stroked her hair restlessly, feeling the soft strands slipping through his fingers.

 

"Are you angry? With me?" Quietly, looking up at him as he touched and stroked, and she nearly gnawed a hole through her lip.

 

"No, I'm not angry with you."  He ran his fingers over her lips, gently rubbing with his thumb.  "I'm not angry with you at all."

 

"But you are. Angry, that is." She nodded it, and turned a little to face him on the long seat.

 

"Yeah.  I am.  I'm very angry.  But not at you, baby.  Never at you."

 

"W... well tell me? What you're angry over? I..." She swallowed heavily around the lump in her throat and wrapped her arms around herself. "I want to know."

 

"I'm furious that they touched you, Chloe.  I'm furious that I let them touch me.  That thing with the coffee cup... I hate that Lex is more in tune with you than I am; you're my girlfriend, and yet, he's the one more in tune with you.  I'm angry that you know what happened, that you know I let Clark fuck me."  He blinked once, hard.  "I'm furious that you know what a slut I am, and I'm scared you're going to leave."

 

She blinked, once, in shock, and the tears filled her eyes without her wanting to. Oh, God. "You were under drugs, Whitney...how could you have known? It...Whitney, I...they didn’t mean anything bad by it, don’t you know that? And... and Lex, and the coffee, it’s... it’s because we're f-friends, that’s all. And with Clark..." Her voice broke, and she looked away. "You're not a slut. You and Clark and Lex had sex, and its okay. You’re not a slut because you enjoyed it. You’re not a slut at all. I just... if anything, I’m scared you’re going to leave."

 

"It doesn't matter what they meant, Chloe.  It matters how I feel.  And I feel... I feel like I cheated on you, Chloe.  I feel like I let you down, like I made you feel like you were nothing to me.  And that's what I'm the angriest about."

 

"Whitney..." She shook her head a few times and grasped the hand in her hair, tightening her fingers around it. "No. Whitney. Whitney. You didn’t let me down, you didn’t cheat, for God’s sake. I enjoyed every minute of what we did, whether it was you and Clark and Lex, or you and me and Lex, or you and me and Clark. It was beautiful and wonderful...and it made me appreciate who you are and what’s in your heart even more. You didn’t let me down. If anything, you freed a part of myself that was trapped. That’s all, sweetie, that’s it. You haven’t hurt me."

 

He looked at her, rolling to a stop at the stop sign and really looked at her.  "Are you... do you mean that, Chloe?"  His eyes were full of unshed tears and a spiky, painful hurt.

 

And she leaned over, and pressed her mouth to each eyelid, gently cupping his face so he could look down at her. "Every word. You found yourself with them, Whitney. Now I don’t have to wonder if you'd rather be with one of them, if you were curious about who you are. Now you know, and I’m so thrilled for you, and for me. For us. Everything… its okay. Its so much more then okay, I swear to you."

 

Whitney shook his head.  "I just want you, Chloe... you."  He accepted the gentle kisses gratefully, then looked at her, leaning forward to kiss her mouth softly.  "Only you."

 

"I love you, Whitney." Soft, gentle kiss… and she smiled.

 

~ * ~ * ~

 

Jonathan was walking.  He'd been walking ever since Dominic's family had gone home from the hospital.  For a little while, he'd wandered around the nursery, looking in at the newborn children and offering a quick prayer for each of them that they ended up with a better father and a better life than he'd proven to be able to give to his family.  Then he'd left the hospital, waving off the doctors and orderlies, half of whom knew him, and wandered down through what was left of the old downtown.  Old, before the meteor shower, dying even when he'd been Clark's age.  Cold storefronts, boarded up windows, silent streets.  A frigid wind blasted through the deserted area, and he shivered, pulling his sheepskin jacket tight around his shoulders.

 

He had no idea why he'd done that.  That was a lie; he'd known.  He wanted to have that life again, hadn't until he'd seen that Lionel was vital and in love again... and he'd seen the man he'd fallen in love with.  And he'd wanted that back.  Wanted to erase a past full of mistakes. 

 

And he'd lost everything.

 

It was a damn cold night. Patrolling for hours at a time was boring, and not only that...sleep inducing, and Ethan couldn’t do a damn thing about it but take it. He sat behind the wheel of his patrol car, one eye open, the other falling shut. He had a tall cup of espresso he'd gotten from the Talon and a few muffins, but not even the sweet sugar on his teeth was keeping him awake.

 

He drove slowly through Old Smallville, where a lot of street thugs tended to hang out. Well...alright, the two street thugs they had in this town, but he always kept an eye on um. After all, no trouble was good. Right? Right. He drove along, listening to old country music as the lady at the station house snored behind her desk, and sighed.

 

The sound of a car rolling down the streets surprised him, and he looked up.  Ethan's patrol car, and somehow, he was surprised.  He dropped his head back down, still walking and not saying a word, hands buried deep in his pockets.

 

Lone figure...blond head...Jonathan? Ethan peered out of the side glass of the passenger seat and rolled to a crawl, pushing the button at his side so the side window went down. "Jonathan? Everythin' all right?"

 

"Yeah, Ethan.  Everything's great."  That's why I'm walking alone here in Old Smallville, alone, on Christmas.  "Everything's just fine."

 

"Why doncha get on in the car? Its a bit warmer, and I can take ya home. Martha must'be worried sick."

 

He knew that refusing to get in would make more of a scene than not, so he shrugged his shoulders.  "I wouldn't count on that," was all he said, walking over to the passenger side and sliding in.  The car was wonderfully warm, and he rubbed his cold hands together.  "Thanks again, Ethan."

 

"Its all right." He'd always considered Jonathan Kent a friend...even back in the days when they played football together, and he peered at the man at his side as he cruised along at about 25 miles an hour. "Wanna tell me whats botherin' ya?"

 

"Just done something stupid, but what else is new?"  He forced a laugh, and leaned his head back on the headrest.  "Ever wonder if your gift in life is to make an absolute mess out of the lives of the people you love?"  Another forced chuckle.  "Think mine is."

 

"Every damn day." A solid nod. "Its why I became a cop, afer'all. Cant fix m'own life, might as well help others." Languid sip from his coffee. "Somethin' happen with Martha?"

 

"You could say that."  He cut a look at Ethan.  "How long we known each other, Ethan?  Twenty years?  Somethin' like that?"

 

"Just about, yep." He offered a nod and took another sip of his coffee, shifting in his seat and paying attention to the man at his side as he coasted to a stop at a stop sign.

 

" 'member that senior year?  Lionel Luthor brought the scout down from Metropolis?"

 

"Hell yeah, I do. All the boys were jealous's fuck cause you and Fordman got picked and we didn’t. A’course, by then I knew I wanted to be a cop, so I didn' care one way’re the other." He offered a grin.

 

Jonathan tried to scrape up a grin to offer in return, but it simply wasn't in him.  "I regret it to this day, Ethan... wish I'd never stepped foot out on that football field that Friday night."

 

"Damned liar." He shook his head at him. "A lie, if I ever did see one."

 

"Maybe an exaggeration... but not a lie.  The thing of it is, I wish I'd never set eyes on Lionel Luthor."

 

"I don’t mean to pry, Jon, but why?" He offered a donut from his stash as he pushed off from a red light and cruised along, taking a left on Loop 410 and heading back into the heart of Smallville.

 

"Cause my life ain't been nothin' but a screwed up mess since I walked off that field with him," Jonathan said softly.  "It started that night and I swear to you, Ethan, it ain't leveled out since."

 

"Always wondered why you married Martha. It was pretty obvious you and Luthor had a thing. Whatever happened?" He asked it softly as he peered out the window at old Mr. Bringham’s farm. Old man had a tendency of burning stuff in his sleep, as bizarre as it sounded. No flames, so he kept on driving.

 

Jonathan jerked his head up and stared at Ethan.  "Christ, did everybody know?"

 

"Pretty much." A nod. "It was the seventies, though, Jon. Gotta remember." He offered a grin at him. "C'mon, whatcha take me for? I’m a cop, for Christ’s sake."

 

"I thought we were... subtle."  A roll of his eyes.  "What happened was my father.  Tore me and Lionel apart at the seams... lied to both of us, made us hate each other.  Thought I'd gotten over it, till a couple months ago."

 

"You were subtle. Aside from the eyefucks, a'course." He took a side street. Long way to Jonathans house. "I know you care for him, but your father was always an old bastard. He didn’t care fer much other then the farm and all."

 

"That's true enough.  He was always tryin' to do what he thought was best for me."  A long, deep sigh.  "Didn't know you knew.  Anyway... I didn't just care for him, Ethan, I was flat out in love with the man.  Funny, huh?  We were just happy hating each other.  Then... then Lex rolls into town, and my son gets all tangled up in his life, and it's like I'm watchin' my childhood happen all over again.  Same fights I had with Pops, same looks, only now I'm the one gettin' 'em instead of givin' 'em."

 

He blinked. Brow raised. So all the rumors he'd been hearing were true? What the HELL? "Your son and Lex Luthor?" He straightened, shifted in his seat. "Jonathan, you need to press charges. It’s statutory rape, ya know. You can get that boy outta Clarks life, if you want." And then he listened to what Jonathan was saying, and simply nodded. "I gotcha, there. Before my Jimmy passed on, he was datin' this little flippy thing... sweet girl, dumb as shit. But he'd gimme those looks yer talkin'bout. Just like the ones Id give meh dad when I was seventeen."

 

"No... I don't want that.  It'd just kill Clark if I did that.  And don't you go doing it either, Ethan James."  Jonathan glared at his long-time friend.  "Lex is... and it kills me to admit this, but he's good for Clark.  And I think Clark's being even better for him, y'know?"  A very deep sigh.  "I'da been just as happy if Lex Luthor never rolled into town, but... Clark's happy, and that's what's important to me.  Bout a month ago... me and Clark had it out.  Nearly threw my boy out, but he kept right on being with Lex.  Knew then.  Went to talk to him, found him cryin' on the side of the road cause of what I'd done, and that just... ripped my heart out.  Then, after the explosion and the big press conference... I went to apologize to Lex."

 

He listened quietly, glancing over once in a while in the darkness of the cab of the car, and nodded a bit. "Clarks a good boy, Jon. Its good that ya went and apologized, but I’m still not seein' what this has to do with the older Luthor."

 

"Well... if Clark and Lex were gonna be getting serious--and they are--then I had to suck it up and make nice with Daddy Luthor."  A very deep sigh.  "That was actually my first mistake.  Went in to talk to him, and he... he was like a changed man.  Not the cold bastard, no.  He was... like he used to be."  Jonathan bit his lip.  "Ended up in his arms when his lover walked in on us."

 

"Lover?" He rubbed his face. "This keeps gettin' better and better. What did he say to you?"

 

"Didn't say much to me, only that he was glad we'd gotten the hate out of the way.  Then he went after his lover.  I went home, and was miserable for the next two months."

 

"Ya mean after all that, he still didnt stay with ya?" A shake of his head. "Sounds like the mans priorities are outta whack."

 

"No, they ain't.  Mine are."  Jonathan cracked another glare at his friend.  "He's happy with Dominic.  And I wanna be happy for him.  Was for a while, till I saw Lex and Clark together.  They weren't doing anything much, just... when Lex was talkin' to him, he put his hand on Clark's knee, and that's what all started it.  I just couldn't stop thinkin' about him.  So tonight... at the hospital... I threw everythin' else I had away, and tried to get him back.  Didn't work... he walked out, and I ain't seen him since."

 

"Dominic? As in, Senatori? Good, Jesus. Doesn’t this just keep gettin' better and better. I hauled the pink headed kid in about two weeks ago." A sigh, and he glanced at his long time friend. "So in two words… you just fucked everything up. You had a right to, ya know that, right?" A peer out the window.

 

"Yeah, that's the one.  That pink haired one... Shayla's her name, and damned if she's not a flirt.  She was hitting on me with a fifty-pound sledge."  A forced chuckle.  "Yeah, I fucked everything up.  And no, Ethan.  I didn't have a right to.  I've got a wife that any man would be lucky to have, and up 'til tonight, I don't think I ever doubted she loved me, even when she shouldn't have.  She didn't even leave me when I threw Clark out.  Martha don't deserve this, and neither'd Clark."

 

"No, that’s true. But Jon, do ya deserve to be miserable? I know ya care for her, and she's your wife, but Jon, if you care for Lionel like you said, you deserve that." He nodded, as he drove onto Kent land, following the fence up. "Looks like she’s waitin' for ya." He motioned to the light on in the kitchen.

 

"Yeah, it does.  Kinda surprised."  He stared at the light in the window.  "But the thing is... he doesn't love me anymore.  He's moved on, and I'm the one who can't let it all go.  And I gotta, Ethan.  I gotta, or I stand to lose everythin' I got."

 

"Well, my friend." He pulled the car to a stop, leaned over, and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "That’s gonna be up to you. That’s going to be how much you want your life, and how much you're willin' to throw away. Just promise me… you'll talk to Martha before ya decide. Ya here? Talk to her, and see what she’s got to say."

 

"Don't have much of a choice.  I've gotta talk to her, one way or the other."  Jonathan offered his hand in return.  "Thanks for the ride... and for the talk.  You wanna come in for coffee?  Get warmed up before you get back out on the road?"

 

"No problem." A soft grin, and he motioned to his cup. "Got some, thanks. I gotta get goin', I gotta go check Bradley’s place and make sure the cows are tied up. Said we're gonna get a blizzard through here in the next few days."

 

Jonathan really hadn't wanted to walk into the house alone, but he suspected Ethan knew it.  "Take care of yourself, Ethan.  If you need help with the cows, gimme a holler.  I'll help you round 'em up and corral 'em."

 

"I might need ya day after tomorrow, if it gets bad." He clapped him on the back, and smiled. "Don’t worry. Things'll be alright. I'll come by in a few hours n'd make sure no blood was spilt, alright?"

 

"That'd be great; I'll make sure the coffepot's goin'.  I'll be here to help, anytime you need me."  Shaking Ethan's hand again, he closed the door and let his friend drive off.  He turned and stared at the farmhouse that he'd grown up in, shoving his hands back in his pockets and rocking on his heels, dreading the walk inside.

 

He shouldn’t have. Martha was asleep at the kitchen table, cold tea sitting at her elbow, and her had on one arm. Asleep. And she was asleep on top of their wedding album, with their smiling, young faces right by her cheek.

 

Jonathan climbed slowly up the steps of the porch, standing outside the screen door and looking in at his wife.  Martha was a beautiful woman, and better to him than she'd ever had a right to be.  And he'd betrayed her, hurt her, and he hated himself for it.  Hated even more than he wasn't sorry he'd done it, only that he was sorry she'd gotten hurt in the process.  He kept standing outside, watching her sleep, not daring to step into the house.

 

She shifted... and after twenty years, if she didn’t know her husband she didn’t know who she did. Her lashes fluttered... and slowly, she looked up at him, standing in the doorway, sleepiness clouding her eyes before she blinked and rubbed at her cheek. "Hello, Jonathan."

 

"Hey, Martha."  He rocked on his heels, still talking to her through the screen door.  "Didn't mean to wake you up, you were sleepin' so pretty."

 

"Its alright. Aren’t you going to come in?" She rose, pushing up from the old picture book as she went to the stove for the tea kettle to refill her cold cup.

 

"Not sure," he said quietly.  "Don't think I belong here right now... don't wanna screw up your life more than I already have."

 

"Just come in. Get a cup of tea… warm your feet. You look cold." She nodded and offered him a smile, opening the cabinet beside the stove and fishing for his bovine cup.

 

Jonathan opened the screen door and winced at the squeak.  He'd been meaning to oil the damn hinges on it for weeks now, but he'd never gotten around to it.  Too many other things had needed doing, especially with Clark not around as much.  "Yeah, it's kinda chilly out there."  He let the door bang shut behind him, and he hitched himself up on the corner of the counter by it.

 

She finished heating up the tea and offered him the cup, honey already stirred in, and went back to her seat with her own. She sat down, bringing her socked feet up with her, and got comfortable. "I was wondering where you were."

 

Jonathan wrapped his hands around his favorite mug, and then took a drink of the hot tea.  "I was just... walkin' around.  Walked around the hospital a bit, and then down through the old town.  Ethan found me ramblin' around out there and brought me home."

 

"Thank God for Ethan. He's such a sweet man. He and his wife are going on a cruise in March, she was just telling me about it this last weekend at the grocery store." A nod and a smile, sipping her tea again and setting it on the table.

 

"Yeah, he is.  Knows a little bit of everything that's goin' on in town too... said he picked up that little pink-headed girl a couple weeks ago, but he didn't say for what."  Another sip from his cup, and he studied it awkwardly.  She'd still found his favorite mug, and made his tea the way he liked it.  Damned but she was a good woman, and he didn't deserve any of it.  "Might be workin' with him in a couple days... says there's a blizzard comin' and he might need help with securin' the Bradley spread."

 

"I heard it on the news. They said theirs going to be a major storm...Clark was going to come stay for a few days, and I think I'll ask him to get over here a day or two earlier. He can get the old plow ready to go." A nod, and she tucked a strand of hair from her eyes. "How was Ethan?"

 

"He was doin' good.  Asked him to come in and get warm, but he said he had to keep going."  He didn't mention the offer to check back in a few hours.  "I think it's a slow night."  Another awkward silence as he sipped his tea.  "I'll help Clark get the plow runnin'."

 

"That’s wonderful, good for him." She was looking at the old book, and turned the page. "I’ve been thinking about something. Maybe we should wait to get a divorce until Clarks out of high school...what do you think? That way he wont feel like we're abandoning him. He doesn’t need that in his life right now. Until then, though, we can have an open relationship...unless you want to sell the farm, though it would be a shame after all the work we've done for it."

 

And whatever else Jonathan had meant to say escaped him.  The cup nearly broke as it fell from his hand and he barely caught it before it crashed on the countertop.  "Martha?"  Although he wasn't really surprised; he'd been telling himself all night that he'd thrown everything away, but somehow, he'd half-expected this conversation to not happen.

 

"Whatever you decide to do, I’m behind you a hundred percent, Jonathan." She watched him drop the mug, and quickly got up to get a rag and clean off the counter and his hand, just as she'd done a hundred times before.

 

He hadn't even felt the hot tea splash across his hand or his leg until he felt her mopping it up.  He still wasn't sure what he was hearing.  "Sounds like you've got the decision made already."

 

Flash of hurt and rage and fury and utter misery in her eyes for just a moment, before it was masked with her little smile and a shrug. "I’m trying to make things easier for the both of us."

 

And that didn't surprise him either; it's what she'd always done.  "You don't have to."

 

"Of course I do. Jonathan, its clear you're not happy with me, dear." She squeezed his hand and set the rag in the sink, rinsing it out and setting it over the faucet to dry before taking her seat once more. "And I understand. I do. I don’t want to take what’s left of your life, if you're miserable."

 

"I don't know what'd make me happy, Martha.  I just know that when you said that... just now... it felt like somethin' cold and slimy grabbed me by the insides and won't let go."

 

"Its just because you're used to me. But Jonathan, I know you'd do fine on your own. You're a strong man." Another nod, and she flipped another page in the book, gazing at the picture of the both of them cutting her cake with a lump in her throat.

 

"I never wanted to hurt you, Martha."

 

Cut, like a knife. "I know you didn’t.  You're a good man, Jonathan. And if you want to get everything finalized now, I wont hold it against you. I think I might go back to Metropolis sometime afterward."

 

"I'm sorry I did.  I'm sorry I fucked up your life.  I'm sorry for almost everything, but the thing I'm sorriest about is I've never loved you like you deserve."  Finalization, and it brought another cold twist to his chest.

 

And their it was. In a part of her heart, she'd almost been sure he would fight for her… but he was letting twenty years go, twenty years of blood and working hard and loving one another...and now it was just...gone. And it hurt, so bad, that she was numb. "You didn’t fuck up my life, Jonathan. You made it beautiful and wonderful, and I was so happy with you for so long. Don’t ever think I wasn’t...even though I've always known you didn’t love me, as a man loves a woman." She smiled again and stood, closing the book and setting the worn creamy leather on her hip. Leaned forward, touched his face, and turned, walking to the door. "It'll be alright."

 

"Don't go, Martha."  His voice was quiet.  "I've... I've never loved you the way you should be loved, but I've always loved you the best I can.  I don't... I don't want you to go.  You've been the best part of me for so long, I don't know what I'd do without you."  He slid off the counter, took a step forward.  "Please... don't go."

 

She stopped in the doorway and looked to the side, acknowledging what he said without looking at him. "I don’t think I can stay, Jonathan." And now, she looked at him. "Not now. Is... is it why we've never been able to have children? Because while you made love to me...you couldn’t find arousal in...in my body? When you were inside me, did you think of him?" Soft questions she didn’t expect answered, turning away again. "You'll be fine. You'll always be fine...that’s your way."

 

"You'll work the farm, and hire a few hands, and it would be better then ever. Because as I said...so is your way. You'd be fine without me, Jonathan. Don’t think you cant survive, because you're quite the opposite. Survival is in your blood."

 

"I never thought of him while I was with you, Martha."  And that was an honest answer.  "I don't know why we've never been able to have children; I'm sure it probably is my fault."  A sigh, as he listened.  "I don't want to just survive.  I want to live.  With you.  And Clark.  Try... try to be a good father again... try to fix all the mistakes I've made."

 

"But you don’t love me, Jonathan. You don’t love me. You love him, I heard you tell Dominic so. You're a gay man in the body of someone who was never allowed to flourish, and its finally coming out. I wont stand in your way, and I wont allow you to hurt me. Clark doesn’t know yet, what’s going on, and I’d like for him to stay out of this, alright? Its between you and me, and I wont have my baby hurt over it.  You are a good father. Don’t think you're not." Quietly and she stepped from the kitchen, walking through the warm hallway with her book still on her hip and tears filling her eyes.  

"He doesn't love me."  Jonathan hated himself for not being able to keep the crushed tone out of his voice.  He followed her.  He wasn't going to let her walk away.  "He doesn't love me, Martha.  And the first thing I thought of when he told me that wasn't that I was hurt, it's that I'd thrown away every good thing I had in my life for nothing."

 

"But that’s just it. If he'd told you he still loved you, you still would have thrown everything away. Either way, you threw everything away, Jonathan. But that was a risk you had to take, and I don’t resent you for it. If I were in your position, and their was a man out there I still loved, I’d try for it, too."

 

“But that's just the thing, Martha.  I didn't realize... I didn't realize all the good things in my life were you."

 

"And how did a few short hours make you realize what you lost? Hmm? Because you know that either way, I'll always be here to love you, no matter what you do? That you're right about. I always will be here for you, I'll always be waiting for you, and I'll always love you with my entire soul. And you rely on that, and I understand that, too. I'd do the same."

 

"I don't know how," Jonathan confessed.  "I just... it hit me, while I was walking.  Thinking.  Wishing I'd never laid eyes on the man."

 

"I don't know how," Jonathan confessed.  "I just... it hit me, while I was walking.  Thinking.  Wishing I'd never laid eyes on the man."  He swallowed hard.  “Wishin’ I was man enough to love you the way you deserve.  I just kept thinking about all the good things in my life, and there you were, every time.  You’re the best part of every good thing that’s ever come to me, and I haven’t appreciated it like I should.”

 

That stopped her, and she paused at the foot of the steps, looking up at them with her fingers on the banner and tears in her eyes. "You're an unsatisfied man. Afraid of change, Jonathan, just as always. Don’t be afraid of change now. You're not happy with me, or you wouldn’t have done what you did tonight."

 

"I've always been happy with you, Martha.  It's me I ain't never been happy with."  He stepped closer to her, but still not close enough to touch.  "I've never been happy with me.  Not you, darling.  Me."  Oh, how much he hated to see her cry, and it was because of him.  "Martha... God... don't cry over me.  Don't waste those tears."

 

She turned to face him, and she would be damned if she let any of them fall. Not now. Not after this. They brimmed hard but she choked them back, shaking her head slightly and running her fingers through her hair. "But you have a chance to make all of that better, Jonathan. You do. You're not too old to start over. Move to Metropolis, or Edge City...maybe be a fisherman. Have a...a lover, for your own. Because wasting your time with me is just that--wasting. Not when you could be happy with yourself, Jonathan."

 

He shook his head.  "It's no good without you.  That's about the only thing I know for sure right now, is that you're about the only bright spot in my life.  You, and my boy."  Jonathan stopped at the foot of the steps.  "Told Ethan tonight, while we were talking... that I had to let Lionel go, or I'd lose everything I have that's worth havin'."

 

Her chin trembled once, hard. "Do you love me? As a man loves his wife?"

 

"I don't know," he admitted honestly.  "I ain't good with words like this, you know it.  But I'll try."  He took a deep breath.  "I know what you're askin' me, and the answer is, I want to.  I've never been able to before, and that's 'cause I never knew.  About him.  But... for the first time... that's over.  It's done, it's closed.  I want to, Martha, but I ain't exactly had much practice at it."

 

"I’ve always known that, Jonathan. I know you've tried, and I’ve tried to make up for it as much as I could. But I’m an old woman, Jonathan. I’m nearly forty five years old. Not too old to start over, but too old to ever be with another man again. However, I’m willing to live without a spouse until the day I die, if it means not being with a man who's not certain if he loves me. After all I’ve given you, after the blood and sweat and tears I have put into this land to make it ours, into our marriage to make it what its supposed to be...and you're not sure if you love me." She threw her hands "There's nothing else I can do to show you, Jonathan. Nothing. After twenty two years of marriage you're still not certain, then I don’t think you ever will be."

 

"I don't know what else you want me to say.  You know... you know how I feel about you.  You know I've always wanted to give you everything that you deserve, and I've never been able to.  Your father was right about that, and I hate him for bein' right.  You've been the most... tolerant, most amazing, most... most loving woman I've ever known.  And I don't have the words in me to tell you what's built up inside me.  I'll give you anything you want, take you anywhere you want to go, start over somewhere else, whatever.  Anything that it takes to show you that... I don't wanna lose you.  Ever."

 

"I’m just tired, Jonathan. I’m so tired." She sagged, the smallest bit. "I’m just... I’m tired. Can you understand that? I love you, with everything inside me. You're my soul mate. I adore you, regardless of anything you do, regardless if you care for me or not. If you want to try again… I’m here for you, to try again." She nodded a little and leaned down, picking up her book of girlish dreams she'd once had, and almost wished she never did.

 

Jonathan's hand met hers on the book.  "I want to, Martha... I wanna make the dreams in this book come true for you."

 

"The question is, Jonathan," She rose her face up to his, as the tears fell. "Do you have it in you to do it?"

 

~ * ~ * ~ 

 

Night. Nightnightnight. Cozy in the penthouse, and the scent of lavender was strong...sniff. Smelled very good. Clark’s fingers stilled on the knobs of the shower, perking his ears...glancing up, eyes squishing. Lex was in the kitchen. Who else was here? Was there someone here?

 

Here, here, here.

 

Another shift, and Clark rolled the knob...left.

 

It's going to be too hot, Clark.

 

"And what do you know? I can’t even feel it, anyway." A moment, and he peered at the wall. "Besides. Lex likes it hot. And we can shower together."

 

When are you going to bed him and get it over with?

 

"I’m not going to bed him. Ever. He's my beloved, don’t you know that? Its more then that."

 

He likes the red towels instead of the green.

 

"He likes me red instead of green." He sniffled softly, shifting his weight as he straightened and walked around his converser. "I’m tired."

 

As you should be. You’ve been deflecting the knives all day.

 

"They were nice knives."

 

Lex rolled over... the bed was empty.  Still warm, but cooling, and he opened his eyes.  "Clark?"  When he didn't receive an answer he looked around, rubbing the back of his neck.  He heard Clark's muffled voice in the bathroom, and knocked on the door.  "Clark!  Are you all right in there?  You're... talking?"

 

A glance up...deer in headlights, and he cringed for just a minute before answering back. "I’m okay. Almost done. Just washing up."  

 

~*~*~

 

Graham shifted his son on his shoulder, petting and rubbing his back.  Finally, he'd cried himself out and had fallen asleep a few hours before Dominic's phone call.  He'd slept on the way over, and was still sleeping fitfully, whimpering and reaching.  Graham, sighed, and then looked around for his brother.

 

He was the walking dead. Sixteen long, horrid hours had passed, and Dominic had caught snatches of sleep here and there, a horrid cheese sandwich Clark had brought him that he'd been grateful for regardless, and a bottle of water. Three times to pee, and other then that, he hadn’t moved from his beloved lovers side. He sat there now, in the clothes Clark had brought for him...blue t-shirt, a hunter green sweater and blue jeans he'd had for years. Coupled with brown shoes, he would have looked great. Would have been the operative word, if he hadn’t slept, peed, and sat in them for the last day and some.

 

Through the night his lover had taken a steep turn for the worst without knowing it… infection. Infection raged, fever, and Dominic had sat by his side… warmed and cooled him off through the shakes and shudders, until early this morning when the fever had broken.

 

So beautiful. All that magnificent brown hair, slightly limp under his fingertips but just as gorgeous. Those lips, soft and sensuous, that could sulk and smile in equal measure. Meant for kisses and whispered words, not the IV's and trach tubes they'd inserted and taken out through the night. Lovely hands, limp in his as he rubbed at them, and his chin trembled with heartache as he pressed soft, tender kisses to each knuckle. Old hands but strong, rough, and he loved them with everything inside of him.

 

Graham shook his head softly.  His brother looked like... well, shit would be about three rungs higher on the ladder than was actually truthful.  Week-old shit might be approaching it.  Leaving Shane cradled in his arm, he knocked on the door of the room, peeking in.  "Morgan?"

 

Lionel was barely aware.  He knew that someone held his hand, touching and kissing him, he heard voices occasionally, but that was all.  The fever had taken whatever strength he'd forced himself to have, and he was lying there, blind eyes closed for the moment as his chest rose and fell.  He didn't even have the strength yet to fully wake and realize who was by his bedside.

 

He was still sniffling, misery on his tiny face, and he pressed his face in tight to his daddy’s shoulder. His best friend was... GONE. And he didn’t know where he went, but he was just sad.

 

"Mmmm." He glanced up, smiled a little at his brother. "Hey. I didn’t know if you'd come out here or not. Mama called a bit ago and said you were on the way." He gently set Lionel’s palm down and stood, walking to his brother and embracing him softly. "You didn’t have to."

 

Graham held his brother tightly.  "Mama said you sounded like you needed someone.  I told her I'd come... no way I'd let my little brother go through this by himself."  He looked down.  "Brother, if you don't mind my saying so... you look rough."

 

"Thank you." Little smile with teeth he'd brushed because the poor nurse at the front desk had had pity and brought him some things. "Don’t you realize I’m starting a new trend here? Its called my-lovers-been-in-a-car-accident. I like to think I’m a the cult of fashion." His voice broke, so he picked up Shane. "Hello, bub. You’re looking mighty fussy, there."

 

His chin trembled...and he let out a wail, sobbing huge crocodile tears into his uncles shoulder. No best friend ANYWHERE!

 

"Good God, what did you do to him, Graham?" A glance up as Dominic tucked the downy, naked head close to his neck, rocking the baby softly as he walked back to his lovers side...the pull invisible but deep.

 

Graham gladly surrendered him.  "He's been crying ever since Lionel left the hospital.  No matter who holds him or rocks him or anything, he just wouldn't stop crying."  He followed his brother and stood behind him.  "He just... wouldn't stop.  He finally screamed himself out a few hours ago, for the first time."

 

Shaney was just sobbing. Pitiful sounds into his uncle Ommie's shoulder, wailing as he grew red in the face with his tears.

 

"Well, come on now, bub. You cant be all that torn up over it, eh? We're all here, calm yourself." He nodded at the baby, setting him on his knee and taking both his hands, bopping him up and down. When that just elicited more sobs, so he cradled him close and put his suckey in his mouth... pacifying him for the moment, and holding him close to his chest. "Thank you, again, Graham, but you shouldn’t have made the trip."

 

"Of course I did.  You're my little brother, Morgan.  Not going to let you sit up here by yourself."  He rubbed the crying baby's back.  "You should go home yourself, get some rest, and get cleaned up."

 

Lionel blinked.  Crying.  A baby crying... not his son, Lex was far too old.  Then... the baby.  Shane.  "Dominic."  Lionel struggled weakly to turn towards the source of the crying. 

 

"L--" He started, almost dropped Shane, and leaned in close to Lionel, grasping his lovers palm with his free hand as his eyes went into two wide spheres. "Lionel. Can you hear me, Lionel? Graham, call for the doctor. Lionel, baby..." He spoke loudly and clearly, gazing down at his love. "Squeeze my hand, love. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me."  

Shane just sobbed, grasping onto his uncles shirt and cried through the pacifier, squirming and burying his face into his shirt.

 

"Let me... hold the baby." 

 

Graham got up, bolting for the door and then the nurses' station.  "Hello?  Yes, help here, please... tell the doctor that Lionel Luthor is awake."

 

"B... Lionel, darling, you’ve been...lovely, you've had a fever, can you hear me alright? Are you okay?" His voice was shaking, as hard as he was trying to stay strong, accent thick and hard on his words. "We've been worried sick about you."

 

"I... heard you all along."  He squeezed Dominic's hand.  "Felt your hand... on mine.  It helped."  He swallowed hard.  "I'd like... a drink of water.  And my baby."

 

"Y… yes, I... Lionel, you haven’t the strength, love, you--"

 

Wait a minute. Just wait a darn minute here. Shane stopped sobbing for a second, tears still rolling, and looked. Cause he heard a voice. And he smelled a smell. But the guy, was it his bestest hero-y friend? Was it? Oh! OH! YES! YES! YEEEEESSSSS! He let out a cry and squirmed in his uncle’s lap, jerking until he could crawl up Lionel’s arm, plop himself on his bestest friends chest, and snuggle in as close as he could, grasping his hair and a nose tube and pressing his face in tight.

 

Dominic swallowed. God, how he wanted to… to do that. Oh, God. "W… water, y...yes, love, hold on, just a moment, eh? I...I'll get you some water, but you've got to tell me you're alright. It was rough there for a bit, lovely one."

 

"I'm all right.  I've survived worse."  He felt the baby land hard on his chest, and he brought his hand around to stroke the back of his head.  "That's my boy."  He rubbed his smooth cheek against Shane's, and turned his face towards Dominic.  "I'm all right, Dominic... don't cry."  His free hand reached over the railing for his lover's.

 

Shaney sniffled loudly, holding onto him and rubbing his face against his shirt. Excuse me, this is how things were supposed to be.

 

"I’m not.." Rusty, deep. "I’m not crying." He took the free hand and pressed it tight to his face, kissing the center of the wide palm and holding it close. "You have survived worse... everyone was just terribly frightened, Lionel."

 

"You see? That can’t be healthy. Babes on your chest, Mr. Luthor, for shame." But Toni had a smile in her voice as she walked in, followed by the great mountain of a man who could be no one but a family member of Dominic’s. "How are you feeling today, Mr. Luthor?" She neared and looked into his face, starting to slip on a pair of latex gloves.

 

Lionel continued to cradle Shane against him.  "You are, Dominic.  I can hear it in your voice, and I refuse to allow it.  You're not to cry."  He lay there quietly for a moment until the doctor came in, followed by Graham.  "I'm quite well, Doctor, aside from the fact I can't see.  A bit tired, but otherwise I'm fine."

 

"Here, Doc... let me take him.  Shaney, come here.  You can sit with Lionel in a little bit, but the doctor's gotta look at him first."  Graham reached out for his son.

 

Lionel weakly raised the arm that held Shane loosely.  "Do not even consider it."

 

Graham looked at Dominic.  "Is he always this much of a pain in your ass?"

 

Pfft. Like Shane would be letting go anytime soon. HELLO.

 

"As a general rule." Thick voice, and Dominic discreetly wiped the heels of his palms against each eye socket and heaved a sigh. "Come now, Lionel. The doctors to check you over, and she cant with a twenty pound baby lying atop your ribs. C'mere, Shaney, to papa you go."

 

Graham hadn't reacted to the fact that Lionel said he couldn't see; that'd be something he'd question Dominic about later, once they were alone.  "Yeah, come on, Shaney, come to papa."

 

"The next person that attempts to move this child will be fired or evicted from my home, whichever is appropriate," Lionel said sternly.

 

Toni shook her head at the two men and sighed. "Its alright. Id like for you both to step out for a moment, though, while I talk to Mr. Luthor alone. I need to examine him as well, and Id like to do it with as few people in here as possible."

 

"I'll stay. You go, Graham."

 

Toni offered Dominic a stern look. "You know better then that. Out with you, it won’t take but ten minutes."

 

Stubbornly. "No."

 

"Dominic." Eyebrow raise.

 

"Fine. Dammit, fine." He huffed and rose; though not without kissing Lionel’s forehead. "I'll be outside with Graham until she's finished. If she tries to disgrace you, scream."

 

As for Shane, he could have stayed there till the day he died. He was delighted to see his bestest friend again, even though he looked a little weird. He made himself feel better by chewing on his hair.

 

Graham steered his brother outside.  "Just let us know when it's clear, Doc."  He kept his hand clamped on Morgan's bicep until they were outside the room, and then he looked at him.  "What is this about he can't see, Morgan?"

 

Lionel felt the gentle tug and the wet mouth drooling, and he held the back of the baby's head gently.  "Thank you, Doctor.  That was becoming... tedious."  Another deep sigh.  "What don't you want Dominic to know?"

 

"He's blind." Softly, quietly, not able to meet his brother’s eyes as Dominic wrapped his arms tight around himself. "He woke up, and theirs been swelling, and he cant see, and bugger it all to hell."

 

"Doctor patient confidentiality. Hospital admin stuff." A nod, and she looked at him with the baby with a soft gaze. "You scared us, Mr. Luthor. The infection got bad before we could get it under wraps. Tell me how you're feeling, detail for detail."

 

Shane was silent, the first time in days, and lay his head on the powerful chest… just to close his eyes a sec, you see.

 

Graham tugged Dominic into his arms.  "It's not your fault, Morgan.  I know you.  Mama raised us all with the Irish Guilt Syndrome, and you've got to grow out of it.  It's not your fault.  You didn't do this." 

 

"Please do not bullshit me, Doctor.  I'm certainly not in the mood for it."  He shifted slightly in the bed to accommodate the baby in his arms.  "I am tired, I am thirsty, and I am unable to see.  I feel like I'm strapped down to a laboratory table and constantly being poked and prodded at with needles, and if I hear " Please relax, Mr. Luthor" one more time, I shall buy this hospital out for the sheer pleasure of firing every one of those oh-so-chipper nurses."

 

"But it was. It was me, Graham, cant you see? I’m the reason he crashed, I’m the reason he's here and cant see and can barely move, its my fault. Because I’m too bloody pig headed." A growl, and he turned, crossing his arms tightly.

 

Toni's brow rose, and she nearly cracked up...and thought better of it, seeing his expression, and instead soothed. "Lionel… its alright, I promise. I’m not going to bullshit you, that I can swear. However, I will tell you that we've got a bit of good news, and a bit of bad news. Which would you prefer first?"

 

"Morgan, we all saw what happened.  I think you had a right to be angry and I think he had a right to leave."  He slid his hand down his brother's shoulder.  "You didn't make him have this accident, little brother.  And if he hasn't told you so himself, he will.  Because it's the truth."

 

"Don't coddle me, Doctor.  Simply give me the news and don't attempt to soften it."

 

"He has. But... but you know me." He tried for a smile, and it came off looking terrible. "Guilt should have been my middle name. Morgan Guilt Senatori. Ring, right?"

 

"You're rather stubborn, has Dominic ever told you that?"

 

"Quite often, Doctor.  And quite recently."

 

Graham shook his head.  "You are one stubborn little brat, Morgan Dominic Senatori.  That much I will give you.  But you are not responsible for this."

 

"Stubborn brat I can live with." A heavy sigh, and he sank down into the chair Lex has perpetrated just earlier that day, rubbing his face with his hands.

 

"Good man." She shifted. "The good news is that your infection is gone, your kidney is up and working and enjoying the extra work, though you'll have to be careful how much you eat from now on. Your ribs are knitting beautifully, and your nose and cheek aren’t as inflamed as they were two days ago. However... your CT scans have shown some swelling." Her voice softened, and she sat beside him on the bed. "In the frontal lobe, you have a bit of liquid and inflammation that refuses to budge. If it doesn’t go down in the next week...you might be left permanently blind." She swallowed a little. "I’m sorry."

 

Graham crouched down in front of his brother.  "You need to go home, Dominic.  Get a real shower.  Eat some real food.  Sleep in a real bed.  Then you can come back.  I'll even stay here with him until you're ready to come back."

 

"I see, Doctor.  And how likely do you think it is for this inflammation to go down?  Again I say, do not lie to me, I expect you to be honest."

 

"I cant. I wont. I left his side once, and he ended up dead in the emergency room. I won’t do it again, Graham. I cant, not until he's well."

 

"About a fifty fifty chance, actually. Theirs some techniques we can do with what we call burr holes...little holes we drill in your skull to remove the water and drainage. It usually does the trick, but we're loathe to use the procedure unless its completely necessary. However, we've scheduled one for Wednesday, if everything is still the same." A pause. "Would you be alright with that?"

 

"You want to end up in a bed beside him, or across the hall from him?  Cause if you don't stop wearin' yourself down, that's exactly what's gonna happen."  Graham's voice was quiet, but firm.  "Mama is home waiting to hear about 'that little boy' and so's everyone else.  Even Marie and Riley and asking about him." 

 

"I'd have to know quite a bit more about the procedure you're describing doctor.  What the side effects are, what could happen if anything goes wrong, and what the success rate of the surgery is.  I'd also have to consult with Dominic and my son."

 

"Of course, I'll get everything together for you in an hour or so. We're hoping we dont have to result to that, but its a possability. The success rate, I can tell you, is quite good. My own father had it done a few years ago after a stroke, and it worked wonders. I think that's why he was able to see and speak after it."

 

"I'm not fucking leaving! GOD DAMNIT!" He leapt to his feet, his rare temper that had been making a show lately flashing in his eyes, and nearly tore his hair out. "I! AM! NOT! LEAVING! Everyone and their damn bloody mother has been telling me to go home and I will NOT! I will not leave him for more then five minutes to do ANYTHING! I left him before and he died, Graham, he died, and I wont take that risk everyfuckingagain! So shut the hell up about leaving a...and let me stay right where I bloody am!" Bellowed right there in the middle of the hallway.

 

"Don't you bellow at me, Morgan Senatori!  You might be nearly forty years old, but I can still put your ass over my knee until you listen to reason!" Graham bellowed right back.  "Now get a hold of yourself!"  Then he forcibly lowered his voice.  "If I have to carry you out of here myself, I will.  I'll call Mama or Megan to come and sit with Lionel and Shane, and I will drag you, kicking and screaming, down to the car, and then home, where you can shower and take care of yourself. Or you can pull your head out of your ass and realize you yourself are about two steps from dead and no good to ANYONE in your condition."

 

She rose a brow at the muffled bellows, and continued to speak. "All in all, Lionel, you're coming along quite beautifully. You're quite spry for your age, but you knew that already." A wicked grin, and she rose. "Get some rest. They'll be moving you to your own private room in a few minutes, and once you're there, I want you to try and eat something. Okay?"

 

"Yes, I've been told that recently too."  A hopeful look to the doctor.  "I don't suppose I could bribe anyone on your staff to bring me an order of French fries from McDonald's, could I?"

 

"There is NOTHING wrong with me, goddammit! I’m fine! I don’t need to be taken care of, as you just said, I’m nearly forty years old and I’m sure by now I’ve got a handle on how to take care of my fucking self! I don’t NEED you to tell me what to do, dammit, and I’m not leaving! I refuse to leave him when he needs me! Through my entire ordeal he never, NEVER left my side and I will be goddamned if I’m going to leave his! So shut the bloody hell up and leave me be!"

 

Toni grinned and pet his hand. "Unfortunately not. Not because they wouldn’t do it for such a handsome man as yourself... but because your kidney wont be able to handle salt just yet. Give it some time, eh? Be patient. After everything’s healed, you'll be able to eat as many French fries as you'd like."

 

"If you know how to take care of yourself, then do it!"  Graham took a tight grip on Dominic's shoulders.  "You got one more chance, little brother.  You walk out of here now, or I carry you out over my shoulder.  Your choice."

 

"Very well, Doctor.  I will wait."  He sighed as the bellowing grew louder.  "Would you perhaps indulge me a moment and open that door?  I'd like to speak to those two imbeciles."

 

"You will do no such thing!" He growled at him, and attempted to wrench free… but if anything, Graham was a strong thing, and Dominic snarled at him as he tried to get free. "I have been taking care of myself! Leave me BE!"

 

"Are they always so angry?" She smiled and pet his hand, rising with her clipboard...and opened the door, peering out at the two men throwing murderous daggers at one another. "Ah, yes. Lionel's all finished up. He'd like to speak to you." And she stepped around the two and left.

 

A heavy, loud snore, and Shane didn’t even move.

 

"Dominic.  Graham.  So nice to see that you've chosen to humiliate yourselves in public and make complete asses out of yourselves.  Could I possibly convince you to stop screaming at each other long enough to behave like the quasi-adults I assume you are?"

 

"Lionel." His anger faded away… sort of, and he wrenched free of his brother, walking in and immediately seating himself where he'd been. "Everything’s fine, love. We're Senatori's...public has no meaning to us other then a breeding ground for arguments with new people." He stroked his fingers. "What did the doctor say?"

 

"That I'm being moved to a private room in a little while, I'm to try eating something once I'm there, and that I'm quite spry for my age."  His face fell slightly.  "I'm forbidden to eat French fries until I'm healed.  Apparently my kidney can't handle the salt."  He looked... devastated as he cuddled the baby closer to his cheek.  "Whatever were you bellowing about?"

 

"Lionel... think you could tell my stubborn-ass little brother here to go home and take a shower?"

 

"You are quite spry for your age, aren’t you now? And the French fries will wait for you, you know that. Did Ms. Braxton say the infection had passed? And how are you feeling, love?" He smiled and kissed the back of his fingers...then immediately sent a look of pure, unadulterated murder at his brother. "I’m quite fine, Graham. Let it alone."

 

Shaney cozzied in to his hero, mouth puckered and his fingers wrapped tight around hospital gown and hair.

 

"I've never heard you complain about my lack of... ability."  He squeezed Dominic's hand tightly.  "I am, apparently, infection free."  A deep sigh.  "Graham, you obviously overestimate my abilities if you think that I shall be able to make your brother do anything, no matter how much I may think it's the best thing for him."  He reached up and gently untangled the fingers from his hair, and slid a finger into the chubby fist instead. 

 

"See?" Self satisfied look at his brother, smirking. "You said it yourself, I’m stubborn. So leave it be, and if you so dare as try and haul me anywhere I will scream bloody murder, so help me." A look at him. "You just remember who Shayla was taught by."

 

Shane turned...slid a little, until he was pressed tight to Lionel’s left side, and he grasped the finger, sucking at the air a second and cozying in solidly.

 

"Jiminy... would it work if I ordered you to listen to your brother?"  A heavy sigh as Shane snuggled against him and he cupped the baby's head with his free hand.  "Or, barring that, I will at least suggest you ask the nurses for something to gag him with," Lionel continued, directing that comment towards the general area Graham's voice had come from.

 

"Oh, I'm not worried about the gags.  He can yell all he wants to; he's my little brother and I'm not afraid to haul his ass outta here."

 

"I’m fine." Finality in his voice, and he nodded as he pressed a kiss to Shaney’s cheek... then Lionel’s. "What else did the doctor say, beloved? Anything about when you can be released? I tried talking to the chief of staff, but he’s been in Berlin for a conference of some sort."

 

Lionel raised his hand and ran his fingertips over Dominic's face until he reached the chin, and then gripped it tightly.  "I am asking you, Dominic.  For my own peace of mind.  You've not rested since you've been here, except for that brief nap earlier... yesterday, was it?  Please.  I would rest better knowing that you are being well cared for."  He released his grip, and then stroked his lover's face.  "Nothing about a release, no."

 

Oh. Dammit. That did it. Dominic swallowed hard...anything his lover wanted, anything and more. "I’m… I’m so frightened to leave you alone, Lionel, that’s all. What if something should happen, and I’m not here? I couldn’t live with myself."

 

"Nothing will happen to me.  It would have happened already."  Lionel squeezed Dominic's hand.  "You have to stop blaming yourself, Dominic.  If you'd been with me before, we'd both be in beds like this, or you could be... gone.  No.  This is not your fault, and I will be fine alone.  It won't be forever, merely a few hours while you sleep, eat, and shower."

 

"Promise me, Lionel. You'll have them call me if anything should happen. Baby, please, promise me." He squeezed his fingers tight, bringing them to his mouth to kiss, and kiss again. Not that he'd actually get anything done while gone. Nope. Just sit and worry and fall apart and fucking hell. "I..I could do those things here. I needn’t leave."

 

"I swear to you.  Dr. Braxton knows to alert both you and my son."  He pulled the hand grasping his to his mouth, and kissed it, his lips learning the contours of Dominic's hand.  "Be still."  He raised his hand to Dominic's face, and ran his fingertips lightly over it.  "Your eyes are deeper than they were yesterday."  His thumb rubbed over the bridge of his nose.  "So are your worry lines.  And you're growing stubble already."

 

"You’re such an infuriating man." But it was said with love, and he rose, kissing his lover on the forehead. It broke his heart to leave, but even then, deep in his heart, he knew he was about to reach the end of his rope and he needed to rest or he was going to spend a night in jail. "I love you, so."

 

"I love you, Jiminy.  Don't forget... the black box in my briefcase.  You may have missed Christmas, but you will still get your gift from me.  Don't argue with me.  Just... come back when you're rested." 

 

"I'll be back before then." Another few kisses to his face, pressing one long, lingering one to his forehead, and rose, squeezing his hand one more time. "I'll see you in a few hours, love."

 

"I shall be here, Dominic," he said wryly, squeezing back.  "I love you."

 

He kissed his fingers once more, then turned and walked to the door, opening it and peering out at Graham. He shut the door with a click, and stabbed his finger in the air in front of his brothers face. "You're a bully."

 

Back in the room, as soon as the door closed, Lionel turned his face into Shane's, letting silent tears flow.  Not since the death of his wife had he wept, and Lionel was ashamed of weeping now.  But he couldn’t be a blind old man.  Not when he had Dominic, the prospect of a family.  He was usually well-used to taking what fate handed him out, but this was too much to bear.

 

Graham crossed his arms over his chest.  "Don't knock success.  You sure as hell weren't listening to me."

 

"I’m not leaving. I’m going to go talk to this chief of staff person, buy something to eat in the cafeteria, go home and get some clothes, and I'll be back." He gathered his coat, tugged it on. "Stay with him. If he needs anything, ANYTHING, give it to him."

 

Graham threw his brother a mock salute.  "Jahwohl, Mein Furher.  I'll be at his beck and call."

 

Dominic glared, turned on his heel, and stalked away.

 

 

-fin-

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