I disclaim. I own nothing

AN: This is the long ago promised second installment of my story Beauty's Beast. I had orginally intended for this story to be fairly short, but I realized I'm not good at keeping to my word with how long a fic will be. I'm hoping this part isn't too confusing, it shouldn't be. I had this chapter written and on my computer for about a week now, I wanted to get the second chapter finished before I posted this on, but then I got Minamostaza's review and decided to go ahead and post this now.

AN: Please tell me what you think.

Memory always obeys the commands of the heart—Antoine Rivarol

She was quite possibly the single most beautiful thing he'd ever set eyes on. Light from the full moon slit through the blinds, obscuring and highlighting her all at once. There was a sheet draped low on her hips, leaving her so appealingly bare from the waist up. The cool night air causing goose flesh to prickle her skin. He considered pulling the sheet away and crawling into the bed with her to use his body to keep her warm. But she painted such a picture, looked so ethereally perfect, he couldn't move for fear of her disappearing.

This could be his last moment on earth. He could be pulled into oblivion in the next ten seconds. If this would be his last memory, his only memory, he'd go happily. He didn't have to hear her voice to know it would bring him comfort. Didn't have to see her eyes to know they were beautiful. What he knew, all that he needed to know, was that he loved her. Loved her so much it consumed every inch of him.

"Hey," There was amusement in her sleepy voice. "What are you doing all the way over there?"

"Watching you."

"And do you plan on watching me all night?"

Yes. All night, straight into the morning. For the rest of his life.

As if she were use to and capable of interpreting his silences, she held out her hand and gave him a smile that just...broke something inside of him. "I'm cold. I need you here."

"I can't." Was that his voice, so strained. So afraid.

"Why not?"

"If I move, if I touch you...you'll disappear." Like always. And he'd rather watch her and not touch her, then touch her and not have her.

"Didn't I promise...I'll be here. Always." Her fingers wiggled a bit. "Come here."

He couldn't deny her, so as he moved towards her fear gripped him. Didn't realize he was holding his breath until it rushed out of him at the touch of her hand. The bed dipped with his weight, she shivered when he pressed his body against hers.

"You're so warm." She spoke the words softly, so that they danced across the arm he slipped under her head. The other had gone around her waist to press her back more tightly to his front. "I love that you're always so warm."

And I love you. Love you. Love you. Love you. The words played over and over in his mind as he willed the world to stop, for this moment to never end. "It'll be morning soon."

"I don't want it to come at all."

"Neither do I." He spoke the words softly into her hair. "But it'll come just the same."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it. That I have to think about it." She shifted, rubbing her naked bottom against his groin.

He hardened almost instantly. "You should sleep." The words burned his throat as a voice inside of him screamed for him to just shut up and take her.

"If I sleep morning will come." She reached back, impatiently tugging down his shorts, finding the task difficult to complete with one hand. "I don't need to sleep."

He could feel her heartbeat quicken, her breathing grow increasingly shallow. He wanted her so badly he thought he could taste her arousal on his tongue. "Oh God..." The groan seemed to come from the very depths of his soul as she seemed to tire of struggling with his shorts and simply reached inside to take him in her hand.

"Please..." Her voice was a frantic plea. "Please, now."

And then he was inside her, thrusting in deep. Arms painfully tight around her, mouth closed over the curve of her shoulder. Holding absolutely still, savoring the feeling of completion just being inside her brought. She was so hot, so tight, so perfect it was all he could do to keep himself in check.

In the end, she moved first; small shallow movements of her hips that snapped what little control he had. Grip tightening on her, sure to leave finger shaped bruises, the thrust of his hips growing steadily more erratic. When she turned her head, he took the offer of her mouth in a desperate kiss. He threw his leg over hers, the movement causing her to shift onto her stomach.

Somehow one of her arms slipped out of his hold and her hand was gripping and pulling at the sheets. He reached out to to pull it back, wanting nothing more than to pull her into him. To keep her, this feeling, with him forever. Her cries grew louder, body trembling, muscles fluttering around him until...

Lucas came awake suddenly. Sweat covering his body, chest heaving, and one look under the sheets had him falling back into the pillow with a groan. It was like he was a kid again, or at least what science told him would have happened to him as a kid. He wanted to go back to sleep, slip back into dreams of the nameless woman he fit so perfectly with. But he was hot, sticky, and amazingly still fully aroused.

Immediately he realized he was alone in the massive bedroom and found himself more then pleased. Not that it was often he woke up in bed with his wife; since coming home from the hospital he could count on one hand the number of times they woke up in bed together. Tess was usually up and out just hours after he collapsed into the bed. Which he was grateful for as most nights his dreams were consumed with a nameless blonde that brought him more pleasure then the waking time he spent with the redhead he was married to.

As he climbed out of the bed, he happily rid himself of the sticky pajamas. Another silk set ruined and destined for the trash. Admittedly he hated the pajamas, never felt comfortable in them. But his wife assured him that the expensive silk sets were what he'd slept in from the beginning of their marriage. He stripped the bed as well, making a mental note to take care of the sheets before one of the maids grabbed hold of them.

Four months he'd been home and his memory had yet to return. His brother told him to give it time, that it would all come back to him, but Lucas was finding it hard to believe. What was worse, each day that passed he became even more convinced that he did not belong. It was the strangest thing. When he thought about his wife his heart would fill to near bursting but when he looked at the woman he was married to he felt...nothing. He didn't love her, he didn't hate her, there was nothing. When he was at work, at a job he new nothing about, he found himself anxious to get home. But when he walked into their London flat he found himself wanting to be anywhere else.

When he spoke to his therapist, who Lucas had been finding increasingly useless, about the dreams and conflicting feelings the jackass told him to try and dream of something else. He still didn't know what the hell he was suppose to do with that.

Even his morning showers disappointed him. Anticipation always pooled low in his stomach whenever he turned the water on, the erection was just as embarrassing as the wet dreams. The moment he stepped into the shower and closed his eyes he imagined small hands, pale skin, and loving green eyes. And blonde hair. It was always blonde hair.

His shower had been quick and, like everything else in his life, extremely disappointing. The bathroom was large enough so that the steam from the scolding water didn't fog the mirrors. So, with the large fluffy towel wrapped loosely around his waist he studied his reflection. Four months and he was no closer to recognizing the man who stared out at him.

His dark hair was nearly to his collar. He'd wanted to cut it, but Tess informed him he kept his hair long because he didn't like the shape of his head. He didn't argue, though he wanted to because his hair was so thick it was a pain in the ass to deal with. The beard was annoying too but again Tess told him he'd had it for as long as they'd been married so he kept it. Really, it just seemed easier to defer to her, because hell she knew him better then he knew himself.

With one last empty look in the mirror he turned away. Resolved to move apathetically through another day. Hoping, as he always did, that this one would be different.

"Good morning, Mr. Luthor."

Lucas smiled politely at the young woman behind the desk. "Good morning, Ms. Brown. I believe he's expecting me."

"You can go right in." Kate Brown tried to be discrete as she watched him walk by. Boss' brother or not the man had a great arse.

Lucas nodded by way of thanks before pulling open the door to his brother's office. Lex was behind the desk, leaning casually back in his chair as he spoke into the phone.

As always the sight of the other man gave Lex a moment of pause. Between the hair and the beard, Davis Bloome actually bore a slight resemblance to the Magnificent Bastard himself. "Take care of it and get back to me." Lex ordered just before hanging up the phone. "Morning brother."

"Morning." In the privacy of his brother's office, Lucas tossed aside his jacket, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned his vest. He didn't understand how Lex could be so comfortable in the constricting suit. "Coffee?"

Lex merely gestured to the server. Davis was no way near as lumbering or freakishly large as Clark Kent. But there was something about the wounded look in his eye that was just as intimidating. Tess feared it was only a matter of time before Davis snapped. Lex was beginning to think Tess was losing her edge. "I understand you got in late this morning."

"And amazingly the company didn't fall apart without me." Lucas replied. He was feeling a bit punchy after, once again, getting lost on his way to work. He'd started out on foot, hoping the walk would lift his mood. Nearly ten minutes passed before he realized the streets he walked and the streets he saw in his mind weren't even remotely the same.

Lost, confused, and frustrated he'd broken down and called his driver. He spent the entire ride into his office quietly fuming in the backseat. He wanted to put his fist through something, felt if he really applied himself he could rip the car apart piece by piece.

"Well, aren't we cheery this morning."

Ignoring his brother, Lucas instead brought the cup of coffee to his nose. Choosing not to question, but just bask in, the comfort of the smell. It wouldn't taste quite right, but he learned to take his kicks where he could.

"Tess get off, okay?" The other man simply gave him a blank look. "Your wife. Wasn't she on her way to Paris this morning?"

Hell if he knew. "Lex, before my accident...did I ever mention or did you ever suspect that maybe...I was cheating on Tess?"

Well, Lex thought, certainly hadn't seen that one coming. Why was it that he was surrounded by incompetents? Why was it so difficult for people to follow simple instructions?

"I've been having these dreams," Incredible dreams. Dreams that made him happier then any moment in his waking life. "About the same woman. They're so...I don't think they're dreams. Not just dreams."

So as not to let the other man see the anger on his face, Lex stood from his desk and turned towards the window. "Do you know or have any idea who she is?" And why was it that even the memory of Chloe Sullivan was a pain in his ass. They'd wiped Davis Bloome clean, made sure not a single memory was left in his alien brain. Yet Chloe kept popping up.

"No. The thing is, even...I never really see all of her. I know she's small." Even in his dreams she makes him feel like he could cart her around the world without getting winded. "She has small hands, but they're strong, competent. Skin like silk."

Lex thought about brushing the whole thing off, making it seem as though the dreams meant nothing. But it wouldn't give Davis the answers he so desperately wanted, possibly make matters worse. But if he gave him an answer, even a vague one, it may satisfy him. Keep him from digging any deeper. At least until they could get him in for another swipe at his mind. "I'm going to be honest with you, Lucas. Before you moved here, you and Tess were having some troubles. It was after dad died, you were in a bad place. Tess mentioned she thought maybe you were seeing other women. I had my suspicions but before I could ask you anything about it, you had the accident. To be honest when you woke up, when you didn't remember anything I thought it might have been a blessing. A chance for you to start clean with your wife."

Leaving Lex's office, Lucas wasn't entirely sold on his brother's reasoning. Sure, getting to start over after being a cheating prick of a husband was nice, but it didn't seem fair. Tess was the one he'd been hurting, if anyone should be able to forget it was her. What was the point of a fresh start when you were the only person completely unaware of the type of bastard you were? It was obvious Tess was as far from forgiving him as a person could get.

They were strangers. And with this recent knowledge Lucas realized his marriage was over. It seemed best, for everyone, that they spend some time apart. He couldn't make up for what he'd done. Especially when he couldn't even remember what he'd done. And most importantly because he honestly felt nothing for her. At least with his brother there was something; vague images of playing together. But with Tess...there was absolutely nothing. Like she was a non-entity.

He never spoke to anyone about this. He kept hoping that one of the brief flashes of his memories would be about Tess. And until something about her became familiar he opted not to tell her he was remembering anything at all. Whenever he went to Lex, his brother responded by telling him to talk to his shrink. And considering his shrink was a complete waste, Lucas figured he'd spare all of them that conversation.

"Excuse me?"

Brought out of his musings by the soft feminine voice, Lucas turned with a frown. "Sorry?"

"I just-" She gestured to the bookshelf he seemed frozen in front of.

"Oh. Sorry." He repeated, this time stepping out of her way.

The woman grabbed the book she wanted, but couldn't bring herself to turn and leave. It wasn't just his looks, though he was awfully nice to look at, but he just seemed so terribly lost, so sad. "Are you alright?"

He liked her voice. It was funny that he'd been in London for so long and he still enjoyed the accents he encountered. "Yeah. Just lost in thought, I guess."

"American." She smiled hoping to coax one out of him in return. "Are you here on vacation?"

"No. I live here, now. Moved a few months back."

"Homesick, then."

That, Lucas realized, was the best way to put it. Though he didn't know how he could possibly be sick for a place he couldn't remember. Especially when his wife and brother-supposedly the only family he had-were with him. But he was missing something. Every morning he woke up hoping he'd feel more...whole then he had the day before. Each morning he was disappointed. "Yeah."

"Is your wife here?" She'd spotted the ring on his finger almost immediately.

Lucas started to shake his head no, but caught himself. "Yeah."

"How-"

"Em, come on you haven't found that book yet." The young woman was the picture of boredom as she appeared at the end of the aisle. Her accent distinctly American. "I have to get out of here."

"Sorry, I got caught up talking to..."

Realizing this was his cue, Lucas held out his hand. "Lucas. Lucas Luthor." He noticed the American had stiffened and subtly backed away at the sound of his name. Because this movement caught his attention, he looked at her more closely.

Something about the stubborn set to her chin and the heated defiance in her eyes seemed so familiar.

Oblivious to the change of atmosphere, the young woman gladly accepted the offer of his hand. "I'm Emma Grant. And this is Lucy." She laughed. "Lucy Lane, actually. You Americans must be fond of alliteration."