Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.

Fortune

"Clark!" Lex called from the balcony. "I'm glad you're here."

Clark looked up to where Lex leaned over the railing. "Your message sounded urgent. Is everything okay?"

"Better than okay," Lex replied excitedly as he put his book aside and descended the staircase. "I have a new highlight to my collection – I'd love to show you. Come and see."

-

They stood together in front of the huge shipping crate, its lid leaning against one side of Lex's desk and its wood-shaving filler shoved aside to reveal a huge bronze disk. In the fading light of afternoon, the stained glass windows shed an almost bloody hue across its burnished surface. "What is it?" Clark asked.

Lex replied in a reverent tone, "It's a Macedonian shield, recovered in an excavation in Boeotia." He smiled at Clark's blank expression. "Greece – near Thebes, actually. The dig has produced a number of remarkable artifacts from the Battle of Chaeronea."

"Sorry," Clark joked, "I must have fallen asleep that day in History."

Lex's smirk quickly gave way to that professorial expression he always wore when talking about these sorts of things. "In 338 BC, Philip of Macedon annihilated the combined armies of Athens and Thebes. It was his greatest military achievement and paved the way for his conquest of all of Greece."

"Philip of Macedon?" Clark was surprised. "Not Alexander the Great?"

"Oh, but you missed a lot in History that day, Clark. It may have been Philip's war, but Chaeronea was Alexander's battle. He was only eighteen years old, but he had command of the entire left wing of Philip's army; and he faced the Sacred Band of Thebes, an elite force of three hundred men. They were the very pinnacle of Theban military might – they'd never been defeated, and they were believed to be invincible. But Alexander crushed them; he led the charge himself and destroyed them utterly. It was his first great victory."

Clark made the only response he could think of. "Oh."

Lex quirked a wry eyebrow. "Don't sound so impressed, Clark. While I can't possibly prove it, there's evidence to suggest that this shield may have been used at Chaeronea by Alexander himself." He reached out and let his fingers trail almost lovingly over the ancient metal. "It took a great deal of finesse, and even more money, to convince the archeologists to part with it."

Clark repressed a slight shudder; he could imagine the persuasive power it would have taken to bring such an object to Luthor Mansion instead of to a museum. "So does that make this your greatest victory?"

Lex turned to look at him, and something in his expression made Clark's heart lurch strangely – but then he flashed a rare smile. "You might say that. It's certainly the closest I've come yet to owning an Alexandrian artifact." His gaze returned to the shield, and his voice grew worshipful. "Its worth is beyond measure."

As always when Lex began to wax historical, Clark felt a current of unease. "I understand he's your namesake, Lex – but I didn't miss everything in History. They say when he conquered a nation, he would crucify the men and sell the women and children into slavery."

"War is never pretty, Clark," he replied, never taking his eyes off the shield. "And we certainly live in a far more civilized age. But every hero has his detractors, and all that I've read makes me believe Alexander wanted to better the world, not just conquer it. He wasn't a barbarian – he was a scholar too. He studied under Aristotle, he founded the greatest library the Western world has ever known. And he negotiated peace as skillfully as he made war; he encouraged his soldiers to marry women from the cultures he subsumed." He stroked the metal again, with a tenderness that made Clark strangely envious. "No, I can't believe he was a despot."

Silence for a moment; then Clark dared to ask. "Because you aren't?"

"Now who's a philosopher?" Lex chuckled. "… Maybe. I think I just need to believe that ambition is not a crime. All too often, the desire to do great things is misunderstood – as if vision and determination are just facets of greed and hubris. But history bears out Alexander's greatness, despite any questionable judgments he might have made. He united the known world. That is something worth aspiring to, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is," Clark conceded. "But I also don't see anything wrong with having mundane aspirations too."

Finally, Lex seemed to return to the present. "Such as?"

"How about some takeout? I'm starving."

-

Clark was always amused by sights like Lex with his feet propped on the coffee table, chopsticks in hand, eating lo mein directly from the carton like he was anyone else.

"I didn't even realize you'd gone to Greece," he said around a mouthful of General Tso's.

"I went a few weeks ago, when I first heard about the dig in Boeotia. I was only gone a day or two; I'm not surprised you didn't notice."

"It didn't take long, then, to persuade them to let you have the shield?"

"It took longer than my stay there. But no, it wasn't the most difficult deal I've ever negotiated." Lex stabbed at his food meditatively. "It's easier than you think, Clark; most people have their prices."

If there was a hint of sorrow in those words, Clark missed it; he, too, was half-lost in thought. "It must be something to be able to just get up and fly anywhere like that."

Lex looked over at Clark, sitting there on the floor surrounded by numerous empty cartons, and smiled. "The jet is a nice perk. But you know, of all the places I've been, Smallville is still the only one that I really ever miss when I leave it. I keep coming back – I suppose it feels like home."

Clark nodded, but he wasn't really listening. He was wondering for the thousandth time if he could super-speed across water … maybe it was time he just gave it a shot. He felt pretty confident he could handle something small, like Crater Lake; but the Atlantic Ocean was probably too much, even for him. The thought made him gloomy for some reason.

Lex misinterpreted his silence, and added, "I'll take you somewhere someday, if you like."

Clark, still meandering through his own thoughts, said nothing and began rummaging through the takeout bag again.

"You can't still be hungry," Lex protested with horrified awe.

"Not really … just looking for …" Brown paper crinkled as his fingers found what he sought. "Ah, there we go." He pulled out a smaller bag, then held it towards Lex and shook it. "Fortune cookie?"

Lex reached inside, chose one and split it in half. "'Have no friends not equal to yourself.' … That's Confucius. Not really a fortune, though."

"It's good advice," Clark countered, snapping open a cookie of his own.

"Maybe. I just find it funny – they call them "fortunes," but most of the time they're either proverbs or platitudes." He popped the broken cookie into his mouth. "What does yours say?"

"'He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot will be victorious.' " That felt a little too appropriate … Clark felt another wave of gloom wash over him. It seemed like all he ever did anymore was wonder whether he should fight others' plans for him or give in to them; he was tired of it. But he forced himself back to the moment. "Is that a proverb or a platitude?"

Lex smirked. "Neither, actually – it's from The Art of War."

He looked up, not entirely approvingly. "You know that thing from cover to cover, don't you?"

"It was a formative part of my education."

Clark frowned; he hated Lionel, but he hated being reminded of that even more. "Lex …" he ventured slowly, "do you ever wish …"

"… That my father had taught me anything other than war?" Lex finished for him. "Of course – all the time. But I flatter myself I've learned enough from other masters that he hasn't shaped me entirely." His face was growing distant again. "Alexander surpassed Philip tenfold, and pursued knowledge as well as glory. I remind myself of that, and try to give my father's lessons no more weight than they deserve."

Clark was quiet for a few moments; then he held out the slip of paper. "If it means something to you – you keep this."

Lex considered, but then said softly, "No thanks … I have a copy already."

Clark crumpled the fortune and in a burst of viciousness, tossed it into the fire. Lex eyed him carefully but said nothing. After another few moments' silence, Clark peered back into the bottom of the bag. "One left."

"Go on," Lex said. Clark cracked open the cookie and pulled out the slip of paper. "What does it say?"

"'Study the past if you would define the future.'"

"More Confucius. He seems to agree with me today."

Clark looked up at him, his green eyes dark and profound. "I never know what to say to you when you get this way."

"What way?"

"When you start talking about history … you just get so ponderous. Everything you say seems to have more than one meaning."

Lex's expression grew just slightly sheepish. "Sorry. I must sound like an egotistical ass."

"I wouldn't say that. Maybe just a little too intellectual for your own good sometimes."

"Is that possible though? I like to think that history has yet to teach us all its lessons."

Clark sighed and pulled his knees to his chest. All this talk of lessons, and greatness, and fathers was making him think about Jor-El – and that was making him depressed. "I'm not as big a fan of history as you are."

"So I gather. You'd better start trying to stay awake in class though, or you'll catch hell on your midterm."

"I just think it's better to live in the present."

Lex thought for a moment, trying to construct some neutral remark – and to ignore how much Clark reminded him of Rodin's Le Penseur with that serious, conflicted pose of his. He wished for the hundredth time that he could know what Clark was really thinking; but then again, his mysteries were what made him so fascinating. "The present … can be confusing," he said finally. "At least history is written. All the facts are there for anyone who cares to study them."

Clark crossed his arms and huffed. "I'd prefer to just live my life, before I become history myself."

"But that's just it," Lex insisted. "I intend to lead a life of purpose, doing things that will be worthy of history."

"I don't know about greatness. I think I'd be satisfied with just … normal."

"Clark." There was a suppressed chuckle in Lex's undertone. "You're far from normal."

"I know," he answered, sounding just a little petulant. "That's just the problem."

Lex leaned forward on the couch, his elbows on his knees, and peered down into Clark's face. "What is it, Clark?"

"I don't know," he grumbled. "I guess I'm just a little tired of wondering where I fit in."

"We all feel that way sometimes."

The remark felt dismissive; it irritated him. Clark heaved himself to his feet and began to pace aimlessly; his path took him past the desk and the shield still lying in its crate. "Not you though – you with your Alexander and your own plans for greatness."

Lex watched him move with rapt interest. Clark was not usually this mercurial; he wondered what it could mean, and his fascination made him forget to hold up his own guard. "But that's not true; I don't know where I fit in either. Why do you think I make those plans, collect these things? I'm searching for meaning, same as you."

Clark's expression was inscrutable. "What have you found, though?"

Lex didn't answer right away. Instead he stood too and crossed to where Clark had paused in front of the fire. He looked directly into his friend's face with an expression of unexpected vulnerability. "Nothing," he said finally. "Objects. Pieces of ancient metal and empty stone. More questions."

Clark felt a pang of some unfamiliar emotion to hear such bald honesty from Lex. His words, though, rang very close to home. "If I had answers," he replied softly, "I'd give them to you."

Lex smiled faintly, sadly. "I hope you would. You're a good friend, Clark. If anyone can make me turn away from history and live in the now, it's you."

"Well, don't forget history altogether," Clark said, turning away from the fire and his thoughts of Jor-El. "If I bomb that midterm, I'll need you to tutor me." They laughed, but then silence gained hold again and the strange sensation between them did not decrease. Finally, Clark asked, "What was your fortune again?"

"You mean my platitude?" Lex smirked a little, reaching into the pocket where he had stashed the folded slip. "'Have no friends not equal to yourself.' … You're right, it is good advice." He raised his eyes to meet Clark's. "But I think I'm already following it." He held out the scrap of paper. "You offered me your fortune – you take mine."

Clark considered for a moment, then reached out and accepted it. Their fingertips brushed lightly, and an unexpected warmth coursed through him. "Do you really think we're equals, Lex?" he asked, unsure of what inspired the question, but feeling nevertheless that the answer was very significant.

Another pause. Then, "No, Clark. The truth is, you're my better in a hundred ways."

"I don't see how you can say that," Clark protested, his arms opening towards the room. "Look at all you have that I don't."

"Look at all you have that I don't," Lex countered urgently. "These things might have worth, but ultimately it's only worldly and petty." His manner took on an uncharacteristic humility. "Being with you reminds me of that, makes me wish I were a better man. I'd give everything I own for it."

Clark studied the scrap of paper, tiny in his over-large hands. "Most people make me feel strange and disconnected … like I'll never get any closer than arm's-length." He met Lex's studious gaze with a strange sense of revelation.

"But not me?" Lex breathed, suddenly lightheaded.

"No." Was the distance between them closing? Clark couldn't tell for sure, but his vision was suddenly filled with Lex's face. "You make me feel … small."

Lex almost laughed. "You, feel small? I'm six feet tall and you tower over me."

"That's not what I mean. I just … you're always so focused, on the past or the future. It makes me feel like I'm neglecting my own potential somehow."

"Clark." Lex shook his head. "You live under a charmed star. I have no doubt your potential will eclipse us all."

His mouth was set, almost grim. "I don't have your ambition – I don't want greatness. I'd settle for just doing something good."

A smile broke across Lex's face like sudden sunshine. "Is that all? Clark, you've already done more good than most."

"Have I?"

"You saved me, didn't you?"

Clark breathed in sharply, made as if to turn away. "That was –"

"Don't say it was nothing. It was something to me."

He was instantly ashamed. "I'm sorry – I didn't mean it like that."

"And I didn't mean when you pulled me from the water," Lex persisted, placing a hand on Clark's shoulder. "I meant, you save me every day. The things about myself that I'm afraid of … they seem less horrifying because you're willing to spend this time with me."

Even as he spoke, Lex realized he was being very reckless. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him tonight. But touching Clark now, he wasn't sure he regretted it, either.

The air around them seemed to grow very still, and Clark felt suddenly breathless. Looking down into Lex's eyes – free of any barriers, for once – he was amazed to discover that he was beautiful. "I don't know what to say," he murmured at last.

Lex could not stop watching the firelight play through Clark's tangled hair. "Tell me you feel it too," he said impulsively, suddenly not caring whether or not he was being wise.

Clark felt a surge of panic. "Feel … what?"

"This closeness," Lex said, moving fractionally nearer. "This emotion. This …"

Though he wasn't even trying, Clark could hear Lex's heart beating. The rhythm spoke to him in a way he could never have anticipated, and his panic subsided into something far more forceful.

"… attraction," he finished Lex's sentence.

There was a flash of recognition across Lex's open face; and then there was nothing but blackness, for Lex was kissing him and Clark had closed his eyes.

The kiss lasted a long time – longer than Lex had ever imagined it could. When he finally pulled back, Clark was smiling. "What are you thinking?" he whispered.

Clark reached out, so slowly, and ran his fingers gently over Lex's smooth scalp. "That we make a strange pair."

Lex willed himself to remain coherent, but every millisecond of the contact made his skin sing. "I don't think we're so different," he said. "Yin and yang, maybe – different halves of the same whole."

"Or opposite sides of the same coin?" Clark mused, still smiling. "Didn't Alexander put his face on coins?"

Lex was grinning now too, daring. "He put his face on everything. He was an arrogant bastard."

"But you admire him."

"I understand him all too well," Lex said very seriously. "I'd like to make my mark on you."

"What am I then, a conquest?"

"Oh no," Lex whispered, moving in again. "But this is, without a doubt, my greatest victory."

-

Whenever there was a fire going, Lex always tending it; but tonight he was obviously distracted, and soon it had burned itself low. Its guttering light cast weird shadows over the ruin of forgotten takeout containers on the floor and left the battered surface of the shield with only shadows to catch. On the leather couch, they were a hopeless tangle of limbs, and Lex struggled to make sense of Clark's shirt buttons. He felt a soft burst of breath against his ear, and he realized that Clark was laughing at him.

"I'm sorry," he breathed between the kisses he was trailing down Clark's throat. "I'm not usually this clumsy."

"It's all right – I don't usually do things like this," Clark whispered in return.

Lex's fingers paused just above Clark's exposed skin. "So … should I not?"

"No," he answered, his tone insistent. "No, you definitely should."

Their mouths collided with the force of a line of attacking Macedonians and defending Greeks. Luckily, the battle that ensued was far less bloody – but in a way, equally as historic.