The day after Lex got out of the hospital, having recovered from getting caught out in the meteor shower in Smallville, his mother pulled him into her lap and ran her fingers over his newly hairless skull. "Lex, honey," she said, "how long have you had this?"

He leaned back and closed his eyes. "Had what?"

"A soulmark." Her fingers lingered at the base of his skull. "You didn't have it when you were born—I would've noticed."

He opened his eyes and twisted around to face her, surprised. "Do I have one now?"

Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead. "Yes, dear. I suppose it means that your soulmate was born just recently."

Martha pulled her son into her lap and ran a brush over his hair, threading her fingers through the dark strands. When the doctors had told her she would never have a child of her own, she had not dared to dream this day would come. She and Jonathan had discussed adoption, but it had never felt quite right until Clark literally fell into their lives.

A hint of bright red caught her eye, and her fingers froze. Had he been injured and she hadn't noticed? Holding her breath, she gently moved the dark locks at the nape of his neck out of the way, and released her breath in relief. A red fingerprint contrasted sharply with Clark's skin, the bright colour striking and unusual. But then, the boy wasn't human; it was strange that he even had a soulmark.

She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that his soulmate was on earth, and that they would find each other some day.

The day after his mother's funeral, Lex sat staring out the window in the mansion. He heard the door open behind him, but didn't move. He couldn't bring himself to care who was there. He had gone numb.

"If you believe in any gods, son," Lionel said quietly, his voice bitter, "pray that you never find your soulmate." He caught the back of Lex's head and turned it toward the light, strong fingers digging into the skull. "Such a large, strong mark must mean a male." His voice sharpened, becoming derisive. "You won't even get an heir out of it."

Jerking his head free, Lex turned to face his father. "I care nothing for heirs—you taught me that." His voice cracked.

Lionel's lip curled. "Well, you've certainly proven that."

Lex turned back to the window, an angry retort dying on his lips. He didn't have the energy to fight, not today.

The sound of squealing tires was Clark's only warning, and he had no time to do anything but raise his head before the speeding car struck him, knocking him through the bridge railing and into the river. As he pulled the driver out of the car, he wondered at the young man's hairless scalp but assumed it was a personal choice for fashion or something.

He caught a glimpse of a dark red fingerprint on the back of the young man's neck as he laid him on the riverbank and turned him over, the vibrant colour conspicuous against the pale skin. Clark hadn't seen another such striking soulmark other than his own before, though this one was a much darker red, nearly wine-coloured. But soulmarks were not a priority at the moment. "Come on," he begged, trying to force water out of lungs without breaking ribs. "Don't die on me."

A sudden explosion of coughing, and green eyes—green like the sea—fastened on his face. The smooth skin between those eyes creased into a frown, and a slightly hoarse voice commented, "I could have sworn I hit you."

Sitting back on his heels, Clark lifted one shoulder slightly. "If you had, I'd be—I'd be dead."

"Clark!" Jonathan Kent slid down the bank toward them, stones and pebbles falling and bouncing around his feet. "Son, are you all right?"

"Yeah." Clark smiled crookedly at his father. "I'm okay."

"Who's the maniac that was driving that car?" Jonathan demanded, anger and fear warring together in his voice.

"That would be me." The young man with the seagreen eyes pushed himself to his feet, swaying a little. "Lex Luthor. Thanks for saving my life."

Jonathan nodded. "I'm Jonathan Kent. This is my son Clark."

Lex smiled. "You have quite an extraordinary boy there, Mr Kent. If there's any way I can repay—"

Jonathan cut him off. "Drive slower."

"Help me."

Lex leapt the fence into the cornfield, pushing through the tall plants toward the voice. A shadow loomed up out of the darkness before him, resolving into a vaguely familiar figure, strapped to a scarecrow support, wearing nothing but boxers and an oddly glowing green necklace. "Clark?" He stretched to untie the ropes that held the younger boy's arms to the crosspieces. "Who did this to you?"

"Doesn't matter." His arms free, Clark fell to his hands and knees in the dirt.

Lex crouched beside him, throwing his coat over Clark's bare shoulders. "You need to see a doctor." A flash of red on the nape of Clark's neck caught his eye, and he frowned. About to reach out to check for injury, he realized it was a soulmark and curled his fingers into his palm. His father had taught him that touching someone's soulmark without their permission was the height of rudeness; Lionel didn't care much for the institution of soulmates, but that was one courtesy he had made sure Lex understood.

Clark struggled to his feet, pulling the necklace over his head and tossing it away. "I'll be okay."

Standing near in case his support was needed, Lex shook his head at Clark's stubbornness. "At least let me give you a ride."

The sun was just peeking over the trees when Clark entered the barn. He had almost thought he must have dreamed Lex showing up on the doorstep last night. How could a father kick his son out into the night like that?

Lex's shirtless back was to Clark, and he was bending to pick up a forkful of hay. The muscles rippled across his bare shoulders as he stood up, his soulmark dancing like a flame against his pale skin. Clark realized he was holding his breath, and he shook his head, unsure what was wrong with him. "I was going to give you some tips," he said to cover his confusion, "but it looks like you have everything under control."

Setting the fork into the ground, Lex leaned against it. "My family had a ranch in Montana. I used to go there in the summers with my mom." He shrugged. "We would work right alongside the ranch hands. Everyone did their fair share. It was the only time I felt… normal."

Normal. Clark felt his throat tighten and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Normal is overrated."

Lex laughed shortly. "Spoken like a true normal."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Clark took a deep breath. Maybe he should just tell him. A little voice in his head whispered that now was a perfect moment. "Well… I, uh... "

Seagreen eyes studied him, and Lex tilted his head a bit to one side. "Clark?"

Taking his hands out of his pockets, Clark stepped forward. "Let me help you with that." Yes, he had just chickened out. He told the voice in his head to shut up. It just wasn't the right time. It had nothing to do with those hypnotic eyes.

Shaking his head, Lex hefted the fork. "Thanks, Clark, but I'd like to prove to your father once and for all that some Luthors pull their own weight."

Every muscle in Lex's body hurt. Yes, he used to work on a ranch, but that was years ago. His body was no longer used to the physical labour, and protested vehemently. Slowly climbing to Clark's loft, he paused for a moment at the top of the stairs; Clark wasn't here. Slightly disappointed—he had no energy for more than that—he made his way over to the couch, and collapsed face first into the cushions, the fabric slightly rough against his skin. He really didn't want to walk all the way back to the Kents' guest room. Maybe he would just sleep right here tonight. If his screaming muscles would allow him to sleep, that is.

His eyes had only just drifted closed when running footsteps clattered up the stairs. Groaning, he opened one eye and turned his head enough to see. Clark grinned at him from the top of the steps. "Hey, Lex. Sore?"

Lex closed his eyes with as much dignity as he could muster while lying on his face hugging a throw pillow against his bare chest. "It feels like every muscle in my body is on fire."

The old boards in the floor creaked as Clark walked across to the couch. "Here," he said. "Shove over."

Opening one eye, Lex watched as Clark sat beside him. Laying his large, warm hands on Lex's shoulders, Clark gently began to rub his aching muscles. God, that felt good. Allowing his eyes to slide shut again, Lex murmured, "You could make good money as a masseuse, Clark. You should think about it as a career option."

A soft chuckle was his only answer. Clark's fingers continued to move across Lex's shoulders and back, rubbing away the tightness and pain and leaving streaks of heat in their wake. "Lex?" Clark's voice was soft. "Do you ever wonder who your soulmate is?"

Lex shrugged, and Clark's hands stilled, yet stayed resting on his shoulders. "Not really, no. My parents were soulmates, and look how that turned out. I really don't know if the whole thing matters at all."

"My parents are soulmates." Clark's hands didn't move, and yet the heat slowly soaked into Lex's shoulders, easing his muscles anyway.

Smiling though Clark couldn't see it, Lex replied, "Well, I guess that's good evidence in favour of it."

Clark's voice was so soft now that Lex had to strain to hear him. "I don't think I'll ever meet mine. She's probably not even on this planet."

What the hell? Sitting up and twisting around to face Clark, Lex was dumbfounded to see that he was serious. "What are you talking about, Clark?"

Dropping his hands in his lap, Clark stared at them for a moment, then met Lex's eyes. "I'm not human, Lex. What if my soulmate isn't human either?"

"You're not—" Lex broke off, shook his head, tried again. "You're not human?" He had long ago considered the possibility that an alien ship had landed under cover of the meteor shower, and he had long suspected Clark was more than he seemed, but this? He scrubbed his hands over his face. A vague theory was a far cry from hearing it confirmed. It did explain a lot of things, though. God, everything suddenly made sense.

Clark's eyes dropped again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out."

Oh, shit. "Clark." Leaning forward, Lex laid a hand on Clark's cheek. "I'm not freaked out. I'm just a little… surprised that you told me. And honoured."

Clark raised his eyes again, the blue clouded with hesitant shadows. "It doesn't change anything?"

Lex brushed his thumb across Clark's cheekbone. God, Clark was gorgeous. "Well, I wouldn't say that. You've just told me your deepest, darkest secret. I think that means I have to tell you mine."

Clark sounded slightly breathless when he replied, "No, you don't have to. Really. I wanted to tell you—I've wanted to tell you for awhile, but… " He trailed off, shrugging.

"And I want to tell you mine." Lex smiled, shifting closer and lowering his voice to a stage whisper. "Montaigne said obsession was the wellspring of genius and madness. I'm not sure which I manifest—perhaps both?—but, Clark, I am obsessed."

"Really?" Clark frowned slightly. "With what?"

He really was näive. Shaking his head, Lex replied, "With you."

"Me?" Clark's eyes widened, and he stared at Lex in dismay. "Why?"

Lex put his other hand on Clark's shoulder. "Clark, I've wanted to kiss you since the day we met. When you pulled me out of the river, I have to admit I was disappointed that I can't remember if you gave me mouth-to-mouth."

Clark's lips parted and a faint blush rose into his cheeks. "You… were?"

"Who needs soulmates? I want you." Lex bent forward and brushed his lips across Clark's, just a hint of a kiss, then pulled back, watching him carefully.

A shiver went through Clark and he stared at Lex with wide eyes. Then he reached up, curled a hand around Lex's neck, and pulled him down for another kiss.

A flash of heat bloomed at the base of Lex's skull, not unpleasant, but intense enough to make him gasp. Clark's hand on his skin was like fire that restored rather than burning. Then Clark slid his hand down to Lex's shoulder, and the sensation faded. Lex found himself blinking rather stupidly into concerned blue eyes, his mind racing faster than a speeding train. Could it be? Was Clark—? Had he touched—?

"Lex? What is it?" Clark asked. "Are you okay?"

He wanted it to be true so badly he couldn't even articulate the thought. Some superstitious idea that speaking a wish would jinx it had hold of him. He swallowed hard. "Clark, I think you touched—" He broke off, his throat tightening around the words.

"Oh, God." Clark's eyes widened in horror. "I'm so sorry, Lex. I didn't mean to—"

Shit. Damn and shit. "No, Clark. You didn't do anything wrong." He took a deep breath. "I really suck at this sort of thing. Clark, I think—I think you should touch it again." Icy cold terror filled him at the thought—what if he had imagined it? But he had to know.

Clark's eyes widened again, this time with something that looked like hope. "Lex, did you feel something?"

"I think I… I don't know. Just, please?" Lex turned around so Clark could see better.

Clark swallowed audibly. "Okay." He lifted his hand from Lex's shoulder and, for an interminable moment, neither of them moved. Lex held his breath. Then Clark's warm finger touched the nape of his neck, and heat burst forth again, radiating out from the point of contact like a candle in a dark room pushing back the shadows. "Lex," Clark whispered, his voice awed. "It turned blue."

Lex closed his eyes and let his head fall forward, silently thanking any gods who might be listening that this was real.

"Lex?" There was worry in Clark's voice again. "Are you okay? Is this… okay?"

Incredulous, Lex turned around again. "Are you kidding, Clark? This is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I never allowed myself to hope that I could be so lucky." A relieved smile spread across Clark's face and it was as if the sun had come out from the clouds. But it wasn't just that he was lucky; this was so much more than Lex deserved. He bowed his head. "I'm not like you, Clark; I'm not good."

Clark rested his hands on Lex's shoulders and squeezed. "Yes, you are. And, even if you weren't, it wouldn't matter. Lex, I thought I would never find my soulmate. And here you are."

To his embarrassment, Lex felt tears prickling his eyes. "You don't wish it was Lana?"

Clark let out a breath. "Honestly, there was a time when I hoped for Lana. But I gave that up long ago. It was only a crush." He suddenly grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But don't you think we should make sure? You haven't touched mine yet."

"Yes. Yes, we should." They shifted around on the couch until Lex was sitting sideways with one leg drawn up, facing Clark's back. Suddenly nervous, Lex gently tugged the collar of Clark's blue shirt down with one hand and brushed the dark locks aside with the other. What if Clark's alien physiology reacted differently? He firmly told himself to man up and get on with it. The bright red fingerprint on Clark's neck looked about the right size. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and gently touched it.

Instantly, the red morphed into a green that nearly glowed, and Clark shivered. "It tingles," he said softly.

Lex felt inordinately proud that his touch had done that. "It's green." He leaned forward and kissed Clark's neck beside the soulmark.

Clark made a soft sound in his throat and leaned back into the kiss. "Hey, Lex? I'm glad it's you."

Wrapping his arms around Clark, Lex pulled him close and dropped his forehead onto Clark's shoulder. "Me too, Clark. Me too."