Tatters of a cape. The torn smooth fabric with a shield on it, Lex sat on the couch in the living room holding the familiar scarlet fabric in his hands so tight his knuckles were white with the strength of his grip. Gone...Just gone, like that, like a candle being snuffed out the strongest man in the world, the protector of earth, was gone. Wiped off the face of the Universe by Dooms Day.

The CEO dared to look at the clock. 3 hours. God...3 hours only 3 hours. Lex bowed his head and brought the stained scarlet satin to his face, adding his tears to the stains of blood that lingered in the battered scrap.

3 hours ago the man to whom this wonderful warm welcome comforting scent had belonged had been there, curled on the couch with him, drinking the too sweet overpriced wine that sat in half empty goblets on the coffee table between him and the muted T.V. He breathed in the last remainder of the scent of his lover that clung desperately to the cloth that Oliver had risked snatching and dropping for him on the porch rail to let him know that his Husband wasn't coming home.

180 minutes ago everything had been right with the world...