"I open my eyes
I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light
I can't remember how
I can't remember why
I'm lying here tonight
And I can't stand the pain
And I can't make it go away
No I can't stand the pain
How could this happen to me
I made my mistakes
Got no where to run
The night goes on
As I'm fading away
I'm sick of this life
I just wanna scream
How could this happen to me," Simple Plan

I told Martha (after I woke up again) that I wanted to see Clark, but I just wasn't ready, and amazingly, she understood. She even sat with me for a while, told me everything was going to be alright, and listened as I told her about what happened. Then as she was about to leave I asked her to wait.

"Martha, I want you to talk to Clark for me, please. I think he needs to know that I don't hate him. I'm not even mad. If he hadn't done what he did, I'd most likely be dead by now, or at close to it. I—what happened to me is horrible, and I don't think our relationship will ever be the same, but," and then she inturpted me.

"Lex, I can see how difficult this is for you to talk about, but you need to tell this to Clark, face to face," she explained, and I knew Martha was right.

"Tell him—just tell Clark I still, tell him, 'thank you.'" I checked out of the hospital, after just a few days, despite my doctor's objections. After the meteor shower my health changed in more ways than just my asthma clearing up. I got stronger, and I was able to recover from getting the crap beaten out of me much faster.

Bruises faded almost overnight, the same with other wounds, even those which needed stitching up. My broken bones mended in two weeks, sometimes three, and I never one took ill, not even a case of the sniffles. So, you can understand why I try to avoid hospitals at all costs.

The first thing I did after I left the hospital was talk to Lana and Chloe. I explained what really happened, because (oddly enough) Clark didn't tell them the truth, and when they found out they both forgave him, instantly. I found myself desperately wishing I could do the same, but despite what I had told Martha, part of me did blame Clark for what had happened. Another part of me, a much bigger part, was terrified of him, in the same way I used to be terrified of my father, all through my childhood, and the rest of my life as well. And yet, I also felt like I couldn't blame Clark, hate him, or fear him if he wasn't the one who hurt me.

It might have been his hands, his mouth, his voice, even his cock, but it wasn't him. My father was the one behind all of it. I hate puns, especially ones involving my pain. My father had worn Clark's skin, and hair and bones, like a Halloween costume, and he used my relationship with Clark to his advantage, to hurt me in the most painful way. He knew that if he fucked me while inside of Clark's body it could make me unable to ever trust him again.

He didn't care if the change was permanent, or even if he lived or died anymore. All he wanted was to destroy me. All he ever wanted was to destroy my life. So, instead of going to see Clark, or answering his twenty-seven phone calls and the 19 messages he left me, I went back to the prison, to see my father.

"Lex, I'm so glad to see you. Something's happened to me, something wonderful. Lex, what—what did you do to your arm?" he asked, as I sat down across from him. I said nothing, simply sat and stared with as much strengh and anger as I could muster, but all of that faded away as soon as he reached out and put his hand on my cast.

"Don't touch me," I shouted, pulling away. This was enough to cause the guard to start advancing on us. "We're fine," I told the guy, who couldn't have been any older than I was. "Why don't you go stand in the corner or listen to your Ipod?" He didn't do that, but did leave us alone for the remainder of my visit.

"Lex, I know I've hurt you in the past, and I'm sorry for that. You can't imagine how much I am punishing myself for it. I should never have hurt you, assaulted you when you were just a boy. I don't know why I did that. There's no excuse for my behavior towards you when you were growing up."

"And what about last week? What excuse do you have for what you did to me then?" I couldn't stand the look on his face, it was like he had no idea what I was talking about, and the worst part was that I knew the whole thing was a scam. He was trying to hurt me even more. "Lex I have no memory of those two days, none. I'm sorry."

"Cut the act Dad. You might be able to fool everyone else, but I can see right through your crap. So just tell me what—why you. Why not just pummel me until I gave you the money? Did you have to use Clark's body to—why?" I begged, tears welling up in the back of my eyes.

"That, would be exactly why I would have taken advantage of any opportunities that may have presented themselves to me during those few days, assuming of course, I had any idea what you are talking about," Dad laughed, touching my other hand, and I found myself once again unable to pull away.

"Let me go, and never call me again. Your doctor told me about your miraculous recovery, which is great news. Now you'll have even more time to spend in this Hellhole before you get to experience the real thing."

"Lex, Lex, Lex. You're still the same, weak, stupid, pathetic, little boy who used to wet the bed, every night. That's not still a problem, is it, Kiddo? I always thought you'd grow up strong enough to one day overcome the obstacles in your life."

"I sent you to prison, and if it wasn't for Clark, you would have stayed there, unable to ever touch me again. But you found a way around that and even managed to nearly rip my hand off in the process. I'm fine by the way. Now get your fucking hand off me," and he did. I tried to stand up and run back to my car, but even without Clark's ability he had so much power.

"You may leave now, if that is what you really want, or you can come with me to the little room they have for 'private' visits, and I can help to change your memory so that you'll no longer believe Clark Kent was responsible for what was done to you the other day," he said, grinning.

"And if I don't?"

"Well, for a start, you'll never be able to completely trust, forgive, or even love Clark again. You and Clark will try to work things out, you will, because you do love each other, but he will be able to sense what you feel, and eventually the relationship will fall apart. Lex, you two have been through a lot, don't let your pride ruin everything." He stood up and started walking towards me.

"I'm a lot stronger than you think, and I know that Clark and I can work things out on our own. I don't need your help. I'll give you fair warning on this one, but you only get to hear it once. If you ever come near me again, I will shoot you on the spot, got that father?"

And as I was walking out the door, I could hear him say, "That's my boy. Such a good boy. Such a good boy," to himself, happily, and I had to run to the bathroom at full speed in order to get to the toilet in time. Then I fell to the floor and the contents of my stomach emptied themselves into the bowl.

I stood up, washed my mouth out in the sink, and drove directly to the Kent farm. When I got there, Clark raced out of the house, run up, and hugged me, but he let go as soon as he saw me flinch.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he told me, standing about there feet away. Both of us were halfway up the driveway at that point. Clark stared at the ground, and I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eyes. "My mom told me what I did, to Chloe, to Lana, to my dad, and Jason, and…to you." He looked away again.

"That wasn't you Clark. It wasn't even your fault. My father tried to use that—tired to do it to—he tried to switch with me, and when he got into your body instead, he figured out what you're capable of and he took of the situation. That's how he described it when I talked to him today."

"You went to see your father, the man who abused you, you're whole life, before you talked to me, your boyfriend?" Clark shouted those words, but then he started to apologize again. I let him lead me into the barn, and I sat on one end of his couch with him on the other. "I'm sorry, Lex. I didn't—I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"It's fine. I just, I had to know why. I had to see him again, so that it would all make sense. To fix my memory, to make it his face, his—body. I wanted. If I have to keep looking back on the day he hurt me and I know it was my father, not you, then I might be able to make it." We talked for a while, and I even let him put his hand on mine for a minute or two, let him give me a hug as I was leaving, and then he stood up and ran to my side.

"Lex, wait, I wanna go back to the mansion with you. I can't, I just wanna be near you. I wanna hold your body in my arms, but we don't gotta, you don't hafta, I won't make you do anything. I'll just hold you, okay? I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you."

"I know that Clark, and I wanna be with you too. I'm just—okay, yeah. You're right. I think it will help to get me back to feeling comfortable—I want to feel safe when we're together. I'd love, I love you, and I wanna trust you, so that things can go back to normal." And I was really hoping things could be okay between us again, no matter how scared I was. I knew that everything would be okay if we were willing to work hard and if my father never called me again, no matter how long he lived.