All previous disclaimers apply.

Chapter 31

Leo awoke in a panic.

Disoriented in time, confused in space –

But those eyes.

Pools of blue-green, framed by brows creased in worry, unruly dark hair flopping over a concerned frown.

"Leo?"

He extended a hand. Tentative, almost timid. His fingers slid around hers – a shy, uncertain, hesitant possessiveness.

Green eyes held blue ones in silent gaze.

Then, so fiercely Clark almost lost his breath, Leo clasped him in an embrace. She buried her face in his chest. He could feel her heaving against him, and hear the quick sobs, and sense the tears starting to moisten his flannel shirt.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He stroked her gently, felt the firm flesh beneath his hands, separated by the thin cloth of her torn blouse. He could feel most of her body, she was pressed so closely. Breasts, belly, shoulders, hips, thighs…

Leo luxuriated in both the feel and the sight of him. Smiling, now; beaming, now; smiling, smiling, Green eyes like Spring itself.

Safe.

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"The guys who grabbed you were firing rubber bullets," Clark said, snapping off her handcuffs and helping her out of her cell. "I thought that was weird when they just left me lying there, so I followed one of their trucks..."

And almost strangled the driver when I caught up to him.

Clark kept careful watch over her as he escorted her into an office space. On one of the empty desks laid a plastic baggie containing Leo's personal effects. His hands never left her side, cradling her like delicate china.

Leo wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or flattered by the attention. "Clark, I'm fine."

Summoning some willpower, she shrugged off Clark's soft grip. Then, noticing Clark's hurt expression, she smiled up at him. "I promise I won't break."

Clark's heart broke. Her hair and clothes completely disheveled, loose strands floating from her head from the slight draft from above. She still had a strong attractiveness to her features behind the grime…

But as she brushed the errant strand of hair from her cheek, her delicate smile brought out the purplish bruise forming over her left eye. Someone hit her!

His concern quickly transmuted to anger. "Who did this to you? Leo, what's going on?"

Retrieving her personal effects from the plastic baggie Leo sighed. "I honestly don't know…"

After she clasped on her watch, Leo frowned herself. "Come to think of it; where is everyone?"

Tamping down his passing anger at whoever did this, Clark took a deep breath before answering. "I don't know. I didn't see anyone else when I got here."

Leo cocked her head, trying to fight off the swirling dizziness. I need aspirin. "Clark, that makes no sense. Military authorities would never be that negligent."

Clark gave her an uncomfortable look as he recalled the confusing information he got from the driver before he passed out. "I'm not sure they were military."

Leo winced as she massaged a knot from her neck. "How else would they get the FBI to cooperate with them?" she croaked.

Clark averted his eyes as he shuffled toward the office door. "Umm, I don't think they did."

As her wits started gathering around her, she had the presence of mind to frown at him. "What the hell are you talking about?" This was no time for Clark to get all mysterious and speaking in riddles.

Clark kicked open the door and lead her through them…

Leo just looked on, speechless.

Instead of a military base or a police precinct, Leo found herself inside the middle of a massive, dusty, abandoned warehouse complex. Pigeons fluttered in the rusty catwalks overhead, dim incandescent lights illuminating the cavernous interior.

Leo widened even further when she saw a large, black paddy wagon with "FBI" painted on the side, parked on an empty loading dock. "Oh my god…"

"It's like a big movie set," Clark explained. "We're still in Metropolis though, in the Warehouse District."

Nausea seized her stomach, and it had nothing to do with the dizziness. "The FBI, the commandos…"

Then another thought intruded. My Swiss account!

Leo whipped out her cell phone and hit the speed dial.

"Credit Geneva, your account number and password, s'il vous plait."

"Account number 880-618-1753," Leo recited urgently. "Password cdog21."

"Merci, Madame Luthor. How may I help you?"

"What's my current account balance?" Leo demanded.

"One moment please…Your current account balance is zero."

Leo swore, snapping her cell phone shut in disgust. "At least they were right about one thing," she muttered.

Clark looked on in concern. "Leo, what's going on?"

She bit back a caustic response. Instead, she settled for grinding her teeth to smother her growing rage. After all, none of this is Clark's fault…but I'll bet I know who is behind this. "I don't know, Clark. But I intend to put a stop to it – once and for all."

Clark concern only grew when he saw Leo's expression go blank. That was never a good sign. "How?"

He nearly shuddered at the frigid glare on her face. "You've done enough Clark; I can handle things from here."

"But—"

"Go home."

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Rising from bed, Lionel's knees groaned.

He forced himself to stand, blinked at the dry crust in his eyes. He took a deep breath, a futile effort to clear the staleness from his lungs. He probed the pain again, too familiar now, draining his energy, sapping his appetite.

The medication he was taking to treat his failing liver had swelled his prostate to the size of a large grapefruit – he had to get up twice a night just to pee, and the damn drugs that were causing it didn't even seem to be working!

After relieving himself, Lionel rinsed his hand and face at the marble basin in his cavernous master bathroom. Blinking, he took a moment to review his craggy features in mirror, cursing his body for it's betrayal of him.

It isn't fair!

As a closet workout fanatic who monitored his diet carefully, he still had a body that was more fit and muscular than most men half his age. To know that some internal defect – a defect he couldn't even see! – had sabotaged his health was intolerable.

Then again, no one said life was fair.

The thought cheered him up. He had never encountered a problem yet that he couldn't get around or overcome – by one means or another. This setback would be no different. Feeling a little better about himself again, he resolved to get at least another couple hours sleep before sunrise.

But as he padded back to bed, he noticed a pale, angry apparition hovering across the room from him. She wore a hopelessly rumpled blouse, a black eye, and was leveling a .22 caliber pistol at his chest.

Am I still dreaming? "Leo?"

"Did you think I wouldn't know it was you?" she demanded.

"What are you doing here?"

"Trying to think of a reason not to put a bullet through your heart!"

Lionel frowned in confusion. "A bullet? Leo, what's this about?"

Leo stepped toward him, her face blazing fury. "You've always wanted to control me! But when you found you couldn't, you finally snapped!"

Her knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on the gun. "Framing me for murder was further than I thought even you would be willing to go." Leo narrowed her eyes accusingly. "Tell me dad, were the government agents who tortured me on Uncle Sam's payroll or yours?"

Lionel's eyebrow flew up in shock. "Leo, honey," Lionel shook his head ruefully, "Even for you, this delusion is beyond the pale! I—"

"I called the bank!" Leo snapped angrily. "My account is empty! Is that a delusion?! Is that my birthday gift?!" she shrieked hysterically.

Lionel's jaw dropped. "You gave your account password over an unsecured phone line?"

Chuckling, Lionel's lips quirked in a thin smile: a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Honestly, sweetheart…with security procedures like that, it's no wonder you're being taken advantage of."

A chunk of ice sank in Leo gut. She was so sure this was her father's doing…

No, it couldn't be…

Leo turned away from her father. Setting down her gun, she picked up the land-line phone on her father's nightstand and began dialing.

Lionel looked on, cocking his head curiously. "Leo? Honey?"

"Credit Geneva, your account number and password?"

"Account number 880-618-1753, password cdog21. Has there been any account activity in the past 24 hours?" Leo demanded urgently.

"No, Madame Luthor, our records show no transactions in that time period."

"Are you sure? There haven't been any withdrawals?"

"Nothing recently, no…I'm sorry, just a moment…"

Leo's eyes widened. "What is it!!"

"An online transaction is being processed as we speak…a withdrawal."

"What?! How much?"

"The entire amount in the account, Madame."

"HALT THAT WITHDRAWAL NOW!!"

"I apologize, Madame, but the withdrawal request was authorized by the proper account number and password…the transaction is now complete. The current account balance is zero."

Leo angrily flung the phone received into the wall, shattering both the phone and a hanging wall mirror. Teeth grinding, she was consumed with fury…

Footsteps came thundering down the hall, preceding a pair of armed security guards with guns drawn. "FREEZE!! Put your hands in the air, miss!"

Lionel offered his daughter a quizzical smirk. "I'd love to hear what all this is about, but I believe Security will insist on escorting you out of the building for now."

Place a supporting hand on her shoulder, he squeezed gently. "Happy Birthday, Dear."

As the security guards hustled her toward the elevator of her father's penthouse – her feet occasionally touched the ground every couple steps – Leo stewed silently, frantically trying to come to grips of what was happening around her.

Could it be? Was this whole scenario just an elaborate identity theft scheme?

Staring sullenly ahead in the elevator, Leo grimaced. Not possible. There are simply too many elements, too much premeditation for this to be a simple robbery.

While her Swiss account was well-endowed, it didn't contain enough money to justify the expense such an elaborate plot required; it wasn't even her largest account.

So who is the man behind the curtain, what does he really want?

However this played out, she was grateful that she had kept Clark out of this – well, mostly out of this. After sending him home with earnest assurance she would seek immediate medical care, Leo ordered Mercy to keep an eye on him - for his own good.

Mercy Graves. There was another new element in her life. At first, Leo had been a little suspicious when she found out that Mercy was aware of Clark's abilities. However, the young woman's strict sense of duty and obligation to her new employer had gone a long way to calming Leo's concerns.

And it isn't as if she doesn't have a secret or two to conceal herself.

If Leo hadn't known about Clark's abilities already, she would have been flabbergasted by Mercy's superhuman strength, speed, agility, and healing capabilities – and Mercy wasn't even a Smallville meteor mutant.

Leo idly wondered what else that slimy British lawyer Nigel St. John had been hiding…

As her thoughts wandered, Leo noticed the elevator had passed the lobby level. "Why are we going to the parking garage?"

She answered her own question when the elevator doors opened to reveal a pair of men waiting for her, beside and unmarked van.

A sudden stab of anger smoldered beneath Leo's sardonic smile. "Another van? Don't ever let anyone say you lack panache."

"Shut up and get in," the guard beside her growled.

But just as that guard tried to grab her arm, Leo blocked him with her forearm and stepped into him, driving her stiffened fingers into the man's solar plexus; in the same instant, her leg levered out to catch the female guard in the belly before she dashed away like a shot.

Leo never bothered looking back: she could hear the men with the van cursing as they climbed into the vehicle, gunning the engine as they tried to run her down.

Turning the corner around a concrete column, Leo ducked into the stairwell and scurried up the steps as quickly as she could, her hair and tattered blouse plastered to her skin with salty sweat as her lungs burned, her legs aching…

Fuck!

At some point, she dropped her cell phone.

So much for calling the cavalry.

Once she reached street level, she desperately scanned the deserted surroundings in search of help – those goons in the van would catch up to her at any second.

Then she spotted her salvation: a bright yellow cab idling at the cab stand across the street.

Sprinting toward it, she dove into the backseat of the unoccupied cab.

"Hey, miss. Where—"

"JUST DRIVE!!!"

As the driver set the meter and pulled out, Leo frantically peered through the rear window. As the cab made a right at the intersection, Leo heard screeching tires roaring out of the parking garage behind them: luckily, the cab had just pulled out of view as she heard this, though.

If those guys turn right out of the garage instead of left, they'll spot us for sure.

But as she carefully listened to the roar of the van's engine reverberate through the empty predawn streets, she knew they had turned the wrong way and would not run across her cab.

Leo slumped with relief into her seat, her pulse still racing.

"Uhh, miss—"

Reclining her head and shutting her eyes, she willed herself to calm down, to reason it all out. "Drive. Just drive."

But as the moment of relief passed, a familiar flash of anger seized. Those fuckers!! She hoped those guards she overpowered in the elevator were in a lot of pain.

Then another thought occurred to her. They already cleaned out her bank account – so why would they possibly want me back?

The cab driver's cell phone chirped, breaking her train of thought. "Hyello," he drawled. "Yeah, I'm listening…"

As Leo stared ahead, she knew she couldn't just hide out in this cab all night. I need some time to think, somewhere safe…

Leaning forward from the back seat, Leo glared impatiently at the driver as she waited for him to finishing chatting.

"You sure?" the driver inquired into his cell phone. "Okay, I'm on it."

As soon as he hung up, Leo immediately pounced. "I need to get to Smallville, right away. I'm willing to pay…"

Her voice trailed off as she noticed the driver's profile for the first time. Frowning, she asked, "I'm sorry, but do I know you?"

His eyes shifting back at her through the rear view mirror, the driver chuckled nervously. "Heh, I don't think so, ma'am."

Leo's eyes met his in the rear view mirror. Liar!!

With the speed of a cobra, Leo's hands fastened around the driver's windpipe from behind in a Ranger chokehold.

"AACCHHK!" The driver slammed the brakes abruptly, yanking the cab to the side of the street. While the sudden motion pitched both he and Leo forward, she never released her ferocious death grip around his throat. "Archh..are you crazy!!"

He frantically flailed at Leo's grip, but it was no use. Her willowy figure was much stronger than most people realized, and she seized the most optimal position for physical leverage against her helpless victim.

"I know you," Leo hissed with venom.

She recognized him the moment their eyes met in the mirror…that squat, swarthy face with the caterpillar uni-brow…

"You're the other agent that was in that interrogation room." Leo tightened her fingers into the man's trachea, deriving no small satisfaction from the gurgling sound he was making. "Why are you doing this to me?!?"

Before he could answer, Leo caught a figure emerging from the shadows out of the corner of her eye – he was coming from across the street, maybe fifty yards in front of their car...

Nick Sargent.

Cocking a large assault rifle and leveling it in their direction.

All thoughts of torturing uni-brow man left her mind.

Releasing her grip, she dove for the floor. "DRIVE!!"

The sharp staccato of bullets and shattering glass flooded her senses as Leo squeezed her eyes shut, instinctively huddling into the smallest ball she could make. "GO, YOU STUPID MOTHER-FUCKER!!"

The addendum was unnecessary, as uni-brow man had already slammed the gas pedal, turning the steering wheel frantically as the cab fish-tailed away from the hail of gunfire, and tore off in the opposite direction.

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Leo wasn't sure how long they had driven or how much ground they covered, but uni-brow man didn't stop until the engine sputtered and died.

Pulling the bullet-ridden cab to the side of the street, the driver staggered out and fell to his knees, vile beige chunks spewing from his mouth, splattering the pavement. The acrid fumes from his digestive uses mingled from the cordite from the numerous bullet holes in the cab.

As Leo climbed out of the cab behind him, she simply blinked in pale-faced amazement. I can't believe I'm still alive.

As she noticed uni-brow wretching on his knees beside her, Leo's expression hardened.

Her first quick kick clipped his face, stunning him.

Her second crushed his testicles.

Leo raised a gingery eyebrow. She didn't know a grown man could produce such a high-pitched shriek.

"Not so tough when I'm not handcuffed, are you?" Leo sneered, looking onto his whimpering figure with satisfaction.

Grabbing him by the hair, Leo sat him up against the car and planted the heel of her foot on his throbbing genitals.

"AAAAGGGHHH!!!" His face now bleach white, uni-brow's eyes bulged in stark terror. "I SWEAR TO GOD I HAD NO IDEA!!!" he squealed. Panting desperately, he sputtered, "I-I-I was j-jus' 'sposed to stop in front of the alley and get out…"

"I don't give a shit," Leo snapped. "Who the hell are you?"

"M-Miller…Frank Miller…"

"Who are you working for, Miller?"

His eyes widened. "No, no, that's who we were working for – he's a middle man, a guy that works for Sargent…"

"So Sargent's behind this?" Leo demanded. This still doesn't make sense. "Did he say anything about working for the government or the military?"

Uni-brow shook his head emphatically. "No, but I don't think it was his idea." He swallowed hard, trembling. "He was working for some other guy. Some rich dude."

Leo started grinding her heel into his crotch.

"HHHAAAGGHH!! THAT'S ALL SARGENT SAID!! I SWEAR TO CHRIST! A PRACTICAL JOKE BETWEEN TWO RICH FOLKS!! I SWEAR! OH PLEASE, OH JESUS, OH JESUS…."

Leo relieved the pressure on uni-brow's tortured male member as she chewed her lip pensively. "This other rich 'dude' – did he have a name?"

Uni-brow shook his head emphatically, now eager to please the Goddess of Pain hovering above him. "He never told us nothin I got no idea it's the truth…"

Given the rate of verbal diarrhea spewing from him now, Leo was inclined to believe him.

Wait a minute…'He never told us nothin'?

"Exactly who is us?" Leo demanded suspiciously.

His lower lip quivering and hands trembling, the man started reaching for his jacket pocket.

"Not so fast," Leo said sternly, reaching into it for him.

She pulled out a folded up flyer. Unfolding it, her entire face went numb. It was an ad for a rendition of Shakespeare's King Lear by the "Metropolitan Acting Troupe," which included pictures of the starring cast members: uni-brow, the two security guards from her dad's building, and at least one of the "policewoman" that arrested her at the Mansion.

It was all a charade?

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Leaving uni-brow behind to wallow in a puddle of his own tears and vomit, Leo wandered towards the original scene of the crime: Kenny Braverman's rundown apartment. By coincidence, the cab had broken down only a few blocks from his building.

As she breezed past the stark lobby and the trudged up the filthy stairs to Kenny's apartment, Leo silently prayed that her old friend was really dead: the alternative was too hurtful to contemplate.

Tearing down the police tape blocking Kenny's door, she tried the doorknob.

She kicked in the door when it refused to yield.

Striding into the cramped studio apartment, a familiar voice greeted her from the corner of the room. "Hey Leo," Kenny jeered, leveling a .38 caliber revolver in her direction. "You look like you've had a rough night. Care for a night cap?"

Nostrils flaring, Leo was awash in a flood of rage, hurt, and contempt. "Why?" Leo demanded, her voice cracking. "What have I ever done to you? We were friends."

"And what – I'm supposed to be grateful?" Kenny scoffed.

Leo clenched her jaw. "Apparently not."

Her expression softening, she reiterated the question she was dying to ask. "Why Kenny?"

"Money, Leo. Why else would anyone get involved with you?"

"Friendship?" she offered quietly, suddenly feeling very small…

"Friendship!" Kenny snorted. "You selfish bitch: I loved you! I never cared about the money before!" he hissed, taking a step towards her, his face steadily reddening. "There was a time I would have done anything for you. I knew how miserable you were…how miserable you still are!! You could have given up the stupid money, we could have gotten married, runaway together and loved each other forever!"

Swallowing, Leo assumed as non-threatening a posture as she could. "Relax, Kenny. We can still work this out—"

"IT'S KEN!!!" he snapped angrily, causing Leo to inadvertently wince – that gun could go off at any time. "Not Kenster or little Kenny. It's Ken! I'm not that kid in junior high anymore: I'm a man…not that you ever noticed," he sulked bitterly.

"Of course, Ken—"

"You think I don't know about you?" he interrupted, not hearing her at all. "That I don't know everything about you?" Kenny sniffed derisively. "I follow the tabloids, all those other guys you were banging in school…I even know all about that little boy toy you've got out there in Hicksville."

"Clark Kent," Kenny spat, "what could that cow-tipping yokel possibly give you that I can't?"

"Then again," he continued, a bitter grin creasing his face, "We both know that all you've ever cared about are six-pack abs and a dick in your trap."

That struck a nerve. Leo's earlier hurt was now displaced by a rising tide of anger. "So you decided to cash in?" she snapped.

Kenny gave a little shrug. "You'd be amazed at what a bucket of fake blood and a piece of latex to hide your pulse can accomplish."

As Leo's initial anger boiled away, the analytical portion of her mind started to kick in, seeking answers. Besides, this little man is hardly worth the exercise of any real emotion. "You couldn't possibly have come up with this whole scheme yourself. Who are you working for?"

Apparently missing the dismissive sneer in her voice, Kenny simply smirked. "The credit goes to a certain gentleman I've never met. I just played along."

"So what are you getting from all this?"

Kenny shrugged modestly, his feral grin widening. "Just the entire contents of your Swiss bank account."

"All of it?" Leo frowned, genuinely puzzled now. "Then what does this 'gentleman' stand to gain?"

"Don't know, don't care," Kenny replied dismissively. "But when the Brit didn't get what he was after, he said you were being taken care of – I guess he missed."

"Tell me, Leo. The irony, the betrayal…" he cocked the revolver, bringing it up to eye level with Leo. "Does it sting?"

But whatever Kenny was expecting, Leo never flinched, never cringed, never even batted an eye. Staring blankly toward him beneath a frigid mask of indifference, she stiffly gave her reply.

"Yes. It does."

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Blasted American weather.

Just that morning, it had been sunny and pleasant. Now, a scant few hours later, it was cold and hailing.

And these damn Yanks have the nerve to slam London's climate.

Sprinting the short gauntlet between the Luthorcorp lobby and his limo, Dominic Santore dove into the rear passenger section of his car without waiting for his driver to do the honors for him.

Shutting the door behind him, Dominic sneezed as the car pulled out.

"Gesundheit."

Startled, Dominic blinked. "Leo? What the devil are you doing here?" he demanded, ignoring her tattered clothes and the bruises on her face. He stabbed the intercom button. "Driver, pull over. We need to unload a hitchhiker."

How did she get in here anyway?

However, instead of pulling over, the privacy shield scrolled downward. To Dominic's surprise, an attractive blonde woman in a black chauffeur's cap was at the wheel instead of his usual driver.

The perky young woman half-turned toward the rear passenger compartment. "Is there a problem, Boss?"

Leo smiled thinly. "We're fine. That will be all, Mercy."

Nodding curtly, the blonde women returned her full attention to the road before shutting the privacy shield again.

Sipping her small tumbler of scotch, Leo cocked her head toward Dominic. "You know, even when we were dating, I underestimated you. I really have to stop doing that."

Dominic exhaled with annoyance. "Please, make yourself at home," he said dryly. "So what have I supposedly done to you now?"

Adopting her familiar blank expression, Leo studied him for a moment with a critical eye. "It must really bother you, doesn't it? All those years of hard work, only to know that my father will eventually be handing over the company to his good-for-nothing slut of a daughter."

"What are you—"

"But if I murdered dear old dad," Leo continued, "You would take over Luthorcorp. After all, dad would be dead, I'd be in prison, and Lucas is already written out of dad's will."

Leo swirled her drink pensively before setting it down. "That's what this was about, wasn't it? Pushing me over the edge, driving me to kill him."

"You're delusional," Dominic huffed.

Leo just smiled thinly at him. "My early escape probably screwed things up. Trying to shoot me after your plot failed was a bit clumsy, but overall it wasn't a bad plan."

Her eyes sparkled. "Even now, logic points to my father as the one with the means and the will to create such a waking nightmare...except he's not British."

Her thin smile evaporating, her expression hardened. "Did you really think I'd kill my own father?"

Pursing his lips, Dominic frowned at her pointedly. "Don't kid yourself, Leo. You've longed to pull that trigger for years…"

Stopping himself, Dominic paused, forcing a fake grin and a small shrug. "Not that I have any idea what you're ranting about."

Leo folded her arms over her chest, giving him a menacing stare. "One day, I'll have proof…But as of this instant, we're at war."

Dominic rolled his eyes with contempt. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to quail in terror, or would you prefer I rub my hands together to cackle with wicked glee?"

"You know, I wouldn't be so cavalier if I were in your shoes," Leo remarked blandly. "Every war has casualties, and I'm just getting started."

Dominic just smirked mockingly…

Amusement morphed to concern when he noted the expression on Leo's face…

Concern transmuted to stark horror when he looked out the window and realized the limo was now approaching the outskirts of Suicide Slums.

Dominic swallowed hard, his face as white as a sheet. "People are expecting me. They'll know something is wrong if I disappear," he ad-libbed quickly.

"I'm not going to kill you," Leo sniffed disdainfully. "I don't operate that way. Think of this as the first day of the end of your life."

Despite his growing dread, Dominic found himself mesmerized by Leo's glacial smile, her eyes hard and cold, always probing for weakeness - and always finding it, too. "For now, however, I'll have to ask you to step out of the car. Now."

"What are you talking about?" he scoffed, looking outside the tinted windows. "We must be going over thirty miles an hour…."

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Strolling toward the Talon, Leo tucked her hand into Clark's elbow. She was almost snuggling him. She'd never done that before.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to borrow your arm," she said sweetly. "Just in case I start feeling unsteady."

That excuse sounded pretty flimsy, even to Clark. Her bruises were already fading, and she was already back to work.

Not that Clark was about to object. She looked so soft and vulnerable; he was flooded with the urge to protect and comfort her.

"Sure," he beamed warmly. "So what happened to Kenny?"

"I had him arrested," she replied with a shrug. "My attorneys are recovering the money he stole."

Clark frowned. "That's it?"

At her questioning look, he smiled bashfully. "I mean, I figured you'd have something nastier in mind, like throwing him out of a moving car or something."

Leo chuckled warmly. "Don't we have a dark imagination?" she teased, squeezing his arm affectionately. "In this case, I just don't think it's necessary. Besides, I don't think we'll be hearing from Kenny Braverman again anytime soon," she remarked confidently.

As they entered the Talon, a frown suddenly clouded over her delicate features. "Why are the lights dimmed? And where is everybody?"

As if on cue, the lights flashed on. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEO!!"

Mr. and Mrs. Kent led the entire staff of the Talon in an outburst of cheers and happy catcalls.

Clark enveloped her in a huge hug, beaming that familiar mega-watt grin. "After your actuall birthday got ruined, I knew you would forget," he chided.

I am not going to cry.

And there was no reason to. Nestling snuggly in Clark's arms, Leo just luxuriated in the glow of a perfect moment.

At least until her cell phone rang.

Prying herself from Clark, she shot him an apologetic look before answering. "Leo."

"I've secured your old army friend. Shall I start entertaining him now?"

Leo's contented smile never slipped as she watched the festivities around her. "No, that's hardly necessary, Mercy. Don't do anything until I arrive; I'd like to deal with this personally. I trust you can keep him occupied until then."

As she hung up, Clark looked at her worriedly. "You know, if we're keeping you from something—"

"Just work stuff. It can wait. Besides," she said with mock severity, "We still have some serious business to attend to here. That birthday cake better be chocolate, or heads will roll."

Clark grinned good-naturedly. "I bet you'd do it too. You are a Luthor."

Leo's eyes twinkled. "And don't you ever forget it."