Part 12

Lex found himself waiting for Bruce in a tastefully decorated study. A beautifully carved oak desk was against the far wall, opposite that, a fireplace. Over the fireplace was the dominant feature of the room... a portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne. They were seated on a stone bench and surrounded by rose bushes. Lex wasn't sure, but he thought they might be in the garden he'd discovered the night before. Mrs. Wayne's hand rested lightly over her lower abdomen, and careful inspection told Lex she had been pregnant at the time of the sitting. Just starting to show with the only child she and her husband would ever have.

Lex exhaled in a deep sigh, and turned to the sound of soft knock on the door. It was the butler. "Yes, Alfred?"

"Master Bruce asked that I let you know his phone call is taking longer than expected. He wished you to wait for him here."

Lex nodded. "How is he, Alfred?" Lex asked, concerned. He should have been hurt or angry about last night--and he was, to an extent--but he knew Bruce wouldn't hurt him intentionally. The look on his face when he'd realized what he'd done attested to that fact.

The older man gave a sad smile. "He's trying, Master Lex. Just... trying." Another small smile and the butler left, shutting the door silently behind him and leaving Lex alone once again.

It wasn't too long, however, before Lex got to see Bruce's attempts at "trying." The young Wayne finally arrived, nearly ten minutes later, with the cordless phone still attached to his ear. "No, thank you, Gregory," he was saying into the mouthpiece. "I think I can handle it on this end. Give me a call tomorrow, though, just before we make our move." He listened for a second or two and then said goodbye to Gregory.

"Greg Willard?" Lex asked. Greg was an upper level exec with Grant Technologies, and had been there long before Lex's father had acquired the company. His father had questioned the man's loyalties from time to time, but never his devotion to his work. Now they knew where those loyalties lie, Lex thought ruefully.

Bruce flashed Lex a devious grin, seeming to guess what Lex was thinking. "He was just starting out when my father found him and gave him a job," he added.

"More than happy to be working with a Wayne again, I'm sure."

That earned Lex another grin. "Naturally." Bruce set the phone down on the desk, staring at as if deep in thought. "He called to let me know how our plans are progressing. By tomorrow... barring no difficulties on your end, that is... I should be the new owner of a research and development company."

Barring no difficulties on my end, Lex thought. Bruce-speak for "as long as you don't screw me over for last night." This covert acknowledgment of what had happened left a bitter taste in his mouth. It was as if Bruce was trying to cover what had happened--sweep it under a rug and forget about it. They couldn't, Lex couldn't.

"Bruce..." he said in a quiet, firm voice. "About last night--" He stopped mid-sentence when he saw his friend's face contort into a mask of pain, eyes darkening. Sympathy tugged at his heart, and he was tempted to give in to it. However, he realized that if they didn't acknowledge the incident, it would forever be between them. Much like the secret he knew Clark Kent was keeping from him still. Except this wasn't a secret, and knowing made ignoring it all the harder. "We need to talk, Bruce," he said at last.

"I know," his lover's dark eyes lowered and his feet shuffled awkwardly. Hardly the confident man who strode into the room talking business only moments before. "I'm..." He breathed deep. "I'm sorry, Lex. I tried so hard not to hurt you. I failed. I'm sorry," he said again. He was looking at Lex like he wanted to reach out and take him in his arms. Lex's own arms ached in response to the thought, as if silently agreeing with the sentiment. It was taking all the restraint he had not to hold Bruce Wayne close to him and just forget...

His father always said Lex let his emotions rule him, especially at the worst possible times. His father was usually right, unfortunately, when it came to Lex's emotions.

"You didn't hurt me, Bruce," he said at last. "At least, not physically."

"Lex." The word was a warning; Bruce knew Lex was lying. Alfred, of course, would have reported his condition.

Lex gave a sigh. This was getting them nowhere. Ordinarily, he wasn't so open a person, years of his father's rearing had taught him to keep his emotions inside. Private. If he did that, however, he had the feeling Bruce would close off even more, and Lex couldn't handle that. He needed the truth. They both did. "Nothing was broken, and the bruises will heal," he told his friend. "What hurt me much worse was the fact that you didn't come back last night. You just left me there," he accused, unable to help it.

The words must have come out harsher than Lex realized, or the recipient more sensitive than he appeared, for no sooner were they said than something broke inside Bruce Wayne. His face fell, all pretense of confidence shattering like glass around his feet. Then, in the time it took to breathe, he composed himself into a blank slate. Nothing showing on his face or in his eyes, his body tensing visibly. Then he turned away from Lex completely, his back acting as a wall between them.

No, Lex thought angrily. No you don't, Bruce. You're not going to do this to me now.

"Look at me," he commanded, but was unsurprised when his companion did not comply. Not surprised, maybe, but still angry. "Damn it, Bruce!" he all but shouted, his voice was raised so loud. "I let you into my life, now God dammit! You let me into yours!"

He strode across the room, determined to make his friend look at him, but stopped short when realized what Bruce was doing. He was staring up at the portrait of his parents, and Lex didn't need to see his face to guess what must be going on in his friend's mind.

"Do you remember your mother, Lex?" a voice so dark and harsh that it almost wasn't Bruce Wayne's asked suddenly.

"I... a little." The truth was, his memories of her had started to fade, blurring into a fairy tale he told himself to keep the wolves at bay.

"I don't... remember them, that is. Alfred keeps the pictures up and our photo albums on hand, in case I want to remember the good times, but most the time it's too painful to do that." Lex understood how that felt. Not that he'd ever had much opportunity to view his mother's memory books. A week after her death, they'd disappeared, along with every other reminder of her life that existed. He'd never been brave enough to ask his father where they'd gone. Bruce continued to speak. "Sometimes--especially when I've been gone for a while--I come home and it's as if they're strangers. People I should know, but don't. The only--" His voice broke in the wake of a poorly suppressed sob, and Lex knew his friend was trying not to cry. "The only thing I remember clearly is the night they died."

"Bruce..." Lex said at last. He came forward the rest of the way and placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder. When he didn't flinch or move away from the touch, Lex left it there.

"Sometimes I dream about that night..." he admitted, still sounding like he was talking to himself and not really to Lex at all. Distant and... alone. "I see myself in the alley. I see the guns; I see my parents fall. Dead. Sometimes, the dream is different."

"Different?" Lex asked when Bruce fell silent. "How so?"

"Different," he reiterated. "Not like it was that night. It starts out that way, but instead of me being a frightened child, I'm older. Dark... and not scared. I... I fight them. Make them pay for killing my parents. But I'm never able to save Mom and Dad, never able to stop it."

Oh, Bruce... Lex knew the feeling. He'd been so angry when his mother died. Angry with everyone and everything--her for dying, the doctors who failed to save her, God for letting it all happen, everyone else in the world who still had their mothers. Just plain angry. Unlike Bruce, however, Lex really had no one to blame. His mother hadn't been killed by any *one* person, just a disease. But Bruce... he could imagine what it must feel like to know that somewhere out there, his parents' murderers might still be free and unpunished. He'd have nightmares too, if their situations had been reversed.

"For what it's worth," Lex said softly, risking further contact by slipping his arms around his lover's waist. "They'd be proud of you, Bruce." He was surprise and yet relieved when the other man relaxed into the embrace.

"Would they? I wonder about that sometimes." He let Lex hold him for a while, both of them staring up at the portrait. Lex briefly wondered if Alfred knew what he was doing when he sent him to wait in *this* room of all the other empty ones in the mansion. On second thought, he was certain the butler had known.

Bruce turned in Lex's arms, coming to face him. Lex could see a trail of tears staining his usually serene face. His lover inhaled and then let out a ragged breath. "Sometimes the dreams get a little too real, Lex. Like last night. I am sorry." He reached out, touching Lex's face hesitantly. The soft, shaky touch felt strangely reassuring. Lex knew at that moment that whatever else happened, they could work through this. "When I saw you on the floor, hurt... knowing I caused it. Lex, I... I should have come back; I know that. But I couldn't face you last night. I hope you can understand and forgive me."

Ah, forgiveness... another thing his father assured him Luthors should never allow into their hearts. It told others you were weak, vulnerable to attack. Not having it, however--as his mother always said--left you lonely and miserable. Looking into Bruce's pleading eyes, Lex knew she had been right. Without forgiveness, there would be misery.

Nodding slowly, he pulled his lover closer, gently enfolding him in his arms. Kissing one tear-stained cheek, he whispered reassuringly, "Of course I do." His words brought a weak smile to Bruce Wayne's face, one that Lex was pleased to see. They would be all right now. And maybe, between the two of them, they could keep each other sane for a while.