Spoilers: A coupla moments from 'Nicodemus' and the pilot.

Now smiling as in scorn

Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove,

Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,

 Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love….

-Thomas Gray..

  Lex  put down the receiver and lay back in bed, covering his face in his hands. It barely even amazed him any more how easily and quickly he could come up with a lie. Oh, Clark was fine, he'd assured his mother. He'd even laughed with her, explaining how klutzy Clark had mistaken a Long Island ice tea for the regular kind, and had ended up passed out in a spare bedroom. As he'd knowingly hinted that it might not be a good idea to inform his father of the details, he could practically hear Martha warming towards him. And the offer to make sure her son was cleaned up and brought home safely later on in the day went down well. She even apologized to waking him so early, rambling in her embarrassment about how she'd assumed Clark could make his way home safely and had gone to bed, only to find him missing in the morning.

  Lex's stomach had turned at that. After all he'd done last night, after the pain he'd caused Clark, here his mother was on the phone pouring out her thanks for his generosity and compassion for her son. He hated himself for getting so good at manipulating people, making them feel like they were the ones who owed him, while he kept any trace of guilt far from his voice, his cold smiles, his calm manner. This was what he had turned into.

  But he'd realised all this last night hadn't he? The moment his father had called, it had hit him as only the purest truth could, that only one person on this planet thought he was any kind of a decent human being. And that one person had to come in the form of Clark Kent, someone he knew he wouldn't ever be able to show the kind of affection to that he wanted. The world hated him enough, without this; without proof of how weak he could be, how messed up he was…

  Sighing, he rubbed his tired face with his hands before putting them behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. It was so quiet at what was for him this ungodly hour. The house was still, and dark. No morning light shone between the cracks of the curtains, and he guessed it was pretty overcast outside.

 He felt that was terribly suiting. On dark days like this he could tell himself the powers-that-be didn't expect him to get up and face the world; it was permissible for him to stay here beneath the heavy, soft covers, lying in a half-dreaming state, in the warm indentation of the mattress that his body had created.  There was ultimately a sense that nothing was quite real yet though, and Lex found himself with a vain hope that everything he was recalling was just part of a twisted dream, a nightmare even. With a sudden thought, he looked beside him to see an empty cold space in the bed.

  He couldn't dredge up the effort to suppose that his encounter with Ella had not happened though. Her absence just meant she'd left while he'd slept, knowing that she couldn't expect soothing words and soft embraces when the harsh light of day came. Yet Lex couldn't bring himself to be grateful for her insight, or her practicality. It just made him feel empty and unwanted. 'No, don't expect Lex Luthor to need you the morning after. He doesn't need anybody. He only wants his conquests…driven by nothing but a desire for success, power, money.' Never love. Never an escape from loneliness.

Suddenly he heard Clark's angry words coming back at him. The words that had made him see how much he really cared, how much he needed him; the words he had forgotten after the kiss, when he'd told Clark to leave…

  "Don't you think that I'm hurting too? That there might be things that I want and can't have? You think I never feel screwed up too?"

 He'd ignored Clark's pain last night. It had all been about himself, about the things he wanted but shouldn't, about the things he had and hated, about who he was and who he wanted to be.  He hadn't listened to Clark's words as he should have, he hadn't seen how much Clark needed him.

  Lex cursed then, at his own selfishness, his own lack of observation. How long had Clark been feeling this, feeling the same way he had? At least Lex had had that one past experience to make him more aware of what he was…he just refused to give into it. But Clark, he must have been so confused…and what was that whole thing with Lana? Had that all been some desperate attempt at denial? After all, Lex thought bitterly, he knew all about that. There had been Ella's in the past, after that first time…though they weren't so desperately needed as last night.

  Oh yes, he knew about denial, about how you felt like you were hiding from yourself, how every time your mind cleared and you felt you'd attained some kind of peace, this  monster of fear and shame crept up and overcame you. It became worse the longer you left it, the longer you clung desperately to whatever argument you used to convince yourself it wasn't true. Then one day, it would surprise you in its ferocity, and you found yourself raging at the unfairness of it all, the unfairness of having to live like this. For Lex, that day had been yesterday.

  Lex knew then why this thing with Clark was tearing him up so much. It wasn't just some forbidden sexual attraction that he had to keep hidden, that made him feel he had to hide from the world, and grasp desperately to his cool demeanour, his control, his  power. No, he truly cared for Clark.  His own heart had torn seeing Clark's face in that hospital, as he'd looked at his father, lying helpless and dying ; he'd seen Clark's anger when he'd demanded answers from him about the accident, and he'd been filled with a guilt and regret he'd never felt before of his mistrust of somebody ; he'd swallowed back the tears of sympathy as Clark had told him of his feelings about his real parents in the Beanery that night.

  But long, long before that, had been that all-consuming horror he'd never felt before, when he had found Clark shaking, alone in the dark, tied cruelly to that cross in the field. His heart had gone out to him then, as he had seen the pleading, the relief, and the shameless gratitude in Clark's eyes when he'd found him and untied him. What Lex had seen then was an incredible strength of character as Clark had tried to hide the pain, both physically and mentally, that he'd suffered that night. He'd seen Clark's vulnerability. But he'd also seen the hope.

   He loved Clark.

  He couldn't deny it to himself any more. He loved him for his goodness, his innocence, his passion, his strength, his beauty, his friendship, his understanding and most of all, he loved him for making him want to be a better person. He loved him for holding him back from becoming his father, for keeping him human, and giving him back the capacity to feel for someone again, to fill his heart with a  tenderness that he'd lost the day his mother had died.  He loved him for taking away the loneliness.

 But the loneliness was back now. He felt that horrible cold and isolation of knowing no-one he would meet today- or in the days, weeks, months and years ahead – would be pleased to see him. No-one would feel their life was better for having him in it, nobody's eyes would light up when he approached them the way that Clark's did.

  He needed him. And he wanted Clark to need him too.

 Determinedly he tore back the twisted bed-sheets and got dressed as quickly as he could. Still pulling on a jacket he was racing down the stairs, his footsteps echoing loudly in the dark halls of the sleeping mansion. He did what he'd known he would do the second he'd found himself making up his story to Martha.

 He was going to find Clark. He didn't know what the future held, he didn't know what he was going to do about their relationship, but he sure as hell couldn't leave Clark alone out there right now.

 He couldn't inflict the self-loathing, the feeling of being un-loved, and the terrible solitude of being alone with only your own confusion, on Clark. The world had inflicted it on him, and he couldn't stand the thought of Clark losing that spark of hope like he had.

TBC

(like really soon…nxt chap's written...just needs 'tweaking'.)

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