Spoilers for this chapter : Small refs to some early/middlish  season 1 eps.

"I love thee with the passions put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints."

- E.B.B, Sonnets From the Portuguese.

 Lex turned to glance at the clock beside him. '2:07am' it declared without feeling, in lurid green.

 So, it was tomorrow at last. And had been for a couple of hours. He hadn't really noticed, he'd been so lost in thought.

This whole thing of you life changing in 24 hours should have been second nature to him by now: it shouldn't still amaze him as much at it did. He should feel as much shock as he'd showed: the bare minimum.

  The 24 hours which had brought the meteors to this town, all those years ago,  had seen him change from an asthmatic red-headed wimp who disappointed his father, to a semi-conscious bald-headed freak who disappointed his father (some things never changed). The 24 hours which had taken his mother from him, wracked with pain despite the morphine, had changed him too; he'd gone from being a child that was loved by somebody, to a child alone in the world. Oh, it wasn't all as sad as it sounded. He looked at that event in his life as something that gave him strength; taught him self-reliance. He had to really; to look at it as it was - as the last time anyone had ever said 'I love you' to him - that was …something he couldn't really deal with.

 Ever since he'd moved to Smallville though, momentous days like that had been coming far more often ; and it hadn't escaped his notice that they'd all involved Clark. Every one.

   He'd saved his life (Lex still couldn't bring himself to look as it as' bringing back from the dead' ) by pulling him out of the cold water. He'd somehow saved him when he'd been tied and held captive by Amy's brother – feeling more helpless than he had for a long time. And he'd come and found him at Club Zero. In fact, out of all the times Clark had played the hero, that one got him the most…because what he'd realised from that attack wasn't just how acutely some people in the world really did hate him; it was also that no-one else had cared. There'd been no one to miss him when he'd disappeared, save Clark.

   But it wasn't just all the unusual little adventures he'd been on lately. It was that first –no- that second Friday night at the Beanery. The first had been coincidence…the second had been the start of all this. A start of the Understanding. He knew that for so, so long they'd both struggled to define it, but it had been there since that evening. The one that had said, 'there's something between us. You know it, I know it, and we want to explore it; so we'll keep coming every week. We feel the need to keep it ours, uncorrupted, unchallenged; so we won't tell any one.' It said all of that without words. And that's what made it so spectacular. To keep coming back the same time every week, to see that yet again, the Understanding was shared. After a little while, they hadn't even tried to hide the looks of appreciation they both automatically expressed upon seeing the other there, again, ready to talk.

   And of course, those nights spent talking of nothing and everything, and sometimes of very important somethings indeed, had all led to this Friday. He felt he'd made two major mistakes at that party, giving into his damn selfish teen angst for both of them. One –sleeping with Ella – he regretted. Profoundly. The other mistake had been kissing Clark. Rejecting him, sure, that had felt godawfully cruel - but his mind knew that that had been the sensible , right thing to do. The kiss had been the mistake. That was the thing that would bring consequences, repercussions. Hell, even if he ended it right now, somewhere down the line, maybe a week, maybe 5 years, some journalist would come a-knocking, point a camera in his face, and ask him exactly what was his relationship with Clark Kent, and had he realised he was a minor at the time?

 But that mistake…that was the kind that made life interesting, Lex supposed. Those were the ones that you had to see through, and watched in wonder at the repercussions of doing the thing your head told you not to.

 So, here he was. He was in a relationship with Clark.  Oh, he could say he was at the start of a relationship, or was facing the possibility of one, but the man sitting with his feet up on his glass desk had dismissed all that hours ago. Time, possibly aided by several good stiff drinks, had let him see that he and Clark had been caring for and relying on each other, intrigued by each other, anxious about each other, for months. Aside from expressing those feelings physically, they'd been in a relationship for far, far longer than two or three days.

  The only thing that had changed, that made Lex worry more now than before – aside from the wrath of the media, his father, and Jonathon Kent should they learn of the new level of his and Clark's friendship of course – was how quickly he'd let down his defences.

 Clark had had him confessing things on several of those Friday nights – things no-one else knew…some feelings for his father, a few feelings and memories about his mother's death…an acknowledgement of just how affected he'd been by Julian's birth and death…But they had only been moments. He'd never let Clark's questioning go too deep, never let the display of emotions go too far… he'd certainly been more open than ever before, but still , he'd been guarded.

 Since he'd realised for sure that Clark loved him this week though; he'd felt free. Tears had come to his eyes, anger had fuelled his yells, and genuine, ecstatic loving smiles had come to his lips.

  Had he really let Clark do this to him?

 After another hour or so of thought and yet another couple of drinks, he could just about think straight enough to admit something to himself he'd needed to for a long time; and probably would have had to pay far too much to a shrink for.

 He'd been waiting for some excuse to be human. To break down those walls, or whatever it was that he'd put up around him to survive in the cold shark-filled, and above all loveless world he lived in ( "When in Rome…" had pretty much been his motto)

 But here, now, was someone who loved him. Someone who was pure of all that – it wasn't just that he was a school-kid from a small town or anything half so clichéd as that – there was something …heroic about Clark Kent. Not simple; in no way could that boy be called simple…but, open. 90% of the time he was a kid filled with such optimism, and such values as Lex had never encountered before in his life. He was just so selfless. That was something Lex needed to be taught…and needed to experience.

   And that other 10%? That was Clark's 'edge'. That was the final part of his magic...the thing that kept Lex's attention, that told him there was something more to this kid: it was the look in Clark's eyes that showed he knew what it was like to haul around painful issues night and day. To have to hide. That spoke of a hidden fear…and a sadness at a long ago abandonment.

That was understanding.

 That was what made him trust Clark.

 Because not only did Lex think that in this human being he had found the capacity to be understood, and to understand more so than anyone else, to share himself ; .but he also knew that this person wouldn't abuse that. He wouldn't betray Lex, he wouldn't manipulate him, like do many others in the past.

 That was what had made him show his weaknesses…made him want to show his weaknesses for the first time since his mother's death.

 He was loving somebody again.

And he was loved back.

 He wished he could just give in to that, he wished he could just sigh contently and sleep easy knowing that somewhere out there somebody was counting the hours till he could talk to him again…but something stopped him. Something had kept him up for hours, pacing the mansion, and drumming his fingers on the table beside him as he poured another shot.

 The problem was another one of those all-important life-changing 24 hours.

 It was the day Clark had come back from the hospital with his hurt arm, and told him to stop looking for some hidden truth that wasn't there – on that day he truly abandoned looking at Clark, at least in some way, as a sort of project ; he was still a curiosity to be sure, with his own mysteries…but Lex stopped looking at him in anything like a detached way. Or an exploitable one. After that day, he'd felt like a fool for the suspicions in his mind, the flights of fancy, and he had been grateful to see that Clark could just be his friend. After that day, once he'd started believing there was no big conspiracy or whatever he'd let himself care so much more…He'd let himself trust.

 But now, there was something again. A secret. A secret still being held, and lies being told…some hidden burden that Clark was carrying around inside of him and knew could ruin what they had. Lex knew he was risking his heart here; and he didn't want to be burnt. So his mind couldn't help but go back over the events of the crash, and tens of other little nagging coincidences and heroic actions of this small town boy.

 Because now he was wondering: what if that day…that day Clark had been hurt…what if that had been some sort of fluke? What if that had been the inconsistency, anomaly or (and this made his heart sink like stone) a cover-up.

 Take that day he'd seen Clark hurt out of the equation…and there was still a damn big mystery there.

He had felt safe after that day. But now, Lex was torn : torn between ignoring it and giving into this new happiness he'd found…or making sure this wasn't all too good to be true…that Clark could break his heart…and hurt him worse than anyone else he'd ever known.

TBC

(corrections made, Sept 23rd. Continuing this week. Sorry for delay folks)

please R/R