"I'm proud of you, son." The words he had wanted to hear for so many years, spoken with the sincerity he had long ago given up hoping to hear, but given freely from another man's voice. There was nothing to interpret, nothing to strategize in response. Lex lay quietly in bed, letting his memory repeat that sentence again and again. Jonathan's prior analysis of him had been painfully accurate: Lex had always wanted to earn his respect and his regard, which had been finally given to him with no strings attached, no covert agenda. His mind was still so overwhelmed by amazed gratitude that it seemed to be floating, detached.
Jonathan's sympathetic eyes had told him that the older man could sense his feelings, that his silence wasn't taken as unresponsiveness, and this was another thing Lex's mind held tight to. That, and another thing he could have learned from Clark and his family long ago: Fatherhood is far less biology than behavior. It was only in the unimportant things, now, that Jonathan wasn't his father.
He nearly laughed out loud when his mind returned to the problem of how to protect Clark and presenting him with an answer. It was as if Jonathan's voice had made itself so at home in his head that it was exerting an influence. It wouldn't be easy but it had as good a chance as anything.
Tell the truth. Or at least, a more cautious voice added, the important parts.
***
"Are you sure, Lex?" Martha's voice was dubious, but Lex could read her eagerness to be convinced.
"Sure, no. Reasonably sure, yes." His smile sobered for a moment but he had to grin as Clark's hand slipped into his under the table, and squeezed it. The gesture's innocence even in covertness was entirely Clark's, and gave him still more confidence. "A reversal of the purloined letter. Reveal *a* secret and that should mean that nobody will guess even the existence of *the* secret."
"Mom, it's something we've got to do. Lex and I are together, and that's just what we've got to deal with. He couldn't hide if he wanted to." Lex briefly wondered if there were some kind of sonic vibrations in Clark's earnest voice that made him want the words to solidify so he could rub against them like a cat, then chuckled inwardly yet again, at the depth of his besottedness.
"I can't argue with the principle, but it seems risky." Jonathan rubbed the bridge of his nose worriedly. "If they do come after him..."
"Then we'll know that there is a threat and where it's coming from. Clark will be safe from any immediate danger and I can work to counter-act anything that might come up. If I need to, I can call on some of the Washington connections I've developed." At least this was making some use of the past when he'd embraced everything that wasn't Clark. "A dark reputation can have its uses. Just as well it's not really dismantled yet," he added, crisply. The certainty that they understood was solidified by Jonathan's sober nod and Clark's renewed pressure on his hand.
***
Lex still felt beads of sweat line his palms, despite his assurance. Clark and his parents were safely in a hidden Los Angeles location, a Concorde ready to rush them out of the country at an instant's notice.
He'd managed to track--through another swath of bribery and espionage--the personnel at the hidden military base. From there, building a dossier of personal information was nothing. That was being delivered, at that moment, to the base, as well as a video of him addressing them. The message was simple, "I'm Lex Luthor. Clark Kent is alive and under my protection, as is his family. You said that you kept him imprisoned to make sure that he'd present no threat to humanity. You have my personal guarantee of that--and of the fact that there's nothing I won't do to protect him. The documentation with this will tell you just how capable I would be of protecting him. Or of avenging him. It's in your best interests to forget entirely about him, as I'd gladly give my last penny and last drop of blood to keep him from enduring what he endured before. I trust I've made myself understood. Leave him alone and I'll leave you alone."
It was difficult to tell, from Clark's generous-eyed view of the world, whether the facility personnel genuinely meant him no harm, but Lex was inclined to believe it. Once they finally accepted his story, the deliberate infliction of pain stopped and, to Lex's amazement, nobody had tried to exploit him in any way. Well, except for the man who had sold him. Clark had even described small attempts at comforting or kindness--the man who heated the water he brought Clark; the woman who, when he was still relatively alert, kept him up to date on the Sharks' latest scores; another woman who continually tried to develop pain killers that would work on his physiology; a man who, seeing him cry, went into the cell, gave him tissues, and sat down on the floor, staying with him in silent sympathy until he fell asleep. They and those like them would probably even be relieved to do nothing. His reputation would protect Clark from the others.
***
Martha suspected the beauty of the composition was a freak coincidence. The photographer had doubtless been intent only on documenting the fact that Lex Luthor was kissing another man, and the inadvertant humor of the textbook that had fallen between them. It had been a day when Lex had coaxed Clark outdoors and they had sat on the porch steps, while Lex was reviewing biology with him. At some point, they had stopped to kiss, and the book had fallen, closed, to the next step. The curve of Lex's fingers, wound in Clark's hair, the way his head was bent like a worshipper's, the abandonment of Clark's body as he leaned against the railing, raising his mouth to Lex's, all declared Lex's tenderness and Clark's trust.
She wished she didn't want to burn the damn thing. Or, more accurately, the photographer and the publisher. Even the font of the caption, "Biology lesson!" seemed to smirk in vindictive smugness. The publicity manager at the former fertilizer plant had brought over the tabloid and disappeared in relief when Martha had said that Lex was still asleep, and flatly refused to wake him up.
He, she thought, dryly, was only expecting Lex Luthor's temper tantrum. She was in the position of anticipating Clark's and Jonathan's as well. She couldn't wait. But then, Jonathan was likely to see it first, when he came back from the morning feeding, and after his reaction, everybody might be focused on moving to the few cities left standing.
Jonathan's sympathetic eyes had told him that the older man could sense his feelings, that his silence wasn't taken as unresponsiveness, and this was another thing Lex's mind held tight to. That, and another thing he could have learned from Clark and his family long ago: Fatherhood is far less biology than behavior. It was only in the unimportant things, now, that Jonathan wasn't his father.
He nearly laughed out loud when his mind returned to the problem of how to protect Clark and presenting him with an answer. It was as if Jonathan's voice had made itself so at home in his head that it was exerting an influence. It wouldn't be easy but it had as good a chance as anything.
Tell the truth. Or at least, a more cautious voice added, the important parts.
***
"Are you sure, Lex?" Martha's voice was dubious, but Lex could read her eagerness to be convinced.
"Sure, no. Reasonably sure, yes." His smile sobered for a moment but he had to grin as Clark's hand slipped into his under the table, and squeezed it. The gesture's innocence even in covertness was entirely Clark's, and gave him still more confidence. "A reversal of the purloined letter. Reveal *a* secret and that should mean that nobody will guess even the existence of *the* secret."
"Mom, it's something we've got to do. Lex and I are together, and that's just what we've got to deal with. He couldn't hide if he wanted to." Lex briefly wondered if there were some kind of sonic vibrations in Clark's earnest voice that made him want the words to solidify so he could rub against them like a cat, then chuckled inwardly yet again, at the depth of his besottedness.
"I can't argue with the principle, but it seems risky." Jonathan rubbed the bridge of his nose worriedly. "If they do come after him..."
"Then we'll know that there is a threat and where it's coming from. Clark will be safe from any immediate danger and I can work to counter-act anything that might come up. If I need to, I can call on some of the Washington connections I've developed." At least this was making some use of the past when he'd embraced everything that wasn't Clark. "A dark reputation can have its uses. Just as well it's not really dismantled yet," he added, crisply. The certainty that they understood was solidified by Jonathan's sober nod and Clark's renewed pressure on his hand.
***
Lex still felt beads of sweat line his palms, despite his assurance. Clark and his parents were safely in a hidden Los Angeles location, a Concorde ready to rush them out of the country at an instant's notice.
He'd managed to track--through another swath of bribery and espionage--the personnel at the hidden military base. From there, building a dossier of personal information was nothing. That was being delivered, at that moment, to the base, as well as a video of him addressing them. The message was simple, "I'm Lex Luthor. Clark Kent is alive and under my protection, as is his family. You said that you kept him imprisoned to make sure that he'd present no threat to humanity. You have my personal guarantee of that--and of the fact that there's nothing I won't do to protect him. The documentation with this will tell you just how capable I would be of protecting him. Or of avenging him. It's in your best interests to forget entirely about him, as I'd gladly give my last penny and last drop of blood to keep him from enduring what he endured before. I trust I've made myself understood. Leave him alone and I'll leave you alone."
It was difficult to tell, from Clark's generous-eyed view of the world, whether the facility personnel genuinely meant him no harm, but Lex was inclined to believe it. Once they finally accepted his story, the deliberate infliction of pain stopped and, to Lex's amazement, nobody had tried to exploit him in any way. Well, except for the man who had sold him. Clark had even described small attempts at comforting or kindness--the man who heated the water he brought Clark; the woman who, when he was still relatively alert, kept him up to date on the Sharks' latest scores; another woman who continually tried to develop pain killers that would work on his physiology; a man who, seeing him cry, went into the cell, gave him tissues, and sat down on the floor, staying with him in silent sympathy until he fell asleep. They and those like them would probably even be relieved to do nothing. His reputation would protect Clark from the others.
***
Martha suspected the beauty of the composition was a freak coincidence. The photographer had doubtless been intent only on documenting the fact that Lex Luthor was kissing another man, and the inadvertant humor of the textbook that had fallen between them. It had been a day when Lex had coaxed Clark outdoors and they had sat on the porch steps, while Lex was reviewing biology with him. At some point, they had stopped to kiss, and the book had fallen, closed, to the next step. The curve of Lex's fingers, wound in Clark's hair, the way his head was bent like a worshipper's, the abandonment of Clark's body as he leaned against the railing, raising his mouth to Lex's, all declared Lex's tenderness and Clark's trust.
She wished she didn't want to burn the damn thing. Or, more accurately, the photographer and the publisher. Even the font of the caption, "Biology lesson!" seemed to smirk in vindictive smugness. The publicity manager at the former fertilizer plant had brought over the tabloid and disappeared in relief when Martha had said that Lex was still asleep, and flatly refused to wake him up.
He, she thought, dryly, was only expecting Lex Luthor's temper tantrum. She was in the position of anticipating Clark's and Jonathan's as well. She couldn't wait. But then, Jonathan was likely to see it first, when he came back from the morning feeding, and after his reaction, everybody might be focused on moving to the few cities left standing.