Clark woke up on the cold stone floor of the library in Lex's mansion, and groaned. The cold didn't bother him. The stone didn't bother him. But Lex and Cyrus were both snoring loud enough to make an elephant want to compete, and it was KILLING him. He crawled and stumbled to the bathroom with a headache like nothing he'd felt outside of the green rocks, wondering if aspirin would work on him, trying to block his ears.

Hypersensitive hearing again. Just great. Of what POSSIBLE use was that? If his old man Jor-El had designed this weird sensory capacity into him, then some day he was going to get Lex to build him a time machine so he could go back and strangle the jerk with his bare hands before he died from having a planet explode under him. Their great-great-greats were the ones who designed the bomb that blew up the planet anyway. Fair game.

I hate you, father. I hate the home world I can't even remember. I would rather have died with you than be here all alone with nothing except that stupid ship's computer version of you trying to take over my mind. Clark threw up what little was left in his stomach.

Lex was behind him as suddenly as if he were the one with supersonic speed, with a bowl of ice chips. "Don't chew on them," he said. "Frank Morrell will kick my ass if you ever actually have to get a crown and he breaks all his drills on you." And then he was gone again.

Clark sucked on a piece of ice, holding a few more to his head. How had Lex known? Well, aside from the experiences of a few misadventures of his own to draw from.

Clark tried very hard to be amused at the thought, and managed a chuckle. Then he upchucked the ice. Jor-El was rerunning lectures in his head like a broken record. Where had that expression come from? Records were old pieces of vinyl. Before his time.

Go away, old man. You sent me here. Deal with it. I belong to Earth now.

I am not going to rule them. I am not going to establish some master race.

I am never going to drink rum again.

Cyrus was prowling the kitchen by the time he finally got there, half dressed in Lex's pajama bottoms. "You call this an orange? Lex, I've seen better oranges falling off freebie trucks. You buy and sell corporations, and you can't get decent fruit? I'll tell the Inquirer."

"Try it. They'll never find your body." Lex leaned back , elegantly lazy, wearing nothing but his silk underwear. "Go make some coffee."

"I'm not your damn servant." Bill's voice was offended, and dangerous.

"That's not what I meant. Mi casa and all that. Anyway, I sent all the servants away when Clark showed up. Prying ears, you know." Lex yawned. "And the last time I made coffee, everybody in the dorm was sick for hours. My coffee is worse than Clark's green rocks. You want coffee and breakfast, you know where the kitchen is."

"Gah. In that case, the healer would rather make coffee than try to cure you of it. Clark, you wanna come see if your billionaire friend actually has any food in the house?"

"Clark has a hangover. He probably isn't interested in food." Lex's voice was sleepy, but his glance was totally aware. Questioning.

Clark sighed. "No, Lex, I don't get hangovers. But you knew that, didn't you?"

"I knew you could stop a bullet with your bare hand and throw a large glass bottle clear through a fireplace wall, but no, I didn't know you didn't get hangovers." Lex yawned again. "So what was the toilet hugging about? And you want a fresh shirt? I probably have something in your size around here somewhere. And you should call your parents."

Do not lie to me. It was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever learned. Or unlearned. Not to lie, after a lifetime of hiding and secrets. "I can make it home as fast as I can make a call," he admitted. "Unless you want me to hang around."

Lex fixed him with interested eyes. Cyrus, in the process of trying to find something in the refrigerator that he even recognized, went utterly still. Their thoughts were obvious mirrors. Whether any of us survives depends on what you choose next. Clark looked away.

"Why don't you spend some time here? At least until you get cleaned up." Lex smirked. "It will annoy dear old dad. William won't even have to shake hands with him."

Cyrus barked a short laugh. "It was a temptation. He knows about the rocks."

"Mm. You didn't hear about the explosion in the Luthor Corp building in Metropolis, did you?"

"I've been out of town. Kind of, otherwise occupied."

Lex shook his head. "It was even on the BBC. Very sad. Seems there was this vault with all kinds of hazardous materials illegally stored there. They went critical one night. The bomb team and firefighters detected traces of radioactives in the remains. Not nuclear bombs, but definitely hazardous waste, so it was all sent to the nuclear disposal site in Arizona." His eyes glinted at Clark. "I don't recommend that you try joining the Superfund cleanup team."

Cyrus stared at him. Then he brought him a cup of coffee. "You didn't. How?"

"I'm a Luthor." Lex gestured a magnanimous thanks with the coffee. "A word here and there, a senator here and there, and priority for the removal of certain radioactive rocks from the small town in Kansas got pushed ahead of the sugar plantation pollution cleanup in Florida, which they should be funding themselves anyway, since they caused it, and we can't exactly be held responsible for a meteor strike."

Clark, who was not quite as fast on the uptake as the empath, finally realized what Lex was saying about the "accident" in the Luthor Corp building too. "Lex, you...."

"Go call your parents. And take a shower. You smell like cheap rum."

"I do not!" Clark didn't sweat, except around ... oh. "Lex?"

"Yes?" Lex crossed his legs, elegant in nothing except his underwear, but the half-second glance he traded with Cyrus said that he knew exactly what Clark was about to ask.

"If you're having all the rest removed...." If you're doing this for me, to protect me, he wanted to say, and didn't know how, "Why do you have that kryptonite in your desk?"

"I told you. Kryptonite? Where did you come up with such a ridiculous word?" Lex finished his coffee and stood up. "Excellent coffee, William. You're hired. Purple shirt if you want it, though I still say it's not your color. Excuse me, dad's at the door, and he doesn't know I changed the locks yet."

Clark had heard the car drive up, but he didn't think any Terran creature short of a bat or a cetacean had hearing that good. Then he saw that Lex's watch -- not the same one he had been wearing last night -- had a transmitter and contact alarm built in. Of course, Lex's security team worked around the clock; they would have come to investigate the EMP, and started replacing the sensors already.

Well, that explained how the other two had been awake to change clothes while he was out of it. Cyrus must have put him to sleep when he linked him to Lex. Lex's violent, roiling emotions had been ... well, not like anything he had ever seen Lex show. So many contradictions, so much need.

Cyrus must have blocked the nightmares, too.

He had to consciously refocus from the inadvertent x-ray. The expanded senses were becoming all too easy for human comfort. "You're meeting your dad in your underwear?"

"Why not? And William, feel free shake hands with him if you want to, but do it on the stone floor. Vomit probably won't come out of the Arabian carpet."

Clark took a deep breath. "Lex. You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine about the toilet session this morning. Later, perhaps?"

Lex had put a question mark after perhaps. Cyrus ducked his head into folded hands to hide the grin. A question, as to an equal, not a demand. Oh, boy, he was going to enjoy this. And maybe, even, he would be able to bring them all back. It would make all his own screaming madness and ruthless training worthwhile, if he could save these two.

"It's a ... long story," Clark said softly, offering. "Like, a whole lifetime long."

Alexander Luthor considered Clark for a long minute, then conceded this match to the teenager with a small nod. "Some other time, then. As for your answer, I told you. If anyone ever actually has to kill you, it will be me."

Clark called home and made reassuring noises about the lack of sleep, then took advantage of the shower to drown out the unnaturally acute hearing. Later, though, he would wish he had thought to at least watch when a near-naked Lex opened the door for his perfectly dressed father and asked calmly, "Yes? What can we do for you?"

Lionel kept himself in shape, or he would have had a heart attack on the spot. Then he caught sight of Cyrus on the couch in Lex's silver pajama bottoms, and very nearly had a stroke. "I thought we had an appointment, son."

"Oh, yeah. Right. Had it on my planner. Something fried all the electronics last night, though. Too bad." Lex wandered away. "Want some coffee? William over there made it."

"So long as you didn't, yes." Lionel's eyes narrowed, moving over Cyrus appraisingly. "Adding to your 'collection,' son?"

"I dunno." Lex looked over at Cyrus, calculating. "You swing that way, Will?"

Cyrus snorted. "Nope, not me. You're not a psi talent. I can't hack it with anyone who doesn't have the mental control."

Lionel stiffened. "Mental ... powers?"

Lex gave him a warning glance. "I don't think you really want to go there."

"Yeah, yeah." Cyrus leaned back, hands behind his head, as Lex handed Lionel a cup of coffee. "See, here's the deal, old man. I have to be fully conscious in order to do the tricks. Drug me, and I'm useless, and will probably go crazy again. Kill me, and all you get is a body. No one knows how the brain works these things. Blackmail me, and with what? Piss me off -- " Cyrus snapped forward, his eyes going deadly -- "And you get this."

Lionel went down with a hoarse cry, clutching at his chest.

"Dammit," Lex said, "I asked you not to do that on the rug! The coffee is never going to come out."

Clark was suddenly present, a towel wrapped not quite completely around his waist. "What happened? Are you all right?"

Lionel caught one glimpse of a nearly-naked Clark, and fainted.

Lex and Cyrus eyed Clark in his state of confused undress, and broke up. "He's fine," Lex gasped in between snickers. "He's just got a dirty mind, and you pretty much finished the scenario. William, I didn't know you could do that without touching him. Hahahaha!"

William was pale from the effort and working for breath, but still couldn't help snickering with each dragged-in bit of air at the effect of Clark's appearance in a towel about five sizes too small. "It's ... not easy," he panted. "But he was already so mad ... it just took a little push ... oh lord, Clark, don't move so fast unless you're wearing solid clothes!"

Clark looked down at himself and blanched. He disappeared again.

Lex laughed so hard he fell to his hands and knees for the first time in his life.

Cyrus recovered first, though every time he and Lex met each other's eyes they both started snickering again. "Clark ... oh, geez. Are the video monitors back on line yet?"

"I'll check." Lex sucked in his self-control. "Don't want the guards seeing his disappearing act. But what I wouldn't pay for the recording ... oh god, the towel...."

Cyrus wiped tears of hilarity from his eyes. "Blackmail material for years to come."

"That I could actually use." Lex sighed. "That dear old dad over there couldn't exploit. Unless he wants the Kent farm, and what for? He can grow corn and milk cows about as well as I can make coffee. Even his employees usually suck at it. Remind me to tell you about his various disasters with the meteorite experiments."

"I'll do that." Cyrus frowned. "There's something else. You said you were having them taken away, but there was like ten pounds of the things at a souvenir stand when we got here. Your clean-up crew isn't paying very good attention."

Lex gave him a Luthor look. "It isn't MY clean-up crew, it's the government's. Why are you surprised that the people who had to resort to fake documents to start a war, and come up with an idiotic phrase like weapons-of-mass-destruction to justify their seig-heil attempt to take over the world, are too stupid to check a souvenir stand? I'll put my people on it once they declare their "mission accomplished." I didn't want to tip my hand to the old man there too soon. Excuse me a minute."

Clark came back wearing a t-shirt that was really too small for his shoulders any more, and some (very solid, if still too small) jeans, in time to see Lex bring a pitcher of water back from the kitchen and throw it on Lionel. "Rise and shine, dad." Clark blinked. Okay, so Lana had done that to him once when Pete had knocked him cold -- it still wasn't something you ever expected to see done to a Luthor, especially not to Lionel, not even by Lex.

Lionel, to his credit, didn't even splutter, not even at the ruin of his suit. He blinked and sat up, with a shake of his head to settle his hair into place. "Well. I had intended to speak to you about certain other of your more questionable expenditures, but it appears that you're back to your old misadventures. I doubt that you're in any shape to discuss business."

Lex settled himself in the most expensive chair of the room, heedless of his undress, forcing Lionel to pick something second-best. Third-best, actually, since Cyrus was on the sofa. "Whatever gave you that idea, dad? We can discuss anything you want over some kind of brunch. Clark, if you'd do the honors? There ought to be something in there that you feel like eating. A little plain toast might help settle your stomach."

A clear invitation to leave the room, so that Lionel maybe would be tempted to speak more freely. Lionel wouldn't know about the hearing capability. Clark nodded. "I think I can handle bagels. Would you like some more coffee, mister Luthor?"

Lionel glared. Lex hid a smirk. He hadn't realized Clark had learned to subtly twist the knife like that. "Clark's not feeling well?" Lionel challenged, rearranging himself.

Lex shrugged. "We had a bit to drink last night." Clark had to leave the room before he lost control of his body language. Sheesh, Lex could lay it on thick in very few words.

"And don't forget the marmalade!" Cyrus called after him, chortling inwardly at Lex.

Lionel leaned forward. "I would prefer to discuss our business -- " a glance at Cyrus -- "under more private circumstances." And with more clothes on, he didn't say.

Lex glanced lazily over at Cyrus. "I've offered William here a business proposition. It's only fair that he be here to get some idea of what he's in for."

Lionel's eyes sharpened with avarice. If his son was acquiring not one, but two, superhuman talents.... The boy was far more resourceful, and more dangerous, than he had suspected when he had exiled his son to a small town to teach him some circumspection.

"Very well. It's only fair to say that I disapprove of your deal with the senators."

"Yes, I know. You prefer blackmail to bribery. But since you haven't been paying attention to politics lately, dad, you wouldn't know how passe that is. Half our so-called elected officials are felony thieves and murderers, and if they do get tossed from office they get a radio or TV gig. And the ones who can't be blackmailed are very difficult to bribe. John and Dennis could actually be quite useful allies some day. So I played the self-interest card. So sue me. I believe you're the one who taught me the philosophy of 'whatever works'."

It intrigued Cyrus to see that Lionel could sit there, soaking wet, having been subjected to a heart attack (and a near-naked Clark, snort!), and discuss finances. If being raised by his series of foster parents had been unpleasant, Lionel had all the emotional involvement of a piece of granite. Clark was an idiot for having run from the family he had. It had gotten his attention that Lex felt the same way, and was too careful to say so.

"What I question, son, is your rationale for expending your resources like that. It's not as if we had a lack of interests to turn senators towards."

Lex waved a hand. "It's not as if we can't afford the senators. What's really your problem, dad?"

Lionel turned a speculative gaze on their eavesdropper. Cyrus returned it, flickering his power over to the killing range. It would make him sick for hours, maybe days, to use it, but he would do it. Being in the same room with Lionel was making him sick already. But the cold silence in his eyes, promising silence in Lionel's heart if necessary, got the old man's attention.

It was an obvious effort for Lionel to drag his gaze back from the overt deadly threat to the more subtle threat of his own son. "I believe you already know the answer to that."

"No, I really don't. And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. Thank you, Clark." Lex accepted a cup of coffee and a plate with a bagel, elaborately fixed with whatever had been left over in his refrigerator. "Did you get something?" Playing the games, drawing out the hidden cards, the hidden information, pushing patience to the limits. Watch this, Lionel. I've learned your tactics well. And we are united against you now in ways you can't even imagine.

"I had ... some toast. You're right, it helped a little." In fact, Clark had eaten everything in the kitchen that wasn't green and didn't make too much noise, listening in.

Cyrus looked over at Lex's breakfast with interest. "Ew. If that's the kind of fish I think it is, I'd rather have some of Lex's coffee." A moment of absolute, challenging silence. "Did you get something for mister Luthor, Clark? Or would you like me to?"

"Why don't we both?" Clark turned hard, unreadable eyes on Lionel. Only the two younger men knew what kind of energy Clark could channel with his eyes alone. Lionel had no idea how close he could have come to death in that moment with the wrong reaction.

"I would appreciate that." Lionel leaned back, elegant in a soaked thousand-dollar suit. "But none of that fish, please. My son's tastes are still obviously on the ... eclectic side." He met Clark's eyes, something not many people who were not invulnerable themselves could have done. "And I would appreciate it if you would give us a few minutes alone."

"Mi casa and all that," Lex said with deceptive unconcern. "You two boys probably don't want to watch the next few rounds anyway. There are some -- private issues."

Lionel's sharp glance went unerringly to the drawer with the kryptonite. "If necessary, I can ensure it." His hands, resting casually on his thighs, went to his hips.

Lex moved even faster than Clark could have at that point. What was left of his breakfast finished off the ruination of the rug as he dumped it out of the way to backhand Lionel. "Don't you ever say anything like that again." Lex was too mad to curse. "Don't you even THINK that again. You think William hurt you? I will have you tortured in ways I've been imagining since I was six. You wanted a nemesis, old man. You made one. Leave my friends alone. Or I can certainly ensure it."

Lionel looked up thoughtfully, rubbing his jaw rather than the place Lex had hit him. "Threats, Alexander? Unwise. You may come to regret this, son."

"Screw you, and your inheritance too. I'll tear this place to the ground and sell the stones before I let you hurt my friends or run my life again."

"Hm." Lionel rose to his feet, carefully, but without showing any sign of weakness. "Between the three of you, no doubt you could. Clark could rip it apart, you could set up the sales contracts, and William could convince people to buy. Quite the team. But what would you do for your next act?" Lionel made a small dismissive gesture. "You have no strategy, son. When you are dealing with," his eyes roamed lasciviously, possessively, over Clark and Cyrus, "Power, then you need to plan your next moves more carefully."

Lex gritted his teeth. "My mistake. Does he have it on him, Clark? William?"

Clark went to x-ray and gulped. Dammit, as all his more-than-human friends and teachers had been telling him, he really was going to have to learn to pay attention. It was sheer luck that he had been mostly out of range, and no wonder, besides the emotional tension, that he felt a little queasy around Lionel. "Left front pocket. In an envelope. It's small."

"William? Would you please relieve my father of his little bargaining chip, such as he believes it to be?" Lex's eyes turned glacial. Cyrus marveled. Was Lex a psi talent after all? "And his watch, and ear plug, and cell transmitter -- it's usually in the tie clip -- while you're at it. You have my full permission to touch him."

"My pleasure." Cyrus sauntered over, relishing the sudden frozen fear pouring out of Lionel only because it was so much worse for Lionel. It wasn't going to be a pleasure at all. It already hurt like hell. The flicker of power that he used to send Lionel to the floor made his own vision go to gray swirls and sparkles with Lionel's reaction to his touch. And he was going to have to make an appointment with a dentist very soon.

The glowing green chip was the size of a domino. And pure. Refined. Not what he would have called small, in Clark's place. "You want this, or should I take care of it?"

Lex was looking at Clark, thoughtfully, evaluating the pale expression. Which would Clark distrust more? If Lex ordered it buried -- destruction was not an option, burning simply released the deadly molecules into the atmosphere -- then it was out of his control. But if he kept it, then it would be an all-too-deliberate signal to Clark of his personal interest.

To hell with it. He already had demonstrated his own high card. "Put it over there on the desk, please, William. Next to the computer. I'll have to call the locksmith to get the drawer and lockbox open. I did some damage to them, I'm afraid."

Clark breathed out. "I can open them. If you can -- lock them again." I trust you.

Lex accepted all the implications of that with a small bow of the head. "I'd rather leave it to the professionals." He looked up again, eyes glinting. "It's not as if I can't afford them. But if you're looking for summer employment, I have a few tasks you could do around here in the meantime." His eyes shifted to Lionel, who had managed to get back into his seat, though no longer looking quite so debonair. "No doubt my father's chauffeur has gotten bored with just sitting in the car and is wandering the grounds. If you could assist the security team in locating whatever he's accidentally dropped? Don't get too close to them, though. They're likely booby-trapped. Get Stan to do it, he's bomb-squad trained."

An excuse to get out of the room while that thing was still sitting out in the open. Clark nodded. "I always wanted to meet your security people anyway." He vanished.

Lex sat back, staring his father down. Cyrus hovered protectively over the green chip on the desk for appearances, waiting for the chance to sneak it into his pocket. "You see, dad, I'm learning about dealing with -- " a flick of the finger in Lionel's direction -- "Power. Thank you for the reminder in strategy. And here's your lesson for the day: you catch more flies with honey than vinegar." Lionel and Cyrus both snorted at that, for opposite reasons. "Having powerful allies is preferable to having powerful enemies."

Lionel leaned forward, controlled, but clearly unnerved. "They're dangerous, son."

"So am I. So are you. So is practically everyone we deal with on a daily basis."

Lionel frowned. Lex obviously didn't understand. "They're *different*."

Cyrus went cold and shaky at the blaze of emotion from Lex, though the only thing the young man showed was a slow smile. That had been exactly the wrong thing to say.

Lex ran a hand over his smooth head. "So am I, dad," he said softly. "And that's why I'll win everything, in the end. Because I know all about being different."

Cyrus looked at Lex admiringly. To take an intended insult and make it the game point was something even his more-than-human teachers couldn't often do.

Lionel made his way to his feet. None of the fury building in him showed in his face, but Lex was no more fooled than Cyrus. "This isn't over, son. I came here hoping to talk sense into you, perhaps deal with you. Instead I find you in this -- arrangement."

Lex didn't bother to stand, simply steepled his fingers under his chin and peered up. "We haven't come to any arrangement yet, dad. After all, Clark and William are still legally minors. Not eligible for full-time employment." That blaze of icy fire again, stunning Cyrus with the depth of his anger even as Lionel goggled at such a mundane statement. "And so is Chloe Sullivan. I doubt you put your contract with her in writing. I wonder what she would be willing to tell the federal authorities about your -- deal, as it were, with an underage girl."

Lionel took two steps towards Lex and caught himself. "You. Wouldn't. Dare."

Lex had not moved. "Actually, dad, I already have."

And that was a lie, Cyrus could tell, because Lex had been waiting to ask Clark just how completely Chloe had betrayed him before involving her in the Luthor web of control and deceit and destruction. That Lex now held the upper hand over Chloe and Lionel both was probably the only reason she was still alive. You catch more flies with honey. You get more information and cooperation from the living than from the dead.

Lionel looked like he was about to be sick. Cyrus could almost sympathize. "You ... we could still work together. We could achieve far more success over our common enemies if we weren't always in such opposition to each other."

Lex made a dismissive motion. "When you decide who our common enemies are, dad, then let me know. Your track record there so far hasn't been impressive." He stood suddenly. "Until then, while the game might not be over, I have a knight and a bishop. And you don't. Check. Your move. But if you try to make it more than a game, dad," eyes glinting suddenly deadly, and Cyrus was impressed again, "If you want to really match your big guns against mine, then I also have a nuclear bomb."

Lionel looked like a man in love. Cyrus wanted to throw up at the wave of avarice. "Clark is that powerful?"

Lex gave him that slow, lazy smile that would have made a shark back off. "The picture you have of him picking up the tractor with one hand is three years old. He's grown. And you should pray that you never find out what else William can do." A bluff, and the truth, at the same time. Cyrus decided he could probably learn as much from Lex as he had from the Baron.

"The possibilities...." Lionel's voice trailed off, dreamily, visions of Caesar and Mengele dancing in his head. It was all Cyrus could do to keep from TOUCHING Lionel again. "Son, don't you see the things we could do with them?"

"I know exactly what I can do with them." Lex's nod to Cyrus was courteous, but his voice could have shattered stone. "I can keep them as friends. And hope that they want to stay friends with me. Despite having to deal with you as part of my life. Because if you force me to choose between you, dad, you will lose."

Clark, who had been keeping an eye and what he could of an ear on the conversation while pointing out the scattered listening devices to an amused and enthusiastic security team, closed his eyes. Lex had chosen. To value their old friendship, even over his own family. After all the lies, he was offering Clark trust. Even protection. Lex had just handed Clark ... everything.

"Take your dogs and go home, dad. Next time you want to discuss a business proposition, send me an e-mail." He turned away, ignoring Lionel so completely that he missed the splutter, though Cyrus didn't. (When Cyrus imitated it for Clark and Lex later, Lex laughed so hard Clark had to hold him upright.) "If you'll excuse me, I have a business to run. William, is there any more coffee?" His voice got lighter as they went into the kitchen together, leaving Lionel gaping at the idea of his son dismissing him.

Cyrus paused in the act of pouring them both some morning brew. "He isn't going to give up, you know. Were you serious about, well, a job offer? Somewhere down the line?"

Lex tilted his head at him. The temptation to play with his head, the way he had with Clark's, lasted only for a second. Here was a kid who had been through as much as he and Clark had, and knew what to do with it. "You can tell when someone is lying when you touch them, correct?"

Cyrus waved a hand. "That's right, you still don't know the full story. I'm an empath as well as a healer. There are stronger empaths and healers, but nobody else as good at both. I can spot a lie from across the block. I knew about Clark without even touching him."

"That would be a very useful asset in a business associate, you know." Lex's eyes glittered, and Cyrus shivered. Lex was BLOCKING him. Was everyone in Smallville a mutant? "How are you doing that? Only another psi can shut me out like that. And I didn't feel any of the talent in you earlier." Thoughtfully, "Then again, I didn't catch that Jonathan Kent was a mind reader until I touched him."

That astonishment broke Lex's control. "Jonathan Kent can read minds?"

"Well, no, not much. He's a, what we call, a residual, low sensitivity. Plus he burned out from not being trained. I went insane, he took up farming. You...." Cyrus hesitated, held out his hand. "Can I touch you? To read. Not to hurt, I promise."

Lex considered him for what seemed a long time. Then he held out his hand.

Bright and dark and desire and pain and deeply buried love and hatred and wild violence and furious defenses and fireworks and ocean depths and WILL.... Cyrus doubled over, gasping. "Oh. God. That's where ... the wall... comes from."

"So what's the verdict? Am I a telepath and don't know it?"

"Not ... even close. You're ... it's all ... intensity. Projection. Emotion. Power."

"Well." Lex turned to his coffee, to hide the raw naked disappointment and need. Dammit! Clark and William, both his to command if he chose, if he so much as asked, but no special abilities of his own. "I am a Luthor, after all. Power is what it's all about."

"Do you have ... any idea ... what that ... really means?" Cyrus was getting his control back, but Lex was blocking him again. Without even trying to, apparently. Cyrus was almost as scared of Lex's unconscious power as he was of Lake's. Lex out of control....

"To command minions to my bidding?" Lex's voice was sardonic. "Of course."

Cyrus closed his eyes. "Clark, would you come in here? We need to ... explain something to Lex. Stay on the other side of the room from me." A glance up at Lex. "I put the chip in my pocket until the locksmiths could get here. Didn't want Lionel to try to snatch it back if we were distracted by something."

Lex accepted that, eyes still slightly narrowed. "I saw you pick it up. I wondered if you would admit to it. What you intended to do with it. If there would have been ... consequences." He pushed the thought away and used a sip of coffee as an excuse to change the subject. "Clark can hear you?"

"Well, he can get the gist of it. If I concentrate on sending. That's not my talent. But Clark and I are ... linked. From way back. I was here when he, you know, came to us."

"When his spaceship landed." Lex nodded in confirmation. "So was I. A meteor hit not a hundred meters from me. That's what caused," he ran a hand over his head, "this."

Clark was standing in the doorway. Lex hadn't seen him yet, and Cyrus carefully kept his eyes directed to Lex's face. "So maybe you're linked to him somehow, too," Cyrus said, as if seriously speculating, trying to distract Clark from his nearly compulsive guilt.

Lex smiled. "You just said I had no kind of psychic talent." He turned. "But yes, I remember the child who reached out to me that day. Come on in, Clark."

Cyrus backed away, putting distance between him and Clark. "I said that you had power, Lex. Power, the way knowledge and weapons are power. Power to create, power to destroy. It's not a psi talent. It's not physical strength. It's something unique. I don't mind telling you that it's also something frightening. How did you know Clark was behind you?"

Lex raised an eyebrow. "I learned very young to keep track of my surroundings."

"And how many other people do you think learn to do that so well? Ever?"

"How many other people are Luthors?" Lex countered. "You don't survive in my world without watching and being aware and careful of...." His voice trailed off. "Oh. Knowledge. Weapons. What constitutes my ... power. That's ... very insightful, William."

"I learned the hard way." He flashed a grin in Clark's direction. Thanks to you and your friends. "What you're born with, and to, isn't the limit of what you can become."

Clark smiled and nodded back, though it made him a little dizzy, even from across the room. "I'm ... only starting to get it, Lex. But it seems like something worth learning."

Lex looked back and forth between them, bemused. "Coming from you two, that's quite a compliment."

"Power isn't something to be proud of, Lex. Only how you use it is. If you were born with a talent for engineering, and you chose to make bombs instead of spaceships, would you be proud of that?" Cyrus inclined his head towards Clark. "No offense to your ancestors, Kal-El."

Lex's expression sharpened. "Kal-El? Any relationship to what you said earlier? That odd language that a Smallville teenager shouldn't have any reason to know? Jor-El?"

"Oops. Sorry, Clark. I thought you'd told him about your parentage and the screwed-up computer, especially after the box episode."

Clark sighed. "We really hadn't had a chance to do more than vent. You and Lex ought to get along great, you both think faster than I can keep up with. Right now, anyway. Bill, can you put that thing somewhere else for awhile? Maybe it's just the lack of sleep and something I ate and watching Lex having to deal with his dad, but I'm not feeling real well."

Lex said an unsophisticated word and bolted to catch Clark when he sagged back against the doorway. Cyrus started towards him too, reflexively, and repeated Lex's curse as he stopped himself. "I forgot. The crap is cumulative. Radiation poisoning. You got any place else I can put this thing?"

Lex nodded, cradling a half-conscious Clark. "Upstairs, third room on the right, top drawer in the armoire. It's got enough metal in it to block most of the radiation."

"Enough metal" turned out to be sixty or seventy cases of bullets. Cyrus was fairly pale himself when he came back down. "And you have that stash for why, exactly?"

Lex did not appear to be exerting any effort to hold the Kryptonian down in his lap by resting two fingers on his forehead. His eyes met Cyrus', pure steel. "Against possible future necessity. Part of being a Luthor. Would you care to go through the scenarios?"

"About as much as Clark would. Kal? You okay?" Cyrus knelt beside them. "Need a hand?" The offer of a healer's hand was a little more than the phrase usually implied.

"I'm fine," Clark murmured, accepting Lex's touch on his head as if it were a kitten pushing its nose against him. "Just tired. There's so much ... so much change...."

"You should try three months in schizophrenic dissociation. Relax, my friend. I promise you, you're safe now." His eyes met Lex's, a direct challenge. The message passed between power and power: Clark is not to be used. Hurt him, and I will kill you.

Lex nodded, accepting the demand. "You're safe right where you are, Clark." And so are you, Cyrus. Anyone who tries to hurt either of you will answer to Lex Luthor.

Cyrus felt that as if it had been written across the sky. His real smile lit the room. "You're amazing. What's it like, to have that kind of power?"

"Please." Lex made himself sound bored. "It's nothing, compared to what you can do. Or him." Lex nodded to the head in his lap.

"Not true, Alexander." Cyrus frowned. "Your power is the control of nations, the dreams of kings. Clark and I are -- well, it's different. More, well, what we are, than who we are. You knew Clark was from another planet, right?"

"He did sort of give me that impression," Lex said dryly.

"Did you know the planet exploded? That his own ancestors were the ones who created the planet-cracking bomb? That's what caused the meteorites. That he's the only one left? No one else made it off."

Lex felt a glacier crawl up his spine. "No. I didn't know. Clark -- Kal-El? -- is the last of his whole -- his whole -- species? World?"

"The last. The only." Cyrus leaned back with a sigh. "In all the whole freaking galaxy, under a hundred million suns, there isn't anyone else like him."

Lex swallowed. The awful emotions that washed through him at that gave him a taste of what the meteor sickness must be like, pain and horror and sick helplessness. "Clark." A careful touch to the head. "I'm so sorry."

Clark lifted a hand tiredly. "Don't. Even the Luthors can't take the blame for that one."

Lex mock-glared at him. "Oh, believe me, I'll find a way. I no longer plan on ruling the world. I'm going to rule the galaxy. Move over, Buck Rogers and General Hammond."

"You do NOT watch the sci-fi channel."

"Every night, right after Comedy Central. I get more honest news that way than from the corporate-owned mainstream media. Plus it drives dear old dad crazy."

Cyrus and Clark looked at each other. Clark moved his head back and forth in disbelief. Cyrus fell back laughing. Lex could dead-pan better than even the Baron. Oh, geez, the thought of Lex and Baron John together.... The world wasn't safe.

"Right, I almost forgot." Clark sat up. Lex marveled again at his recovery speed. Clark had to be flat exhausted just from the strain of admitting who -- what -- he was. Never mind the gallon of alcohol and the lethal remnants of his....

His home. His world. His place. No one and nothing left, except the cruel irony of bits and pieces that were deadly for him just to be near.

What must it be like, to be so much stronger than anything on the planet, to think that a polar bear or an orca could be a playful companion that you still had to be careful not to hurt, to consider a machine gun a minor nuisance? Damn, he really wanted to change places with Clark, even if only for a day. Well, okay, a year. But no, not a lifetime. For all the vicious training to be a Luthor, he didn't think he could handle being so totally, forever, alone.

Clark had to live with that. For all his perfect Norman Rockwell adopted family, Clark could never be anything other than totally, forever, alone.

Lex fought very hard not to hold Clark close and let embarrassing tears fall.

"Your dad's "driver" left some stuff in the front hall, too. I didn't want to get near it, for some stupid reason, you know? You were right about the booby traps. Of course, you're always right about everything, though I bet you didn't think Stan would say some of those words out loud. And the new TV probably comes pre-bugged. According to him, anyway."

"Hm." Lex pretended to look concerned. "I'll have to speak to my people about being a bad influence on a minor. Bad for the image. After I've worked so hard to keep from being ridden out of this town on a rail."

Cyrus felt like he had been whipsawed by the emotion storm between Clark and Lex. And yet Lex was just letting it go, like an unimportant business deal. He stared at Clark, eyebrows crawling into his hairline in a confused question. "Are all Luthors insane?"

Clark shook his head. "You'd know better than I would. But yeah, I think Lex is definitely a nutcase. You think the purple silk underwear is weird? He buys purple POTATOES, for pity's sake."

Cyrus collapsed in laughter. Clark joined him, falling on his face. Only Lex.