Just wanted to say thank you to The Tribble Master and Sassy Soprano, had it not been for your kind reviews I never would have added the second chapter, instead it would have sat hidden away in my computer until the day it died. So this is for you two. :)
The day after Doomsday killed Superman found Lex sitting in his wrecked living room screaming in silent agony. Tears ran unchecked down his face, a nearly empty bottle of scotch at his side on the coffee table. In his hand a framed picture of him and Clark nearly 15 years ago. Clark's arm slung over his shoulder, head thrown back in laughter. Clark still laughed that way, whole body and soul, even after all these years. He stubbornly refused to admit that he was gone.
Gone...he choked back a sob and chased it with the rest of his drink and let the empty glass roll away. His eyes tracked the glass as it rolled to a stop. That's how I feel, he thought, empty, discarded...useless. Without Clark his life held no spark, without Clark he didn't want to continue. He flicked his gaze to the silent television, accusation blazing in his eyes, blaming it for his inability to admit that Clark was...No! He couldn't be, he's Superman. Invulnerable, strong, good, everything he was not. The news channels continued to broadcast Clark's last few hours alive, battling the creature, and finally succumbing to his exhaustion and injuries.
He had ripped the phone from the wall after talking with Clark's parents. They were planning on coming up to Metropolis after he had refused to leave his sanctuary. He didn't want to speak to the press, didn't want to speak to Clark's childhood friends who knew his secret, and he certainly didn't want to speak to Lois and her ilk. Rage boiled up at the thought of all the moments that woman had taken from them with her constant inability to stay out of trouble that required Superman to save her.
Angrily he swiped the back of his arm across his eyes and forced himself to his feet to make arrangements for Clark's funeral. He and the Kent's had agreed to claim that Clark was a casualty of the battle between Superman and Doomsday, one who's body couldn't be located. Only those few people who knew about Clark would know the real truth. He just didn't think he'd have to see this day come to pass.
He placed a reverent kiss to Clark's face in the picture before replacing it on his desk, the only item to survive his destructive rage solely on the merit that this was where the picture was supposed to be. He picked up his cell phone to make all the arrangements for his love's funeral.
With the death of Superman came a void in the world that none could say wasn't felt. Crime started to climb, imposters crawled out of the woodworks and it fairly made Lex want to raze the world for their blasphemy against the memory of Superman, of his Clark. Instead, he heeded the gentle words that rang in his mind in Clark's voice, calmed his rage and let the world continue along its merry way, unaware of its pardon on a specter's behalf.
The days were long for Lex, spent at his offices, building LexCorp into a stronger company. He tended to the charities that he had instituted on Clark's behalf, telling himself that if Clark were there he'd smile that special smile that told him that he was not his father. His nights were even longer despite the fact that he spent more time in his offices than in his penthouse. What little time he spent there was passed sleeping and preparing for work, he couldn't bring himself to linger in the memory filled walls.
Wearily he dragged his hand over his face and glanced at the clock, 9:45 p.m. He supposed he could go home for a few hours to shower and sleep. Gathering his papers he fortified himself for the emptiness that awaited him in the penthouse and exited his office.
When he opened his door he saw that the living room light was left on. He made a mental note to remind the maids to ensure the lights were off before leaving. Keys went into the ceramic bowl next to the door and his briefcase was placed under the small table. He hung his coat and slipped off his shoes before making his way further into the house.
Lex froze when he scented an odd smell that hadn't been in the house when he left this morning. It was not a smell that he wasn't familiar with; he used to smell it everyday when Clark was still alive. His eyes burned and his heart lurched as it wafted under his nose again. Clark's shampoo, someone who used the same shampoo had been in his house today. He made another mental note to remind the house workers of their contract, which stated specifically which soaps and other toiletries that Clark had used were not to be used while in his employ.
Lex took another step into the living room and froze again when a voice rumbled sleepily, "I thought you'd be home earlier."
"Clark?" his voice trembled.
"I missed you, Lex," came Clark's reply. A mussed dark head of hair peeked up from the couch as Clark sat up.
"Clark!" Lex cried as his feet drew him unerringly around the couch and launched himself into Clark's arms. He felt Clark's arms pull him solidly against himself as he cried his joy into his shoulder. He felt Clark snuffle the spot behind his ear causing him to shiver against the very real body under his own. "Tell me I'm not dreaming, please," Lex's muffled voice begged.
"You're not dreaming, Lex, I'm here now," Clark soothed as he rubbed his hand across Lex's back. "I don't plan on leaving anytime soon."
"Good," Lex stated as he hugged Clark tighter, "I plan on holding you to those words. You're not leaving me again."
Clark grinned and laughed softly, "Well I'll have to leave to use the bathroom and to get food. I'll eventually have to see my parents too."
Lex leaned back enough to smack Clark on the shoulder, which only caused Clark to lean in and kiss him driving away his remaining fears that this was only a dream. "I missed you," Clark murmured after pulling back for air and Lex smiled as he heard those words, an echo of when they last were separated and reunited.