Part 3 Out of Place

There was nothing like a cold slap of reality to put things into perspective. The hand quickly retreated and he felt the weight lift off his thighs.

"Lex! Well what do you think? I couldn't have done better if I ordered him."

Lex? What was Lex doing here? Wait, he hated Lex didn't he? He tried to sneer at him but it got lost in a giggle. There he was in the back of some club, lounging on a couch with an undone zipper and a raging hard on, and Lex was staring at him like he had three heads. Maybe he did. The thought of that made him laugh harder, because he felt like if he didn't laugh he may burst into tears from embarrassment and that would be so much worse. Apparently drinking made you emotional too.

"Clark, are you drunk?"

Clark tried to shake his head 'no' but it came out in a half-nod. "I am Lex, ...I think maybe I am."

"How did you even get in? Lex turned sharply to the girl. "Do you get him this way?"

She looked at Lex offended. "I found him like that by the bar. What's wrong? He's perfect."

Perfect for what?

"He'll get me thrown in jail is what's wrong."

The girl eyed him. "He looks old enough to me."

"Well he's not, trust me. Help me get him up."

The girl helped Lex pull Clark into a standing position. Clark teetered on unstable feet for a moment then pulled away from them, stumbling slightly, but managed to catch himself.

"I'm fine, I don't need your help, and I'm old enough, though I'm not perfect...I just need to find Chloe."

Lex grabbed his arm again. "You're coming with me, and then I'm going to call and have Chloe and whoever else is underage escorted out of here. Then you will tell me which guard let you in. I'm part owner of this club, and I don't need any trouble."

Lex flipped open his cell phone and barked orders to have the car brought around, keeping a tight hold on Clark. The girl smiled. "So you are taking him home, I knew when I saw him you wouldn't be able to resist him."

"I am taking him with me—alone."

The girl pouted. "I found him for you, that's completely unfair to leave me out."

Clark tried unsuccessfully to pull away from Lex. "Um...what are you guys talking about?"

Lex looked at her like she was crossing some sort of line. She got quiet. "I'm taking him home to let him sleep it off. I'll catch up with you later."

Clark was suddenly aware he was being dragged off by Lex—this couldn't be a good thing. "Lex…listen, I just...I need some air, then I need to find everyone else, especially that ass Trace, I'm going to really hurt him…and…Oh god Lana, Lana is supposed to call..."

Lex just let him ramble and pushed him into the waiting car. "Give me your cell phone Clark."

Clark just looked at him, he really wished his head would stay still, alcohol seemed to make your whole body feel like rubber, and he didn't feel all that well anymore. Lex just shoved his hand in Clark's pocket and pulled out his phone.

"Hey...what are you...?"

Lex scrolled his phone list until he found Chloe's number.

"Chloe? It's Lex. I want you and your friends out of the club within two minutes or you'll be escorted out by the police. Clark is with me, I'm taking him to the penthouse to sober up. When he's sober he'll call you." He hung up without waiting for an answer.

Chloe stared at her phone and several questions assaulted her brain at once. How did Lex know they were there, why is Clark with Lex and more importantly how did Clark get drunk? She dialed Lana quickly.

"Lana, listen we're leaving, don't come here...and I think Clark may be in trouble..."

Clark rubbed his temples hard. He was definitely tired of being drunk; the novelty had worn off around the time Lex interrupted whatever that woman was doing to him. Now he just wanted to sleep—sleep for a really long time in his bed, under his plaid comforter. But instead he was in a limo with Lex of all people probably being taken to the docks to be drowned or worse.

"Can I have my cell phone back?" Maybe if he was thrown in the Metropolis River he could at least call for help. Alcohol also made you stupid he noted.

Lex handed him his phone wordlessly.

"Thanks..."

"Do you mind telling me what you were doing at a nightclub in Metropolis?"

Clark smirked. "Partying?" he really hoped he wouldn't burst into another fit of giggles.

"And how did you get in?"

He looked at Lex defiantly. "Through the door."

Lex sighed. "It's not like I won't find out who let you in Clark."

Clark rolled his eyes. "What do you care Lex, really? I'm sure we're not the first kids to sneak into a club. Don't you have some third world country to take over or something? Some kittens to murder?"

Wow, he was really a little mean when he drank. Lex didn't say another word after that last remark, keeping his gaze strictly on the city passing by the window. Clark regretted what he said, or he thought he should regret it. Sober-Clark would regret it, but drunk- Clark wasn't really sure he did.

Clark was a little surprised, but still grateful when they arrived and parked at Luthorcorp Towers and not Pier 6. He still had no intention of going up to the Penthouse where he was sure Lex would enact his nefarious plan, but he thought there was probably a really nice soft couch up there and maybe he'd be allowed to sit, or even nap before the torturing commenced.

But Lex did not live up to his villainious reputation. He not only let him sit on the really soft (down maybe?) sofa, he brought him a nice tall glass of water, which Clark guzzled greedily. An act he regretted when his stomach lurched. He grabbed his stomach and moaned.

"Don't throw up on my new floors please."

Alcohol really was the devil. "I'm not going to throw up...I just don't feel very well."

"The bathroom is down the hall on the left."

"I'm not...I just...I need to lie down." Lex nodded, indicating the couch and walked down the hall, he guessed to bring back the torture instruments, but Clark was fast asleep before he could see if he was right.

When he awoke an hour later, there was something large sitting on his head, and something dead had crawled inside his stomach. He slowly pulled himself to a sitting position, holding his head for fear it would fall off his neck. He silently vowed never to as so much use rubbing alcohol again.

"Feeling better?"

Clark looked up to see Lex standing at the edge of the room watching him impassively.

Clark just mumbled. "No."

"Go to the bathroom and throw up, trust me, you'll feel better."

Clark just grimaced, he really didn't see how throwing up would make him feel better.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?"

Lex smirked. "A little."

Clark stood up, testing his equilibrium. He guessed he could make it down the hall without falling. "Um, I guess I should thank you..."

Lex nodded. "Yes you should, especially since I didn't torture you or whatever else you were mumbling about."

Clark winced. "I'm sorry Lex, I didn't mean all of that. We haven't been on the best terms...and well, I've never drank before."

Lex walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink, which Clark was positive was meant to mock him. "I guessed that too. Are you having a late rebellious stage?"

"No, just a stupid stage." Clark grabbed his stomach as it did a very impressive flip.

"Go make yourself sick, and I'll get you some ginger ale."

He nodded, steadying himself against the wall to begin his slow trek down the hall. He paused for a moment, turning back to face Lex—he had to ask.

"Why did you help me?"

Lex just shrugged. "We were friends once, but mainly because of a weakness of mine."

Clark looked puzzled, "What's that?"

"I don't like to see a lamb be thrown to the wolves, and you drunk at a club," He gave him a once-over, "... dressed like that—you didn't stand a chance."

Clark blushed a little at the implication, and that brought to mind something else he remembered about earlier that evening but he decided that needed to be addressed on a less queasy stomach.

Trace was so dead; he was really going to kill him, in a slow painful way. He sat on the cold marble tile thinking of different ways of making Trace suffer the way he had just suffered while expelling his intestines and surely a lung into Lex's very impressive toilet.

He finally emerged from the bathroom after washing his face and dousing his mouth in excessive amounts of mouthwash. As promised, a ginger ale sat waiting on the end table for him. He sipped it slowly and sank into an armchair. Lex sat across from him fiddling with his Blackberry doing a very good job of pretending Clark wasn't there.

His phone rumbled in his pocket; he'd forgotten to turn the ringer back on. It was Chloe sounding very frantic. He told her he was fine and with Lex, and he'd take a cab so they wouldn't have to drive and pick him up. She insisted they come and get him, saying Lana was beside herself.

"Did you really get drunk?"

Clark groaned. "Yes."

"And I missed it!"

"Thanks Chloe."

"Ok, Lana wants to talk to you."

She put Lana on the phone, and he assured her several times that he was fine, trying not to get angry at the way she kept going on about how he was the last person she expected to get wasted at a club. When he finally hung up he was very very tired.

He closed his eyes, trying to sink deeper into the soft cushions.

"Are they on their way?"

Clark nodded, not opening his eyes. "I can't thank you enough Lex, really. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't gotten me out of there."

Lex didn't look up from his Blackberry. "Anytime Clark, and don't worry, you can go back to hating me tomorrow."

"I don't hate you Lex...I don't hate anyone."

Lex looked up. "But we'll never be friends again."

He said it so matter-of-factly that Clark felt a small pang in his chest. "Maybe we can...one day..."

"I'll never be the person you need me to be."

Clark went to protest, but he knew he was right, so he kept silent. "Oh,..Lex, I was going to ask you about...that girl..."

Lex smirked a little. "The less said about that the better. I'm only sorry you got mixed up in it."

Clark grinned. "Well...it wasn't all bad."

Lex almost laughed, but his house phone rang announcing Chloe and Lana in the lobby. Clark stood up to leave, feeling very awkward all of a sudden. It was the longest, most civil conversation he and Lex had in months, and part of him wanted to prolong the moment. But he knew things didn't change over one night and one rescue. He walked to the door, and turned before he opened it.

"Lex?"

Lex looked up at him.

"I really don't hate you."

"I know Clark."

Part 4: Reality (Bites)

It's funny how fast things change in just a few weeks. Clark had gone back to Nell's that night and slept until noon the next day. By afternoon he saw the humor in what happened and regaled Chloe and Lana with the story of his one night of debauchery (minus the woman of course) on the drive back to Smallville. He didn't even feel like killing Trace anymore—maybe just maim him a little. Now like countless other people his age, he had a drunken tale of woe, and he'd always cherish it because he knew it would never happen again.

The very next week Lex did something that made him so angry he went to the mansion in a rage and punched him in the jaw. That moment solidified that everything that had ever been between them was over. That moment changed them both with such a finality that neither could ever come back from.

Just a couple of weeks after that he learned the true pain of being human when a bullet from a deranged and disillusioned boy ripped through his chest, tearing a hole in his lungs. He'd never felt so vulnerable and terrified in his life as he lay on the asphalt in the bright morning sun with blood seeping from a gaping hole in his back. He died that day in more ways that one.

He returned to his body, fully restored and no longer human. He wanted it to be a relief. He was himself again, as he had always been. But he would forever miss the way Lana's hair felt when it brushed against his skin still slick with sweat after they made love; how all the muscles in his arms and back ached after he and his father, sweating side by side, worked in the fields. Or the way the wind chilled against his skin at night. He supposed he should be grateful he was able to experience the one thing he wanted his whole life, even if it was for just a short while. Now he understood how fragile their flesh and bones really were.

But the thing that made him sad, especially when he looked at Lana, who drifted away a little more each day, was that now he truly understood how different he was from them in ways he had no way of understanding before.

And though he'd always carry the pain of knowing he'd never be one of them, he could protect them, and love them, and in his own way, he'd always belong to them.

The end