"Who are you?" were the first words that Clark heard as he woke up. The first thing he felt was the burn of too-tight ropes against his wrists. If his captor seriously thought he was coherent enough to talk already he was insane.

He swallowed down the saliva that had pooled in his throat and shook his head a little to clear the cobwebs. When he finally worked up the strength to open his eyes he saw that he was still in Lex's office.

"I asked who you are," his captor repeated, his eyes merciless.

"What do you want?" Clark muttered, his grasp on reality just beginning to return.

He reflected that it felt very much like it had when he'd woken up on Sunday mornings and had just laid in his bed for a while. The difference was that his Sunday morning activities had, of course, been more relaxing than being tied to a chair in Lex's office.

"Right now? To know your name."

"How's it feel to want?" he whispered venomously, anticipating the slap that landed on his mouth. His head spun a little when he tasted blood in his mouth, his tooth having gone through his lip.

"Just tell me your name, kid," his attacker ordered tiredly.

"Jerome," Clark replied, not entirely lying. Jerome was, after all, his name. It just wasn't the one the man was looking for. "What do you want with me?"

"I'm not doing this for myself," the man told him leisurely, taking a cigarette out of his back pocket and lighting it. As the smoke began to lazily curl up into the air he added, "I'm paid to look for a kid who supposedly escaped the massacre the other night."

"I'm not that kid," Clark quickly lied. "Only the highest security prisoners were killed."

"You're not that kid?" he asked, a smile curving on his lips. "Because you fit the description to a tee. In fact, I think you're lying by telling me you're not Clark Kent."

"I'm not a high security prisoner; look at the brand on my back. You've obviously got the wrong guy."

The man looked at him through narrowed eyes, but took his cigarette out of his mouth and put it between his thumb and middle finger as he strolled around behind Clark. Clark's breathing quickened when he heard the sound of a knife being snapped open. A moment later he heard the distinctive rip of cloth as a knife sliced through it.

"Would you look at that," Clark heard the man muse, his tone slightly amused. "You don't have the right brand."

"So could you possibly untie me now?" Clark asked, wrinkling his nose as the scent of the cigarette smoke reached his nostrils.

The man only laughed. "No, because I still want to know all about you. My instructions were that, if I couldn't find Clark Kent, then I was to find something that Luthor would pay—whether it be information or money, I don't know—ransom for."

"I'm just a servant," Clark lied quickly, watching the man walk back in front of him where he settled on the edge of the desk casually, his eyes perusing over Clark.

'Yeah? Does Mr. Luthor always give his servants private bedrooms with TV sets?"

His smirk told Clark that he already knew the answer, whether Clark gave it or not. "I am a servant, just of a...different kind."

"A whore then?" he asked, taking a puff of his cigarette.

Trying not to be too conspicuous, Clark began to work at the bindings of his wrists. "Yes," he answered, trying to look convincing.

The man nodded, his lower lip sticking out slightly as he seemed to be thinking. "Well, you're certainly pretty enough. But the one flaw to that facade is that, if everything you've said is true, then Lex Luthor's whore died in the massacre. Did he get a replacement that quickly? Especially one that looks just like his former one?"

"I don't know what the one before me looked like," Clark tried to protest, his hope rising as he felt the bindings loosen a little, despite the pain it was causing in his shoulder to pull on them. He wondered why this guy had even bothered to take his sling off.

"Here, let me give you a picture," the man suggested with a soft chuckle as he put his cigarette out against Lex's desk, creating a burn mark. Lex wasn't going to be real happy, Clark thought to himself; he was pretty fond of his furniture.

The man took a photo out of his back pocket and held it in front of Clark's face. Clark had to inwardly groan a little as he realized it was a photo from the second night that a search party had invaded the mansion. "Looks a little like you, huh?" the man asked, his tone deceptively friendly.

"Guess Mr. Luthor has a certain type," Clark answered him with a shrug. The ropes holding his wrists were almost loose enough to slip through, and for once Clark thought fortune was on his side. (He was praying it was, anyway.)

"Yeah, and he was able to find a guy who looked exactly like the one in this bed in under forty-eight hours?" A soft grin lit up his features as he leaned down close to Clark's face and muttered, his tone almost like a lover's, "Why don't you tell me what you're really doing here, Clark."

Clark felt his hands slip through the restraints. Freedom had seldom felt so good. "Because I'd rather not get killed, thanks," he replied as he stood up.

The man's face contorted in disbelief, and that shock gave Clark enough time to go for the gun in the drawer. He hurriedly whipped it out and pointed it at the man, who instantly stopped his attempts to go for the stun gun in the chair across the room.

"Who sent you?" Clark demanded, his eyes never leaving the man's face, just as the gun never left its point over his heart. The strain it was causing on Clark's shoulder hurt, though, and Clark was using every bit of grit and determination he possessed just to keep the gun at shoulder height.

"I-I don't know," the man replied, his face flushed. Clark could see the fear radiating off him, all traces of his overconfident persona completely gone.

"WHO SENT YOU!" Clark yelled, the gun shaking as his hands began to. He'd taken human life only a very few times before, but it was never something he wanted to do. Right now he wasn't even sure he could.

"Lana, Lana Lang," he choked out, his eyes never leaving the gun. "She was sure Luthor saved you."

"And she'd be right," Clark replied bitterly, but the words tasted terrible in his mouth. Lana had betrayed him, yes, but now she was going to the extent of sending people after him. She'd even tried to get him killed in a mass murder. All of that was still hard to believe.

Clark had always had good reflexes, with or without his powers. He never thanked (and cursed) that more than at that moment as the man on the floor jumped to his feet and made a move at him.

As if in slow motion, Clark felt the gun in his hand go off. It didn't feel like him, though. It didn't even seem like he was holding the gun anymore. He felt the backfire of it, and he saw the man crumple in front of him, a horrified and pained expression on his feet. What really put it all in perspective for him, though, was when the man fell to his back and a red stain began to spread on the rug.

He'd killed him.

Clark had killed him.

There was a man dead on the floor because of him.

The gun slowly fell from his hands to the floor with a clatter. A moment latter Clark felt his legs turn to jelly as he sank back into the chair behind him. He couldn't stay there, however, because that was the chair he'd just been tied to, and he didn't want to relive that.

Practically in shock, he sank down to the carpeted floor beneath him, feeling very, very sick. All of this had been his fault, he decided. If he'd only never come to earth, the aliens never would have invaded. Everything could have been avoided altogether.

It had been his fault.

He gave up the contents of his stomach as the world began to spin. That only served to make things worse, as it joined the already nauseating smell of blood and death. Everything was so wrong in Clark's world at the moment. Nothing was going right.

"Lex!" he heard a girl's voice shriek, but he wasn't in the state of mind to recognize it. "There's-oh, my gosh-in your office. CLARK!"

The yells filled his ears, but it wasn't until Chloe's hands cupped his face that he registered who they were from. "Clark, Clark, are you alright?" she demanded breathlessly. "Oh, my gosh, Clark, what happened?" He could feel Chloe trying to grab his face so that he'd look at her, but even without his strength she couldn't force him.

He'd never heard Chloe sound so worried, and it frightened him. He didn't like it when Chloe was scared. "I'm alright," he muttered, forcing himself to stay strong. "But I...I killed a man," he told her seriously, glancing over at the body.

In his peripheral vision he saw Lex enter the room. "Shit," was the only explicative that Clark heard from him before Lex too was on his knees next to Clark. He was stronger than Chloe, and was able to maneuver Clark so that he was looking at him. "I want you to look at me."

Clark did, because his mind wanted to stop functioning and thinking for itself, at least for the moment. "Good," Lex said approvingly. "Get me a wash cloth," he told Chloe, before looking back at Clark. "Alright, I need you to calm down and tell me what happened."

"He's not ready for that yet!" Chloe snapped in the background.

"He's stronger than you think, Chloe," Lex argued, "and I need to know what happened in case there's anyone else around." He turned back to Clark and gently brought both hands to his face, keeping Clark's gaze clearly on him. "What. Happened?" he repeated slowly.

Clark could feel himself begin to focus and the shock begin to wear off. It had never been like this in Chicago. The only time it had been like this was the first time. The first time he'd killed someone he'd gotten very distant, stared desperately at the body, and hadn't heard anything. Pete had been the one who'd been able to snap him out of it that time.

It was apparently Lex's turn.

"I-Lana sent him after me. He said she'd wanted to see if you'd saved me—if you'd faked my death," he replied faintly.

Chloe returned with the cold cloth and gently began to wash of Clark's face. Lex let go of Clark and moved out of the way to let her, apparently convinced Clark wasn't in any immediate danger.

"Is he alright?" Clark heard Chloe ask.

"I'm-I'm fine, Chlo," he answered himself. "I'm sorry I scared you."

He could feel his complete consciousness returning and the shock beginning to wear off. It was a welcome relief. "Alright," Lex said again, his relief obvious. "Then get up and follow me. There is no way I'm ever leaving you again in a room that's not hidden."

Clark was a little hesitant to follow, but Lex took him by his upper arms and gently forced eye contact again, although he didn't need to use physical force this time. "Do you trust me?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Clark replied truthfully.

"Alright," he said with a soft nod. "Then trust me to make this better for you."

With a soft nod, Clark let himself be led from the room. All he really wanted was to forget the horrors of the recent few days. If Lex and Chloe could help with that, he was certainly game.

---------------------------

If you'd asked Clark where Lex had taken him after he'd gotten him out of the office, he couldn't have told you. If you'd asked him how to get there you'd have gotten the same answer. Though he'd regained a fairly good hold on himself, he still wasn't functioning like he should have.

And it was easier just to trust Lex.

His memory really began recording things as more than just a blur when they entered the room. Clark supposed that it registered in his mind because it was so awful. Well, not awful, per say, but not a nice place either.

The room had absolutely no windows, and its only furnishings were a bed. "There's a bathroom there," Lex told him, pointing to a small door in the wall.

Clark felt sick. Lex could apparently tell, because he quickly maneuvered Clark to bed and pulled the covers over him. Clark didn't protest when Lex filled a syringe with a sedative and told him he was going to sedate him because he and Chloe had to get to the bottom of what had happened.

Clark had only nodded numbly, thankful for the temporary reprieve from reality. It hadn't taken long for Lex to insert the needle into his neck, and in what seemed like only seconds later Clark was drifting off.

As he began to fall asleep he noticed that with silence there were no screams, no questions, and no gunshots. Silence was nice.

--------------------------------

The stroking of his hair was what Clark woke up to. It wasn't harsh or pulling, nor was it a command to wake up. No, it was just a nice gentle caress and if nothing else it made Clark feel loved.

"Hey, Chloe," he muttered. He didn't even need to open his eyes to tell who was touching him like that.

The petting momentarily stopped, so Clark leaned into the gentle touch. There was a soft chuckle and it began again. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Lex doesn't pet me," he said with a weak laugh.

She laughed as well. "I should hope not." Her voice dropped to the utmost seriousness as she asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he answered truthfully. He didn't feel so panicked anymore, and he knew that was definitely an improvement. "How long was I out?"

"You were sedated for about twenty-four hours."

Twenty-four hours, he thought to himself. That was a pretty long time. "Where's Lex?"

"Out trying to kill someone," she replied darkly. "I've never seen him so made. I think this was the worst thing Lana could have done."

"Did you guys find out anything at the capitol?"

The hand in his hair briefly stalled before resuming its motion. "We found out that Lana's sleeping with one of the members of the council."

"Big surprise," Clark muttered, still really liking the feel of that touch. He wondered if it was possible to just stay in bed and be petted for the rest of his life.

"Yeah, well, not really," she pointed out. "Still, it is pretty effective. She's got an amazing amount of influence. I mean, she got Victoria Hardwick killed, she passed a decree ordering the murder of everyone of a certain criminal status—she's even gotten searches of Lex's mansion twice."

"So she's got connections," he said with a shrug, finally sitting up. "You think she can beat Lex?"

"Ultimately? No. He's been raised to do this his whole life. Lex knows how to fight dirty. Do I think she'll give him a run for his money? Yes, I do. But we both know that Lex thrives when something's on the line."

"I'm sure my life is a wonderful incentive," he replied sarcastically. With a sigh he asked, "When is Lex getting back?"

"That's a good question." Clark sat against the headboard as she checked her watch. When her face became slightly concerned he felt worry creep into the pit of his stomach. Had Lex done something stupid?

"He should have been back an hour ago."

"That's not like Lex," Clark pointed out. Lex was prompt and always on top of things. If he was late, there was a reason.

"It's not," she agreed. Her face became contemplative for a moment before she stood up. "I'll be right back," she promised.

He nodded and watched her leave. His mind was absolutely reeling. Things were adding up and, yet, they weren't. Clark understood why Lana was doing what she was doing, but he wasn't clear on just what she was doing. She was trying to kill anyone who knew anything, that was for sure. But her eventual goal was completely unclear.

She was after a good place in the community, that was for sure. But did she actually plan to conform long-term? Clark had a hard time believing that, because Lana was not a follower. But it didn't seem likely that she'd want to rule either, because she wasn't that much of a leader.

His thoughts were interrupted by Chloe re-entering the room. When he saw her face he immediately knew that something was catastrophically wrong. She was pale as a ghost and her hands were shaking, but it was the look in her eyes that really scared him.

He was reminded of the time in Smallville that the young boy Garrett had been forced to watch his brother Vince die. The shock and horror on Chloe's face was much the same. It was a look that Clark had never wanted to see again.

"Lex has officially been detained by the government," she whispered. "On accounts of harboring a spy."

Clark could feel his heart drop to his feet. Detained by the government for questioning was tantamount to an execution notice. Lex was basically condemned for death.

"When's the trial?" he asked, his mouth unbelievably dry.

He knew he had to keep a calm head. In this case Chloe, he, and Lex's lives probably all depended on it. Yet, he was finding it increasingly hard as he ran over the statistics of their chances for success in his head.

And failure was not an option.

He hauled himself out of bed and to the door. Chloe didn't make an attempt to stop him, but simply went with him. Clark wasted no time in going through the nearest door to find TV.

"Oh my gosh," he whispered.

"Breaking news:" the bottom of the screen read. "Lex Luthor, prominent businessman and all around figure of the new world, has just been arrested for harboring a spy. Details of the arrest are not readily known, although the spy is now believed to be dead. Mr. Luthor will be brought to trial tomorrow at the capitol."

Footage of Lex being hauled down a hallway by a bunch of aliens was being played over and over. The camera continued and the view panned out to show a large door, which they shoved Lex through.

"They're holding him at the capitol," Clark announced suddenly.

"There's nothing that you can do, Clark," Chloe said immediately.

Clark turned to her, slightly angry. "Do you expect me to watch him die?"

"It's what he'd rather have you do as opposed to going in there, getting caught, and getting both of you killed," she retorted seriously, the lines of her face very set with righteous determination. Usually Clark would have backed down. Today was not 'usually'.

"You know I'm right, Clark," she added as a pleading quality jumped into her eyes.

"These last few weeks have been great," Clark told her abruptly. "I haven't had to plan for anyone, haven't had to really protect anyone—someone took care of me for a change. But I'm me, Chloe. I'm different, and it couldn't last. And if you think I'm going to let my best friend get killed because of me, you don't know me as well as you thought."

She groaned and ran a hand through her hair, pulling at it slightly. "He wouldn't want you to do this."

"His wishes are irrelevant, because if I don't come up with something soon he's going to be dead."

"He wouldn't want you to put yourself in danger."

"I don't care."

It was as pure and simple as Clark could make it, and it described his whole attitude—because he didn't care. He wasn't going to let someone die. He'd already lost Pete and Lois; Lex wasn't going to be third on that list.

"He had something to give you, you know," she said faintly, dropping her hand to the back of her neck where she began to knead, obviously stressed out.

"What?" That really didn't make a lot of sense to him. What was she talking about?

"He told me that if something happened to him then I was to show you this," she said as means of explanation before she simply walked out of the room.

Clark, of course, followed, wondering what the heck Lex had done this time. He hadn't expected Chloe to know exactly where she was going. He hadn't expected the determined set of her shoulders, either, though it was obviously coupled with heavy resignation.

A lab really wasn't what he'd expected. Chloe seemed to know exactly what to do, though, as she immediately went over to a cabinet and forced it open. From inside she withdrew a small vial of liquid.

"What's that?" he asked softly, eyeing the liquid with trepidation.

"That," she announced tiredly, "is the antidote to whatever took away your powers."

Clark's jaw fell open. Lex had possessed the antidote the entire time? And he hadn't given it to Clark? And Chloe had known about it!

"He had it the entire time?"

A weary shake of her head confirmed it. "Yes."

"And why the hell didn't he give it to me!" he roared, anger blazing through him. Lex didn't have a right to play God with him like that.

"Because he thought—and probably rightly so—that if you had your powers you'd run off and try to save the world again."

"I gave him my word that I wouldn't," Clark whispered.

"Is your word stronger than you conscience when you see people hurting?" she asked seriously.

Clark could see it in her eyes: She'd agreed with Lex's decision to withhold the antidote from him. She hadn't wanted him to get his powers back either.

"Probably not," he admitted truthfully.

"He just didn't want to make it harder on you. He didn't want to see you go through that kind of pain," she explained. Then, putting one hand on her hip and the other to her forehead in a stressful gesture, she sighed. "And neither did I. It was possibly the one thing that we ever fully agreed on."

Clark didn't have time to feel annoyed or betrayed at the moment. He knew what was at stake, and he figured that if he saved LEx he could rail on him later.

"Let me see it," he ordered quickly.

She pointed to a chair in the corner. "Sit down and I'll inject it for you."

He nodded and hurried over to the chair, plopping down. He watched her as she went around the room, finally locating a needle and withdrawing the liquid from the vial. When she was ready she grabbed some antiseptic and came over to Clark.

"Are you sure you want this?" she asked, and he could have sworn he saw sympathy in her eyes.

Looking straight at her, he decisively replied, "Yes."

"All right," she said softly as she began to swab his arm. "Fine."

Clark watched it almost in slow motion as the needle was lowered towards his arm. He watched as Chloe poked around for a vein, finally finding one. And he also watched as the needle slid in and the serum was deployed.

After that sight was gone and his feeling took over.

It was what Clark imagined the most extreme high would feel like. He could literally feel the power spreading back into his limbs. Though he was regaining his powers, it was nothing like the time he'd regained them from Eric Marsh. That had been quick.

This was not.

The power seeped through every bit of him, but the best part was that he could feel his brand healing. When he finally came to he found he was lying on the floor, an extremely anxious Chloe kneeling beside him.

"Are you alright?" she asked breathlessly.

Clark smiled humorlessly and picked up a small metal instrument from beside him. (He assumed he'd hit it when he fell.) With the effort a grown man uses to crush an ant, Clark crumpled the instrument up.

"Does that answer your question?" he asked, his smile still present.

"Damn," she whispered, looking at the mangled piece of metal with slight awe. "Yeah, I guess it does. So, do you have a plan?"

Clark stood up off the floor and walked towards the lab door. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah, I do."

-------------------------------------------

Clark had picked up a few things from hanging around Lex, and going incognito was apparently one of them.

Everything is broken
Everything is broken
Everything is breaking down, breaking down

Clark had spent the past half-hour changing his appearance in Lex's bathroom. As he surveyed himself in the mirror, he thought Lex would have been proud.

Everything is bleeding
Everything is bleeding
Everything is breaking down, breaking down

His hair was now a lighter shade of brown, highlights having been added. Contacts had been used to make his eyes brown as well. A bit of makeup had darkened his skin from its usual golden color to something much more middle-eastern, or even Spanish.

A pledge allegiance to a country without borders, without politicians
Watching for my sky to get torn apart
We are broken, we are bitter
We're the problem, we're the politicians
Watching for our sky to get torn apart
C'mon and break me

After a little rummaging around, he'd managed to find an outfit that the guards at the capitol wore. He pulled one on, and though it was a little small, Clark was sure he'd pass without a problem. Besides, passing as a guard let him carry a hand gun.

Entropy and Aching
Where have we been aiming?
Everything is fading out, fading out
We are the faded, splitted, and sedated

"What do you think?" he asked Chloe as he came out of the bathroom to stand before her.

She only shook her head sadly. "I think that I can't believe you're doing this."

"I'll be fine, Chlo. And if I'm not, well, I'm pretty much marked for death right now anyhow."

Everything is fading out, fading out

"We could run," she pointed out.

"But I've never been the kind to back down from a challenge."

She sighed and came forward to wrap her arms around him. "No, I guess not. And if you were you wouldn't be the man I love," she whispered.

"I love you too, Chloe, more than you're ever going to know."

I pledge allegiance to a country without borders, without politicians
Watching for my sky to get torn apart
We are broken, we are bitter
We're the problem, we're the politicians
Watching for our sky to get torn apart
C'mon and break me
C'mon and break me

He leaned down and caught her lips in a deep kiss. She kissed back actively, and Clark tried not to think of how this could be the last time he felt those lips.

"I love you," he whispered once more before pulling away.

A pledge allegiance to a country without borders, without politicians,
politicians, politicians.

He forced himself not to look back as he walked away from her down the hall and towards the back door of the mansion. He thought that if she was the last thing he saw before going to do something that could quite possibly get him killed, well, at least he'd picked something definitely worthwhile and something that he loved with all his heart.

I am broken, I am bitter
I'm the problem, I'm the politician
Watching for my sky to get torn apart
C'mon and break me
C'mon and break me