It was on her drawing table. Rhone didn't understand why she had requested it. It was probably the same reason that she really called Clark a couple days ago – a reason deliberately left ignored and unidentified.
She called Clark; she rested her forehead on her hands. …I was just checking on – things she reminded herself. Of course.
She had decided to give a very vague truth to the boy about working for the military – he already knew her other secret and if he actually called that number she had recklessly given him, it wouldn't take long for him to figure something out. Overall, he seemed alright with it; his parents must have instilled a little patriotism in him as well.
…Just checking if a Midwestern town of 45,000 needed immediate military assistance or assistance of the – extraordinary kind. …She feigned an emergency when the topic turned to things she didn't want to discuss – specifically a certain handsome billionaire – and got off the phone.
She finished coloring the page she had in front of her. She held it up and away from her, thinking about how pathetic she was. She couldn't believe that she was still working on this comic idea, as well as the one she had worked on with – him. …She had found her thoughts drifted to him when she didn't have something to focus on.
She looked at the very thick packing envelope on her drawing table again. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It was about a foot and a half tall, and about a foot wide. It was flexible – as flexible as something that was probably three inches thick could be. She shook her head and set it in its previous position on her drawing table…
…
…It was on her drawing table.
She stood suddenly and sat at the computer console in her apartment. She pushed a few buttons and spoke into the microphone, "Sims?"
"Sims, Sam here," a male voice said.
She reclined and put her bare feet on the desk. "Sam, where are Griff and New Guy?" because of the computer log, she knew they were in one of the Sims.
There was a fury of clicking of keys. And almost instantly the reply was, "Sim 2, Rhone."
"How long?" she asked.
"Since – oh six hundred," he said after a brief hesitation.
She knew what time it was, they had been in there for about three hours. "Can you see them?" she asked.
She heard him get up, "Nope, sorry. Do you want me to…?"
"No, but when they get out…" she began.
"I'll send them to you," he finished.
"Thanks," she terminated the communication. She stared at the computer screen for a moment before she turned her attention to the sole of her right foot. …Better put socks on.
It was Wednesday. Lex had begun to begrudge the day. It was the day that a courier brought his weekly comic book issues. He had always looked forward to it until now. In just a little over two weeks, since she had left… Now he didn't even like to think about it.
He glared at the flat courier box on the desk of his home office as though if he did it hard enough, they would just go away. Comics made him think of her. They made him feel – a horrible remorse. It was horrible because it couldn't be undone. At least it usually allowed him to ignore the loneliness…
The comics were just as bad as his Mercedes. He got in it last week and was – assaulted by the smell of Rhone Chade. If that unidentifiable scent had taunted him before, it haunted him now. Hans, his mechanic, had looked at him like he was insane when he abruptly got out of the well-tuned German machine and ordered his Aston Martin for the day – as well as demanding the Mercedes be finely detailed before he drove it again.
"Hey, Lex," Clark's voice ripped him from his brooding. Well, it would have been brooding if Luthors did such a thing.
Lex stood, "Clark, what brings you here?" He asked as though he had no idea.
"Just wanted to see what was going on," Clark looked toward the billiard table in a silent suggestion for one of their very informal games. Lex had been – more distant and slightly more irritable since Rhone Chade had left. The day following her departure, when Clark had done the produce delivery, he had begun to notice it. He figured it could be stress or a number of things but, unfortunately, Clark could spot woman trouble – he wondered how he had had so much of it when he had never even had a girlfriend.
He had prodded Lex slightly for information, but didn't want to push – he could be wrong, after all. But, after he talked with Rhone on the phone on Monday – not exactly a wealth of information on the topic either – he definitely knew there was a problem. However, he didn't know if he actually had the right to – get involved.
Clark was the worst liar in the entire universe. Lex silently agreed to the game by walking to the billiard table and racking up the balls. "Since I saw you at The Talon an hour ago? Nothing new," Lex looked up from the billiards.
Clark smiled. It wasn't one of his power grid draining smiles. Lex looked at him for a moment… It was a nervous, almost guilty smile. Clark Kent was keeping something from him, and it was different than that vague sense of withholding he normally perceived. He had felt it for the last couple days, but now he was certain.
"Oh," Clark said as he took an over interest in chalking his cue.
Lex leaned over and broke the colored balls apart, "You?"
"Me what?" Clark asked immediately.
"Anything you need to share?" after a pause Lex added -- a little too lightly, "Something new?" He straightened and in the very back of his mind wondered if they would ever play a real game. Probably not, Clark would never get to shoot if they did.
Clark knew that look on Lex's face. Clark lined up his shot, "Not really." He shot – and missed.
Lex looked down at the table and nodded. He leaned over the table, "That's too bad, what will we talk about now?" He shot – three ball in the side pocket.
Clark raised his eyebrows, shrugged his shoulders, and lined up his shot. He had known Lex long enough to know that stance and that voice. He was being toyed with. Not in the way that Lex toyed with his enemies, but in the way he did to make naïve farm boys see something. He shot – fifteen ball corner pocket. A closed lip smile crossed his features, having made the shot and figured out Lex's little – whatever he was doing.
Clark put the thick end of the pool cue on the ground in front of him and clasped both hands just below the tip. "Hey, I know what we could talk about," he watched Lex line up an easy shot on the other side the table.
"And what is that?" Lex didn't look up, drawing his cue back.
"How you screwed things up with Rhone," Clark said innocently, just as Lex was taking his shot.
The whole cue went astray and Lex's elbow landed softly against the red felt of the table. Both young men watched the cue ball roll to the side, tap the eight ball, and follow the black ball into the side pocket.
Lex didn't move for a short moment. He just watched the side pocket that the eight ball had fallen into with a set jaw. He straightened and tossed the cue onto the table.
"I guess I win," Clark said with a sweet voice and a smile to match. He placed his cue next to Lex's.
Lex looked at him out of the corner of his eye as he walked back over to his desk. Clark must be hanging out with me to much, Lex mused. He beat me, Lex thought, but wasn't referring to billiards. He took a seat behind his desk, "What gives you that idea?"
"Eight ball has to go in last," Clark needlessly pointed out.
"I mean about Rhone Chade," Lex clarified with a – proud? – smile.
"When I talked to her on Monday…" Clark began as he sat across from Lex.
"Monday?" Of course, Clark had Rhone's cell phone number. How had he forgotten that? He must have been – distracted, off his game. He could call and apologize and… Lex realized that his rating on the Urbane Scale had plummeted dramatically in the past two minutes. …Urbane…
"Yeah, she gave me a call after dinner," he noticed Lex was giving him an indiscernible look. "Anyway," he began quickly, "She kind of told me what happened."
"She 'kind of' told you?" he asked.
"Her exact words were 'Mr. Luthor recognized the veracity of the situation and nullified our alliance," Clark had to look at the ceiling to recall the exact words.
Our alliance? She would say something like that, but only to do what she thought was protecting Clark. For an odd reason, Lex felt a small smile tug at his lips. …She shared her secret with him… "I never said anything like that," Lex said. Well, he didn't.
"She didn't really go into any specifics," Clark said, "She said there was some kind of emergency and had to go, but…"
Lex leaned his forearms on his desk. There was a weight on his chest, "But what?"
"I kind of didn't believe her," Clark admitted.
Lex wondered if she was called away on a mission. His stomach fluttered, was she alright? What if never got to tell her he was sorry? …Just ask Clark for the damn number.
Clark waited a long moment and then stood. With a faint smile he said, "I'll see you around."
Lex stood as Clark turned to the door, "Clark?"
Clark turned to face his friend again. He absently took a step backwards, waiting for Lex to speak.
"How…" Lex began. He put his hands in his pockets and looked at his desk, "How did you know that it was me? …If – you didn't believe what she said about there being an emergency."
Clark looked at the floor and ran his fingers through his dark hair, "Because…"
Both men stood in their positions, looking down. Lex was apprehensive about potentially hearing the truth and having absolutely no idea what that truth was. Clark was apprehensive about speaking it and afraid of hurting his friend.
"Because," Clark's voice almost became a whisper, "You really like her."
Lex looked up at Clark, his mouth slightly open. He was torn between disbelief and thanks. Clark had just answered a question that Lex didn't even know that he was asking – at least, he didn't know how to ask.
Clark glanced up with a look that was honest and – sad. He was willing to admit to himself that in a way he envied Lex – the guy did have everything. However, he also felt sorry for him – alone in this castle and in many other ways. Lex was in his early twenties and had honestly told him that he was his first friend – when they didn't even know each other. Not that he was an authority on Lex now. And the relationship he had with his father, what happened to his mother, always being judged by his lineage… And then there were his other relationships with women – so meaningless he referred to them as though they were games.
Lex just nodded slowly, his brow creased. Did Clark just tell me that I'm self-destructive? …Did I just – appreciate it? "Thanks, Clark," Lex's face softened a bit. Ask for the number, Lex, he urged himself. Would she even want to talk to him? What would he say to her anyway? Hi, I'm sorry I was a bastard, but I'm self-destructive with some severe emotional baggage… …Right.
Clark smiled softly and started for the door again.
Lex watched the door for a few moments after Clark had disappeared through it. He didn't get the phone number. The next time he saw Clark, he would ask for it. He didn't want to call without having some kind of plan anyway – more like rehearsed speech of apology. And if the number was right in front of him, he might act prematurely.