"And thus I became the paragon of military perfection that you see before you," Awol said as he pulled up to the pristine building that held Lex's penthouse.
Lex couldn't help but smile a little. Lex didn't know what to say, so he just sat there. His father really had screwed this guy over. Not that he was that surprised, there was a line around the block for that one. He didn't doubt that his father had the complaint Awol filed – misplaced as well.
Awol noticed Lex was still sitting in his car. …He wasn't leaving. "You really aren't going to make me tuck you in, are you?" Awol crinkled up his face.
"No, no," Lex was pleased that their – interactions had at least become more pleasant. "I wasn't always so involved with my father's company. At the time you are talking about I was kind of…" Lex trailed off.
"On a bender?" Awol finished for him.
"In a self destructive phase," Lex corrected.
"Whatever," Awol smiled.
"If – there's anything I can do to make up for happened to you," Lex said.
Damn it, Lex Luthor really wasn't that bad. That foiled Awol's plans of being a jerk to him. "This is such bull shit," Awol said under his breath.
Yet another Luthor apology unaccepted Lex thought as he shook his head.
"I was totally going to hate you. And I was doing a good job too," Awol leaned his head back in his seat, "I'm too nice."
"Is that your way of accepting?" Lex said coolly, but was pleased that for once he had possibly started to make things right. …Only potentially thousands to go…
"It means that I'll think about it," Awol knew his tone betrayed that he had already decided to accept. Damn it.
"I guess I can't ask for anymore," Lex smiled and opened the car door.
"I still hate your father," Awol made it sound like he was giving some witty retort to an insult, like he was getting the last word in an argument.
"That makes two of us," Lex got out of the car.
Lex slowly sat on his bed. He placed his elbows on his knees and leaned to lace his fingers behind his head. He was vaguely aware that the disheveled tuxedo he was wearing to some extent constricted his movements – the doorman looked at him like he used to when Lex came back to the penthouse after a hard night of partying. Sadly, Lex preferred that people think that is what happened. No one would believe what really transpired.
It was still pretty dark in his room although it was – getting early. He closed his eyes anyway. He relived her falling through the air and hitting the police cruiser. He flinched on impact, that noise was so atrocious. He considered how scared – yeah, Dad, scared – he was. How he didn't even think about being scared, he just ran. He couldn't get there fast enough – couldn't get to her fast enough.
…Not to mention jumping through the skylight in the first place. …The helicopter was only a little higher and she didn't have anything to – land on then. And it didn't even faze her. In a way, he wished that Griffin didn't push him down so he could have watched her descend like a comic book superhero. Maybe that was why her comics were so good, first hand experience.
And then there was the sword – katana. She never even mentioned anything about a penchant for that kind of weaponry. Penchant? No, someone with a penchant for medieval Eastern weaponry knows how to do a few stances, maybe has a little collection. …She deflected a bullet with it. No, she deflected bullets with it – plural. He moved his hands over his eyes, keeping his elbows on his knees.
He remembered asking her if she took the artist's tube everywhere, her saying yes, him asking why, her saying that she never knew when she might need it. …He really thought it had art supplies in it. He thought hard; she never actually lied about what was in that tube. She never said what was or wasn't in it, she just let him assume. She had a way of doing that. …She wore the tube everywhere but at his house. He considered that for a moment and felt slightly uplifted.
All of the things that happened tonight at the museum, and none of her men thought it was – out of the ordinary. However, only he and Griffin had seen the bullet thing. …Griffin seemed like a decent guy. And now that he knew that Griffin and Rhone had never been – intimate, perhaps he was more than decent. Keeping a professional relationship under such conditions was – commendable.
…Wait. Wasn't it Griffin's little hand gesture that got him literally carried out of the museum and laughed at by Victoria Hardwick? …Did Rhone see that? Of course she did. Even though he was alone, heat rose to his cheeks. How mortifying. No wonder she didn't talk to me. Her evening consists of stunts worthy of Warrior Angel himself and I – I was carried like a small child out of daycare.
He stood and walked over to the window. He didn't know what time it was, but outside his window, the world was turning the ethereal blue of way too early in the morning. His mind drifted to how long, "I'll see you soon," meant. Before tonight – last night, they hadn't seen or spoken to one another in a little more than a month. A thought that was no more than a minute from his mind since she left. Did that mean she was coming to see him or she was just going to try and keep him out of any more trouble? Well, at least it would give Clark some much needed time off, he thought with a chuckle - Clark and that thing that had saved him when Gell pushed him off The Metropolis Plaza.
He had almost forgotten about it in all the excitement. The information on that, if there was any, wasn't coming as fast as he liked. He had requested it almost immediately after it had happened and still nothing. …It was something that he was being even more discrete about than usual. He would have to sift through more things himself this time. He was worried if he asked too specifically – well, he didn't want to ask too specifically.
He turned and looked at his bed – its monochromatic comforter of browns pulled tightly against the mattress. Maybe he would be able to sleep after all that had happened. …Probably not. He had been through more, been even more exhausted and insomnia still won.
He turned back to the window. He reached into his pants and breast pocket, pulled out his wallet and cell phone, and set them on the bureau beside the window. He did the same with his watch, but first he looked at it – he almost lost it. Clark's luck was definitely rubbing off on him; the corners of his mouth turned up into a faint smile.
He raised his hands to his chest, and ran them down his front – checking for anything that might be slipping his mind. He hit a lump. It was in the right waist pocket of his blazer. He furrowed his brow; he didn't normally put anything in there… He reached his hand in; it was cool and metal. It was…
He pulled it out. It was a watch. He held it up to what little light the dim window offered. It was Rhone's watch. He would know it anywhere, silver band and a completely digital face. He looked at it closer; it wasn't silver or white gold. He hefted it in his hand – too light. He would have to look at it in better light.
…How did he get this? He remembered her passing close to him as she made her way to the helicopter. She never looked at him. He thought he was totally unnoticed. He smiled – she must have slipped it to him. …Did she touch him? He didn't feel it if she did – like a master thief. His smile faded. She probably didn't, she made such an effort not to. Maybe she thought he was dishonorable or something. He reached his hand to his head. She wouldn't be the first one. It was ironic because she was one of the few that he actually cared about what she thought.
A problem occurred to him. He looked to the watch his mother gave him, laying in the bureau. He picked it up and held one watch in each hand.
"Lex?" Clark peered through the double doors of Lex's home office.
"Delivering the produce a little early this week?" Lex looked up from the papers on his desk.
Clark smiled a little and shook his head, "I heard about what happened to you at the museum in Metropolis – I wanted to make sure you were okay." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. It was tough to be a guy and express – concern for another guy. …He wished he could have been there to help, but he didn't find out about it until it was more than over.
"Bad news travels fast," Lex paused for a moment and knitted his brow, "Even my father called – and with no good P.R. to be had." He shook his head softly and leaned his elbows on his desk. It was a – peculiar conversation. Lionel even didn't blame Lex for allowing things he had no control over. He only wanted a detailed account of what had happened. Lex decided to back up what was in the police reports and in the media – that there was an attempted robbery and The Metropolis P.D. and S.W.A.T. took care of the perpetrators.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Clark asked as he took his usual seat across from Lex.
"A lot happened on that trip," Lex understated. Should he tell Clark about being saved from the fall? It was – unbelievable. But if he could tell anyone, he could tell Clark – or Rhone. He remembered telling Clark about how he flew when the farm boy had saved him from his sinking Porsche… Maybe he would keep it to himself for now.
Clark knew that voice, Lex was leaving something out. And he had a kind of far away look in his eyes. "Like what?" Clark knitted his brow.
Lex paused for a moment, "I – saw Rhone."
Clark's entire face lit up like a hundred flood lights and he leaned forward, "And?"
If Lex didn't know Clark better, he would have thought the boy's mind just might have gone to the gutter. But, this was Clark. He probably wanted to hear that he and Rhone held hands. …I wish, Lex thought bitterly.
"We really didn't get to talk," Lex said flatly.
Clark felt a blush come to his cheeks and he rubbed his hands on his knees. He should have known that a guy as suave as Lex…
Lex sighed at Clark's assumption. Is that how everyone saw him? Hadn't it been his track record thus far? Did he give anyone a reason to think otherwise about him – his relationships? …No. …Well, not yet. "We," Lex realized that Rhone's occupation was something she guarded closely and she had trusted him, "Just happened to run into each other for a minute." It wasn't a lie - technically.
"Just long enough for her to give you her watch?" Clark asked as he gestured toward Lex's wrist. Clark had noticed Rhone's watch the day they met; she wore it every time he saw her. He only noticed because it was a man's watch – larger than a woman's.
Lex looked down at his wrist as well. He had faced a dilemma when he got another sentimental gift that was a watch – the inscription on Rhone's watch told him that. Which of the two sentimental watches would he chose over the other meaningless hundreds that he had? It had always been so easy – the Napoleon Frank watch that his mother gave him. …He had decided to wear Rhone's watch Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and every other Sunday. And he would wear the one his mother gave him on the other days. Of course he didn't express this strategy out loud or really even think about it, but he was quite conscious of the plan – recognizing that it could be considered juvenile despite its effectiveness.
Lex looked up at Clark and with all honesty said, "Basically."