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Rain blurred the edges of the neon in Granville, as Lex settled his Porsche into park, hand gripping onto the keys in the ignition as his windshield wipers worked overtime. Once again, a Kent was in the center of it all, separating him from everything he wanted, as Lex's polls started to slip. Jonathan Kent, the stubborn man unable to see Lex as more than a vechicle for Lionel's machinations, despite Lex's every attempt to prove him wrong, just like his loyal son.
Lex exited his car and locked it, eyeing the shady back alley in case he was followed and drew back the metal frame door to meet with his contact. Lex would be seen. Lex could make a real difference, with the kind of power being a Senator entails. Lex could be more.
"Ho, ho, ho, Lex," Griff greeted him sarcastically as he got to his feet, all suited suited up in his black leather jacket and silver chain.
Right. Christmas Eve. Ironic, considering what they were meeting for. Lex was naïve to think he could ever win without getting his hands dirty, especially now that Jonathan won the hearts of the state with his homegrown campaign and rousing TV spots. No one could relate to a son of a billionaire, during the most expensive time of the year.
"Any reason we couldn't have met at the mansion?" Lex asks, eyes adjusting to the dim, flickering light, as pipes dripped down the tunnel.
"I don't make house calls. If you wanna utilize my skills, you come to me," Griff faces him, turning a corner, before turning back. "That is— if you really want to break down Jonathan Kent."
Lex follows Griff's lead, wanting some kind of confirmation. He couldn't afford for this job to be messy. It had to be clean, and discreet. "I'm assuming you have some kind of grenade to launch at him."
"Heh. Not yet, but I will," Griff gives him a crooked grin. "I'll either find it, or create it. It's the pitfall of being in the public eye. See, what's printed about a man is gossip, doesn't matter if it's fact or not."
What's printed about a man. Lex was planning on getting Jonathan Kent out of the race. Griff wasn't planning on keeping Jonathan Kent alive.
Lex knew it shouldn't matter. He'd taken lives before, written them off like a minor inconvenience. Jonathan Kent, of all people, could've been like a father to Lex. He could've taken him under his wing, recognized him for who he truly was, removed him from that mansion, knowing what Lionel was capable of. Martha was more or less the same, though she was the only one that had actually been kind. And Clark…
Clark, who he yearned for, Clark who saved him, Clark who was hiding something from him, so big that he didn't trust him with the truth, after all he had done to prove himself, every favor, have him there bursting into the mansion. Clark, the unattainable mystery he could never solve, whose trust was still a privilege, despite everything Lex had ever done. The tense, strenuous pseudo friendship they'd suffered for the last few years would sever, the lies and secrets and whatever else Clark was hiding from him would never come to light, and it Clark he ever traced it back to Lex, like he always seemed to do… it would destroy him.
"Give me 24 hours," Lex says, with finality, before heading back the way he came. The conversation was over. Done with. He had all the cards.
"Your old man wouldn't hesitate," Griff calls out after him, and Lex stops.
Lionel.
"Before I go down the path your proposing, I need to consider all my options," Lex said, Clark's toothy smile still haunting his mind.
"What's the matter Lex? The holiday spirit got you all… sentimental?" Griff presses.
Lex knew he shouldn't react. This was nothing more than a paycheck for Griff, a job before the next one came around. He turns to face Griff down anyway, to remind him about his place, and that horrible, looming thing that hung over all of their heads.
His gaze is hard, studying Griff's stony expression. "My father gets wind that we met, you're got going to make it till New Years, Griff."
It would've been the perfect exit, back to the Porsche with his keys tangled in his fingers, if the two laughing figures getting kicked out of the nearby bar didn't lock their sights on him.
"Well! Looks like Santa Claus came to town after all!" The man calls out to him, arms open as they saunter closer, his companion in a fur coat trailing close behind. They didn't seem stumbling drunk. If anything, they seemed wired.
Lex hangs his head, momentarily regretting the fact that he hadn't ran towards his car and locked himself inside like a lunatic in the name of safety. This wasn't exactly the nice side of Granville, but it wasn't Gotham.
This wasn't his first time getting robbed either.
"I'm not looking for trouble," Lex clarifies, unphased.
The man cocks a pistol from his coat, shoving the barrel towards Lex's chest, eyes wild as he circled him. "C'mon man, I ain't playin'! Give me the keys!"
"Alright man, take it easy, take it easy," Lex speaks soothingly, complying as he holds the keys in the air to try to dissuade them. Nothing about their movements or actions indicated that this was premeditated or planned, like a hit. He liked the Porsche, but it was replaceable. There were ten other cars in the garage with his name on the titles.
"And the watch!" The man snatches the keys out of his hands, eyeing Lex up and down as he waves his gun.
Right. The watch. The one his mother gave him. The only piece of his mother he had left. Lex grimaces, and pulls up his wrist, taking time he didn't have. This was going to be a hell of a lot harder to recover.
Then, a searing bang cuts through his back.
Lex spins around at the audacity, shocked to greet the grin of the panting, fur-coated woman he'd previously deemed as unarmed and harmless, and a smoking barrel.
The adrenaline cancels out the pain, as he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Surely he didn't just get shot. Surely, with all the times he's cheated death this wasn't going to be how he left this word, shot up in a back streets of Granville by a trigger happy addict.
The barrel kicks back as she fires a second shot, and Lex spins impact, the world tilting out of focus as he falls to the ground.
Shit.
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He's dead.
At least, he thinks he's dead.
Lex is nearly blinded, by soft, golden light, peeking through gauzy curtains. It's warm and dry here, sheets creamy and bright and smelling like cinnamon as he shifts his position on the bed, glancing around an unfamiliar, overly festive bedroom. There was a weight to the mattress— a weight that indicated he wasn't alone.
Then, he turns his head.
Clark. Clark, kissed by the sun like Adonis, so peaceful and unreal as he slept through Lex's movements. Lex's eyes trailed past his curled hair and bare, exposed chest, stomach churning with feelings he'd swallowed down, feelings he shouldn't have towards someone that just graduated high school and got into college, but…
"Clark," Lex whispers with disbelief a hand outstretched, as if the dream or whatever this was would end the moment he touched Clark— Clark in his bed. If he could savor moment just a little longer…
"BREAKFAST!" screamed a banshee, as the weight of a small feral animal jumped on top of them.
"Wuh!" Lex cried out, at the thing wearing spaceship footie pajamas and bright eyes beamed at him. "Who are you?!"
Clark's eyes crack open with an exasperated look, as if interruptions like this happened far too often. "Babe, you did promise him."
"C'mon dad!" The thing, which Lex has now identified as a small boy yells out. Dad?!
"Wh-whoa, I-I don't remember, what happen—" Lex stumbles, waving his arm in protest, as Clark leans in, warm fingers intertwining with his, and kisses him.
"You promised Conner pancakes and then you're going to go shopping for a tree," Clark laughed, like Lex could ever forget, arm straining as he held Conner back— as if Conner was theirs.
"PANCAKES!" Conner belts with his whole chest.
"I- I don't remember," Lex tried again, helpless and overwhelmed as his ears ring.
"I don't want to hear your excuses! You're the one that always wants to wait until Christmas Eve to get it," Clark smirks, with those beautiful dimples of his and rolls out of bed, scooping up the gremlin, Conner, under his arm.
"Let's go get dressed, buddy. Dad needs to get ready," Clark says, mercifully transporting him out of the room, as Conner kicks and squeals.
Now he had to be dreaming.
Lex wastes no time, swinging his legs over the creaky bed as he stumbles to his feet. He looks at the window— daylight— and remembers, hand slapping over his white t-shirt where the bullet passed through. No pain. He pulls the shirt up, tracing the pronounced, healed scars on his side, and spent a brief moment looking at his fingers, trying to determine if they were real.
There was a ring on Clark's finger. There was a ring on his finger too.
"What happened. Where am I," Lex murmurs aloud at the implications, heart and head pounding as if he was losing his last scrap of sanity.
Mirrors. If it's a dream, you can't see your reflection, or something like that, right? Or was that some useless, pseudo-science tidbit he'd picked up from his insomniac habits?
Lex locks the door of the bathroom, walls as blue as Clark's eyes, as he grips onto the sink and heaves out a shuddering sigh, trying to control his breathing. His reflection stares back in the small, square mirror, the same as it ever was, and he opens it up to a small medicine cabinet. If it's not a dream, it had be something he took. He was robbed, and then he was drugged, and then …
"Hello Lex," his mother speaks, in the reflection, her red hair was curled, make-up done like it was one of her good days, wearing that plum colored sweater he loved so much. It was a ghost, a cruel hallucination—
"Mom?" His voice cracked, eyes watering as he blinks and he swears he can catch her scent— Guerlain— all bergemont and vanilla and amber. Was he in heaven? No, not everything he'd done. Hell? Purgatory? "But you're- you're… am I dead?"
"No Lex, you're still very much alive," Lillian Luthor speaks again, caringly.
"But how? I'm dreaming," Lex murmurs again, splashing water on his face to wake up, even if the water and the weight of the ring on his finger felt all too real.
Matching rings, like wedding bands. A child that calls him Dad. A suburban life, far away from the penthouse and the sounds of the city. A family.
Lillian's reflection is still there, as he looks up.
"It's no dream, Lex. This is your life," she says with confidence.
"I don't understand. This can't be- this isn't real," Lex says.
It isn't real, because it wasn't possible. Lex was heir to a legacy, the crushing weight of billions of dollars and investments on his shoulders. He'd probably marry some wealthy, gorgeous woman to secure his empire, even with two divorces under his belt, and a reputation for being 'metrosexual' after being so meticulous about his image. It's part of the reason he always went somewhere with a beautiful model on his arm, rumors constantly circulating about who was trying to snag his fortune. Even in somewhere more fast and loose like Metropolis, he had to be careful about who he kissed or for how long his eyes lingered, unable to truly indulge in this other side of himself, this homosexual side that Lionel tried to beat out of him.
But this. Clark…
"It is real Lex. As real as you want it to be. All of this can be real, if you chose it," Lillian stresses, even with a twinge of sadness.
"All of this?" Lex repeats, mind still spinning, as he turns to face his mother. "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"
She isn't there, in the bathroom decorated with crayon drawings. She's gone. And Lex is alone once more.
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The light shifts. Lex is wet and alone, body crumpled and abandoned in the silent streets of Granville, with no way to call for help as he bleeds from his abdomen. Christmas Eve. He's dying on Christmas Eve.
The light shifts again.
Multiple gunshot wounds, shoulder and abdomen, no clear exit wound… medical personnel sound off.
Lex is strapped to a gurney that pushes through the double doors of an emergency wing, an oxygen mask strapped over his face. The pain. There's so much pain. His skin is hot and throbbing, upper body stripped bare to treat his wounds, crusting and oozing with blood. He can barely even open his eyes,
"Mr. Luthor, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me," A doctor in white leans over the creaking gurney as they rush through the hallway, stethoscope glinting as he clicks on a flashlight from a pocket with a gloved hand.
A shaft of light hits his eye, as the doctor pulls up his eyelid.
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"C'mon!" Conner beams with a familiar, toothy smile, bounding down the porch, even with his primary colored puffy coat twisted around and inside out. A glove falls behind him, forgotten in the excitement.
"Conner wait! Wait for Daddy!" Clark protests, picking up the lost glove as Conner wiggles his arm, as if that would get the coat to stay on right.
"Me and Dad are gonna pick out THE BEST Christmas tree!" Conner announces, as Clark bends over to fix Conner's coat, and stuffs the lost glove in his small pocket.
"Dad and I," Clark corrects with such care and consideration as he looks into Conner's eyes, it makes Lex flush. What kind of idiot son of mine doesn't know how to speak, let alone put on his own coat, or keep track of his own belongings? Lionel would've growled, irate, and Lex would've flinched as he raised his hand, not knowing if it was there to help or harm.
"Try to make it back by six so we can make it to the Christmas party?" Clark teases with a wink, as Conner successfully runs down the porch steps to the gravel driveway without face-planting. The festive decorations had spilled out to the front yard too, cheery reindeer silhouettes and snowmen on the yellowed lawn.
Lex spins around to look at the house behind him, as Clark looks at him expectantly, something large and heavy in his arms. Right. Lex was hauling Conner's car seat. How long had he been holding this car seat?
"And this year, try to remember that we have a budget?" Clark adds fixing Lex's coat, as Conner impatiently pulls at the silver handle of the ugliest, wood paneled station wagon Lex had ever seen.
"What? We have a budget?" Lex blinks, with a confused smile.
Clark raises an eyebrow, and opens the door for Conner, who peers inside. "Lex, it's been seven years since your father cut up your platinum card. I think it's time to embrace the middle class lifestyle."
Seven years. Lex could hardly remember getting shot, much less getting married. Sure, he had amnesia before, and episodes, but seven years. Did even have pancakes this morning?
"How… much of our paycheck goes to decorations?" Lex asks instead, trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling of loss by turning his attention somewhere else.
"You like it! We got them on discount our first year together, and every year since from the hardware store," Clark beams.
"Discount?!" Lex exclaims, the word foreign to him. So did that mean they were married in public? That wherever they were was accepting enough for them to go to the store together, without anyone batting an eye?
"Daaaaad, let's gooooooo!" Conner whines, pulling at Lex's pant leg, and the open door.
Right. Lex was supposed to put in the car seat. Easy. He shoves the contraption into the musty station wagon, repeatedly pushing it into the seat as if that could get it to fit between the buckles. Not so easy, then.
"Okay, here, you know what, let me take care of this for you," Clark chuckles unfolding his arms as he pats Lex on the shoulder, and guiding him out of the car door to fix the car seat. "One of these days you're going to figure out how do do this, and hopefully it's before Con's all grown up."
"I'm getting bigger! I don't have to use it!" Conner protests with a bit of a pout.
"Yes you do. You're not indestructible. In you go," Clark teases, tickling him, before Conner relents and clambers into his carseat.
Indestructible. Like when he hit Clark off a bridge going 60 miles an hour with a Porsche, and how he walked away without a scratch— even saving him from drowning. Lex remembers that, clear as day.
Clark turns away the passenger door, rubbing the back of his neck. He hesitates. "Sorry about the whole… budget thing. I know you only overspend because you want the best for us. It's part of why I love you so much."
He loves me, Lex breathes dumbly, as Clark leans in for another kiss. It stuns him so much, this world-shaking, intimate gesture, he steals a second one just to confirm it was actually happening. Clark holds Lex's cheek, eyes bright as his smile widens.
"Have fun," Clark leans in and says to Conner, who waves enthusiastically, as he turns back to the house, leaving Lex alone with this… creature.
Lex sighs, hopes of having another private, intimate moment with Clark dashed, as he closes the passenger door. Conner beams and waves through the window, possibly at his misery, as Lex waves back, and maneuvers his way into the cramped, tan leather drivers seat. If it was this uncomfortable for him, he can't imagine how Clark fits in here, not when he's built like a barn.
Conner burps loudly in the back, and giggles proudly as Lex slowly turns to face him.
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The Christmas Market. This was the stuff dreams were made of, air heavy with the scent of pine and snow and seasonal spices, as a canopy of red and green flags and glittering lights hang above freshly cut trees of Main Street, transformed into an outdoor, pedestrian friendly shopping area.
"WOW!" Conner breathes in admiration, hands in his pockets as he cranes his neck up to the perfect tree, at least eight feet tall, with thick, piney branches that stretched towards the darkening, grey sky. "Wow is right," Lex confirms, even though it was definitely out of their price range. He reaches down to hold Conner's shoulder, expression so full of pure, childlike wonder and hope, he almost wished he didn't have to break the spell.
"Clark said… Daddy said—" Lex started, before something caught his eye.
Wait… was that… Chloe? Smallville Chloe?
"Lex! Hey! I'm glad to see you!" Chloe waves and calls over, spotting him from the crowd before he could escape. Chloe, in a creamy plaid, with long hair, and a genuine smile, as if all the blackmail and the ways the Luthor's made her suffer was water under the bridge.
Conner darts towards Chloe and the red-scarfed man she was with before Lex could catch him— someone Lex didn't recognize. "Uncle Jimmy! Uncle Jimmy! Make me fly!"
"Hey! I missed you little guy! C'mon!" A baby-faced man, who must be Uncle Jimmy, picks up his Conner with his noodle arms, and starts to spin him around, with a great deal of effort and sound effects. Lex opens and shuts his mouth. This was fine. Probably. He had no idea who this Jimmy was, but Chloe seemed happy, and the excitable Conner was occupied, even for just a moment.
"I'm sorry I haven't been around lately. Things have been crazy at the Planet!" Jimmy exclaims apologetically, setting Conner down as he catches his breath.
"I'd imagine so," Lex says non-commitally, hoping Jimmy is mentioning the Daily Planet, as Conner jumps up and down.
"Again! Again!" Conner beams.
"Where's Clark?" Chloe asks, looking around Lex as if he was right around the corner— as if the two of them were inseparable.
"Back at home. Doing… something important," Lex said, as his forehead throbbed with a headache. He couldn't remember what he was up to, or why he couldn't come. He couldn't remember a lot of things. Maybe it was too much of a risk for him and Clark to be seen together in public? Maybe they had to do outings separately with Conner to keep their family safe? Was this… legal here?
"Awe that's too bad! I've got some pretty big news— but I don't think I'll be bale to wait to share it!" Chloe says excitedly.
"Okay?" Lex says, part questioning and encouraging.
"My book is being published in January," Chloe announces, swinging back and forth, hardly able to contain herself.
"Wow that's … that's great!" Lex tries, with an unexpected smile, as Conner tries to steal his Uncle Jimmy's camera in the background. This is what constitutes as big news, huh? Enough to want to wait for Clark to be there?
"Yeah! They love the idea of a LuthorCorp exposé complete with an anonymous tell- all source! Thank you so much," Chloe says, before pulling Lex into a tender hug, speaking quietly into his ear. "I couldn't have done it without you, Lex."
Lex freezes, feeling the cold run down his spine, blinking as she lets go, and rubs his arms in encouragement. How could they do this? How could she publish an exposé without fearing for her life? If Lex isn't in the company, according to his middle class lifestyle, where does that leave Lionel?
"Alright, Miss did-I-mention-my-book-is-about-to-be-published, let's get your tree and get out of here," Jimmy salutes, and Conner runs towards Lex, little, grubby hand grabbing his.
"Bye Conner! See you tonight Lex!" Chloe waves.
Lex's eyebrows furrow. Tonight?!
"Dad!" Conner shouts, tugging his arm to point up to another pine tree that might actually be taller than the one they were looking at before."This one's awesome!"
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It had gotten rainy again. Lex peered through the windshield, the glittery, festive lights on the house and the fence guiding him home, as Conner graced him with an off-key rendition of his favorite Christmas songs.
Wasn't the noise of it just awful and amazing? Lionel would've told him to shut up at least half an hour ago. Yet here Conner was, singing and half-remembering lyrics while kicking his feet behind the driver's seat without a care in the world.
Lex smiled a bit, and parked the car, hoisting an excitable Conner out of his car seat. He was heavier than he looked. "Okay, here you go."
"Thanks Dad!" Conner panted, before sprinting up the porch stairs to grab Clark's hand. Clark, who was already waiting for them in red checkered flannel, and the widest smile.
"Daddy come see! It's a beauty, isn't it?" Conner announces, dragging Clark towards the station wagon, as if there wasn't a moment to lose.
Clark approached, looking up at the massive tree that had absolutely been outside the budget on top of the station wagon and back down at Lex, wordlessly raised an eyebrow at the display with an amused yet chastising expression.
Lex leaned against the car, lips thin as he shrugged, trying and failing to find a suitable excuse.
"I know what you're thinking…" Lex starts.
"That you've given into your son again? That you're spoiling him?" Clark says very seriously, while ruffling Conner's hair.
It makes Lex stop for a moment. He… he spoils his son. He lets his son he know he loves him, making him a better father than Lionel could ever dream of becoming. It would be too easy to leave it there, let the truth that warned to burst out of his chest stay buried, and yet…
"Exactly. And I can see how you reached that conclusion, but… the thing is this tree is for me," Lex speaks honestly, motioning towards it with full accountability, as his voice cracks.
"After my mother died, my father didn't allow Christmas to be celebrated in our house. It was a very bleak, lonely time. And when I saw this tree- it was exactly like the ones I dreamed about, all those years that I couldn't have one. Somehow it represented all the Christmases I missed… Can you understand that?!" Lex asks, almost desperately, bearing his soul and trying and failing to communicate the weight of the trees' significance between Conner and Clark.
"Course I can, honey. It's the same thing you tell me every year," Clark smiles, eyes sparkling just like starlight.
Every year. Lex cups Clark's face with the palm of his hand in disbelief and wonder, feeling safe and calm and warm and loved for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He hugs him and breathes him on, savoring the moment as long as he could, searching the stars on the sky for something to wish on, as Conner giggles and slams his body against their legs, joining in for a group hug.
If you want it, his mother had said, it can be real.
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"C'mon muscles! Do I have to do this all myself?" Lex grunts, dragging the Christmas tree up the porch steps and into the double front doors of their home, with Conner's help of course.
"Uh Huh!" Conner grunts back affirmatively, with a grin, as he wrangles the top of his tree.
Clark folds his arms, tilting his head as he watches the pair struggle from the doorframe. "I can carry that in for you both, you know."
"Nu-uh!" Conner protests vehemently. "I know I'm stronger!"
"I'm not," Lex chuckles, a branch scratching his face. He was the one that had to lift and wrestle the damn thing onto the station wagon, as well as tie it down. Muscles he didn't even know he had were sore from the ordeal. It's funny, though. He doesn't even remember paying for the tree. Or how he drove home in the firstplace.
"Here, let me give you two a hand. Then, we can carry it all in together," Clark offers, surprisingly diplomatic, and Conner relents with a sharp nod. Lex stumbles, as Clark gets between them, bends down and practically deadlifts the trunk, a shower of pine needles spilling across the rug and shining wooden floors, as they carry it into the living room. An empty, plastic tree stand awaits in the corner, with a few organized boxes of ornaments and string lights, wrapped presents scattered anywhere from kitchen table to a chair full of laundry. The home was cozy. Lived in. Real. It still smelled like pancakes. They had pancakes, didn't they?
Clark looks at Lex, the enormous pine tree, and at their low living room ceiling, before they set the tree down once more. "I— get the feeling we might have to saw off a few feet off the bottom to get it to fit. Like last year. And the year before that. And— the year before that."
"Wait!" Conner protests, letting go of the tree, before panting and demonstrating a curve with his hands. "It can stay tall and bend like this!"
Clark considers this, tapping dramatically against his chin. "Hmm… maybe… but what about the star?"
"If the star falls off we can tie it back on with ribbon!" Conner says, hands in the air at finding a genius solution.
"What does Dad think?" Clark asks, turning to Lex expectantly.
Lex blinked, still stunned at how much they seemed to involve Conner in decision making and problem solving, instead of touting him around like some kind of accessory, or shutting him away whenever he became inconvenient.
"Uh… well, if the tree bends, I mean… we can give it a try?" Lex asks hopefully. It would be a crying shame to chop off so much, and Lex still very much paid for all of it, even if he'd been fully unprepared for the height of their living room ceiling.
"YES!" Conner shouts, as Clark smiles and nods with approval.
Clark and Lex's heads tilt, following the bent angle of their flush, crooked Christmas tree, fully lit and decorated after an hour or two of effort, where Conner excitedly repeated the lore of every ornament they hung.
"It looks kinda… you know…" Lex started quietly, leaning in towards Clark.
"It's perfect!" Conner beams, beginning the effort of collecting and positioning all the presents under the tree. He shakes a few of them to try to determine their contents.
"You hear that? It's perfect," Clark repeats, leaning in, and stealing in a kiss from a surprised Lex, who was more than happy to reciprocate— even agree.
"Hey, what's this?" Conner asked innocently, shaking a large, cylindrical Christmas tin— one that had the LuthorCorp symbol on it.
LuthorCorp. Lionel. Fear seizes Lex's heart again, cold and ugly, as the safety he'd come to know is flooded with terror. If it had been seven years since he was in his father's control, and he caught wind of Chloe's tell-all. It could be a trap. It could be poison. It could be— it could be a bomb.
"Don't touch that!" Lex shouts, hands out to grab it from him, to save Conner from Him.
Conner looks confused, and just a little scared, as if he wasn't used to yelling.
"It's okay, it's okay!" Clark says, as Conner hands the present over to Lex, who inspects it as his heart warns to leap out of his throat. There aren't any outward mechanisms. He has to dispose of it quickly. For all he knew it could be timed, or responds to touch, or—
"Sorry!" Conner blurts, giving a worried look as he rubs his hands together.
"It's not okay! It could be from Him! Don't you understand?" Lex lashes out, as Clark attempts to put a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"It's okay, it's a popcorn bucket, a— a harmless corporate gift from the acting board of directors, not from Lionel! Not while he's behind bars in Belle Reve," Clark says reassuringly.
Lex has white knuckled grip on the festive tin— this reminder of how he'd apparently betrayed and turned his back on everything the Luthor's stood for— and gives a quick look at Conner, who fidgets. If he wasn't part of the company, it meant he had no control, and if he had no control…
"It doesn't matter if he's behind bars, he's still dangerous. LuthorCorp— I can't believe you let this into our home." Lex speaks, lowering his voice.
Clark's shoulders fall a bit, as he draws away. "You're— you're right, Lex. I should've— let's go throw it out together, okay? There's no reason for it to be here."
Lex collects himself, chest still tight with panic as his nose flares. In another life, he would've let Conner open up the present without a second thought. In another life, he was in his penthouse in his solitude, building an empire and crawling his way to the top. In another life he was getting lifeflighted to Metropolis, two bullet wounds still fresh.
"Okay," Lex relents. He wasn't going to apologize to Clark for panicking (in fact his nonchalance and dissmissiveness was alarming), but… Lex lets one hand off the popcorn bucket. Conner watches, twisting his shirt, until Lex leans on a couch and waves over for Conner to come to his side, the danger passing with every slow, deliberate breath.
"I— I didn't mean to scare you, buddy. I'm sorry," Lex apologizes, as Conner runs, holding fast to Lex, as if he could squeeze all the terror out of him with a hug.
"I love you, Dad," Conner says, and Lex holds him tighter, kissing the top of his head.
"I love you too."
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Clark conveniently forgot to tell Lex that the Christmas party was at the Kent's. After the popcorn bucket fiasco, they had to chase Conner around with a bowtie and a dress shirt for ten minutes, as if they were going to the gala, and not some humble farmhouse. Although, it seemed less like a humble farmhouse as they approached, with professional level stringlights, and a valet directing dozens of cars to park neatly in their field.
"The Luthor's are officially here! Now the party can begin," Lana announces, beaming opening the front door in a stunning, sparkling Valentino maxi dress.
"Lana!" Lex sputters, as she embraces him, kissing the sides of Lex's cheeks.
"All the way from Milano! Lucky you," Lana laughs, bringing Clark into a side hug as Conner protects his head in anticipation of Lana's kisses or hair ruffling. "The fashion industry can be brutal but I always feel home here in Smallville. Come in! I'm sure there's plenty of people that are excited to see you three."
"Excited to see us?" Lex repeated, looking in at the hosts of well-dressed men and women drinking from champagne flutes and talking business, richly decorated garlands and lit wax candles hanging from the walls, the air heavy with wintry spices and the scent of cider. This was… definitely not what he expected from a family Christmas party.
"Lex! Just the man I've been waiting for," the familiar, robust sound of Jonathan Kent sent chills down his spine, Martha Kent at his arm. They both had aged like fine wine, Martha wearing her pearls and forest green as the perfect host, and Jonathan looking dignified with glasses and a clean suit, a far cry from his days as a redneck farmer.
"Heya Pa! You clean up nicely," Clark greets, embracing Jonathan with a warmth and strength Lex craved— a hug that was returned with equal, if not stronger force.
"So do you, son!" Jonathan returns. "You even shaved."
"Meemaw! Papa!" Conner beams excitedly, easily stealing their affection and attention of both the Kent's as he runs to embrace them.
"Conner! I made extra sugar cookies just for you," Martha smiles, stooping down to receive his hug.
"And Santa, right?" Conner asks dutifully.
"And Santa," She agrees, holding Conner's hand as she stands up and brings Lex into an unexpected hug.
"Mrs. Kent," Lex blinks.
"That's Mom or Martha to you my dear! How many times do I have to tell you," she chides, tutting in a caring way. Martha.
"Why aren't there any kids here?" Conner pouts.
"It's 'cause Papa's real important, honey. A lot of their families are from all around Kansas. Do you want to keep me company? I was going to get some treats in the kitchen," Martha asks, as Conner nods with rapt attention.
Kansas. State Senator. Lex must've lost the race, then… or stepped out, or Griff never made the hit, and Jonathan had found a life in politics. Lex wondered how many compromises an honest, stubborn man like Jonathan had to make— how many unseen hands he had to shake, or boots he had to kiss to get re-elected— unless, he really had won the popular vote out of his sheer force of will.
Thank you, mouths Clark, splitting away to talk with Lana and a quickly approaching Chloe, who had yet to break her news to him.
Lex stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, alone, until Jonathan pats him on the back. Jonathan Kent, the man who's death he was about to order. The man who he was going to kill. The man who looked at him with such joy and care, it made him want to through up.
"Heard you went tree shopping today! That's great," Jonathan says, taking a sip from him glass as he motions Lex to follow him through the crowd of people with a confident swagger. "Come on Lex, I have something for you."
"For me?" Lex asks, stunned for a moment as he followed, until he realized very stupidly it was Christmas Eve.
"Look, I uh… probably should't be showing you this, but being a State Senator does have its advantages, like advanced notice from the Governor," Jonathan gives him a conspiratorial look, setting down his glass before picking up a white box that rested on top of the piano, and unveiling it with a bit of bravado— a secret, just between the two of them.
There, underneath the crinkle of cream tissue paper, rested a gold, engraved plaque— the Kansas Humanitarian award, a plaque with his name on it. Lex Luthor: In generosity and dedication for providing housing for the homeless.
Lex's tongue was thick in his mouth, at this achievement he clearly didn't deserve, nor remember working for. Had Lex ever participated in charity without an ulterior motive? Let alone real estate? There was a homeless population in Kansas? And this… the Governor was supposed to present him with this?
"Lex, I never actually thought Id' say this. I couldn't be prouder of you even if you were my own son," Jonathan confesses, with a soft, steady smile.
"Mr. Kent. Jonathan. I— I don't even know what to say," Lex blinks in this private moment, the words resonating in his chest, and his cold heart. A heart that almost didn't hesitate to murder Jonathan as a power grab and a way to win without resistance.
"Let's show everybody, huh? C'mon," Pa encourages, walking past him as Lex stared at him. After all this time, he never expected Jonathan, this father figure he always wished he had, to actually come to care for him, so proud that he had to stop an entire party to show Lex's achievement— and Lex had no idea what to do.
"Everybody get a drink, grab a glass!" Jonathan encourages, setting down his empty glass for a champagne flute from a server's tray, as he drew the attention of the murmuring crowd. "Listen up, now uh, ladies and gentleman, I have it on very good authority that this year's Kansas humanitarian award is going to be given to our very own Lex Luthor. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Lex Luthor, the finest man I know."
"Cheers!" Chloe and Lana and dozens of unfamiliar guests raised their glasses with rousing applause, including a very proud Clark Kent, cheering louder than the rest. The sound crashed into Lex like a tidal wave, approval he never earned nor asked for washing over him as he panicked internally. He couldn't breathe. He needed more air, in this tightening space. IF Lex had won the Senate race, he's well be on his way to becoming Governor of Kansas, setting up the pieces on the board for his eventual Presidency, on his own. He was always on his own. But this…
Lex gave a nod of acknowledgement, as someone handed him a glass, biding his time until he could escape out onto the front porch to actually breathe. Lex gripped onto the balcony, bathed in the warm light of the porch Christmas lights, as he tried to decipher what he was actually feeling. Was it pride? A sense of community and acceptance? Being acknowledged in a positive light, for once, instead of a ripped apart in the tabloid piece or charged with another lawsuit?
His eyes were wet, as he touched his face, looking into the dark, wintry skies. Happy. He was happy. Clark, Conner… this family, this life, on what used to be his favorite holiday of the year, free from his father's grip and unreachable expectations, far from anything he could have ever imagined or expected for himself— it made him happy.
"I can't remember ever being this happy. This is the best day of my life. Thank you," Lex breathes out, feeling the presence of his mother hang behind him, the scent of her perfume tingling at his nose.
"It doesn't have to end, Lex. Every day can be this wonderful. I told you this life that you could have. The life you can have," Lillian says.
"This is— this is what I want. What do I have to do?" Lex asks resolutely, knocking his fist against the balcony. He wants this. He wanted this the moment he woke up, and found Clark safe and sound, sleeping in their bed. Sure there are gaps here and there, but this was some kind of… test drive. A vision of what his life could be, even though it felt so incredibly raw and real.
"You just have to choose it, Lex. Follow your heart, not your ambition," His mother says, permeating that ever present sense of sadness and regret. "Lex, I have to warn you—"
Lex shivers again at the mention of this vague set of choices that will make this life his reality, as the word of warning feels ice cold in his veins. "Warn me? What do you mean? What are you talking about?"
"I just don't want you to go through the same thing I did," Lillian murmurs. Lex can feel her fading.
"But I don't understand. Clark is nothing like Lionel— he— I'm not worried around him. Fro the first time in forever, I actually feel safe, and complete, and valued— and have you seen Conner? He's incredible! i don't know if I've ever met a kid that's been more loved!" Lex protests in frustration.
"Lex! Who are you… talking to?" Clark asks from behind him. Lex spins around to see Clark's amused expression, finding that his mother had abandoned him once more, with an unsettling, ominous warning. He seemed so handsome then, with that red tie and baby blue formal shirt, having shed his dark winter coat, his hair swept across his forehead, face almost glowing from the hazy lights.
"No one… or possibly myself. I'm feeling…contemplative," Lex says, forgoing the whole 'dead mother' thing as his hand rests uneasily on the balcony railing once more. She wasn't… warning him about Clark, was she?
"Yeah, well, holidays will do that to you," Clark says understandingly, slipping his hand into Lex's, and giving it a squeeze. Lex still couldn't believe that this was real, Clark's hand fitting so warmly and perfectly in Lex's.
"Lex? You don't have to answer if you don't feel comfortable, but…. are you… having trouble remembering? Experiencing memory gaps or anything?" Clark asks.
"How did you, what do you—" Lex starts, going rigid, before releasing a heavy sigh, from relief, from getting caught he didn't know. So the memory loss wasn't a feature of this vision of the future that his mother wanted to show him? Was it a bug, then? Had getting shot snapped something inside of Lex, and the trauma of it all finally took him too far?
"It's okay, Lex. After all the treatments, amnesia, and near death experiences, it catches up with you. We're trying to get you into a specialist, if the insurance will cover it, and in the meantime, I'm here for you. If you have any questions—" Clark reassures.
"Thank God, because I have so many and I feel like I'm going crazy," Lex says, deciding on relief instead of panic and so relieved he could kiss him, as he takes Clark by the arms. "We're married?! Openly? And people are okay with that? Is that…is that even legal?"
"Yes! Well, people say all sorts of things, they always do, but it doesn't matter when we have each other. Even Pa took some time to come around, but… he couldn't be prouder. Officially, we're 'domestic partners' and that's close enough to being married, under the eyes of the law. I take it… you don't remember the wedding then? The vows? At least… at least you kept your ring on," Clark says, smile becoming faint, before he decides to tease Lex again. "Since… when have you cared about making things legal?"
"Hey! I'm Reformed! I have a Humanitarian award to prove it," Lex defends, drawing away to fidget with the wedding band. He liked the way that it felt, on his hand. For the first time it actually felt right. "Why am I getting this award? Seems like something that's right up your alley."
"Are you kidding? You run non-profts and charities like the Navy. Smallville has never been better, thanks to you, with the updated community art center for the kids and teens, halfway houses, foster programs, the food pantry program- you're the reason we have one. Then, people started reaching out and you started a network across the state, and you never wanted credit for any of it. That's why you got that award," Clark says caringly.
"Okay. So how do we pay the bills, while all that's happening?" Lex asks, guessing they had been cut off from the Luthor fortune, from their station wagon to the fact they had a budget. Doing humanitarian work like Lex was apparently doing, that was easily a full-time job.
"I'm the Editor of the Smallville Gazette. It's no Daily Planet, but it's honest work, a way to make ends meet after you were disowned. Pa didn't want me working around the farm for awhile, so… I actually like it a lot. And… you work at the Talon! Lena gave her half to you, when things got tough," Clark says.
"I work at the Talon? I don't even own it?" Lex sputters.
"We're saving up to buy Lena out! She got the other half from Lionel, your half, before things went… you know," Clark says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Lionel's been in Belle Reve for years, and if we're lucky, he'll be there for life. You were exonerated from any crimes for coming forward, though— I think you're still on an FBI watchlist or two. We weren't able to dismantle LuthorCorp, but with your tell-all… people can get justice, and maybe we can actually get some peace."
"That's something I still can't quite believe. We. Us. Now how the hell did that happen?" Lex asks in earnest.
"It didn't happen right away, that's for sure. It took us awhile. We had our… differences. I guess I wasn't ready. Neither of us were. Lana. I'll always love her, I think. You do to, in your own way. But— she was always more than us, more than this, and now she's working in fashion houses in another continent, seeing the world, and she couldn't be happier. And you… you became the kind of man I could love," Clark says, taking Lex's hand in his once more.
"And the kid?"
"Conner? The best of both of us," Clark beams. So… adoption then. Or maybe surrogacy? Conner did seem to have Clark's hair, and Lex's eyes…
"We've built a wonderful, beautiful life together, Lex. A home full of love, family and friends, Con, who's getting bigger every day. It might be small, but— it's ours," Clark says, squeezing Lex's hand that had fallen free. "Far as I'm concerned, getting shot on Christmas Eve was the best thing that ever happened to you. Coming that close to dying made you realize that there are things that are more important, and made you the man that you are today," Clark murmurs, studying his lips. "I'm here."
This life hadn't turned out at all the way that Lex had planned. And yet, there, giving way to a desperate, hungry kiss with Clark, asking for confirmation, wanting to taste him, to know it was as real as he said it was— he'd never been happier.
"Daaaaad, Jimmy just ate the cookies that were supposed to be Santa! What are we going to—" Conner starts, bursting onto the porch with visible concern. He stands back, fidgeting, as Clark and Lex draw away from each other.
"Heya sport!" Clark starts, with a bit of a flushed smile. "Not Uncle Jimmy! We'll have to make new ones."
"Dad? Are you okay?" Conner's small voice asks, brows furrowing as he studies Lex. His hair is mussed up, and his bowtie is crooked, and there's a juice stain on his shirt, and he's incredibly adorable— but the thing that cuts Lex's heart like a knife is the way he looks at him, like there was something missing. Like there was something wrong.
"Yeah buddy, more than okay. Why'd you ask?" Lex says, wanting to reassure him, as he opens his arms for a hug.
Conner seems crestfallen. His eyes are downcast, avoiding Clark's gaze, as he buries his face into Lex.
"I… um… I don't like it when you forget," he mumbles.
"Hey. It's okay. We're— we're working on it," Lex falters, at a complete loss on what to do, how to comfort this child— his son— when he was obviously upset. He looks back to Clark again, almost pleadingly, before holding Conner tighter.
We're trying to get you into a specialist, if the insurance will cover it, Clark had said— the same Clark that looked helplessly at Lex, as if it couldn't be helped. As if there was nothing they could do.
Lex couldn't live like this. Not when he could feel the wet, silent tears press into his dress shirt on what was supposed to be his favorite holiday, and the most magical time of the year.
There was only one person he could talk to.
Lionel.
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Lex made an excuse he could barely remember, something about needing to get back home to rest, while Chloe offered to drive Conner and Clark back home, driving to the prison like his life depended on it. His heart pounded, aching in his chest, at what he was about to do— about what he was going to ask, and who he was going to ask it from. Lionel Luthor could still pull strings inside of prison, he knew it. He witnessed it firsthand.
Belle Reve was a stark contrast to the Kent's cheery, festive farmhouse, all cold and concrete, with flickering fluorescent lights. When the guards took Lex's identification, they didn't tell him about visiting hours or how to schedule a visit— they lead him inside a small white room, where Lionel awaited him, gaunt in an orange jumpsuit, handcuffed to a table with a terrible, hateful grin.
"Dad…" Lex swallowed, sitting down in an uncomfortable folding chair. "I need your help."
" I don't doubt it. Why else would you be here on Christmas Eve? Oh Lex… what sorry situation you've gotten yourself into this time?" Lionel drawled, clearly enjoying this— the fact that he somehow still had power over Lex. The fact that Lex clearly wanted something from him.
"I don't think you understand. I'm having memory issues, I can't— I need to be there for my son. A father to him. I need to be there for Clark, and I can't remember—" Lex started.
"I understand, clear as crystal. You turned your back on me seven years ago and now you need my help. So now you have no problem, waltzing into the prison you put me in, begging for favors in the name of family," Lionel said, leaning forward.
Lex winces. "I know we have our differences but this. I have a life. I'm a father. You have a grandchild, one that needs me."
"How could I have grandchildren? I don't have a son," Lionel emphasized.
Lex gritted his teeth, seething. "You bastard. You can save me. You know how to fix this, don't you. You have secret accounts, I know you do. You know specialists that can make a difference…"
"No Lex, I'm not going to do that. Don't you understand that every decision you've made has brought you to this moment? Beginning that day seven years ago in the hospital when you decide to forfeit the Senate race to Jonathan Kent? I told you this would happen. I warned you. But you chose to give up your family. And when you gave up that decision, you gave up the money and the power that would have enabled you to save your mind," Lionel says, as if he was the reasonable one.
Lionel cocked his head, chuckling, head resting in his hand. "Don't tell me— did you really think this was the first time you've come to me, asking your precious memories?"
Lex is still. Very still.
"What do you mean?" Lex breathes.
"Oh, I've lost count of how often you've seen me. I don't mind the visits, truly. It's always nice seeing the hope die from your eyes, getting to remind you how far you've fallen. Then, you come crawling back to me again, and it's a fresh start. I'd dare say it's even a highlight of my stay here," Lionel speaks, amused. "There's something deeply wrong with you, and you know it. And you can't do anything about it."
"You're lying," Lex manages, because it's the only thing that makes sense, when he's paralyzed and can't move, and can barely breathe. Lionel Luthor always lies.
"Go on then Lex. Better get back to the happily ever after Clark made for you. Oh— and give him my best regards. Or— my worst," Lionel says, feeling the cuff around his bony wrist.
"You're wrong!" Lex shouts, shoving at the table with numb hands, as the prison guards open the door, ending the visitation.
"See you soon," Lionel speaks, hauntingly, as Lex is shepherded away.
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Lex paces, alone in the cramped, cold garage of their suburban home, of the life they'd built, since their home suddenly didn't feel so safe anymore— shattered, as he runs the conversation with Lionel over and over again. What did Lionel mean, about the happily ever after Clark made for him? About Lex's apparently frequent visitations? This perfect life, suddenly soured and wrong by the fact that he couldn't remember. And Clark…
His Mother is there. Lillian Luthor, as same as he'd seen her before, waiting statuesque in her plum sweater and pearls for him to notice.
"What did you do to me? I-I thought you were showing me a better life!" Lex accuses with a pointed figure, wounded and unbalanced, as he lost control.
"I was, Lex. I am," Lillian says.
"A life full of pain? A life that I can't even remember? Dealing with some kind of diagnosis I can't even treat or afford?" Lex asked, voice strained as tears prick at his eyes.
"No Lex, a life full of love," Lillian says, her voice soft and solemn.
"Love," Lex scoffs, pained. "As if that solves everything. As if that makes up for seven years that I missed. Who am I without my memories? My mind? I'm— I'm trapped. I don't know what's real anymore, I don't…"
"It just has a cost," His mother says, her touch ghostly as she caresses his face.
Was Lex willing to pay the price?
"I need more answers. More information. I— I can't accept this," Lex swallows, shaking his head as he turns away. Clark was his missing piece. Clark always was. And Lex had fixed it.
Lillian disappears, as quickly as she arrived, the air heavy and sickly with her perfume as he rummages through the garage. There was one question in his mind, one he didn't ask, one he didn't get answers to. Surely, Clark would have it here, if Lana had given it back. Surely, Lex would've held onto it.
His hands are greasy with oil, cut with rust, bleeding as he finds it in the toolbox under the light of the naked, garage bulb. It's heavy and frigid as as he handles it, a small, lead chest forged from the armor of Saint George, and dusty from being forgotten. Lex's stomach twists, chest tightening as he cracks it open with shaking hands.
"Looking for something?" Clark's voice echoes in the garage.
Lex nearly fumbles the chest in shock, clutching it as Clark stands in the garage doorway. "Clark! I thought— I thought you were at the party, still."
"I was. But then I heard you went to Belle Reve," Clark said, voice measured. The warmth in the voice was gone. How— how did he know? Lex didn't breathe a word to anyone. How does he always know?
Lex's jaw tightens, as he stands tall. "What choice did I have? I just found out that I have this perfect life and I can't remember anything about it. Then, you say our insurance can't afford treatments. Or is that just another one of your lies? Because apparently it's common for me to visit my estranged father in prison, and he likes our little visits!"
"Lex…" Clark starts, hand outstretched.
"What aren't you telling me, Clark? What's happening? Because it's not just me that you're lying to. It's our son," Lex trembles, gripping onto the box.
Clark sighs, eyes no longer sparkling eyes as he looks at Lex. At first Lex expects another lie, another excuse as Clark, bridges the cavernous silence between them. A silence that stretches years, if not a lifetime.
"I'm not human, Lex. I never was. I… came down to earth during the Meteor shower, when you had your accident. But whenever you find out… I just.. I have to make you forget. I didn't know it would affect your memory so much, but- you're still doing okay. It's the only way to keep you happy. To keep this life we've built together."
Lex reels. Lex wanted so badly for this to be real, to be his— he had no idea he already was his. Clark was keeping him captive, like a pet, brainwashing him to be the perfect partner, with the perfect family, and their perfect little life.
"You're an alien," Lex manages, and it's terrifying and thrilling to say it to his face, this truth he's grasping onto, the one that he's fought to have for years. "This isn't right, Clark. Have you been making me forget the last seven years? Those are my memories… how… how can it be a life that we built if I can't remember anything. You're a… you're a threat to humanity!"
"So is our son," Clark says.
"What do you mean? What does he have to do with this? Any of this?" Lex nearly shouts, running out of air.
"You tried to clone me, once, when we had a fallout. You made him, instead. He's… not exactly how I imagined having our first kid together, since he was born while we were sorting through everything and getting together— but he's our world," Clark says calmly.
"And what about his mind? Do you make him forget, too? Because he's traumatized by it, Clark. Conner— he was… he was singing his favorite Christmas songs because he wanted me to remember. He was telling me about the ornaments because he knew— he knew— I wouldn't remember where or how we got them!" Lex shot back, voice cracking.
"It doesn't work that way. Kryptonian minds are… complicated. Just… just calm down," Clark tries, clearly frustrated with Lex's outburst.
"Calm down?! And act like this isn't a big deal?!" Lex yells, running a hand over his smooth, bald head.
"Do you want to know what the worst part is, Clark? The worst part Clark, is that I want to remember. I want to remember us saying our vows. The firs time we had sex. What it was like, the expression on your dad's face when I ruined his life by asking for your hand in marriage. Meeting Uncle Jimmy for the first time. Seeing Lana back off to fashion school. Sending my Dad to jail. Do you know what's there? A big, blank space! Why do you do it, Clark? To keep me complacent and quiet? Every time I question things or resist, you wipe me clean and start over?"
Clark's silence spoke volumes.
Lex's hand twitched."You're never going to trust me, are you Clark? You would rather lie and brainwash me than admit the truth, and trust me with your secret, even though we've been married for seven years. If I wanted to leave you or divorce you, you probably wipe my mind, and I'd forget."
Clark is visibly angry now, as he approaches Lex. His fists are balled to, white knuckled, face reddening with anger at the truth- the fact that he was gaslighting Lex like everyone else. "You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? Even if everything is perfect, you have to find flaws and ruin it. This wouldn't happen if you could leave well enough alone, but you can't leave well enough alone because you care too much."
"Get away from me," Lex shakes, snaps the lead box open to defend himself, heavy in his hands. He expects an unearthly green glow, a krytponite crystal inside, to save himself with Clark's only weakness, as Clark stops dead still.
There is no glow. The lead box is empty.
"I know you're scared. It's okay, Lex. All it takes is a kiss. Then, you'll forget, and we can be happy again," Clark says, anger melting away, as moves forward like an unstoppable object.
"You're just as bad as him! As Lionel. You should- you should be locked up, and dissected in a lab!" Lex seethes, scrambling away from him, looking for an exit. Where could he run? Where could he hide? "I'm still there, in the past, Clark. I'm not going to drop out of the Senate race. I could even kill your father."
Clark's jaw flexes. "You wouldn't dare."
"I would. Because even if I want you so badly, it hurts to breathe, I now know that you'll never change. That no matter how wonderful, how beautiful our life is, you'll never accept me for who I am, and have to edit me down to fit your narrative of a happy little life. That you'll never trust me with the truth," Lex manages. Clark reaches out to caress the side of his face, and Lex turns away in betrayal, fighting his touch, even though the whole of his being cried for it.
"I'm sorry, Lex," Clark says, finally managing to guide his chin to face him, as Lex looked at him with tear stained cheeks.
"I'm going to have to make you forget."