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The day of the funeral, clouds hang in the air.
Clark stares at his reflection, his hands fumbling with the tie.
He feels mostly numb.
His parents appear behind him, hands resting on his shoulders. He resists the urge to shrug them off.
"Clark," Dad says softly, concerned.
"Don't," he replies roughly, finally able to pull a knot out of the fabric. "Let's just go."
His feet feel like they're in lead. They drive slowly to the graveyard.
He sees red when he spots Lex.
Nothing and no one can stop him as he bulldozes his way to the other man.
"Clark," Lex greets levelly.
"How dare you show up here?" Clark hisses. "Pretend you didn't kill her?"
By his standards, Lex looks like a wreck. Clark knows him well enough to be able to spot the tension in his frame and the bags under his eyes covered by make-up.
He can also see the minute flinch Lex gives at his words.
"She was my friend too," is what he replies.
"She was my fiancee! And I don't want you here."
"Too bad. You can't kick me out."
"Can't I?"
Lex stills. This is the first overt reference Clark has made to his powers—the powers Lex had seen when he'd super-sped to his side.
To Lana's death site.
"People would talk," he warns quietly.
"I don't care!" Clark practically screams. His world is over. What does he care about pretending at normality anymore when the woman he's loved practically all his life is dead because of the man in front of him, his best friend? "Why did you do it, Lex? Why did you harass her to the point she couldn't pay attention to where she was driving?"
"You told her your secret," Lex snaps back. "Just gave it to her, when I was waiting, begging you to tell me—"
"It wasn't yours to take, especially from Lana! She did nothing wrong—"
"And yet she paid the price for your constant lies," Lex sneers. "Who is really to blame for her death, Clark?"
Clark freezes. It's the secret thought that has haunted him ever since he first saw her broken body in the wreckage.
Of course it's his fault. Jor-El picked her life to trade for his.
But Lex was the outward cause of it.
"You," he says, fury simmering. "Get out of here, Lex."
"No," he replies simply. "I am here to pay respects to someone I cared about."
"Then you shouldn't have—"
"We can go round and round like this, Clark—"
"What exactly do you think you're doing, causing a scene at my niece's funeral?" Nell Potter interrupts them furiously. "Supposedly her fiance and her friend—"
Clark feels like he's on Red K. He can't keep his thoughts to himself: "Says the woman who practically abandoned her—"
"Clark," Lex warns, placing a hand on his arm.
And for the first time since Lana died, he feels something.
Sorrow breaks through him and he hunches, a keening sound escaping from his mouth. Lex wraps an arm around him, holding him upright, his own breathing unsteady.
"Lex," he whispers. "I can't."
"You can and you must," is the firm reply.
His parents approach them—Nell has disappeared, hopefully to feel guilty.
"Senator," Lex says with none of the warmth or respect he once used to give them.
But he is still with Clark, still saying his name fondly, staying by him just like he had at Ryan's funeral despite everything Clark had laid at his feet.
Despite his powers, that Lex now knows about.
"Luthor," Dad sneers. "My son is right. What right do you have—"
"He can stay," Clark stops him from continuing.
"Clark—"
Even Lex looks shocked.
He just feels tired now. Exhausted.
He turns away from all of them, looks at the prepared burial site.
Next to her parents. Where she would've wanted to be.
"If this is anyone's fault, it's mine," he says more to himself than anyone else. The choked noise Lex lets out and the protests that rise from his parents tell him he didn't succeed at that. "Let's just get this over with."
Lex stands beside him, and he tries to feel the warmth and support he had at Ryan's funeral instead of the emptiness as the casket is lowered.
Nell had opted for a closed one.
Clark hadn't bothered arguing, but now he wishes he had.
It would have been nice to see her one last time.
Everyone heads to the Talon for the wake, but Clark hesitates.
Lex notices at once, of course. "Are you not coming?"
"No," he responds after a few moments. "I have something I need to do."
He runs to the Arctic, forgoing the cave and the key. His tears dry up in the wind.
"If you hadn't taken my powers away in the first place, I wouldn't have needed to be saved, and no one would have died!" he screams at the disembodied voice. "I don't need you or any destiny."
"Kal-El—"
"I renounce you," Clark spits and walks out. "Take my powers away if you like. Threaten those I love. See what I'll do."
He knows there's a central control to the Fortress. All he has to do is pull it and it will shut down.
This is, after all, just Jor-El's consciousness, not an actual being.
And he won't feel at all guilty about it.
"This rebellion cannot last long, son. You will see sense—"
"I am not your son!"
Clark lays waste to the console. In the end, the Fortress goes dim, lifeless.
He stands in the center, panting.
He flexes his hand. He still has his powers.
He searches for something to feel at this last connection to his biological parents and planet—just gone.
He finds nothing.
He's found it increasingly hard to feel anything in the wake of Lana's death.
He runs back to Smallville, tries to enjoy it, the way he had before.
He can't.
He doesn't go near the Talon, despite knowing that's where he's meant to be.
He can't do that either.
Surprisingly—and yet inevitably—his feet lead him to Lex, who's walking, presumably back to the mansion.
"Clark," he says placidly. He eyes the melted snow in the wake of Clark's speed.
"Lex," he exhales heavily.
"You were right," Lex tells him softly. "It is my fault."
"Do you expect me to deny that?" He is so darn exhausted.
"No. I expect you to stop blaming yourself."
He blinks. "You don't know the whole story."
"Then tell me."
It's like poking a bruise, except the satisfaction far outweighs the pain as everything slipped out.
Lex watches him carefully, not saying anything.
"So you did nearly die," is what he unexpectedly comes up with. "When you were shot."
Clark shrugs.
"I thought about coming to talk to you then, you know," Lex seems to be talking more to himself than anything. "I missed you."
His heart wrenches at the past tense.
It's odd. He hadn't thought he was capable of feeling anything after all this.
"Despite everything, the thought of you dying was. . . Unbearable." Lex swallows.
"Then why didn't you?" Clark questions.
"You survived, by some mystical means you'd lie to me about," he answers simply. He pauses, obviously waiting for Clark to say something.
He doesn't.
"I suppose we can share the blame," he finishes simply.
"You—you're not going to yell at me?"
Lex sighs. "What would that do, Clark? Lana loved you." His voice is a tinge bitter.
He recalls his delusions on the silver kryptonite, and wonders if they held just a bit of truth.
Not that that matters anymore.
Clark would happily wave Lana off to Lex if it meant she'd still be alive.
"It's not like you traded her life for yours intentionally. Not like she wouldn't have agreed to it anyway."
"She wouldn't have!" Clark cries out. "She had her whole life in front of her and I—"
"Not you," Lex corrects. "Your biological father."
His eyes narrow, and Clark feels his heart jump into his throat.
There is his best friend, the man he'd broken away from.
Dangerous.
"Is this the first time he's done something like this?"
"Huh?"
Clark sounds dumb. He feels dumb.
He gathers himself, and stumbles through narration of the times Jor-El has interfered in his life before. With the spaceship, and the Kryptonian girl who came to lead him through the caves.
He feels self-destructive enough—but he isn't going to tell Lex about Kryptonite.
Because Lex could use that to hurt his family.
Would he? Clark is not certain.
The man had once been his best friend.
But then, he'd had people take his parents and—Lana, hostage.
So he doesn't know what to believe anymore.
But he doesn't have the heart or will or patience for animosity anymore.
He remembers Alicia's loss—how it had ripped him from the inside out, the way she'd been treated when all she'd wanted was a chance.
He'd gotten over that soon enough—his wife.
The guilt will never leave him; but since when is that new?
Now his fiancee is dead, and again: all his fault.
He's rambling.
Lex grabs his arm, looks him in the eye.
Clark shuts his mouth.
"There is a difference," the other man says. "Between fault and blame. In both cases, perhaps you bear some of the fault—but none of the blame is yours. Only on the ones who killed them."
His countenance darkens.
Clark should return the favour; absolve him of blame.
But he can't bring himself to.
He can still hear Lana's voice in his head, frantic, telling him Lex was following her.
It's one thing to talk to him, pretend he has his best friend back.
It's entirely another to act like everything's forgotten.
But Lex's company is better than the cloying pity of his parents.
At least he understands.
"Now, your father." Lex's fingers are warm on his arm.
He doesn't want him to ever let go.
"He probably won't bother me again," he blurts out. "I basically … destroyed his avatar."
It hurts to say.
He does blame Jor-El for Lana's death.
But the last connection he had with his birth parents and planet is gone now.
"Permanently?" Lex questions.
He hesitates, but goes with the truth: "No. I don't think so."
He nods. "For the best. You don't want to make any irreversible decisions while consumed by grief."
"And what about you? What are you going to do?"
Lex's lips quirk into a self-deprecating smile. "I am going to dive into work and pretend I didn't get something I have desperately wanted for years by causing the death of one of the few people I care about."
He makes to go away. Clark stops him by taking the other man's hand in his own.
He wonders what Lana's hand would have felt like in his if he had gotten to slip the ring on.
He would've found out at the wedding.
"Take me with you," comes out of his mouth.
Lex blinks.
"So you can ruin more of my projects?" he asks dryly.
Clark juts his chin out. "If they're hurting the world. . . yes."
Lex's smile is soft, fond, and reminiscent of years long past.
His throat goes dry. He has to swallow.
"Well," Lex muses. "A lot of it I only did to spite you or get your attention. So. . ."
"You. . . What? Really?"
Lex tucks his hand in the pocket of his suit.
Clark suddenly realizes he must be cold.
And that their hands are still joined.
This makes him zone out of Lex's explanation—though he doesn't really need it.
Rao knows he's been stupid in his efforts for Lex's esteem.
"I want out of here," he tells Lex when his turn comes. "I can't—"
"What about college?"
And this is so far down the list of Clark's concerns that he has to laugh. "I haven't really paid much attention to that," he admits.
"So you would've what? Made Lana a farmer's wife?"
Lex's voice is derisive.
"She would've done whatever she wanted or needed to do, with my full support," he snaps.
He lets go of Lex, rubs at his eyes.
This is a stupid idea.
All they'll do is hurt one another and remind each other of her.
He turns to go back to the farm—unsure of what exactly he'll do when he gets there.
Maybe he can have a do-over with the university.
"You deserve better than CKU, at any rate," is what Lex says.
His lips twitched. "You are such a snob."
"Although now I suppose it's understandable why you turned down that football scholarship. Your speed would've given you an unfair advantage."
This stops him in his tracks.
Does Lex honestly believe that is the only power he has in his arsenal? Especially after his story of how his biological father healed him?
He looks at him warily.
"So what do you want to do now, Clark? Once upon a time, you asked me to run away together—using, presumably, your power to gain fame and fortune."
"I don't know," he replies honestly. Red K. He still wants to die when he thinks of the times he's been under it.
"I'm planning on having my job take me very far from here."
Clark nods in return, prepares himself to say goodbye.
"You can figure all that out while accompanying me."
His head shoots up; he stares, wide-eyed, at his former friend.
Lex smiles a little, looking amused.
"If your parents allow, of course."
"I'm an adult," he replies shortly, elation fading away. "They don't have much say in my life."
Lex considers him. "I'd have thought you'd want to tighten your other bonds even more, now that. . ."
He hesitates. "I love my parents and Chloe. I just. . . I can't bear being here anymore."
Lex nods slowly. "Alright. Meet me at the mansion when you're ready to leave."
Clark's brows furrow. "You don't have a specific date in mind?"
"The sooner the better, I suppose. But your comfort means more than mine."
Lex says it so plainly—as though he really believes that to be true. It reaches Clark like a blow; he steps back.
"After everything, you really—mean that?" he croaks out.
"You're the first real friend I've ever had, Clark," Lex's voice is raw in honesty. "That I managed to ruin that too—"
"It wasn't only your fault," Clark finds it in himself to admit. "What you did was beyond the pale, but. . . I did have a secret. I wasn't the best friend to you either."
Lex is quiet for a moment. "You did your best," is what he says finally. "My first friendship, I wasn't at my most ideal either."
Clark looks at him curiously, and the story of Duncan spills out. At the end, he is nearly vibrating with rage. "You were a child," he snaps. "None of that was your fault. Maybe you shouldn't have turned on your friend, but mostly it was that bully's fault. What's his name?"
"Why, will you exact revenge for me?" Lex questions, entertained.
"I could do it," he sulks.
"I don't think you have that in you. Worry not, that's what I like about you."
"The only thing?" Clark teases.
Lex's face is unreadable. "One of many, I suppose."
Clark has to look away. Heat crawls up his neck—and he's very glad he doesn't blush the way humans do.
What is happening?
"I'll see you," is what ultimately comes out and he leaves in a rush of wind.
His parents are predictably not pleased by his plans.
But he manages not to break down and still convinces them, so he'll take that as a win.
He packs in a daze—unsure what to take.
He and Lana would not have been able to afford to go anywhere, but he still feels loss at what might have been.
Lex makes it … bearable.
Maybe it's because he feels the same loss, a similar grief.
Or maybe it's because Clark has lost him too, before—though, he hopes, not as permanently.
He's at the mansion the very next day.
Lex raises a brow. "Minimalist as always, I see."
He shrugs. "I don't need much."
He's never been drunk—but he has been on Red K. He imagines that is rather on the end of that spectrum, but this numbness and indifference. . . It's probably on there too.
"Are you sure about this Clark?"
"What else is there to do, Lex?" he asks tiredly. "Lana was supposed to be my future. I don't have anything else left."
"You have your parents and the farm."
"And I'll come back here to help them out."
It's freeing—having Lex know at least a little of his many secrets.
Lex sighs mournfully. "My private plane is going to be wasted on you."
"I can't navigate, I just have the speed," Clark points out. His lips purse. "We're. . . flying?"
"How else would we travel? Clark. What is it?"
He wonders how his face is contorting, to make this Lex, who has tortured and hurt through his experiments, look so concerned and compassionate.
Somehow, admitting this weakness feels worse than telling him about kryptonite.
Especially since he's supposed to be able to fly.
"I don't like heights." It comes out sullenly.
Lex looks incredulous—and that's without knowing Clark can't even be injured by a fall. He braces himself for a taunt but:
"Do you want to go by land or sea then?"
"I—" He's blindsided. "Wouldn't that ruin your plans?"
"It would take more time, yes, but. . ." He shrugs. "Like I said. Your comfort."
For a moment he experiences a longing so fierce he can't breathe.
"Clark?"
"Why can't you show this side of you to others?" slips out. "Why did you—hurt Victor like that?"
Lex's face tightens and he looks away. He doesn't answer.
Clark exhales.
He has no right to be disappointed.
He knew what he was getting into.
"The plane is fine," he answers quietly.
"I had a dream once," Lex says, voice intense but equally soft. "I was—married to Lana."
He lets the pain of it wash over him. "Oh?"
"And we were still friends. And I—I was a—a good person. A humanitarian."
"You used to be one," he points out. "Care about people. Enough to sacrifice yourself for them." He chuckles ruefully. "To think I hated that."
"You did?"
Lex sounds surprised. Clark feels puzzled. "Well, yeah. Who wouldn't hate their best friend being so ready to die?" He grimaces. "Actually, I still hate it."
Lex lets out a warm laugh. “Look who’s talking. Who saved whom from drowning due to their own reckless driving?”
Clark rolls his eyes but he’s helpless to do anything other than smile back. “That’s completely different.”
“Is it? Either way, I know I’m glad to have you on the flight with me.”
“Let’s go, or we’ll be late,” he commands bossily.
“It’s a private plane, Clark,” Lex says dryly. “It’ll wait for however long we need it to.”
“You know,” Lex observes as they board, Clark taking in the luxuries he would’ve once gone nuts for and now only contemplates with apathy. “You haven’t asked once where we’re going.”
He exhales. “As long as it’s far away from here, I find that I don’t really care.”
“For all you know, I could be taking you to a secret lab.”
Clark leans back in his seat, closes his eyes. “Feel free.”
He can feel Lex’s concern radiating from him.
But he pays it no mind—instead drifts into a sleep plagued with dreams and nightmares of his deceased fiancée.
As it turns out, they end up near mines Lex wants to make a deal with.
When Clark tires of the schmoozing, he is set free upon the local populace, with only a warning to be careful while seeking ‘enrichment’.
Clark still resents that terminology.
But not as much as he despises the miners’ working conditions.
He has no idea what to do. This isn’t a problem he can punch through using his super-strength.
It takes a while to get people to confide in him. Clark tells Lex the truth about wanting to extend his stay; lies about the reason for it.
When he tries to confide in him about the problems here, Lex waves it off.
It’s part of business, he says.
And while Clark knows his friend is a billionaire, what that means—
Not to mention the wide variety of crimes against humanity he has committed--
It still hits him hard.
He assumes the authorities will react the same way.
He has never felt this helpless—not even under kryptonite.
Finally, he manages to get a contact with the local newspaper, who warns him that there will be a lot of backlash to an article like this.
And so none of the reporters will write about it.
Clark's last experience with journalism had been typing lunch menus for the Torch—and he'd hated it, done it only because Chloe liked that they were doing something together.
He does not want to do this—doesn't even know how to.
But people are depending on him, same as they do when he's saving them from the meteor freaks.
So he soldiers through.
And he doesn't expect the glow of triumph to light up his chest when the article is run and printed.
Or when Lex turns an exasperatedly fond look on him.
They don't talk about it.
Or, well, they do—
"You said you would only interfere with my work if it was unethical," he points out.
Clark shrugs. "It was hurting people."
And that's it.
But he can't help but think of how satisfying this—using something other than his fists to save people. The talking to people, the investigating, making a threat public knowledge—all the best parts of what he'd been doing since he was a teenager.
The writing is an unfortunate side-effect.
"Did you always want to be a businessman? In charge of LuthorCorp?"
Lex is on the loveseat, perusing a book, but he shuts it at the sound of Clark's voice. Clark props his elbow on the cushions, looking up curiously at him.
He chuckles. "No. Honestly, I wanted to do some actual good in the world. Either through science or law."
He feels a pang. "What changed?"
"I learned of reality, Clark."
"Reality doesn't have to be as bad as you make it sound like."
"Says the one who just lost his fiancee." Lex looks Clark in the eye as he says this.
It's he who looks away. "Yeah, well. I have you, don't I?"
A long moment of silence.
Then, softly: "If it matters at all—you have all of me."
"It matters a lot."
Lex's throat bobs.
Clark's mouth is oddly dry.
That doesn't change when they kiss—slow and sweet.
It feels like a fog has descended on his mind.
He lets Lex drag him up to the couch.
He presses him back into it.
His fiancee just passed.
And yet here he is.
Lex breaks it off, gaze considering. "You're not fully here."
"I am," he argues half-heartedly.
The other man picks up his book again. The dismissal stings.
"I am here," he insists. He takes a breath. "I will miss her. I will always love her. But even when I was with her. . ." He trails off, those moments taking a new form in light of this kiss.
Lex bites his lip. Clark tracks the movement. "What brought on the questioning regarding my childhood ambitions?"
So they aren't talking about it.
Okay.
Clark can deal with that.
"I just—I liked it. Helping people. Talking to them, finding stuff out." He shrugs, knowing this must sound terribly plebeian to someone like Lex.
"I'm not surprised," is the soft response. "The reason I liked you from the start was your inherently good heart."
Clark feels his cheeks warm.
"And you've got a clever mind to support that."
"Lex," he whines as though he's a kid again.
Lex laughs, and his gaze is warm, and Clark feels a sharp pang of nostalgia for what had been.
"So this is what you're going to do with your life," he muses. "Travel with me and ruin my business practices."
"Only the ones that are hurting people," he agrees.
Lex clicks his tongue. "You know as well as I do that that's most of them."
"You're my—" He pauses. He can't begin to describe what Lex is to him—his former best friend, the one reason he's hanging onto life after Lana's death. His everything. "But I can't let you stop me."
Lex doesn't address that. "What am I to you?" he says instead, voice piercing.
Clark avoids his gaze. "Why did you kiss me?"
"That's not an answer."
"When you answer my question, I'll answer yours."
A moment of silence.
Then—
"Okay," Lex says softly. "Whenever we're ready."
Clark's eyes dart up to him against his will. Lex looks relaxed, patient.
He has a feeling he won't last as long as the mastermind.
But he doesn't particularly care.
For the first time in a while, he feels like life is worth living.
And eventually, he'll be ready to confront what's between them.
"Can't wait."