The Journey Back

by Tallihensia

Summary:

Lex wakes up to a future that is very different from the one he thought he would have. Why is he fighting Superman, and who is Lex Luthor?

Notes:

Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams. ;-) This story was written for free entertainment purposes only and may not be reproduced for profit or altered without permission.

Warnings: none

Spoilers: Asylum. General first few seasons.

Notes: AU after end Season 6-ish (though since I haven't seen them, canon is flexible). Set ~6 years later.

The Journey Back

 

Falling.

Lex remembered falling as his car crashed first into a young man, then into a railing, then into the air. In the air, he'd been falling, watching the world spin outside the window; protected, yet just as surely as doomed as the man he'd hit. Then Lex had flown over Smallville until he was brought back to life by the person he'd killed.

This time, Lex was over Metropolis and he wasn't protected and still doomed. He recognized the city even as he fell at a speed no one should experience unless they had a parachute on, and he had none (first thing he'd checked). Lex wished he could fly for real, then maybe he wouldn't die.

He kept his eyes open as he fell, determined not to miss a moment of his life, as few as those moments seemed to be left right now.

Then the world jerked, slowed, and righted itself as he was caught in strong arms and lifted up. Blinking, Lex looked below and confirmed that, yes, they were still in mid-air. He twisted to look at his rescuer, but before he could do so, he was thrown upon a roof.

Instinctively, Lex put out one arm and drew in his head and shoulder to roll in a diagonal, minimizing the danger to his skull and spine. In a ground-fight, the roll would also allow him to get back up in one motion; however, in this instance he had too much momentum from the toss to do that and instead simply skidded to a stop, losing a bit of skin along the way.

Slowly, he picked himself up, trying not to hiss at the asphalt burns.

"Be glad I was flying nearby, Luthor. Though I'm sure you probably deserved being thrown off the balcony by Ms. Sinclare after what you did to her fiancée."

Lex blinked. "Clark?" He rubbed his eyes briefly and then opened them again. Blue, red, and gold, in an outfit formfitting and revealing. A cape. "Did you say, 'flying'?"

Clark unfolded his arms and took a step backwards, shock written across his face. Then he frowned again and shifted his feet into an aggressive stance. "Don't think you can get away with it, Luthor. Even as we speak, the police are on their way."

He heard the words, but they weren't making any sense to him. "What are you wearing, Clark? It looks like something from Warrior Angel. Only a lot more colorful."

"Warrior..." Clark took another step backwards, then one to the side. "Luthor, what are you talking about? And why are you calling me Clark?" His voice wavered a bit.

There was something wrong here. Lex glanced off the side of the building and shuddered at the height. Then he looked back at Clark.

It definitely was Clark, no matter what he said. And yet... Lex's heart twisted as he took in details. "You're older," he said softly. He raised his own hand to look at it. There were lines on it that hadn't been there... when? Memory was... he couldn't remember. Lex raised a hand to his head as the world greyed out. He thought he heard Clark calling his name, but it was lost in the distance.

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...

Pain. His head hurt badly. At the least, it was another concussion. As he slid down the wall, barely managing not to fall over, Lex raised an unsteady hand to the side of his head and felt blood running down. His arm hurt too.

"Drop it, Luthor!"

Drop what? Sitting up, Lex brought his other hand into view so he could see it and he realized he held a gun. Or at least he thought it was a gun. It looked like some sort of Buck Rodgers futuristic toy.

"Luthor!"

The sound split open his skull. "Stop shouting, Clark," Lex muttered, and tossed the gun away. Then he raised both his hands to his head instead. In the glance he had around him, it looked like he was back on another rooftop. Did he spend all his time at dangerous heights?

There was an astonished silence somewhere in front of him. Then, very cautiously, his name. "Lex?"

Lex dropped his hands and focused. Yes, it was Clark again, in that same gaudy outfit. He looked... he looked wary, like he didn't trust Lex and couldn't trust Lex. It wasn't at all like the times that Clark lied to Lex when sometimes he looked like he wished he didn't... it wasn't like any look he'd seen on Clark. "Clark." Lex swallowed. "How long has it been?"

Clark took one step forward, emotions warring across his face. Hope and disbelief and worry and fear and mistrust. The fear was strong. "I'm not Clark..." he said tentatively.

Of all things to try and protest. Lex snorted. "You're as bad a liar as you ever were."

With a gulp, Clark took another step forward, the hope growing stronger in his eyes. Then an expression of pain flitted across his features and he stopped. "Your ring..."

Ring? Lex looked at his right hand and saw nothing. Then he looked at his left. The large stone on the ring glowed an evil green that Lex recognized. "Meteor rock." He looked up and took in the pale and sweating Clark in front of him and finally – after how many years... – he finally made the connection. He stripped off the ring and tossed it over the side of the building. "I'm sorry."

The sweating stopped and the faint green tinge to his skin retreated, but Clark still looked as if he was in enormous pain. "Lex." He took another step forward and raised his hand to the wound on Lex's head. "How? It's you. How can it be you?"

Lex's heart twisted in fear. "How long has it been?" And what had taken his place? For Clark to hate him so...

"What's the last thing you remember?" Clark asked. His hand moved to the side of Lex's face and stayed there, gently resting.

Remember... Lex frowned. He couldn't... "Falling. The plane was falling, I had no chute. Sand. Grubs. Hell in Paradise." No, that wasn't the last, but the images that floated through his head didn't make sense. "Painting, dropping my pills in the paint, other people all around. You, staring at me in fear as I yelled and attacked you. Why was I attacking you? Ian, both Ians, attacking you, hauling you off..." Lex blinked. "I was in a mental institution?" More flashes. "I shot Morgan Edge. And then you..." Lex raised his eyes to Clark in wonder. "You stopped the car; it broke around you." He lifted his own hand to Clark's cheek, touching him to see if he was real. "You're a miracle. You're alive. I did hit you at the river, and you're alive."

Clark bowed his head until his forehead touched Lex's and he cried. "Lex..."

"What have I done?" Lex wondered. "To make you hate me so much?" Lex tentatively touched Clark's back, not sure if he was allowed to hug him.

The hug he didn't dare was his a second later as Clark swept his arms around Lex and held him tight. It was too tight, and Lex felt his ribs compressing and his neck was at an awkward angle, but he wasn't complaining and he wasn't about to protest. Instead, he held on just as tightly back. It reminded him of the hug he'd gotten after he'd returned from the island. Had he been dead? Was he still?

"I thought it was you, a month ago... but then you were gone and it was just Luthor. Lex. Oh, God, Lex. I'm sorry. I tried to rescue you from Belle Reve, but I left it too long and I failed and you lost your memory and I'd thought it was okay, that you were still okay, but things just started going wrong and I didn't know... I didn't know. Lex."

"Chloe, my dad in jail," Lex said slowly, other memories filtering through imperfectly. "Have I become my father? I never wanted that..."

Clark didn't answer, he just held on.

Lex didn't want to move, yet in the distance he heard a roaring, as if he was in a raft on a river and a waterfall was coming up. "Clark, let go." He pushed at Clark's body.

Reluctantly, Clark dropped his arms. "Lex, what—?"

His vision was fading. Lex backed up until he hit the wall. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No!"

The tunnel ate the word and then he was gone.

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...

More head pain, but when Lex opened his eyes this time he didn't see Clark, instead he saw an arrow in front of his face. Said arrow was resting rather insecurely in a cross-bow that had a finger quivering on the trigger. Prying his attention off the arrow, Lex looked beyond to dark glasses in a green leather hood. The little he could make out of the Caucasian features were twisted with hate.

"You fucking bastard. I should kill you right here, right now."

The insertion of the word 'should' meant that there were reasons not to. Lex frantically thought quickly. The world he remembered hadn't had a lot of costumed vigilantes; this world apparently held more. Costumes either meant heroes or villains, and villains didn’t normally hesitate. That meant this was probably one of the good guys. Maybe. "If I have done wrong, then take me in. Bring me to jail, and let them lock me up. Judge and jury decide who dies, not individuals. No one person is justice alone."

The finger tightened on the trigger. "You God-damn bull-shitting liar! Like you hold to that! You have enough money to bribe police and peers and judges, and you've escaped justice too long now. Goodbye, Lex Luthor."

Time slowed as Lex watched the cross-bow mechanism activate and death came his way. Maybe that was the wrong speech to try; Lex kept forgetting he really was a bastard in the here and now. Too late now.

Then a hand came between Lex's face and the arrow and took it away.

"What are you doing, Green Arrow?" A familiar voice, full of outrage and disappointment.

"He deserves to die, Superman! You know he does."

"Not this way." Clark put a hand on the green-clad shoulder and squeezed it lightly. "You know this, Green Arrow. We fight mutants that the police cannot. We are here to help citizens. We aid the lawful processes, but we are not, and cannot be, vigilantes."

"He escapes the law! Every damn time. And then more people die."

Clark didn't look at Lex. "We are not vigilantes," he repeated. "The citizens of the world would hate us as much as they do any criminal if we put ourselves outside that boundary. We serve them, not by death, but by life. Dealing death is not our role, not if we can help it."

The green vigilante spat on the ground, narrowly missing Lex. Then he turned and stalked away without saying another word.

Very softly, Clark sighed as he watched the other man walk away. Then he folded his arms across his chest and turned to Lex. "Luthor—" He paused as he watched Lex sit up, his head tilting to one side, a frown turning to hope.

"Superman?" Lex said incredulously. "Seriously, all the heroic names you could have come up with, and you call yourself 'Superman'? Ego there much?" He shook his head. "Not to mention unimaginative."

Clark blushed scarlet, proving he still had that capability. "I didn't chose it," he mumbled. "The newspapers kind of did." He waved a hand at the giant 'S' on his chest. "They misinterpreted the crest."

"Alexander the Great's breastplate. I remember," Lex said. He stood with a helping hand from Clark.

"I'd forgotten," Clark whispered. "Lex…" He held Lex's hand for long moment. Then he let go and drew back, looking around.

Lex looked around as well. This time they were in an alley. A dingy, smelly, alley. Well, it was an improvement from the rooftops in that at least it was on the ground.

"It's actually my family crest."

"What?" Lex returned his attention to Clark.

"The symbol." Clark again brushed his hand over it. "I didn't think about what it looked like in the Roman alphabet."

"Latin alphabet," Lex corrected. Then he blinked. "Family crest?" he said incredulously. "I didn't think that—" he clamped his mouth shut, remembering there might be other ears about.

Clark drew in a deep breath and looked at Lex with serious blue eyes. Blue eyes? Clark's eyes were green. But these were blue. Distracted, Lex missed the first few words Clark spoke.

"… alien." Clark finished speaking and gazed expectantly at Lex.

Lex couldn't think of a single thing to say other than, "What?"

"I'm an alien," Clark repeated patiently. "I was sent to Earth as a child when my planet was blown up. I am the last of my race, and I will do all I can to help humanity, for this is my home."

It sounded like a set speech. Lex shook his head. "Impossible."

"What?" It was Clark's turn to look baffled.

"Two arms, two legs, two eyes, a nose, a mouth," Lex listed out Clark's attributes. "There are hundreds of thousands of stars out there, and we know there must be intelligent life on some of them, but there is no way that an alien species looks just like us. The odds are astronomically against it. And I don't think shape-shifting is in your bag of tricks." He would have seen some sort of indication if there was – it was the sort of thing a teenager would have found irresistible. Even an alien teenager. "While there were definitely traces of alien life and visitation in Sma— in town, logically the physiology should more resemble the creatures in the cave, which were not intelligent, but were definitely alien. You are in no shape, form, or way, a blob. "

Clark's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "God, I've missed you, Lex." He shrugged. "I don't know why, but most intelligent life forms in the galaxy look like this. Some variations on color and a little on shape – Atlantians have tails for the water, legs for land – but overall, yeah, we're all human. Er, human-looking, I mean. The Green Lantern Corps, the Martian Manhunter, Hawkman and Hawkwoman – they've got wings – Maxima…" At the last name, Clark grimaced and he trailed off.

Lex narrowed his eyes.

"Seriously." Clark spread his hands. "There's a theory that some very ancient race spread the seeds, or forced the development pattern to make it easier for later communication, or just some great Plan out there. Hey, you're the one who believes in destiny!"

And look at how that destiny had turned out. Lex turned his head.

Next to him, there was the sound of a gulp. "I'm sorry… I never told you."

Apparently, even superheroes were open to misinterpretation of actions. Lex turned back swiftly. "It's okay." He reached out and touched Clark's arm the way he used to when gently reassuring a teenager. "Don't tell me after all this time you still worry about what people think of you. With a whole city… world?… to look after, that must get tiring."

Adorably, Clark ducked his head. He wasn't that teenager anymore, not by several years, yet he was still Clark at the core. "Not everybody." His eyes darkened as his head came back up. "Yet there are a lot of people who think that if I'm alien, I'm out to rule the world, no matter what I say."

"They would never say that if they'd ever seen you sitting at a diner stuffing your face with a hamburger and mayonnaise and ketchup running down your chin. You're as much a part of this world as anybody, and you love it, all of it, and us." Lex knew that without any doubt. Nobody who knew Clark could possibly think that. Clark was… Clark was the person who told the Green Thing not to kill him, and that was when he thought Lex was Luthor. Clark would never betray his adopted homeworld. Not with the Kents behind him and proving that adopted parents could be more real than birth ones.

"Not many people have seen that," Clark said softly, "And I do."

There was another layer of meaning in there, and Lex caught his breath at the possible implication. "You can't, C—" he cut himself off. "What the Green Madman was saying… what I am."

"You're not." Clark advanced on Lex. "I recognize you. You recognize me. He does not. He's not you. I don't know… I don't know how it happened, but you're not."

"I am," Lex replied, sorrow catching at his being. "I remember… I do remember those things. Not all of it, especially not recently, but more of it than I'd mentioned before." The memory was coming back in bits and pieces, randomly floating through his mind. "I tortured somebody… with a glass of water?" Okay, that was a little confusing.

Clark's mouth quirked. "Aquaman. When he's on land, he needs water to survive."

It was still confusing. But there were other things. Lex stiffened, his breath drawing sharply in.

"Lex, don't go…" The pain in Clark's voice almost drew Lex out of his own.

It wasn't that time, not yet. "Zod." Lex trembled. "He took me over… I killed. I killed so many…" Another scene. Lex lifted his eyes to Clark's. "You should have killed me."

Clark shook his head, his expression stubborn and determined.

And really, Lex should have realized that. Clark would not kill in cold blood. But so many people… "Mutants." There was some image in his head, a sign, a number. "I… experimented?" Lex shuddered. There was a fine line in research and yet that was a brick wall that shouldn't ever have been crossed.

"With every word, you're convincing me more that you are not him," Clark said firmly. "He doesn't care. You do. That was always what confused me most, how he could just not care anymore."

Lex shook his head, still not convinced himself. Then he swayed. He lifted anguished eyes to Clark even as he backed up to where he'd first been lying.

"No," Clark whispered. "Lex, please…"

He tried not to let it, Lex really did, but the greyness still came up and over him.

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...

There was no pain; just a little drool on the side of his face.

Lex sat up at the desk and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Good. He'd been worried that if it took knocking himself out to bring himself in, that he'd be killed before he regained his life. But apparently it was just unconsciousness. Loss of consciousness, more to the point, where the ruling personality of the body wasn't home and Lex could slip in. Obviously not at all points, though, or Lex would be here every time he fell asleep. If they were two separate personalities. Lex didn't yet agree with Clark on that point. It just didn't feel right, for some reason. Logically, it made sense, especially if he had been in a mental institution – though he also remembered something about being framed for that. Perhaps that's what made it feel wrong, it was too easy of an answer. And yet...

Lex looked at his desk. Then he got up and prowled around the office. It was and was not his style. Which was to be expected if it had been... Lex got a glimpse of a calendar. Eight years. Or six years. Eight if it had been from Belle Reve. Six if it had been where he lost all memories. Those two years between were fuzzy and intermittent, but there was absolutely nothing after a certain point.

His father, falling. Mouth open as he stared into Lex's eyes. Had Lex really pushed his father out a window? Not that the bastard didn't deserve it... but Lex didn't really mean that thought. His dad was still his father, for better or worse. He might have thought once about letting him die with the walls collapsing all around them, but that was quite different than snuffing out that life deliberately.

Shivering, Lex went back to the desk. He needed to find out who he was. President of LuthorCorp, that was a given but the stationary proved it. Though... stationary and pens on his right side, phone on his left. Lex cast an eye over the rest of the items on the desk, and also in the room. Then he pulled out the keyboard tray and exhaled.

Clark, it seemed, was correct. Lex looked at the mouse sitting to the right side of the keyboard, and remembered a ring on his left hand. He might have shifted his behavior for whatever reasons between now and then, but could he really so casually change a dominant hand?

Lex wiggled the mouse to make the computer wake up. Password protected. But if it wasn't himself, would he know the password? Lex tried a couple of his standard ones, both rejected. Was this one of those computers that locked you out after three-wrong tries and alerted security?

After a moment of thought, Lex hovered his fingers lightly over the keyboard, stared at the password prompt on the screen, and tried not to think about anything at all. His fingers ran over the keys and the computer opened. Physical habits were a wonderful thing.

Curious, Lex opened a new Word document and did it again. Then he stared at it. "That is not a password. That is a child's password. No, a child would come up with a better one. It's in plain text, for pity's sake!" There hadn't even been any attempt to scramble the letters or substitute special characters for standard letters. Basic, normal security precautions that Lex had been doing since he was eight. It was so ingrained in him that when Ryan had been reading his mind, Lex had automatically thought 'Julian' where the password was actually J71I@n. His fingers knew the difference more than his mind. This, though... This really was 'Lillian07'. Lex snorted and shook his head.

Then he started opening files.

When the darkness started floating at the edges of his mind, Lex was very thoughtful. A lot had changed in those years, not all for the better. LuthorCorp thrived on illegal and unsafe practices, with government military research contracts that no self-respecting company would take, and people who looked the other way. Superheroes were about in the world, along with villains as well. Superman had been mentioned several times in reports, and there were entire folders of files devoted to research on him. Yet in all of those, not a word about other identities, nor even a hint. There were other files on the nosy reporters Clark Kent and Lois Lane... who were friends of Superman. Lex wondered if Lois was Chloe in disguise – it sounded like her. Though he somewhat remembered a cousin...

As the darkness completely descended, Lex concentrated on sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream...

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...

Sitting up in the bed, Lex let himself grin. Success. Well, hopefully success. He got out of bed to the rustle of silk pajamas over silk sheets and padded over to a calendar. A day later. Not as good as he was hoping, but not bad.

1am. He kept late hours, apparently. Lex wondered if he would have the whole sleeping time, or just a portion of it. There was also the question of what to do with the time. Did he keep surveillance upon himself? That would be the first thing to check.

He went out and explored the rooms. There were devices for electronic surveillance sweeping, to locate other people's bugs, however he saw no evidence of any self-planted. Good. Lex found the office room, set up very much like the one at LuthorCorp, and he turned it on. While he waited for the operating system to warm up, he stared at the massive wall of glass on the other side. Several hundred feet up in the air, and a window for a wall. Heights again. Either it was himself compensating for his early hatred of heights, or...

The computer beeped and Lex turned back to it. He pulled up file after file, looking for recent activity. Then he found a box of thumb-drives and took one to download the most useful information. In this life, Lex apparently was both stupid and smart at the same time. All these plans were brilliant... and they were right here in the open. Okay, on his private computer, but still... Lex shook his head.

He had to get out of here. The whole place was stifling him, reminding him that he was not himself and hadn't been for many years. He wanted to scream and rage, to destroy this desk with its right-handed mouse and pens on the wrong side and stupid passwords. A temper-tantrum would feel good to indulge in. Yet it would leave too much evidence. Lex didn't want himself to know he existed. Or anybody he worked closely with who would notice. And the pronouns were confusing, even in his own thoughts.

Fuck it. Hiding in corners wasn't the way he was going to live his regained slice of life. Lex went back to the bedroom and changed from pajamas to regular clothing. Suits, suits, suits... a whole walk-in closet and didn't he own anything besides suits? Or in colors other than regular business white, black, and grey? Lex finally found a pair of loose cotton slacks and a loose pull-over. That was better. He changed, grabbed the thumb-drive, shut down the computer, and left with his wallet and keys.

An appropriate ignoring of personnel with an occasional nod got him through security and out the building. Back into the building would be more of a problem. Maybe he'd just leave his body in an alley when it was time. No matter however Lex arranged it, his other self was going to be curious about what he had done during the night, so Lex might as well leave it a real mystery.

Coffee. Detouring into a coffee shop after walking a few blocks, Lex bought a mocha cappuccino and breathed in the fumes worshipfully. He presumed his other self drank it, but the last time he had some was lost in the fuzzy memories.

"Well, well... Luthor's off his leash and without his bodyguards..."

Lex took another sip of the coffee and hoped he had enough time to finish it. He ignored the voice approaching from the side. Looked like a regular punk, not actually anything special, just a wanna-be.

"You son-of-a-bitch, face me!"

Lex put down the coffee on the counter and waited another beat until the fist was flying at him. Then he ducked to a side, letting it go by and he returned a light graze on the back of the guy's neck as he stumbled. Nothing serious, just enough to let the guy know it could have been worse. Self-defense classes were wonderful things. Though from the stretch in his muscles, he didn't think this was part of his regular work-out anymore.

"Um, maybe this isn't a good time to get a coffee..."

That voice. Lex turned towards the door with a smile. Then his smile faded and he blinked. And blinked again.

The other guy started over for another round and Lex turned and glared at him with all his pent-up frustration and anger over his situation.

The guy stopped in his tracks and went pale, then almost ran out of the building.

"Wow, that was impressive," Clark said admiringly with a slight stutter in his voice. "Can I put that in an article? Luthor gains death-ray vision..."

Lex pinned Clark with a similar gaze. "What is that?"

"Um, well, I made it up..."

"That... that thing upon your face! Eyeglass stores don't even sell frames that hideous. And that suit... You must have had that thing custom-made for ugliness because not even a department store suit could possibly fit that badly."

Self-consciously, Clark adjusted the glasses on his nose and shrugged the suit into even worse placement on his body. "It's hard finding things in my size," he mumbled.

Lex rolled his eyes, grabbed his coffee, and stalked out of the store.

Clark caught up with him a block later on a sub-street a block off from the main drag. It was quieter here, if not totally empty.

"Well, now I know why nobody recognizes you," Lex said. "That is truly a hideous disguise."

Clark shrugged. "It works. I'm also clumsy and cowardly and inclined to run out on dates."

Lex shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. "Who is there, then, to really know you?"

"Yeah, well, that's a problem." Clark scuffed his shoe on the ground and shrugged again.

Reaching into his pocket, Lex pulled out the flash-drive and handed it to Clark.

"What's this?"

"It's a thumb-drive."

Clark glared at him.

Lex grinned. He'd missed the bantering and the teasing. "It's files off my computer. You should find it interesting reading. Nothing you can prove immediately, probably, but avenues to investigate."

Silence was their companion for several steps before Clark put it in his own pocket. "It seems wrong. Knowing that you're there... that you're in him somewhere. It's always been hard, but now it's even worse."

"I don't know how I'm here or how long this will last," Lex replied softly. "You shouldn't treat him any differently because of it. Because I don't know..." The coffee dropped from his hand as Lex started to shake. He'd been shoving it to one side, trying not to think of it, and the short time-frames he'd been in the world so far had been limited so he didn't have to think of it, but he had been out now for a few hours and it...

There was a whooshing sound and then suddenly Lex was somewhere else, a dark room, and arms were around him holding him tight.

"Lex."

Lex held onto his friend and let his fears run out. "I don't want to go... I don't know what is happening... I don't know what I've become... You hate me, the world hates me, I've done horrible things and was this what Cassandra saw? Because I don't want to know it. What if this next time I don't come back? It's like dying without knowing it, but then I guess everybody does, but I don't want to be him and I don't want to be hated by you."

"I don't hate you, Lex. Not you. Never you." Clark held him tight.

"You did. You do."

"It's not you!"

"And those times back then that I came to you pleading for another chance in our friendship? To please take me back again? To forgive me? Clark, that was me... I don't know how I did what I did then, or why, but you had to know it was me or you never would have forgiven me over and over again."

Arms tightened around him. "The glimpses of my friend kept hope alive. Even when I didn't see you as much... I wanted... oh God, I wish I could have changed the past. I wish I could have rescued you, I wish I hadn't abandoned you, I wish I'd noticed what was happening before it was too late. I wish I'd tried to do something when I did notice. But you're back now. Somehow, you're back, and I'm never letting you go again."

Lex half-choked on a laugh that was partially a sob. "That'll make things interesting when one of us has to use the restroom."

Clark laughed with the same sort of desperate quality. "I've missed you, Lex."

The hug was partially loosened as they drew apart enough to look at each other.

Then Clark leaned in and kissed him.

Lex stood for several seconds, completely stunned. He hadn't seen this coming. Not at all.

"Lex?" Clark's hands traced over Lex's face, a thumb along his eyebrows, a finger along his lips, hands cupping his cheeks and rubbing over his skull. "Is this okay?"

Tilting his head back, Lex allowed the gentle assault, giving permission as he closed his eyes to experience it. "Clark..." There was that within him that said he shouldn't allow it, but... "I guess I can't say you're too young anymore."

Clark stifled another laugh and then he wrapped his arms around Lex again, his hands wandering up and down and under Lex's shirt with serious intent.

For a long moment, Lex allowed it, wanted it, reveled in it. Then he reluctantly put a stop to it. "Clark, not now."

"I want you, Lex. You're back, and I've been going crazy these last couple of months with your rare appearances. The rest of the time I've been wanting you and seeing only him."

"And that's why not," Lex said regretfully. "I don't want to start something that he might interrupt in the middle."

Clark's hands paused and his body froze. Apparently he hadn't thought of that.

"I don't know how long I'm here for now," Lex pressed the point. "I managed to maneuver into a sleep period, instead of just an unconscious phase, so hopefully it will be longer, yet I don't know how much longer."

"Can't you—"

Lex interrupted him, frustrated. "I. Don't. Know." He shivered again, there in Clark's arms.

Clark was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry." He pulled Lex in even tighter and held on. "Tell me how to help, if there's any way at all I can help. Let me know what I can research. If there is anything you need..."

"You," Lex whispered. "I just need you. Somebody who believes in me. Despite everything." He closed his eyes. "In case I don't come back again, Clark, I want you to know—"

"You'll be back," Clark interrupted, reassurance somewhat lessened by the fear in his voice.

"I hope so." Lex really did. "But just in case. Clark, you've always been my best friend, and I've been so grateful that you've been in my life." He smiled slightly, "And I'm glad you're an alien who didn't die when I hit you with my car."

Clark smiled. "You too, Lex." He leaned in to kiss Lex again.

Lex thought he could get lost in Clark's kisses. "Clark, stop. Remember, when I leave, it'll be him."

Stubbornly, Clark didn't let go. "I don't want you to leave at all."

"Neither do I." Lex burrowed a little closer into Clark's arms. "Neither do I, but I'm going to. If this holds consistent. I could be gone at any moment. I hope for longer, but..." Lex lifted his head and looked around them in the dim light. A small family room, it looked like. Lit up by the city lights from the window and the power dots of electronic gadgets everywhere. Clark's apartment. Lex shivered. "He's not stupid. I don't want him here in your apartment either. How quickly can you take me elsewhere?"

"Fast enough. I only need a few seconds of warning, and you seem to know when—" Clark cut himself off, obviously not liking to think about it. Lex wondered what it was like for Clark, to have his other self appear right when Clark was opening up again. Clark shook his head, going back to the problem. "Where should I drop you off?"

Lex shrugged. "Doesn't matter. He's going to know he went sleep-walking no matter what. Some dingy little alley would be fine." Lex lifted a hand to Clark's cheek. "Somewhere without surveillance. Where he can't see you."

Clark touched Lex's hand with his own, then disentangled them from the hug. He turned on a lamp and sat down on the couch, inviting Lex to join him. "You keep saying 'he' now... does that mean you agree he's different? That he's not you?"

Hesitating, Lex didn't want to say 'yes' right away. He thought Clark was too eager to compartmentalize Lex. Lex could remember doing some of the things that Clark hated – didn't that mean that it was him? But at the same time, Lex didn't remember so much. Instinctively, Lex was coming to believe it more and more. The way Clark phrased it, it sounded correct. The other was not him. "Throw me that orange."

With a baffled look, Clark picked up the orange on the side table next to the couch and tossed it lightly towards Lex.

Lex caught it, then threw it back. "That's your easiest way of telling the difference between us."

"What?" Clark's expression was pure puzzlement, even as he caught the orange and put it back.

Lex grinned sourly. "He's right-handed."

Clark blinked. Then his gaze went remote as he thought about it. "Son of a bitch…"

"Bastard," Lex corrected him. Then he sat on the couch next to Clark and leaned into him.

Automatically, Clark's arm went around him and held him close.

From a younger boy coming to Lex for advice and help to a confident man who loved Lex and protected him. Though Clark always had protected Lex… it was the assurance and maturity that were different now. Lex had missed so much of Clark's life. What was this world like now? Lex had reviewed the online news reports and all of his computer files, but that didn't mean he actually knew the world. He felt like a meteor had come smashing down through his life in a giant ball of flame, tossing everything around and changing his very existence.

If Lex wanted that existence, though, he'd better get back to work. The person he had become... the person who was now Lex... that person was not anybody whom Lex would have any problem displacing if it was a choice between him or him. If the other had been a better person, it perhaps would have been an issue. From what he knew of himself now, though… he was not the world's most contributing citizen. Lex had every right to come back and live in his body again. The question was how to do it.

What started it? Why had Lex emerged from whatever depths of time and loss he'd been at? Lex shook his head and turned to Clark. "I don't know what changed. If I'm to try and… fix this, I have to have a base starting point. Clark, was there anything different about the first time I came back?"

"Um, which was the first time?" Clark asked hesitantly. "I remember you being you here… three times. Besides now. The first one was two months ago. You… well, he had been pushed off the balcony. I saved her first – she'd gone over too – then I saved you, and on the roof… you called me Clark. He doesn't know Superman is Clark, never has. Then you were there again a month later, after I'd, uh, well,…"

"After you shoved me into a wall hard enough to knock me out while I was trying to kill you," Lex filled in, amused. "Yes, the falling was the first. Unconsciousness is definitely part of it, yet not the only factor."

"He wasn't unconscious the first time. He was laughing at her when she pushed them both over."

Lex blinked. That didn't fit with his theories so far. "I assumed he passed out while falling."

Clark shrugged, pulling Lex more firmly into his arms and resettling them. "Oh, well, that's possible, I suppose. There wasn't really anything unusual that I know of, though. I didn't get there until after, so I don't really know."

"Shame." Lex let himself relax into Clark's warm strong body and tried to keep his mind on the problem. It was hard, though, when all he really wanted to do was to investigate Clark instead. He had Clark's secrets now, yet there was still the body to discover. Lex hadn't even begun to explore that, it having been forbidden territory when they were younger. He remember the look well enough even with this more mature body; the feel, though was foreign and new.

"Keep that up and we will be in the middle of something," Clark's voice rumbled above Lex's head, not disapprovingly.

"Humm?" Lex blinked and then took his hands out from under Clark's shirt. Apparently they'd gone wandering without him. "Sorry."

Clark didn't reply in words, he simply tilted Lex's head over for a better angle and came in for a kiss.

They were deep in the middle of some fairly heavy necking and petting when Lex felt the corners of his world start to spin. He pulled back abruptly, dislodging Clark's grip. "Rumpelstiltskin."

"What?"

"It's happening… you have to get me away now." Lex fought at the greyness, trying to push it back, to give Clark enough time. He put his hands over his eyes and held them there as he fell.

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...

In his previous life, Lex had had a broken cheekbone a time or two before. It felt like he had one again. They were back to the pain, obviously. Lex preferred the sleeping.

Staggering, Lex held a hand to his face and tried to adjust. Going from being in Clark's arms to fighting in… Lex looked around. Another alley. Metropolis needed fewer alleys.

The person in front of him didn't make another move, though he stood ready in case Lex did anything. Silver suit contrasting against the dark skin, metal brackets against the skull. Another hero.

What was Lex? A fucking villain? "Well, obviously," Lex muttered to himself. Then he winced. "Ow." Cheekbone, right. Villain, right. Lex had caught a glimpse of somebody running out of the alley as he'd been recovering, but right now, he couldn't dredge up details. There was something that looked like another one of those weird futuristic guns on the ground. Lex didn't make any move towards it, keeping himself still and trying to look unthreatening.

The silver warrior stepped back with a frown. "Who are you?"

Lex blinked. Before he could stop himself, he ran a hand over his head. Yes, still bald. "Lex Luthor," he replied cautiously, getting the words out while moving his jaw as little as possible. It was a good thing it was his cheekbone broken and not his jaw or he wouldn't be able to talk at all. As it was... painful, but possible.

The frown didn't go away. The warrior pulled one of the gadgets off his belt and thumbed it, holding it to his mouth. "Not an emergency, Superman, but if you have a moment, there's something here I want your opinion on."

In spite of himself, Lex's heart raced at Superman's name and he smiled. He quickly wiped the smile – his other self probably had a very different reaction.

The warrior tilted his head to one side as if listening to something. Then he shook his head. "Sorry about the punch."

That was different. "I'm sure I deserved it," Lex said carefully, resisting touching his face again. It was starting to feel better. Either it was going numb, or his healing was starting to kick in.

"I didn't have a lot of time and forgot to pull the blow." The warrior reached down and picked up the gun. He squeezed his hand and the gun crumpled and then sparks flew around it. He dropped it back to the ground.

Lex's gaze narrowed. There had been that hearing thing earlier too. Yet, he didn't seem quite like Clark did when he was using his powers. There was also something just a little off... Lex looked carefully over the suit and the brackets, watching the way the man held himself. He was human, but... "You're bionic?" he asked in surprise, his mind dredging up the idea from somewhere.

The warrior smiled. "You do realize that nobody in my generation has ever watched that show?"

"Reruns," Lex returned automatically. That's how he had seen them himself and... oh, right, six years. This man, though he looked to be Lex's age, was more likely Clark's. Lex was older now too. He kept forgetting.

The man shook his head. "Didn't see them. Though it might come back in remakes. They're doing a lot of those nowadays."

A weird sense of time warping stretched around Lex. The last time he had watched a tv show was with Clark in the castle, the two of them sitting with popcorn and coke, fighting over the remote. That... was before his wedding, before Helen had started taking his weekends instead of Clark. They watched tv, but movies, documentaries, news, not the seasonal shows. Not like he and Clark had.

Lex was willing to bet that really had been the last time, despite what his other self did. His other self probably liked documentaries too. News, definitely. Stock reports.

There was a brief slide to grey, but Lex managed to haul himself back from the edges of it as bright blue and red swooped down beside the silver.

"Cyborg, what's the—" Clark cut himself off, staring at Lex. "Lex!" He took several steps up and touched Lex's cheek gently, wincing in sympathetic pain.

"What is it? Written all over my face?" Lex said sourly. "It's the same damn body! How the hell can you tell it's me?"

"Same body, different person." Clark reluctantly let his hand drop and took a step back.

"You're different," the warrior—Cyborg, Clark had called him—said. "You hold yourself differently, you speak differently, and you don't recognize me."

"And you do recognize me..." Clark smiled.

"Who is this person, Superman?" Cyborg asked, stepping up to stand next to Clark.

Two superheroes, both giving Lex their full attention. Bully for them. Lex sniffed and looked away.

"Lex Luthor," Clark answered.

"This is not the Lex Luthor I know."

"No, he's the one I know – the original Lex. My friend. I don't know who, or what, the other is. He moved in when I wasn't paying attention. But Lex is back now."

Cyborg smiled slightly, a bare quirking of the mouth. "Suddenly, much becomes clear as to why you constantly tried to explain away or refused to see all of his wrong-doing."

"He is right here, thank you!" Lex snapped, annoyed at the talking around him.

Clark grinned at both Lex and Cyborg. "I knew he wouldn't do those things."

"This one wouldn't," Cyborg agreed.

And they were still talking around him. "How the hell do you know I wouldn't?" Lex growled, almost ready to prove them wrong.

"Because you would not do this to me." Cyborg gestured at himself.

For a moment, Lex was puzzled, then realization came crashing through. Cyborg. Bionic. Somebody had made a fusion between machine and human and that person... was himself. The world went a little dim around the edges of his vision, though he stanchly refused to let it grey out. "Volunteer?" He asked in a whisper.

Cyborg shook his head. "It is true it saved my life… but it was not by choice and they had plans for me before I escaped. But I know you are not the Lex Luthor I know, because when I was in his labs, he looked at me with pride and possession. When I escaped, exasperation replaced the pride. And now, when I encounter him, he eyes me with the same amount of possession, tempered only with a waiting aspect, until he can have me under his control again. Until then, he is willing to see what I do. He has never not recognized me."

Lex gulped. He knew exactly the sort of look that Cyborg described. His dad used to turn it on him all the time, usually accompanied with a touch or some sort of gesture to remind Lex that he was still a Luthor and belonged to his father. Which was creepy as all hell and Lex had often gone afterwards to the gym and his punching bag for a workout to try and dispel it. That Lex had done this himself to another human being... "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You are not him," Cyborg simply said.

"Wait..." Clark put in. "You don't recognize him at all?"

Lex turned with fury and shame on Clark. "If you think—"

Clark waved his arms, cutting him off. "Not what I meant! No, Lex, no. I just... you had talked about some memories you did have, of, well... of the between time. And I just wondered..."

The two years after Belle Reve, when Lex had been breaking into pieces and hadn't noticed. Perhaps he should have stayed in the mental institution, if this is how he came out. Lex studied Cyborg carefully and tried to search in the fuzzy memories. "Nothing. Soldiers. I remember a soldier... his wife tried to come and claim him but she blew us up instead underground. I remember... lab rooms. Glimpses. Scientists. Burning man... wings on a dime..."

"Wings on a dime?" Clark questioned with a blink.

Lex shook himself out of it and shrugged. He didn't know.

"You didn't do the work yourself," Cyborg rumbled. "The lead scientist..." and he proceeded to describe him.

"Yes." Lex could almost see him. "I remember him. Contacting me... and then nothing."

"Huh," Clark said. "That's weird, to be such a complete gap like that."

It was. What was almost stranger, though, was that Clark had thought of it. Lex turned his focus to Clark. "I thought you weren't listening, back when I was describing those memories."

"I had other things on my mind then," Clark grinned. Then the grin was lost. "But I've had a lot of time to go over it and think about what else you said."

A lot of time. "How long?" Lex took a step towards Clark, towards the pain he saw in those... blue eyes. One of these days, he would ask Clark about that color change.

"Three months," Clark whispered, his voice breaking, his eyes heart-breakingly sad.

Lex took another step. "Go watch the alley entrance or something," he directed the order to Cyborg without looking at him. Then he was in Clark's arms and holding him tightly. "I'm sorry."

Clark held him just as tightly, his hands digging in almost painfully. "If I thought you'd done it on purpose, I would have kicked your butt," he murmured.

Lex couldn't help the snort of laughter. Then he just hung on.

"I thought... I thought at first you might have been doing it deliberately, breaking it off so I wouldn't be hurt later. But you are here now."

Lex closed his eyes. "I tried the self-sacrifice thing once or twice. It didn't work out so well for either Amanda or my mom. So that's probably not the way to go unless I want to see you hurt more. Which I don't want."

"Lex, how did I ever lose you?" Clark's voice wavered in a way superhero's voices shouldn't. Then they were kissing, trying to crawl into each other's bodies and take up residence there, reassurance and desperation all in the same.

After a couple of minutes, Cyborg cleared his throat a couple of times, then came and physically pried them apart. "Hate to break this up," he said, sounding like he meant it. "But there are cops heading this way. Probably summoned by the guy Le... Luthor was after."

Real life again. Lex glanced at the mangled gun on the ground. "Take that with you when you go."

"Lex, —"

Knowing what Clark was going to say, Lex cut him off. "No, I stay. You go. I... I need to work this out. He's going to be back soon anyway. Let it be here and I might be able to do something sooner. But you go. I wouldn't be able to explain you."

Cyborg nodded. "He's right. Come on, Superman." Reaching a hand out, the silver warrior persuaded the blue and red one, and they both left.

Lex watched as the cops ran into the alley, guns out, their eyes on him but also scanning around.

"About time," Lex said sourly, his hand hovering near his broken cheekbone, hoping it looked appropriately nasty. He didn't think it was quite as broken as it was before. It didn't hurt as much. But maybe that would make it look worse, the bruising showing up darker. He tried to speak to them as the person he was would. "I was assaulted and it took you this long to show up? I pay taxes for a reason. This is not the reason."

They stumbled to a halt. The more senior one holstered his gun. "I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor, sir. If you could please describe the person who assaulted you..."

"But that's not—" The younger cop started to say before the other hushed him. Well, Lex knew where the bribe money went.

"He was about six-foot one, Caucasian, wearing a green leather hood..." Maliciously, Lex described in detail the arrow-wielding hero who had tried to shoot him. Friend of Clark's or not, Lex had been left with a bad taste in his mouth about him.

The cops nodded. "We know him," the senior said grimly. "That damn vigilante is active sometimes in our city as well as his own. He is nothing like our own Superman."

Lex certainly agreed with that. "I will press charges. Send somebody to my office later to collect my statement. You can add it to the collection for when he is finally arrested."

Lex blinked as he heard the words come out of his mouth. That wasn't… he didn't…

"Do you need an ambulance, sir? For your face?"

"No. I'll have my own, competent doctor deal with it. You can have her statement later to verify extent of the assault."

Lex hadn't said that either. Yet the words had come out of his mouth. Lex was horrified to realize that he was not in charge anymore. He was an observer in his own skull and the person there now was the other Lex Luthor. He struggled not to panic, but it washed over him in a wave, engulfing him in terror.

Spinning around, his gaze tracked back inside the alley behind them, looking for somebody. "Who is there?" There was nobody there. He looked in each corner, then turned, frowning, back to the police. "Somebody is watching us. Possibly the perpetrator."

Lex realized that his other self was looking for him. He had felt Lex's struggle and interpreted it as somebody there outside of them. Lex tried to force himself to be calm, to not worry about his lack of control. Movie. He was watching a movie. There was nothing to control, just to observe. It wasn't him… he was eating popcorn and watching from a distance.

The cops moved into the alley, hands on their guns. Lex watched with narrowed eyes as they searched. Didn't find anything, of course.

Still watching the movie, Lex observed as he talked some more with the police and then climbed into a limo that had been called for him. Conversations on a cell phone to people. Business and research. A stop at LuthorCorp towers and then a doctor was examining him.

"It was shattered, but it's starting to pull the pieces back together. You're going to have a spectacular bruise for awhile. However, as usual, it will be in an accelerated pattern. You'll have to use the make-up to avoid people seeing how quickly you heal." She wrote a quick set of instructions as to what shades and look the injury should appear as for the next few weeks, saved the file and handed him the drive. "Do you need medication?"

"No." Lex's eyes roved around the room, looking, searching, suspicious. "There's something not right about this and I need to be clear-headed."

Inside, Lex couldn't help the near-hysterical fit of giggles. Clear-headed.

The searching gaze paused and returned to the doctor. "Did you ever find anything about the sleep-walking?"

She shook her head. "Your system was clear, no drugs, just some normal coffee. It hasn't happened again. Maybe the monitors we put up have discouraged your subconscious from acting out again. Or it was just that once. You still can't remember anything from it?"

"I went to sleep in my bed and woke up with my pants around my ankles in an alley," he snapped. "I want something more than 'system clear'!"

As the doctor reassured him they were working on it, Lex tried hard to keep himself in his corner and not bring attention to himself as he laughed. Pants around his ankles? They hadn't gotten that far in the necking. Clark obviously had improvised. Lex wished he could have seen it. But if he could, then he wouldn't be here. Or there. Or whatever.

While he thought about it, the world took another turn and Lex was no longer in a corner. He was removed another step away, a grey film between him and sight and sound. If he concentrated, he could make out what was happening, what his other self was doing, however it was an effort to do so.

The removal felt familiar, like an old home. A corner in the closet he was returning to. Lex wondered how long a person could be in the dark before becoming blind. How long with sensory deprivation until insanity?

It was remarkably easy not to think, back in his corner. Lex found himself floating for long stretches without noticing anything until he forced himself to try and pay attention to what his other self was doing. Each time he did that, though, the other stopped to look around. He could obviously feel Lex, yet just as obviously didn't know Lex was inside him.

That night, as the other closed his eyes and went to sleep, Lex crept out of his corner and then out of the closet. He didn't dare move from the bed. They were monitoring him now. But it felt so good to be in his own body again. Lex stretched in the bed and then rolled over, reveling in the simple feel of sheets against his skin, sliding over, warm and comforting. Though not as comforting as Clark's arms.

Lex got up and went to the bathroom. That was something nobody could object to, nor something his other self would necessarily remember. A common, everyday happening that was so normal it was forgettable. Except it was Lex that was doing it, in his own body.

He stared at his face in the mirror, wondering at the lines on his face, the automatic way his mouth curved down, the frown that threatened to gather. They had done studies that showed that even if people weren't happy, the simple act of putting their faces into a smile often cheered them up. Lex suspected the inverse was also true.

It was possible that this person, the other, was still Lex, a road he could have gone down. Dissociative identity disorder, multiple personality in the colloquial, fit his symptoms. Lex had been drugged into the sanitarium, yet while there perhaps he really had gone insane. Electroshock helping the process.

Currently, Clark believed in Lex as a different person, completely and wholeheartedly. Yet Clark had also been disappointed in Lex back when he'd found out about Nixon, about Hamilton. How much worse would Clark have reacted if he'd ever found the room? Lex had been an idiot for putting it together. He had wanted to know about Smallville, about the things Hamilton had found, about the meteors and about his friend. Perhaps his curiosity about the things was a way to cover up his interest in his underage friend in another way. He'd always been attracted to Clark, yet had always ruthlessly shoved that attraction into a corner. The same corner he was staying in now? It was possible. If Lex had wanted to be a good person for Clark, yet wanted to push his feelings for Clark away as dangerous... would that have turned him into a bad person? Splitting himself into two people and hiding the one that wanted Clark and wanted to be good away?

It just didn't feel right. It made sense, and Lex agreed that the other person in Lex's body was definitely different than himself. But though Lex seemed to fit the symptoms, he didn't feel like it was right. He'd watched his other self through the day, floating in his corner. The other was familiar… Lex thought that he knew him. Yet he didn't think he was himself. Or a version thereof.

Lex walked out of the bathroom and stared at the huge window overlooking the city. Metropolis was beautiful and dangerous. Smallville had been just as dangerous for him, its dangers hidden in innocence and simplicity.

Taking several steps towards the window, Lex stood as near to it as he was going to get. Fingerprints on the glass proved that his other self regularly went closer, and that was just today, before the maids would be in tomorrow.

Right-handed, no fear of heights. A completely different attitude on things. Lex just didn't understand some of the things he'd done. Even if he'd gone absolutely nuts in the sanitarium and split personalities, there was so much of what he'd done that Lex just didn't think he would ever do, such as marrying Lana and the human experimentations. Though if he was insane, Lex supposed that he shouldn't judge himself by his former standards. Could a personality be that different and still be the same person?

Lex glanced up and right at the small monitor in the corner of the room. Then he went back to bed, unwilling to do too much that would alert his other self. Curled up in the sheets and blankets, he tried to think. Stoke victims sometimes changed personalities radically, kind people one day, mean SOBs the next. Electroshock was an argument for that. However, in strokes, the changes were usually instantaneous, and there weren't separate personalities.

Lex believed in himself as a separate entity. Clark believed in him. Even the unknown Cyborg believed in him. That must mean he existed. But why was he back now, and who was the other? How could Lex reclaim his life? What would there be for Lex, even if he could reclaim it, with so much of his life now tied up in being a villain?

With a sigh, Lex rolled over. He wanted Clark. He wanted so badly to be in Clark's arms and to have Clark holding him and to make this all go away. None of Clark's powers, though, could help a man lost in his own mind.

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...

Meetings. Lex hated meetings. At least when he wasn't in charge. Lex felt like a nine-year old again, forced to sit in a chair next to his father and watch silently.

Actually, the comparison was very apt – these meetings were run as Lionel would have. A mixture of charm and heavy-handed business; a velvet glove that still left a bruise. The subordinates were either afraid or slavishly devoted, sometimes both. Those that showed signs of rebellion were put down swiftly.

Lex had become his father. When he had watched those tactics as a child, he had always said he would not repeat that pattern. When he had worked with Gabe Sullivan on the fertilizer plant at Smallville, Lex had steered as far away from those practices as he could, and he'd proved his ideas of management were better. What, then, was he doing repeating the same things?

To make things worse, Lex couldn't now even stir out of his closet without alerting the other. Every time he pushed forward, his other self took notice. Several times, now, when Lex had ventured to look at something clearer, his other self had gone still, closed his eyes… and explored his mind.

Lex could feel the other searching. The personality shifting through and looking for someone else. It was the oddest feeling, and Lex was grateful for his closet that he hid in. Inside the closet, he was safe. It helped that the other didn't actually suspect Lex's existence. When he searched, he was looking outside. He built fortifications around Lex's mind so others couldn't get in. He reinforced old walls and set up patrols. Yet so far, he was not actually looking inside for the problem. If he did, Lex didn't think his closet would keep him that safe.

The closet, though, was limiting. Lex had to watch everything through the fuzzy haze of greyness, and it was an effort to part through. Slowly, he was falling back into the habit of not bothering to watch, not bothering to be. When he looked out and saw a calendar that showed weeks had passed since the last time Lex had been out… Lex didn't care. It was safe where he was.

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...

 

"Lex!"

Urgent, frantic, a voice that called to him and needed him.

Through the grey haze, Lex heard the voice and responded. Clark needed him. He couldn't stay where it was safe, he had to help Clark. Lex fought his way out of the closet and looked through eyes that weren't his own.

His gaze was focused on Superman, standing in front of him with his hands spread out in a pacifying gesture. Superman's face was full of worry, his eyes darting off periodically to one side. Lex could see his own left arm being held out in that direction but his peripheral vision didn't cover what exactly it was, and the other's gaze didn't leave Superman. His right hand held a gun pointed at Superman.

"It's too late, Superman... Your friend will die, and you could do nothing. How does it feel? To be as powerless as us mortals to prevent death?"

There was an internal laughter that accompanied those words, a mad giggling echoing through his mind, though it did not express itself out loud. A private meaning from the other behind the words. Lex cringed from the feel of that laughter.

Lex pushed his way forward and quickly glanced left. Just as quickly, he was shoved back into his corner, an instinctive reflex. Not, however, before he saw a superhero in red with a thunderbolt on his shirt, tied up. Lex's finger on a button, half-way depressed already. And there was a green ring on his hand again.

He didn't know the specifics about what the other was about to do, but the general was apparent.

"Lex, please..."

The words were directed towards him, not the other, and they were both a stab in the gut and motivation at the same time. It also gave him an idea.

Concentrating, Lex ignored everything about the gun, the ring, the superhero in front of him. Instead, he concentrated on feeling his hand. His left hand. Gradually, he seeped his awareness into the texture of the button, the metal around it, the quiver of his finger half-way depressed. And when he was sure he felt all of his hand, completely, he pulled back his finger and moved his hand away.

"What—" The other's gaze whipped around to stare as his left hand dropped from the apparatus. He wasn't given much time to think about it, though, as Superman blurred, the ropes disappeared, the red-suited hero—was that Bart Allen? the thief? Lex blinked—also blurred and disappeared, and then a fist was crashing into his jaw.

This time, the pain sent him into darkness instead of light.

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...

Lex cowered in his corner of the closet and pulled the blanket over his head. The other was furious, rampaging through his mind, looking for him.

"Come out! Damn you! I killed you. What are you doing here? Some remnant vestige left inside this skull? Come out and I will kill you again."

That wasn't exactly motive for coming out. Lex shuddered and tried to stay quiet.

The other turned coaxing. "Come out, Lex. I'm not angry with you, son. You're scaring us by hiding. There's a nice treat here for you, and I promise you won't be punished. Just come out."

Oh God. Lex knew that voice. He knew that persuasion. He knew the way that voice crept into the corners of your mind and pulled you into directions that you didn't want to go. Reflexively, he started to uncurl to go towards the voice and then he whimpered and hid his face. No. He wouldn't do this.

Staring at his father's face as Lex pushed him from the roof. His father, staring at him, smiling as he fell. Lex, now staring at his own face grinning down at him as he fell.

Lex hated heights. He scrambled, trying to reach out, to catch something, anything, to hold himself. A meteor streaking through the sky, glowing green and red with heat, flaming with destruction but better than falling. Lex reached out to grab it, burning his hands.

He woke with a gasp, sitting upright in his bed.

Not his bed. The other's bed. For a moment, Lex had thought it had all been a dream. But this wasn't his bed and it was very real. Lex shivered. He didn't know what to do, or how he could fight it. It was a sin, to commit patricide. Yet wasn't it also a sin, to commit... what the hell was the term for a father killing a son? Lex wasn't a baby, so it couldn't be infancide... Oh hell.

Lex threw off the covers and went out for a drink. Whether he was still being monitored or not, it didn't matter. Lionel knew he was here now, and was working to finish what he'd started. Years of mind manipulation to get Lex ready for the final invasion, so Lionel could cheat death. Belle Reve started it, the two years between were softening, with Lionel in control half the time and Lex the rest, but subtly, from afar, only taking full control for important things like Cyborg. Lex shuddered, everything crystal clear now, if not totally understood. No wonder his father stayed so close. Though how he'd gained those powers in the first place...? Well, he'd been in Smallville the day of the meteor shower too. That didn't feel right, though.

Or... Lex paused. Lionel had been in jail for killing his parents. Or... for killing his son? And his son's wife, the one person who would be most likely to recognize the difference? Yes. That felt right. In that part of his mind Lex shared with the other, the mixed memories. There was more there than just the one. How often? How many times had his ancestor hopped bodies, going from father to son, breeding his own next refuge? No wonder he was so furious at Lex's loss of hair in the meteor storm. It wasn't about his son... it was about the disfiguration of his future body. Had he killed Lex's mother as well? No, the cancer had been real. Otherwise, he might have just bred a better heir, like Julian.

Lex needed to find out what records there were, if any. Probably none, but he had to look. He went to the computer, putting down his drink.

The password had been changed. Lex stared at it for a moment, trying to register what had happened. Then a loud siren went off from the speakers and jolted through his body.

"Ah ha. There you are." The other... Lionel... Luthor grinned and rested his hands lightly on the desktop as his mind reached for Lex. Grabbed him and held him dangling and helpless.

"I thought I'd gotten rid of you. None of the others ever came back. How did you manage it?" Luthor stood up and strode to the window, looking out. "See all that nice sky, open space... I could throw you out there. Don't you want your freedom?"

Freedom was another word for death. Lex remembered falling and shivered. He twisted inside the mental grip, seeking a way out. One that wouldn't be his death.

Or... Lex broke free. He jumped for the window, for the outside, away from the other.

"Really?" Luthor murmured, surprised as Lex's presence escaped to death.

And in the moment of stunned surprise, Lex doubled back and dashed to his closet, burying himself deep into the darkness.

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...

"I don't believe you," Superman snarled, fighting against the green glowing bonds. "Lex is not dead!"

"Oh, but he is. Your imaginary friend is gone. Or rather Clark Kent's imaginary friend." Luthor strode over and yanked Superman's head up, staring at the blue eyes. "The question is... why do you care? A friend of a friend is not somebody to mourn."

Superman spat at Luthor.

The moisture dripped off his cheek, and Luthor slowly wiped it off, then backhanded Superman with a resounding crack. The ring on his finger left a bleeding trail across Superman's face.

Lex watched, helpless. His ancestor had his blind spots, and he was quite mad, yet he was still clever and smart and had money to pay scientists to do anything he wanted. The trap had been laid, and all had fallen into it one by one. Green Arrow, hanging over a tank of meteor-enhanced piranhas. Cyborg, his bionics shut down, his organic parts barely able to sustain life without them. Impulse, stuck in super-fast drying cement and watching the others as helplessly as Lex. No sign of Aquaman or Watchtower, but what could they do?

Luthor stalked away from Superman and played with the controls on Green Arrow's tank, lowering his feet into the tank. The vigilante hissed and jerked his legs up, his boots shredded under the few seconds of attack. The fish started to jump up, excited by the food hanging over them.

Leaving him, Luthor stood in front of Cyborg, studying him thoughtfully. Dully, Cyborg blinked his eyes, the one shaded and opaque, the other almost as bad. Luthor reached to the controls and adjusted a dial, letting some more power into the system. "Too quick a death is boring," he said.

"On the other hand," Luthor brought up his gun and aimed it at Impulse. "This one is no fun anyhow."

Up until now, Lex had been following along, knowing that Luthor was enjoying the torture and would play as he prolonged it. This, though, had real intent behind it. As much as Lex feared for himself, he couldn't let it happen.

Surging out of his hiding place, Lex quickly took control of the left side, bringing that hand over to yank the right hand down. Luthor thought he'd been dead, again, and hadn't noticed Lex sneaking back in. With Luthor's guard relaxed, Lex had been practicing with little things, moving the paper on the desk, stroking a bottle, stretching the fingers... Luthor hadn't noticed any of it. By now, Lex was fairly confident of his control in limited areas, and that he would at least be able to put up a good fight.

The shot drilled a hole into the floor as Luthor gaped. "What...? You!!" His face twisted with fury.

Cyborg looked up with interest, as Clark yelled Lex's name in joy.

Lex twisted the gun out of Luthor's hand and dropped it to the ground. Luthor staggered, his right side swinging around unevenly. "I will kill them all, you bastard!"

"Isn't that kind of an insult to yourself?" Lex wondered. He didn't know what the controls Luthor was going for were, so he tripped them up before they got there.

"I have never had such trouble with one of my own," Luthor snarled, getting back on his feet and driving Lex to the edges of the body with a furious attack. "They knew how to die!"

Lex barely clung to the fingers of his chosen hand and blinked until he could see again. Luthor might have experience, but Lex had tenacity. He'd also had experience with dealing with his own madness. The meteor, the island, the drugging, even Zod, had all prepared him for this.

The others probably had never had a chance, living normal lives. Briefly, Lex thought of what his own father might have been like if he had lived. But Lex had never known him, not really. Gone before Lex was born. "You killed my father. You killed my grandfather. You tried to kill me. I disown you, oh great-grandfather of mine." Give or take a few generations.

"You do not know who you are dealing with." Luthor barricaded Lex from the legs and strode back to the control panel.

No, actually, he didn't. "Who are you?" Lex asked, curious. He eyed the controls and waited for intent.

Luthor froze, silent, his mind in disarray.

Lex took advantage and pushed into both sides, quickly turning dials and then locking off the panel from further access. "You don't know," he breathed. "You've been jumping bodies so much, you don't know who you originally were..." Increase that set of generations by a few. No wonder his ancestor was insane.

Behind them, Cyborg roared and tore out of his prison, his power fully restored. He swung towards Lex, hesitated for a moment, then instead went to Superman, breaking the green bounds.

A howl of anger swirled inside of Lex's head, dropping him to his knees. "My world!"

What did that even mean? Lex clenched his left hand against the right which was inching for the discarded gun. He tore the ring off his finger and dropped it. Slowly, he forced his ancestor to the edges. "My body. I was born in it, I grew up in it. You threw away your own body decades past, and you can't have this one!"

"You were only born to it for me! Mine, it was always mine!"

Lex cried out as the pain inside his head shattered his control. Falling, he could feel blood dripping out of his ears and he blinked a red wash from his eyes.

"Lex!"

Strong hands rolled him over, blue eyes worried.

The right hand grabbed the ring off the ground and shoved it inside Superman's shirt. Clark cried out and staggered back.

The look of betrayal was more than Lex could take. "No!" he yelled, shoving as hard as he could, fighting for more than his body.

A whirlwind of red streaks around Clark's body and then was gone, leaving Clark to straighten up and look at Lex Luthor more warily. "I'll get rid of this outside!" Impulse yelled.

There was a snap, something electric shooting through his body, a gag in his mouth, an iron band across his skull. Lex looked into the soul of the man he'd thought was his father and said again, "No." He no longer wanted to please his father; he only wanted to save his friends.

The mast was broken, the roots torn out. Both Lex and Luthor could feel it as Luthor's control of the body was reduced to only what he could hold. And that hold was much weakened from what he'd once been. Lex surged into the broken spots, reclaiming his birthright.

Luthor smiled slowly, watching Lex move in the body. "Perhaps it is time for a new generation."

Lex didn't trust that at all. He gathered himself, holding ready to defend against an attack.

Unexpectedly, Luthor jumped out. Lex gaped for a moment, the only one in his body. It felt... weird.

Cyborg stopped hauling Green Arrow from the trap above the tank and instead let him go.

There were two blurs of red and blue as Impulse and Superman dashed to their friend's aid, getting him out of the tank with only a few bite-marks and a lot less costume.

Lex narrowed his eyes, recognizing his old enemy, Oliver. Superhero, or super-bully? But then, he supposed he couldn't talk considering his own recent past, even if it wasn't him.

Cyborg stretched his arms and then grinned at Lex. It looked eerily familiar.

"Oh shit," Lex breathed, realizing what had happened.

"Always have a back-up plan, son," Cyborg informed him cheerfully and then walked towards the door.

Lex headed forward, unsure as to what he could do. Then Impulse was in his face, "You're not getting away, Luthor!"

"Not me, you idiot! He's in him!" Lex pointed towards Cyborg, who innocently looked back at them.

Clark pried the last of the piranha off Green Arrow's legs and glanced over. He glanced between Lex and Cyborg, then flew towards Cyborg, grabbing his arms and holding him tightly. "What...?"

"He jumped out of me," Lex said, cautiously moving towards Cyborg again, as Impulse turned to gape.

"How do we get him out of Cyborg?"

That was a very good question. Lex studied Cyborg, trying to figure out if he could see any glimpses of the strong personality he'd met in there. "Fight him," Lex urged. "You knew I wasn't him. Fight him. Reclaim your body."

Briefly, another personality showed in the eyes, then it was submerged again quickly.

"I was more careful preparing this body than I was yours," Cyborg said, that false cheer grating on Lex's ears. "He will not be able to do what you had. In fact, he will very shortly cease to be anybody."

"Lex..." Superman looked at Lex while he held Cyborg. "What do we do?"

Keeping hold of his own body, Lex cautiously hovered, moving just outside the edges of his physical boundaries. In this non-world, he could hear Cyborg screaming. The sound was painful, a soul being flayed apart, torn loose from his body strip by strip.

The other bodies, Luthor had claimed by jumping into them, then shoving the souls into the vacated body. This one... Luthor was changing tactics. He was weaker, perhaps, than he had been generations past, yet he was strong enough to destroy a soul that didn't know how to defend itself.

Lex gulped. Cyborg had believed in Lex. Had known he wasn't Luthor, had known he wouldn't do... that. Lex couldn't leave his great-grandfather loose in the world, especially when he could move between other bodies at will, no alien artifacts required. A connection apparently was needed, which had been fulfilled by blood previously, but he'd learned how to expand his options with Cyborg... with others as well? How many were out there primed? Who was to say Luthor could not do it again? Lex couldn't let it happen. His ancestor, his responsibility.

Helplessly, Lex looked at Clark, studying him inside the gaudy suit, soaking in the memory. "I love you," he said with his heart. Then he turned back to Cyborg and jumped.

"NO!"

From the struggle now taking place behind Cyborg's eyes, Lex could see his body falling, crumpling lifelessly. Clark caught Lex's body before it hit the ground, his gaze looking at Cyborg in despair. "Lex!" Then he glanced back to the body he held.

Lex only saw most of that in glimpses, most of his attention taken up with the new fight.

"What are you doing?" Luthor was astonished, setting up a defensive perimeter inside the new body.

Lex quickly saw how Luthor had prepared the body, leaving suggestions and holes and even an iron girder right through the mind where Luthor could take hold, a fortress inside Cyborg.

Victor. Cyborg, bleeding figuratively and holding himself tightly, moved next to Lex, glaring at the intruder. "My name is Victor Stone."

Those words hadn't made it to the outside world, it was just a mind to mind thought, unlike Lex and Luthor's conversation as they'd traded dominance over the body.

Pleased to meet you, Lex replied absently as he studied the new problem.

The next time the body's gaze swept over the room, Lex could see Clark giving Lex's body CPR. He grinned a little in both sorrow and recognition.

Blood of my blood, bonds that tie, stronger than water, even water that drowns. Lex threw himself at his ancestor and grabbed hold, mingling their selves until one could not tell where the other lay. Then he fell.

Falling, flying, out of body, out of mind. A part of himself that screamed and struggled, fighting against this. Lex kept hold, looking around as they drifted out among nothing. A faint image of a city and buildings, stronger imagines of glows of people and life. Nothing that he wanted to be near, least those glows be extinguished. Lex drifted upwards, looking for the sky.

The other managed to separate himself, but there was nowhere to go. He snarled at Lex, You fool!

Mayhap a fool, but not a pawn. Lex smiled. 'Tis a far far better thing I do...

Bullshit! We're dying!

Lex sighed. Dickins, Father. Tale of Two Cities. Had you never read it? No, I suppose that would have been your son who read it! Or your son's son. Direct from the author? You're a parasite who has lived too long, and I have already had my life. It's time for us both to die. Lex thought about the years since a dark-haired boy had pulled him out of a river and breathed life into him. His second chance, now given to another. He hoped Victor was okay.

I will not die! The thought was a whisper of a roar, as faint as they both were now.

There would be no heaven or hell for them, only dissolution as they fell apart. Lex tightened his grip around Luthor as he felt him start to slip. He would follow Luthor to hell if he had to, to prevent him from taking another.

"Mine." A voice that was a drum, echoing through their space, blasting them with weight.

Something grabbed Luthor and tore him away from Lex. Lex struggled to hold on, and Luthor reached back, terrified of what held him.

The voice came again. "This is mine. This is not mine." And the something gathered all the parts of Luthor and took them away, leaving Lex to fall.

What? Lex didn't know what had just happened. Luthor was gone, gone from Lex's hold. What had taken him from him? Was Luthor to return? Lex should go back, to make sure he didn't. But he couldn't work up the energy, couldn't do anything but fall.

He fell for a very long time, worried about the other. Then he stopped thinking and just fell, floating within the world, as mindless as when he was in his closet.

"You don't belong here." Another voice, this one light and fluty, raising up the scales. A breath of air and then Lex was flying.

There. Metropolis. As once Lex flew over Smallville for his new life, now he flew over his old, looking at it in wonder. People were out, bustling through on their business, cars honking their horns, police giving tickets, a good Samaritan handing money to a homeless person. There was darkness here, yes, but there was also light. And up ahead, there were colors.

Blue, red, yellow. The cape fluttering as Clark moved up and down, his hands on Lex's chest, then his mouth on Lex's mouth. Repeat and redo. Next to them, Cyborg sat heavily, his eyes searching the sky. Impulse and Green Arrow stood to one side, not interfering, looking bewildered, yet ready to support their friends.

Clark. Lex looked for a moment more, and then his body drew him back in.

He coughed as the air pushing into his lungs went down the wrong way.

Clark drew back, startled. "Lex?"

Lex smiled up at his angel, soaking in the view and settling into his body. "I could swear I hit you with my car."

"You did," Clark assured him, then leaned down again, pressing his mouth against Lex's.

Lex's arms went up around Clark's neck and he gave as good as he got.

In the background, he could hear Impulse. "Um, I don't think that's CPR anymore. Guys? Guys?" Cyborg shushed him with laughter in his voice. And then Clark and Lex were left alone, still kissing, still holding on.

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...

"Cappuccino Mocha, please," Lex asked.

The barista handed it to him with a smile almost before Lex had finished asking for it. Lex was starting to become known at the coffee shop, and nobody had tried to assault him there for weeks.

"Do you ever get anything different?" A familiar voice asked, coming in through the door.

Lex turned to greet Clark, not bothering to answer. "Here." He handed Clark a small package.

Clark took it curiously and opened the box. "A pair of glasses?" He sounded like he was caught between amusement and indignation.

"I assure you, they're the same prescription as the ones you're wearing, and they're infinitely better looking. If I have to stare at those things on your nose much longer, I might go blind from the ugliness."

The laughter won out. "Love me, love my glasses."

"Love me, wear my glasses," Lex retorted. He took his coffee and himself and walked out of the shop.

Within the block, Clark had caught up to him, wearing the new glasses. He stepped in front of Lex and when Lex stopped, he leaned in for a kiss. Lex gave him one, only slowly parting after some time had passed.

"Much better," he said about the glasses. "We'll work on that ugly business suit next."

"Love me, love my--—"

Lex put a hand over Clark's mouth. "No." He took a sip of his coffee and they started walking again. "Nowadays, people don't have to wear suits. Especially in your line of work. Personally, I'm thinking of bringing the flannel back. That should be enough of a disguise."

Clark snorted, bumping shoulders with Lex but carefully enough that Lex didn't spill his drink. "Was it okay, to be so forward in the shop?"

"They are all wondering why I've changed, why I'm tossing out old policies and putting new ones in. Love should be enough of a reason, and it's true enough. I came back for love."

"Thank you," Clark whispered, the memory of Lex's second death still raw in his voice.

Lex tucked himself in next to Clark so that they walked with almost no space between.

After they'd gone down another block and Lex had tossed his empty coffee cup in a trash can, Clark cleared his throat. "So... how's it going?"

"I'm going to presume you mean that in the particular instead of the vernacular," Lex said dryly. "It's going well. There is confusion, of course, but those who worked for Lex Luthor are not used to questioning him. There is consternation in some quarters, rejoicing in others." He paused. "Though, I swear, if Oliver confronts me in public one more time about 'cleaning up my act', I'm going to slip into his body and make him do the chicken dance."

Clark snorted in laughter.

"I don't know what you see in him, I really don't."

Clark shrugged. "At the time, he reminded me of you."

Lex looked at him in astonishment. "All billionaires are bald in the dark?"

"We never went out, I don't care what Ollie told you about that!" Clark protested. Then he shook his head. "He believed in me, and the way he looked at me... I saw you. When you weren't there, I saw you everywhere, except where you belonged."

"You better have gotten used to that look by now and learned to resist it – it's called 'lust', and half the world has it when they look at you."

Clark simply shook his head again. "Not like you." He kissed Lex again.

When they pulled back, they turned down a different road, circling the block.

"Could you really do that?" Clark asked curiously.

"Make him do the chicken dance? Yes." Lex squirmed uneasily, still not comfortable with it. They were no closer to the answer of what had happened to Luthor, though, and Lex thought he better keep practicing, just in case.

"You know, we're only supposed to use our powers for good..."

"It would be for good! Think of all the people who would laugh."

There was nobody around them at the moment, a rarity in a city that didn't sleep. One moment they were walking, the next they were flying, with Lex snuggly in Clark's arms. Lex still didn't like heights, though now he was also fascinated by them, he was also even more scared than before. Yet with Clark, in Clark's arms, he was always safe.

They circled the city in silence, then landed in Clark's apartment. Before Clark's feet touched the ground, they were already kissing with various parts of clothing being taken off.

Later that night, Lex ran his hand over Clark's bare shoulder, watching Clark's closed eyes and listening to his steady breathing.

Then he lay down again, curling himself into Clark's side. Lex had his third chance at life, and, equally miraculously, he had Clark. It had been a long journey back, but now that he was here, he wasn't going to waste his life, and he wasn't going to let Clark go. This time, he would make sure of it. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

 

---

END

---

Notes:

This was supposed to be for the bingo h/c card 'brain washing/deprogramming' but it warped around a bit along the way. Hopefully still meets the requirements. ^^;; Beta by Sue Dreams. Thank you so much! Title credit to Sue as well. ^^ Cross-posted to my livejournal.