Floor to ceiling glass on the south and west walls off his office allowed him to survey his city at will. Steel and granite, commerce and government, all lay at his feet.

It was only a small piece of his domain, but special in that he had started here and made his home here. The roots of his empire were deep in this city, reaching every level of society. No place else was as completely under Lionel Luthor's control as Metropolis.

He stood and swept his gaze from horizon to horizon, as he had each morning for over twenty years. It was his by right of force and cunning and blood.

And it was worth it.

A chime from the intercom sounded.

"Yes?"

"There's a gentleman here to see you, Sir."

"Anna, you know I don't take visitors at this time."

"I'm sorry, Sir. He's very insistent. He says his name is-"

"It makes no difference, Anna. I do not take visitors at this time. Do I need to find someone who can understand simple declarative sentences to fill your position, or will you follow my instructions?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll tell him to make an appointment."

"Do that."

The hum of the intercom cut off, and Lionel tried to recapture the atmosphere of his morning meditations over the city.

"Really, Lionel. Terrible manners to screen visitors that way without even checking to see if they have legitimate business reasons for dropping by."

The words came with no warning. Lionel was sure he hadn't heard the door open, but the voice registered even as he swung around to find out who had had the audacity to enter against his wishes.

No.

It couldn't be.

Standing in front of his door chuckling, was a very small man: not a dwarf, but still under five feet. He had a little beard and he was wearing a dark green suit and had eyes that had the disconcerting habit of shifting from brown to red in certain situations.

As they were now.

"Good morning, Mr. Quick." Lionel grated the greeting out between his teeth, pleased that he could manage that much over the sense of foreboding that was twisting his gut, "I certainly wasn't expecting you. I believe our business is complete."

"Ah-so you do remember our arrangement? Good. I was afraid I was going to have to remind you, and that can be so tiresome." The dapper little man glided across the floor and stood at Lionel's mahogany desk expectantly.

"I remember. And as I also recall, you are over due. The contract is void. You didn't make your claim by the deadline."

Quick chuckled, "You have a selective memory, Lionel."

"I expected you last year, before your option expired on Alexander's 21st birthday. When you didn't arrive I thought you had decided not to exercise your option. As I said, it is too late now, so get out of my office before I have security throw you out."

"As if they could," Quick laughed. "No, Lionel, let me refresh your memory." With a flourish he pulled out a parchment scroll covered with fancy calligraphy, and opened it on the desk. Lionel Luthor saw his own signature at the bottom in a brownish scrawl across the page. Quick pointed out the main clause and read, "The option shall be held for a period of 21 years of the child's life and exercised during the 21st year. We signed this agreement on Alexander's first birthday, Lionel. Your firstborn son is still two weeks away from his 22nd birthday, and thus still within his 21st year of life under our agreement. I am well within time to exercise my option."

The rage that Lionel felt was worse than anything he'd experienced in more than 20 years. To stand in his own office, in his city, and be forced to acknowledge that he was losing a battle was something that he hadn't thought possible. But it was the battle, not the war.

"He won't go with you. He is my heir. LuthorCorp is the only thing that matters to him."

Quick nodded, as he smiled and again rolled up the contract and tucked it under his arm, "Yes. You have tried to make sure of that, haven't you? I almost thought you would succeed. But I am a patient man and I think the wait has afforded me the leverage I need for this takeover." He grinned, flashing pointed teeth and a pink tongue.

"Leave my son alone."

Lionel wanted to believe he was making a threat, but they both knew he was begging.

"No."

Lex tried to remember the last time he had actually had trouble parking on Main Street, Smallville on a Monday afternoon. He passed his usual spot, which was occupied by a silver minivan of mediocrity, and parked one block over.

Lex smiled to himself as he locked up the Porsche and headed in to get a coffee. Things were good. Since the twister last spring, Smallville was undergoing a kind of renaissance: federal aid for rebuilding and three new contracts for the LexCorp fertilizer plant meant not only did everyone still have their jobs, but new workers were being hired, and LuthorCorp had made two significant donations to the town's hospital in honor of their having saved Lionel Luthor's life and his sight. To top it off, the Talon was actually doing very well. It never failed to surprise Lex that the little coffee shop with its cinema nostalgia theme was finally making a profit.

The fact that the Beanery had been closed down for a month after the big twister had certainly helped, and Lex knew that things might have been different if that Starbucks franchise had been able to buy a site here on Main Street instead of having to settle for a storefront out on the edge of town furthest from the high school. Still, there was no denying that even with those advantages, the little shop should not have succeeded. Luthor luck, however, must be hereditary, and just like his father, Lex seemed to be able to turn almost any investment into a winning proposition.

Lex's smile became a grin as he contemplated what his father would think of him comparing the Talon with any of Lionel Luthor's multi-million-dollar deals. The old man would have apoplexy. Afterwards. In front of Lex, he would just sneer.

He pushed open the door of the Talon and was enveloped in the scent of five different varieties of coffee, the hiss of steamers and an espresso machine and the hum and rustle of patrons chatting and reading over coffee: the heady atmosphere of retail success.

Screw Lionel.

"Hey, Lex!"

He looked over at the bar and saw Chloe waving, standing with Pete and Clark while Lana leaned in from the other side of the bar. This was another thing that was good. He knew his associates back in Metropolis wouldn't get it, but here in Smallville he'd found friends among the high school set. They couldn't drink, they could only just drive, but over the last year they had accepted him. It had started with Clark, and he'd brought in first Lana, then Chloe, and now even Pete Ross was coming around.

It was strange some days, but he was getting used to it.

Today, there were papers scattered over the bar. Chloe had a pencil behind her ear and a pen in her hand. Lana was nodding. Pete and Clark were grinning.

Lex knew he should be concerned about whatever scheme his young friends were hatching. A year ago he would have gone in sneering. Six months ago he would have put on his game face and created a space around himself designed to keep involvement to a minimum.

Now he walked up, clapped Clark on the shoulder, threw his other arm casually around Chloe's waist, grinned at Pete and said, "Okay, this looks like Chloe and Lana are in project-mode; tell me Clark," he crooked an eyebrow at his best friend, "Should I be worried?"

"Always, Lex."

And there was the smile.

Damn.

Lex could live on that smile. And the thick black hair. And the green eyes. And-

He broke off the look before it became too long. The arm around Chloe was casual and friendly, and that meant the hand on Clark was the same.

"Clark, don't give him ideas!" Lana chuckled and then picked up some of the papers, shuffling them until she came up with a calendar and then beamed at Lex, "We are, in fact planning to shut down the Talon for a private party week after next, and we're trying to figure out the best day." And with that she laid the calendar in front of him.

They were all looking at him, grinning. Okay. So something was up. He looked at the calendar. He looked at the date that was circled. Quick as that he felt his game face come up. He straightened, taking his arm off Chloe and his other hand from Clark's shoulder. With the tips of his fingers he smoothed the edges of the calendar as it lay on the bar.

"So what's the occasion?" he asked, as if there could be any mistake and, crap, why had they gone and looked this up.

"C'mon," Clark looked concerned and bumped shoulders with him as if that would jog his memory, "it's your birthday, Lex; we want to celebrate."

"You didn't honestly think we were going to ignore it, did you?" Chloe gave him her patented 'you are such a dufus' look, one that she usually reserved for Clark, "besides, it's the perfect excuse for a party."

"Yeah-we were going to surprise you." Pete added, and Lex shot him such a sharp look that Pete took a step back with his hands raised in surrender, "but we didn't, 'cause Clark didn't think you'd be into surprises. Guess he was right."

"Thank you, Clark." Cool, business-like, nodding, thinking frantically behind the face, "As a matter of fact, I won't be available that Monday evening."

"Oh! Of course," Lana's eyes got rounder, her mouth, too, as if she had just realized the obvious reason this wasn't going to work. Lex looked forward to hearing it, since he hadn't been able to think of one. "You're father probably already has something planned in Metropolis, right? Some family or business thing?"

His game face saved him again, as Lex managed not to laugh in the girl's face. A birthday spent with his father? That was an excuse that would never have come to him in a million years.

"Well, we can move it to another night," Clark offered. "How about that Sunday? Unless you're okay with closing the Talon on a Friday or Saturday? Lana didn't think you'd want to do that."

"No! Definitely not. Lana's right; we've started making a profit, but now is not the time to become complacent. We still need that weekend business."

"So Sunday it is." Pete jumped in with a grin.

"No!" Which got him a pack of hurt puppy looks. He tried damage control. "Look it's just that I don't usually celebrate my birthday with a party. Haven't for years. I have nothing against having an event here at the Talon, but I outgrew birthday parties a long time ago." That's when he saw the look pass between Clark and Lana, ricochet into Chloe and bounce off Pete, who was glaring at him.

Fuck.

He hated that look.

It was the 'cut him some slack, poor little rich boy doesn't know how to have friends' look, and he fucking hated it.

So fucking what if it was true.

It was a relief when his cell phone rang.

"Lex," he answered.

"Lex, I need you back in Metropolis as soon as you can get here. I'll be sending the helicopter for you. Clear your schedule for the next two weeks at least, and be ready to leave by 8:00 this evening."

Lex felt his grip on the cell phone tighten as his father dictated his orders. He turned his back on his friends, and took a step or two away. Not that it gave him any real privacy, but he needed focus on his Lionel and his demands. Lex and his father played dangerous games, and a lack of concentration was never forgiven.

"Hi, Dad, how are you? I'm fine, thanks. LexCorp is coming along nicely, indeed, so glad to have your support."

"Don't be a child, Lex." His father's impatient brush-off grated against already sensitive nerves. "This is important. LexCorp may be a fine way for you to cut your teeth on higher level management, but LuthorCorp needs you in Metropolis and that has to take precedence."

"I'm afraid I would have to disagree with that, Dad." Lex kept level and relaxed, as he headed up the stairs to the Talon's office. He couldn't have this discussion with his father in the middle of the coffee shop. "LuthorCorp has you, and, by definition, does not need me. LexCorp on the other hand has no one to take my place and is in a very delicate stage of growth. I can't possibly leave Smallville right now."

"Growth? Have you had any new or unusual offers recently, Lex?"

"I'm afraid that really isn't any of you concern." Lex answered, puzzled at Lionel's sudden interest in LexCorp. That could not be good.

"Lex, listen to me; if a man comes to you-" Lionel's voice became more and more strained, and then cut off.

"Dad? Are you all right?" Lex listened to the panting on the phone. It sounded as if his father was in severe pain. Interesting. Perhaps physical therapy wasn't going as well as he'd been led to believe.

"I'm fine. I just-" Lionel cut off again; Lex could hear him swallow hard, "I just want you to remember, Lex, LuthorCorp will be yours one day. You mustn't allow anything to distract your from your destiny."

The moment of concern that Lex had felt died before he fully recognized it. This was just more of his father manipulating him. Poor suffering Daddy needed his son's support.

"LexCorp is not a distraction, Dad." Lex's voice got quieter and much colder. "It's a company that I run and am responsible for. I have employees that rely on me, customers that take me at my word and don't look over my shoulder to find you, and I have friends that support me in what I am trying to do."

Lex was in the Lana's office now and carefully shut the door behind him. The decor was much like downstairs: retro Art Deco movie palace. Lex had been quite shocked when he'd realized a few months ago that he actually liked it.

"Friends?" Lionel rasped. "You are referring to that school glee club of sycophants that you've set yourself up with? I must admit, the fact that no one in town has you up on statutory rape charges is a true testament to just how far Smallville has transformed into a company town."

Icy, icy heart: the cold spreading out from his chest making even his fingers go numb. Lionel's words were far away and could not touch him.

"Good bye, Dad." Lex let the cold out through his voice, imagining that he could hear the plastic shell of the cell phone crack at such extreme temperatures. "Don't bother sending the helicopter."

"Lex-"

He slapped the phone shut on his father's shout and threw it across the room and through the picture window behind Lana's desk. Lex watched as a long shard of glass hung precariously from the frame and finally slid out and hit the wooden sash, gashing the paint, and fragmenting even further. More slivers of glass went everywhere.

He needed to get that cleaned up. He'd have to get the window repaired and apologize to Lana. He'd slipped. Or the phone had. Or something.

He was so cold; he wondered when feeling would return to his fingers.

There was a soft knock on the door. He willed whoever it was to leave.

"Lex?"

Clark's voice was soft and hesitant and too far away to make a difference. Lex heard the door open further and then close again. Footsteps, one, two, three, into the room to stand at Lex's shoulder.

"Bad phone call?" Warm breath just barely grazed Lex's cheek.

"Yes," His answer was the sound of ice cracking.

"Wanna get out of here?" Warmer.

But the ice held on. "I need to make arrangements to fix that window."

"Later." Much warmer. "Let's go for a drive."

Lex shoved his hands in his pockets and felt for his keys. "Yeah. Let's go." He looked at Clark and caught that smile again. The ice ran off in streams and steam, and Lex's skin tingled with the almost-pain of returning feeling as he smiled back.

Clark grinned as Lex kept to the speed limit until they were on the straightaway outside the town limits. Once they passed the "Meteor capital of the world!" billboard, it was less than a second before Lex let his foot get heavy on the accelerator, and soon they were flying between the cornfields.

He thought of asking Lex about what Lionel had said. He did wonder what had been worth throwing a cell phone through a window, but decided distraction was probably the better course of action. Lex didn't often lose his temper to the point of destroying property; but when he did it, was best just to stay out of his way.

"So, what do you want for your birthday?" It was more than just an academic question; Clark really didn't know what he should get for his billionaire best friend. He knew Lex wouldn't tell him the truth, but he hoped the answer would give him a clue.

"I haven't decided yet." Lex smiled, but Clark could see it was just his mouth. "Dad made the deposit yesterday to give me time if I needed to order it, but I don't really have my eye on anything."

Clark frowned. "Order what?"

"My birthday present," Lex said shortly as he down shifted and slung the car around a curve.

"You order your own birthday present?" As soon as spoke, Clark knew it was a mistake. He'd wanted to distract Lex and instead he could see all the tension they'd literally driven out in the last twenty minutes spread up his friend's spine, ending in his tightening grip on the steering wheel.

"Since I was fourteen."

Geez, could you be any dumber, Clark?

"Well, I guess lots of parents give their kids birthday money," Clark ventured. "You know, so they can get exactly what they want. A lot of parents don't know what to get for their kids."

Lex snorted. "I got three quarters of a million dollars for my birthday money this year, Clark. I think it's a little more than just my dad feeling out of step with today's youth."

There were times when Lex said things that made Clark feel like he wasn't the only alien in Smallville.

"Pick your jaw up, Clark." Lex smirked. "You might trip over it getting out of the car."

"Huh?" Clark realized they were coming to a stop in the front of his house. "Oh. Um, want to come in for a minute?"

Lex looked at him, and it was one of those looks that made Clark uncomfortable. It was like Lex was studying him or trying to see inside him, which wasn't the part that made him want to squirm.

What made Clark want to squirm was that he liked it.

"Come on, Lex. It's not even five yet."

Lex looked away, which was not a good sign.

"I don't want to interfere with your family dinner, Clark, and I really should get home and take care of a few things."

Right. Like ordering his own birthday present. Which really ought to be more fun than it sounded. Clark wondered if 21 was too old for child protective services to come and take Lex away from his father.

"Okay, but Mom will be mad that you didn't come in for pie," Clark grinned when Lex did, "and you have to promise to come to your birthday party at the Talon. We'll have it on Monday, just like we originally planned. I'll tell Lana and everybody."

Lex just shook his head and focused on the backs of his driving gloves. He was going to say something; Clark could see it coming. It would be something cutting and stupid and designed to piss Clark off enough that he wouldn't notice Lex avoiding the party issue.

As if.

"Don't do that, Lex."

"Do what?" Lex looked at him finally, with eyes wide and breathing a little heavily, like Clark had just grabbed him before he jumped.

"Don't shut down and go wherever it is you go when you can't deal with-with having friends." Why Clark was blushing over saying this, he didn't know. Lex was his best friend, even if it was nearly impossible to get him to accept it sometimes.

"I don't shut down." Lex disagreed, and Clark wondered if he realized he sounded like a teenager in denial. "I just don't like parties."

"You'll like this one."

"How do you know?" And now it was Lex's turn to blush, since even he could hear the petulance in that statement.

"Lex, I promise you will enjoy the party. You have my word."

"All right." Lex closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. "I'll be there."

"On time?"

"On time."

"And you have to stay for the whole thing."

"Yes, yes. The whole thing." The words were tired and jaded and much put upon, but Lex's eyes were starting to hint at a smile.

"Cool!" And it was, too. This was going to be great. He was going to make it the best birthday Lex had ever had. Of course that might not be saying much from the sound of it.

Business doesn't stop for anything or anyone: not for dinner, not for friends, and certainly not for birthdays. Lex was very, very glad. It meant that he was able to go home, log on to the LexCorp VPN and submerge himself in the plant's preparations for the EPA inspection next week.

He worked until the screen was blurring in front of him, and there was a real possibility of his staff finding him asleep at the keyboard; then he went upstairs. Stripping as he walked into his room, his tie, shirt, and belt marked his path to the bed. He kicked off his shoes, slipped out of his pants last and burrowed under the covers. His eyes were shut before he finished pulling the duvet up to his chin.

It still wasn't enough: Clark's face was still the last thing he saw, Clark's voice the last thing he heard, and Clark's body the last thing he reached for before finding sleep.

Tuesday was another round of meetings and paperwork and calls to department heads. It wasn't only the environmental safety inspection coming up next week: there was the daily grind of reports to go through, customers to woo, and competitors to watch. There were decisions that only Lex could make and only Lex knew why he made them, and when he was done dictating his wishes, people nodded, said Yes, Mr. Luthor, and went on their way.

It was power, and by the time he got home that afternoon, it had him feeling pretty good.

He went to his study and poured himself a drink before going to turn on CNN to check out the close of the market.

As he reached for the remote control, Ellen came to the door in her white pants and navy blue jacket. "There's a gentleman here to see you, Mr. Luthor. His name is Quick and he says he was referred by Ronald Bainbridge."

"Ron?" Lex was surprised. Ron Bainbridge had been one of his clubbing set for a few years, but they hadn't seen each other since Lex had moved to Smallville. "Did Mr. Quick give you any idea of what this was about, Ellen?"

"No, Sir."

"I see," Lex walked over to his desk and picked up the phone, "Please show Mr. Quick in."

"Yes, Sir." She turned and her heels clicked on the stone of the hall way outside the office.

Lex brought up the contact listings on his desk phone, punched in 'Bainbridge' and hit dial. When the phone started to ring, Lex turned to settle in behind his glass-topped desk, but stopped when he realized he wasn't alone anymore.

Standing only a foot in front of the desk was a small dark man with a goatee, in a dark green suit. Pinstriped. With a vest.

Ron's phone continued to ring

"Mr. Quick?" Lex allowed himself no more than a raised eyebrow, and made a note to speak to Ellen about properly announcing visitors entering his office.

"Indeed." The little man looked pleased and nodded as he bounced a bit on his toes. He had a closed-mouthed smile that made his little beard look somehow sharper.

And at that moment Ron picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Ron, It's Lex. How are you?" Lex kept his eyes on the little man and smiled. He let his teeth show without a qualm.

"Fine." Ron sounded puzzled, which didn't bode well for Mr. Quick. "It's been a while, Lex."

"I know, but I'm calling about a reference." Lex nodded slightly to Mr. Quick, who bowed in return.

"Oh, did Quick make it down your way? He said he might." Ron's voice was natural and easy.

"So you did give him my name?"

"I did. I thought you might be interested in some of his more bizarre antiques. He's into that historical, collectable memorabilia that you like."

"Bizarre antiques?" Lex raised his eyebrows, and Mr. Quick had the grace to look somewhat pained by the description.

"Yes, Marie Antoinette's hairbrush or General Grant's spittoon, and such."

"Right, Ron. Well, thank you; I just wanted to make sure that this was legit."

"Oh, Quick is certainly legitimate. I'm sure he'll have something to interest you."

Lex listened to the bored voice and smirked, shaking his head. "Well, I won't keep you, Ron. Maybe I'll see you next time I'm in Metropolis." Once he'd called Ron a friend, but the man didn't fit his current definition of the word. He was an acquaintance, nothing more.

"Certainly, Lex, I look forward to it. Until then."

The click was quiet and definite. Lex hung up the phone and gave Mr. Quick a long look, letting the man in front of his desk see that he was being judged.

Quick just maintained his smile and bounced a few more times.

"Ron says you deal in antiques and might have something I'd be interested in, Mr. Quick." Lex sat down behind his desk and motioned for his guest to take a chair.

"Indeed, indeed, Alexander! May I call you Alexander?" Mr. Quick's hands fluttered at nothing in particular. "I have heard that around this time of year you are often looking for an unusual purchase. Something outside the mainstream, something truly novel."

"On occasion," Lex nodded, bored already with the salesman's patter. "You think you have something truly novel?"

"Indeed, indeed, Alexander, something I dare say is far outside anything you have experienced before. If I may?" The fluttering hands now indicated the door. Lex nodded.

Quick practically leaped out of the room. Returning in moments with something large and square under a tarp. He wheeled it the center of the room and, with a flourish, unveiled a large antique mirror: it had a heavy ornate frame, wood-carved sunflowers in gold leaf and enamel, and the glass was so old that it looked as if it had discolored with age. The glass was smoky with a greenish tint, and it almost seemed to have currents and eddies in it like a fog.

It was magnificent, in a gaudy sort of way. The craftsmanship was spectacular.

"As you can see, the piece is quite old. It was created by a 16th century magician at the French court and was smuggled out of France to England during the Troubles." Quick petted the frame of the mirror with one hand as he kept his eyes on Lex. It annoyed Lex, since he felt he had to keep his eyes on Quick, even though his gaze kept creeping back to the glass.

"I'm sure it has a lot of history, Mr. Quick, but it's not exactly something I'd be looking to purchase right now." Lex smiled and gestured at the walls. "You may have noticed the abundance of antiquities already taking up space in the mansion. I really don't need any more."

"Oh, I would certainly agree." Quick nodded and managed to flutter a bit closer Lex. "A young man like yourself doesn't want just a nice knick-knack to celebrate the fulfillment of his 22nd year, but this is more than just a mirror."

His eyebrows rose. "More than just a mirror? What? It's a Lamborghini in disguise? I don't think so, Mr. Quick."

"So hasty, the young are so hasty," said Mr. Quick looking not at Lex but at the mirror, "You should watch that, Alexander; it will lead you to places you won't know how to get out of, one day."

"Mr. Quick, my father always taught me that a man who is slow to react will be slow to succeed. I move quickly to stay on top of things, and I don't like to be snowed by door-to-door salesmen, no matter how good their references. Good day." Lex turned away. This had been a distraction, but it was time to get back to work and stop baiting the little antique dealer.

Quick ignored the dismissal

"It's not a mirror," he said softly. "It doesn't reflect its surroundings, if you'll notice. It is a scrying glass. Look and you will see that what I say is true. If your will is strong enough, you can see whatever you want."

Lex turned to scoff, but then caught sight of the mirror. It wasn't showing a reflection of the books on the wall in front of it; it was showing a reflection of the windows behind it. This was impossible, of course, but true.

Lex didn't believe in magic. There had to be an explanation, a way that the light was being refracted somehow. He moved closer to the glass, scanning the frame for signs of a built-in camera or computer.

Where a moment ago Mr. Quick's chatter had filled the air, there was now silence, muffled as a snowfall. He stood in front of the glass and did not see himself in it, but instead saw an undulation of green-gray mist and then a view of Smallville as if he were flying over it.

"How much?"

"Ah, so you wish to make a purchase after all?"

Mr. Quick was smiling, and it pissed Lex off, but he didn't have time to think of that. He wanted the glass.

"How much, Mr. Quick. Name your price, or go and take your toy with you. I told you, I don't like to waste time."

"Seven hundred fifty thousand dollars."

Lex jerked his eyes from the glass to look at Quick.

"You think I have that kind of money just lying around for the purchase of curiosities?" Lex asked, surprised that the figure was actually the full amount wired to his birthday account by his father.

"You're a Luthor."

True. Well, it wasn't like he'd had anything else in mind for this year's birthday.

"Done."

"Excellent!" Quick did what amounted to a little dance step ending in a bow.

Lex gave him a narrowed-eye glare, thinking he was being played with, but it didn't disturb Mr. Quick, who continued to smile. He pulled at his little beard and fluttered his hands as he pulled paper and pen from his pocket.

"I will, of course, take a personal check, Alexander," he said handing Lex the pen. "And then, if you will sign this letter of sale, the glass will be yours. Please note that all sales are final."

Lex hesitated a moment; Mr. Quick's cocky attitude irritated him, but then he caught sight of the mirror's view changing again, panning over Metropolis and the LuthorCorp head quarters. He pulled out his personal checking account book and scrawled out the sum.

"A pleasure doing business with you, Alexander." Mr. Quick made the little bow again and took a step for the door. Then he paused and turned back. A trick of the light made his eyes flicker from brown to red as he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a card. Holding it out to Lex he said, "You may find that you have questions later, that over time the reflections in the glass become less than satisfactory. When that happens, call me. I will be staying in Smallville for two more weeks."

Lex smirked as he took the card, "It's a poor salesman that tells the customer to anticipate his product is going to breakdown."

"Ah, but I have the sale in hand-My hat changes, so to speak, and now I am customer service." He grinned and Lex caught a flash of sharp teeth.

Lex laughed. The man was strange, but he did have a certain charm. "Thank you Mr. Quick, but I think I'll be just fine investigating my mirror on my own. Ellen will see you out."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the view in the glass change again and turned to see what it was showing. After a moment he recognized the woods over by the old foundry. When he looked back, Quick was gone and the study door was closed.

Which was good, actually, as he had a lot to do. Lex walked up to the glass and for the first time ran his hands over the sunflower frame, which was unexpectedly cool. He traced a finger along the edge of the frame where it met the glass and pulled away in surprise when he found it freezing cold. Could there be some kind of super-cooled mechanism inside?

X-rays first, he thought as he started to sketch out his plans for investigating how it worked.

Quick had said that if the owner was strong enough, he could see whatever he wanted. Lex gazed hard into the glass and watched as the images went cloudy.

He might be going about this the wrong way. Perhaps he had to focus differently, or-

The image cleared, and Lex let go of the frame as if it were on fire.

The glass showed him the Kent family farm.

"Another week down!" Pete crowed as they got off the school bus on Main Street and headed for the Talon. Lana, Chloe and Clark all rolled their eyes.

"It's September, Pete," Chloe drawled. "The school year has just started, and I don't think we need to start a weekly count down for next summer's vacation just yet."

"Hey, speak for yourself! As far as I'm concerned, it's never too early to start thinking about vacation."

Clark grinned at Pete's attitude, even as he realized that he really didn't miss the summer vacation. The lazy summer days spent running wild on the farm or in a tree house with Pete and Greg were passed beyond return in the way that only death could place a thing beyond reach. Last summer Pete had had a job to support his 'classic' car. Chloe and Lana had moved on, too, with an internship at the Planet for Chloe and full time work running the Talon for Lana.

Even Lex, after less than a year, seemed to have outgrown Smallville. As head of LexCorp, he'd spent the whole summer working to make his mark on the world.

All summer, Clark had felt like the only one that was still waiting to figure out what he was going to do when he grew up.

"Well, we do have a few things in the near future that we need to be planning," Lana pointed out, as they entered the coffee shop.

"Yeah," Pete agreed, "Christmas!"

Clark shot his friend a look. "Party, remember? Ten days away, Pete?"

Pete grimaced. "I can't believe you guys are going ahead with this. I mean, do you even know who to invite besides us?"

"Who says we have to invite anyone else?" Clark asked as he settled at the counter.

Pete rolled his eyes as he took his own seat, "Party, remember? I don't call four high school students with cake and frappucinos much of a party, especially for somebody like Lex Luthor."

"Do we resent that?" Lana chuckled as she set down the first round of lattes.

"I do!" Chloe challenged, leaning in between Pete and Clark and tipping up her chin so she could look even further down her reporter's nose. "Why not a party with just us? We're his friends: we don't work for him, or have an angle to push with him. How many parties like that do you think Lex has been to in Metropolis?"

Clark thought about Lex buying his own birthday present for the last eight years. "I'm not sure he's ever been to a party like that. Not for a long time anyway."

Pete held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. I guess I'll have to give in to the majority, here."

"Glad to see you know when you're beat." Chloe grinned. "So what are we going to do? We've got the Talon to ourselves. What else do we need?"

The logistics of cake, decorations, music, and games took up the rest of the afternoon. It wasn't until he was racing the setting sun home that Clark wondered why Lex hadn't been by the Talon all week. He'd have bet that his friend wouldn't be able to resist butting into planning his own party, but Clark hadn't seen him since their car ride on Monday.

As he sped through fields, Clark grinned. Lex was probably hiding in embarrassment and trying to think up a way out of the party, but there was no chance of that.

Lex was not getting out of this birthday celebration.

The Saturday morning set-up at the farmer's market was such a part of Clark's life that he could drive the road and get the booth ready with his eyes closed.

Pretty much.

"Clark! Watch what you're doing, son!" His dad stretched across the booth's counter to save a basket of his mom's peppers from going over the edge as Clark tried to make room for one more container of tomatoes.

"Sorry, Dad, thought I had room," Clark apologized as he took the bin and placed it back under the counter for later.

"You're doing too much thinking and not enough looking, Clark." Jonathan shook his head. "Try to focus on what you're doing for a minute. I know setting up for market isn't as much fun as spending time with Lana or Chloe, but it's a job we have to do."

Clark nodded and didn't bother correcting his dad's assumption that he was thinking of one of the girls. Not that they weren't nice, or that he hadn't spent plenty of Saturday's thinking about them, but Clark was still trying to decide what to give Lex for his birthday. He'd been trying to decide for the last four days. Between school, chores, and shopping, he hadn't seen any of his friends just to hang out with for most of the week, which meant he hadn't seen Lex at all.

He sighed and straightened another basket of green beans. He needed to focus on the gift. Material things were pretty much out, at least mass-produced. Maybe he could get him something hand-made?

Once the late season peaches, tomatoes, green beans, and sweet corn were all set out, Clark eyed some of the other booths that were setting up.

"Hey, Dad, is it okay if I go look around for a while?"

Jonathan frowned, obviously puzzled by the request. "Look around?"

"Yeah, I want to go and see what the crafters have got this week."

Jonathan sighed, "All right, check back in an hour in case I need you to run any errands for me, all right?"

Clark was already ducking out between the tables, and threw Jonathan a smile over his shoulder. "Sure, Dad!"

Jonathan Kent frowned as he watched his son walk quickly towards the craft section of the market. He knew exactly what the boy was doing, but he really didn't think he'd find a birthday present for Lex Luthor at the Smallville Farmers Market. Jonathan wondered why Clark was spending so much time on trying to find the impossible.

Lex Luthor was rich and could get anything he wanted; the young man's tastes had to be far too jaded for Clark to be able to afford anything a Luthor would really appreciate. Not that Lex would be ungracious, Jonathan had to give him that, but it irked him to think of Clark putting all this effort into something that would likely be put away in a closet the day after it was received. With the Luthors everything was for show, and why Clark couldn't see that was just beyond him.

Sometimes Jonathan actually preferred to deal with Lionel; the man had grown so arrogant he didn't even try to hide the fact that everything he did, he did for gain.

Lex, on the other hand, hid his true motivations and goals so well that it was almost impossible to be sure exactly why he did anything. Befriending Clark, offering to help the Kents financially, even killing Nixon: Jonathan was sure that there was nothing altruistic in any of that. It wasn't a word in the Luthor vocabulary.

Lex came from a long line of liars; why should he be any different?

A voice broke into Jonathan's thoughts. "One has to wonder if the susceptibility to rot is genetic. Is there something inherent in flesh, some wrongness that feeds upon itself? Or is it purely environmental? Some outside element that is introduced, forcing honest fibers into corruption."

"Excuse me?" He turned to find the source of the strange echo of his own thoughts, and saw a small man standing at the booth.

The stranger nodded, smiled, and started looking over the fruit. "I was wondering if, as a farmer, you believe that some crops are more prone to rot than others. Or is it a purely environmental problem?"

"A little bit of both, actually," Jonathan answered and stood up straight from the basket of peaches he had set on the booth's counter. "Can help you? We're not quite opened yet, but if there's something you like, I'll be happy get it for you."

"No, no, I am just tourist here today. I am always curious to see my fellow merchants at work, making the trades that keep the world running."

"Sorry, but you don't look like a farmer, Mr. ...?"

"Quick. Alistair Quick." The little man held out his hand, "And no, I am not a farmer. But I am a merchant. Antiques and unique items."

Jonathan shook the little man's hand, feeling suddenly outsized and awkward. "You won't find much in that line here, I'm afraid." He pulled his hand back and resisted the urge to wipe it.

"No true antiquities, true, but Smallville seems to have more than it's full share of unique items." Quick smiled and flashed pointy teeth.

"I don't know about that." Jonathan shook his head and occupied himself with rearranging the baskets again.

"One does have to be careful, of course. Not everything is what it seems." Quick picked up two peaches and hefted one in each hand, "These peaches, for example. On the surface, this one is a perfect example of blushing country charm." He held it up to the light, and then held up the other for comparison. "While this one is bruised and rather puny."

"We're certified organic farmers; there's no pesticides or dyes used on our crops. Sometimes that means our fruits and vegetables are less than picture perfect, but-"

"Ah! But you see that is just the point!" Mr. Quick whipped out a knife and before Jonathan could react, he had sliced into the plump peach. "The epitome of the honest country peach is a liar." Inside the fruit were maggots churning at the center. He tossed it to Jonathan.

"Damn!" He grabbed the peach to examine it more closely.

"While our somewhat abused victim here," Quick sliced again, this time removing the damaged skin of the other peach, "Needs only to have its surface flaws peeled away and its sweet white flesh is exposed."

He brought the peach to his mouth and bit into it, taking in fully half the fruit and leaving gouged out trails on the flesh left behind.

He swallowed and grinned. "Which would you rather purchase, Mr. Kent?"

Jonathan couldn't think of anything to say. His throat was numb as he watched Quick give a flourished bow and walk away still eating the peeled peach.

He didn't want to call the strange man back to pay.

Driving up the private road that led to the mansion, Clark drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He had the windows down so that the hot afternoon air beat against his face and the radio was on, but he wasn't really enjoying the drive.

The market had been a bust. He'd seen several things that he'd liked, but nothing that he felt was exactly right for Lex. Quilts and wildlife carvings weren't what he thought of when he thought of Lex.

On top of that, when he'd come back from checking out the craft booths, his father had been in a really bad mood and kept Clark working at their stand right up until the 2:00 PM shut down; so although he was getting to make Lex's produce delivery, he wouldn't have any extra time to hang out before having to get back to do his chores.

Parking the old blue pickup at the kitchen entrance, Clark got out and grabbed the first crate of peaches to take into the kitchen. It was such a routine, he didn't even knock any more.

"Hey, Ms. Dean? It's Clark Kent with your produce delivery!" He called out when he didn't see Lex's cook in the kitchen.

"In here please, Clark!" He heard her call from the pantry, "Just bring it all right in."

He found the forty-year-old matron sitting on the floor of the pantry, organizing shelves. "Hi, Ms. Dean."

"Hello, Clark. Did you bring those peaches for me?" She looked up smiling. Her brown hair was dusted with flour. She stood up and eagerly took the first basket from Clark, then placed it on one of the low shelves at the front of the pantry.

"Yes, ma'am, picked just yesterday. Dad said to tell you we'll still have plenty next week and then that will probably be the end of them." He grinned at her enthusiasm.

"Well, I'm glad you still had these! If my peach tart made with Kent peaches can't entice him out of that study, then I will turn in my apron."

"Entice who? Lex?"

"Who else? He's been sitting in that darn study almost non-stop since that man came to visit." She bustled past Clark and then started getting out her mixing bowls and measuring cups. "He only comes out when he has to go to work or when he can't avoid sleeping anymore. Even then, Ellen says she's found him sleeping on the sofa more than once."

Clark frowned. "So what's in the study, Ms. Dean?"

"You've got me; I imagine he bought something from that sly antique dealer that was here." Ms. Dean sniffed her disapproval. "He was all slick and I think a bit foreign. I didn't like him."

"Oh." Clark hadn't ever heard Ms. Dean go off on someone like that before. And what was Lex doing with an antique that could take up all his time for four whole days?

"Bring in the rest of the order and put it in the pantry, Clark, and then you go see if you can talk him into coming down for a proper meal this evening."

"Yes, ma'am." Clark grinned and composed his speech as he went out to the truck. Sorry, I'm late, dad. Ms. Dean needed me to do her a favor.

Clark walked easily through the manor, stone-cool air closing him off from the Indian summer outside. He'd never really been intimidated by the building; and since the clean up from the twister, he felt like he had a stake in it himself. He'd spent weeks with Lex working on the repair of some of the rooms Lex had been reluctant to allow work crews into. There wasn't a passage in the old castle that Clark didn't know.

It took all of five minutes to make his way to the study. As Ms. Dean had hinted, the door was closed, but that had never intimidated Clark where Lex was concerned.

He tried the doorknob and was surprised to find it locked.

"Lex?"

Clark knocked.

"Lex, are you in there?" As he spoke he focused on a space just beyond the door until his x-ray vision kicked in and he saw Lex spreading a tarp over a stand to cover up something in a large frame. That had to be the antique. He tried to focus through the tarp, but got an instant headache.

Then the door opened.

"Clark!" Lex ran a hand over his head. "What are you doing here?"

He looked tired, but Clark had seen that before. Reddened eyes with the kind of shine you were better off not asking about, and nervous fidgets that a well-rested Lex always controlled. Clark had seen him like this right after the twister, trying to run one company and start another.

What was weird was the state of Lex's clothes: he was rumpled. Clark didn't think he'd ever seen Lex's clothes rumpled. Bloodied, ripped, dirty even, but never just looking as if Lex hadn't bothered with them.

Lex always bothered.

"Just made a delivery and I wanted to see how you were feeling." Clark paused, but when Lex said nothing, he went on quietly, "You were kinda down when you left the other day."

Lex snorted at Clark's understatement. "Thanks. I was more than a little out of sorts, but nothing a worthy puzzle couldn't fix." Lex's eyes lit up like a five-year-old on Christmas morning.

Or on his birthday.

"Puzzle?"

"I bought something from an antique dealer the other day. A mirror. It's fascinating. The glass seems to have some unusual properties." Lex didn't move, and Clark couldn't enter without actually pushing past him, so he settled for leaning into the room to peer at the tarp. It was like staring at a shadow: he only got an idea of its shape from the distortion around it. And he was definitely getting a headache looking at that thing.

"Really." Clark wondered why Lex didn't offer to show it to him. "So is this your birthday present?"

"It better be; it cleaned out the account." Lex's smile had a lot of teeth and no warmth. "Dad will hate it."

That was a pretty sad reason to choose a present, but it fit the picture Clark was building of Lex's birthday expectations. "Yeah, well, just remember, that's not the only present you're getting this year." Clark reminded him, wanting Lex to be excited, and maybe to fidget a bit at the thought of the party. Lex fidgeting was a sight Clark had grown to appreciate.

But all Lex said was, "You don't have to get me anything, Clark. The party is enough."

Okay, so maybe the party wasn't all that exciting for Lex.

"We'll see." Clark shifted, wondering why they were still standing in the doorway of the study. "You gonna show me this mirror?"

Lex's eyes were suddenly hooded. "Not just yet, Clark. I'm still in the middle of examining it."

Lex avoiding topics and not making eye contact was a not a sign that Clark liked to see in his friend. He thought of Nixon and the meteor site investigations.

"Come on, Lex, what's so fascinating about it?" Clark took a couple of steps towards the tarp-covered mirror, gently shouldering past his friend just to see what Lex would do, but there was no reaction.

At least not from Lex.

Clark, however, felt nauseated almost immediately. He stopped and felt the room sway as he fought for control of his stomach. Lex seemed oblivious to Clark's discomfort.

This was both a good thing and a bad thing.

Lex came to stand beside him and gazed at the tarp as if he were the one with x-ray vision. "The mirror itself is quite old, but there's a crystal-like material that's been laid over the glass which I think is much more recent. I want to investigate how it was applied and see if I can restore the mirror to its original state."

Clark felt the rolling cramps that he only got around meteors and knew he had to get out of there. Briefly, Clark panicked. Lex would want to know why he was suddenly leaving. What could he say? Your mirror makes me sick?

Hey, Lex, got meteors?

He licked his lips as he took a step backwards and the cramp eased enough for him to talk. "That's really cool, but you know, Lex, I really have to get going. I have another delivery-can I catch you at the Talon later?"

Oh, so lame. Lex knew that he was always the last delivery of the day. Clark tried not to look guilty as he checked Lex's reaction out of the corner of his eye.

Lex was nodding as he kept his eyes on the tarp. "Sure, Clark. Love to."

Clark stood there open mouthed as Lex proceeded to walk back to the tarp-covered easel and ignore him.

Huh?

But before he could do more than wonder what made the mirror more important to Lex than he was, the next round of nausea hit and Clark stumbled out of the room.

It wasn't until he was back out at the truck that he realized he hadn't told Lex about Ms. Dean's peach tart.

Lex saw Clark flinch when he approached the mirror, but he didn't comment or ask. What was the point? Clark would deny it, or excuse it, or ignore it. Clark wouldn't answer.

The explanation about restoring the mirror seemed to satisfy Clark. It wasn't a complete lie. Lex did want to separate the original glass from the later crystal layer.

Later.

Right now there were things Lex wanted to know, questions that people wouldn't answer.

But the mirror might.

If Lex were strong enough.

Lex walked back to the mirror stand, willing Clark away, willing everything away so that he could take the tarp off again and wrestle with the mirror. It held answers, and it wasn't hiding them; it was just a matter of attacking the problem the right way, figuring out the right approach.

There was a shuffle and squeak of sneakers on polished hardwood and then a click as the door shut. Clark had said something, but it didn't matter.

Lex reached out and flipped back the tarp.

The golden sunflowers with onyx centers seemed to ring not just the mirror, but Lex's vision as well. He stepped even closer; wanting only the mirror, cutting off the heavy shelves with leather bound volumes and the glass desk that held nothing. The mirror clouded and boiled as Lex narrowed his eyes and focused.

He had found over the last few days that what it required was the elimination of distraction. If he focused every thought and feeling on one goal, the one thing he wished to see or wished to know, then it would appear.

At first there had been a rapid flip through many different scenes from his life as well as images from around Smallville. He had only to think about a person to see what they were doing. He'd been dizzy with all the different scenes as his thoughts flipped from first one to another of his business associates and acquaintances. The first time, he had literally collapsed and nearly thrown up from the vertigo.

He'd saved himself by grabbing at the mirror itself, his fingers slapping against the glass, and it was the shock of the cold stinging his palm that got him to focus.

His brain hit on the first image that came into his head: his father. Lionel in physical therapy sweating and cursing, Lionel in the boardroom gutting some junior VP, Lionel with Victoria, sitting back in an easy chair as she sucked him off. He'd stopped then, nauseous again, but not from vertigo.

He had looked in on others: business associates, enemies, lovers. Now Lex focused on Clark and the questions that he'd never had answered. It was strangely difficult. Clark was in a way, off limits. Lex did not think about Clark if he could possibly help it. Clark just was.

Lex ran his fingers along the icy surface of the mirror and focused.

There he was: seated causally in his truck, driving down the country road, a slight frown on his face that made his lips purse just slightly, just as they might look if he were about to kiss.

Lex short-circuited the thought out of habit. He did not want Clark that way. He did not.

The mirror clouded and Lex almost pulled his hand away from the surface as its temperature dropped further, sending a stabbing cold through his palm.

Clark was writhing on the other side of the glass under knowing, mature hands that stroked down his chest, white skin showing starkly against the gold as Clark bucked-

Lex jerked away. He fell to his hands and knees gasping, crawling for the door before he'd fully recovered, feeling exposed and held open by the mirror at his back.

Yes.

It was true. The thing Lex most wanted from Clark had never been his secrets.

He got to the door, grasped the knob and pulled himself up. He stood there for a moment until the shaking stopped.

"I'm going downstairs for dinner. I need to eat."

There was a pause with nothing to fill it, and then Lex left, making sure to close the door firmly behind him, but still feeling an itch on the back of his neck.

There was no peach tart for desert; Ms. Dean had been disappointed to find all the peaches had been rotten at the center.

It was his mother's voice that finally woke Clark.

"Clark, honey, get up. Your dad needs you out in the orchard!"

He sat straight up in bed with a gasp, looking wildly around the room and squinting in the morning sunshine.

"Clark!"

"Coming, Mom! I gotta get dressed!"

He stumbled out of bed and over to his dresser pulling out clothes almost at random as he tried to clear his head.

Lex's house.

He'd taken the peaches over, and then gone up to see Lex like he always did. After that, what?

He'd come home and done all his chores and half of tomorrow's before he'd heard his Mom calling him in to dinner. There'd been something he'd worried about.

Images of sunflowers withering in the cold and stagnant pond water freezing over rolled slowly through his head, but his head started to hurt and he couldn't quite grasp his thoughts. He tried to focus-

"Clark!"

Clark jerked his eyes open and found he was staring into the bathroom mirror, toothbrush in hand. "Coming, Mom!"

His reflection's eyes were wide and brilliant green, and his black hair was wild. His lips looked bloody against the pallor of his face. He licked them slowly, fascinated by the pink shine of his own tongue.

Clark shook his head sharply and took an unsteady step back from the sink. That was when he looked down to find that he was already dressed.

When?

When had he dressed and when had he gotten home last night, and why couldn't he remember?

He smelled sunflowers and felt the air turn suddenly chill.

No.

"Dad needs me in the fields," he said and kept his eyes low on the sink as he finished brushing his teeth and left the bathroom to jog downstairs.

The house was quiet except for a soft clicking coming from the kitchen.

"Mom?"

"Clark." Her eyes were wide but her mouth was tight, like she had a pain in her stomach or something. "Your father's out in the peach orchard. You were so tired last night, we let you sleep, but I really think he could use you there, sweetie." She was sitting at the kitchen table where she had the checkbook and several envelopes spread out in front of her as she tapped figures into a calculator.

"Why? What's up?"

"The peaches, remember? He's burning the crop." She sighed and looked down at the books. "Clark, do you think Lex would let us owe him for a while? I know your father wouldn't ask, but we really need to stretch out our repayments any way we can, and he did have the largest order."

Burning the peaches?

It came back to him in a rush: sitting down to dinner last night just as the phone began ringing. Customers-neighbors-calling: apologies, promises of refunds and to check the infestation. Fear on his mother's face as the calls hadn't stopped and had started to include others from the farmers' market, warning of strange maggots in their own crops. Wondering where it had come from. Had the Kents spread it? He gripped the back of a kitchen chair remembering the look in his father's eyes.

His father was burning the peaches.

"Honey," his mom put her hand on his, "It'll be all right."

He nodded and swallowed. "I'll go help Dad."

The sunset was bloody and a breeze whipped through the orchard hitting Clark again and again with the smell of peach brule and burnt green wood. It made his eyes tear and his skin prickle in spite of the heat as he stood and watched his father.

Jonathan Kent had gone through the whole day with hardly a word to his son beyond "put that here" and "watch those sparks" and had worked like a demon to get all the fruit collected and burned. Then he shoveled dirt into the fire pit until it was completely covered and there was no chance of a spark escaping.

Finally, he stood over the grave of a year's work with shoulders sagging and nothing left to do.

Clark walked up to him and put a hand on his father's shoulder, "Come on, Dad. Mom's probably got dinner waiting."

His father looked at him with dark haggard eyes that Clark hadn't seen since the herd had been killed all those months ago.

"Come on," Clark said again and gave a tug. Jonathan finally nodded, and they walked back, shoulder to shoulder.

Clark held the door as they went into the house and he heard his mom in the kitchen.

"Jonathan?" She shut off the stove and hurried into the living room.

"It's done, Martha."

She opened her arms and Jonathan stepped into them. Over his shoulder, she looked at Clark, who nodded and quietly left, leaving his parents to the privacy he knew his father would want. Tears were not something that a man like Jonathan Kent admitted to easily.

The truck was in the yard, but Clark didn't even stop to consider it.

He ran.

When the sun rose hours later, Clark found himself back at the barn with sneakers melted to his feet and dust permeating his clothes. He walked slowly up into the house and opened the door to find his parents at the dining room table. His mother had been crying.

His father looked up at him, jaw clenching, and said, "They're in the tomatoes."

Lex had almost called in sick.

Shouldn't that be his prerogative? He owned the damn company after all. He should be able to take a personal day on a Monday. He was sure that most of his employees had done so more than once.

But the EPA inspectors were starting today, and there was no way he could afford not to be here.

He stiffened his spine and resolutely turned his thoughts away from the mirror and back to the report in his hand. There had been a leak from one of the processing tanks last month, luckily caught in time, cleaned up, and fully reported, but Lex was sure the inspectors would want to revisit the whole history of the incident during their inspection.

His direct line rang.

Damn.

It rang again and he grabbed the receiver.

"Yes?"

"Well, at least you're there. I half expected you to be hiding under your bed at the mansion, Lex. I didn't think you would be able to handle seeing your pet town turn against you."

"Good morning, Father." Lex set the report aside and leaned back in his chair. "Any particular reason you're raving so early?"

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. What are you going to do about it?"

Lex felt a lump forming in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't read the papers all weekend. He'd meant to, but the mirror had taken up a lot of time.

"I'm handling it, Dad, and how I choose to handle it is entirely up to me." That was a safe response since whatever it the situation was, it certainly wasn't Lionel's concern. Lex straightened his blotter and shifted the report to the far side of his desk. His father always exaggerated. He enjoyed trying to throw his son off his game.

"Then please enlighten me, Lex. Tell me exactly what your brilliant plan is for spinning this, because the only thing I have heard in the news for the last three days is growing speculation that LuthorCorp and/or LexCorp are responsible for these mutated maggots that have descended like a plague on Smallville's farms."

Lex swallowed hard.

Shit.

How could he have missed that?

He got up from his desk and went to the small table by the office door that held magazines and the day's papers. His father's voice was buzzing in his ear again.

"...not be aware of the greatest public relations threat your company has faced to date? You call yourself an executive officer? I can see I am going to have to step in. I'll send down a team of my best PR staff to handle the press, and then you are going to bring LexCorp back into the fold, under the LuthorCorp umbrella. I am beyond disappointed, Lex."

"Your support is heart-warming, Dad. Be assured that any team you so thoughtfully send will be met with all the welcome they deserve. I have to go now."

He pushed the disconnect button as he gazed at the front page of the Smallville Examiner:

PLAGUE OF MAGGOTS
Result of LuthorCorp Dumping?

He pressed the speed dial for his R&D lab as he walked back to his desk.

"Marcus, get me everything we have on the chemical dump at the Kent farm and any other dumping incidents."

"Yes, Sir."

"And get a sample of these maggots that have hit the area. I want to know if we have anything that will stop them."

"We'll get on it right away, Sir."

"Oh, and if the EPA asks for documentation on this, give it to them, but make sure I get it first."

"Of course, Mr. Luthor."

"I mean it, Marcus. I don't care if you have to tell them your dog ate your only hard copy and our entire network is unavailable: They don't get anything that I haven't seen first."

He hung up the phone without waiting for a reply.

He had to figure out what these things were and where they'd come from. He had to have answers.

Lex's eyes pulled towards the door, thinking of all the potential answers that lay hidden under a tarp in his study. His foot twitched. He felt himself start to get up out of his chair.

The phone rang.

"Lex Luthor."

"Sir, the inspectors are here."

He closed his eyes briefly and then said, "Bring them in, Denise."

It was all right. He'd deal with them and then head home.

The mirror would be waiting.

When Clark walked into the Talon, he could tell things were bad. The usual hum of the place was off, everyone seemed quieter and isolated, each staring into their own coffee cup.

"Hey, Lana." Clark settled himself at the empty counter across from where his friend was setting out clean cups.

"Hi, Clark." She kept her voice low and flicked her eyes around the room as if checking to see if anyone noticed them speaking.

"What's going on, Lana?" Clark looked around too but didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"I don't know." She shook her head keeping her eyes on the cups she was stacking. "It's been kind of tense. Where were you today? I didn't see you at school."

It sounded strangely like an accusation. Clark frowned and pulled back a bit. "I was at home. We burned what was left of the tomato crop today. Then a bunch of guys from the agriculture department came out to check on what we were doing to quarantine the farm. I couldn't leave my folks to deal with that, so I stayed home."

"It is good to see a young man standing by his parents."

Clark turned towards the voice. He was surprised to look down and see a man with a small pointy beard sitting at the counter to his left in a forest green pinstripe suit.

He didn't recognize him, but something buzzed at the back of his mind. He couldn't focus though. Couldn't catch it. "Thanks, Mr. ...?"

"Quick. Alistair Quick." Mr. Quick spun the seat around to face Clark and sketched a bow at the waist.

"Well, thanks, Mr. Quick." Clark nodded to the little man and then pointedly turned back to Lana. "Can I get a cappuccino, Lana?"

"Sure, Clark." Lana curved her lip-glossed lips in what passed for a smile. It was the kind of smile she only wore when she was really stressed.

Clark frowned, wondering if the maggot infestations where already having a knock-on effect on the Talon. He was surprised when Mr. Quick's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"It is especially rewarding to see such devotion directed towards parents who have nothing but a legal fiction with which to hold a changeling that can never be their own."

Clark turned slowly. "What did you say?" He was surprised to find himself trembling with anger. After all, it wasn't like he didn't know that people talked about how the Kents had adopted him, and how odd his family was sometimes. But they never said it to his face, and anyway, this Quick guy wasn't even from Smallville.

"I was simply commenting on your exceptional show of filial piety. You are a foundling, aren't you?" Mr. Quick grinned and showed Clark his teeth.

"That's none of your business."

Lana put a hand on his arm, and that was when Clark realized he was getting up from his seat and looming over Quick.

"Clark, just let it go, okay." She glanced nervously at Mr. Quick. "I'm sure he's just making conversation."

"Conversation?" Clark repeated in disbelief.

Mr. Quick chuckled. "Yes, conversation. You are familiar with the art, are you not, Clark? I may call you Clark, yes?"

"No, Mr. Quick. I'm sorry, but I don't think so." Clark turned away to find that Lana had set his cappuccino in front of him. He picked it up and tried to focus on his drink, as Lana polished coffee mugs.

"The art of conversation, Mr. Kent is one that we are losing rapidly, I fear, in this age of e-mails and chat rooms," Mr. Quick continued, despite the fact that Clark refused to look at him. "For example, a true conversationalist would try to pull you from your reticent mood by asking thought-provoking questions, such as: Do you not find it tiresome to constantly live in fear of your adoptive parents giving you up? Does it not bother you to keep so much of your true self from them? Are you not afraid that if they knew more about you, they would simply throw you back?"

Lana's eyes had grown wide and her mouth shaped an 'oh' of shock without making a sound. In fact, the whole coffee shop had grown quiet and people were beginning to look at them.

"My family is none of your business," Clark said, trying to keep his voice even and low.

"Very well, the skilled conversationalist, denied topics of a familial bent, will then move on to mutual friends and current events." Quick's voice didn't get any louder, but Clark could feel it penetrating into every corner of the caf as more and more of the Talon's customers tuned in to what he was saying. "As I was discussing with Ms. Lang, we have only a degree of separation in our businesses. Her partner, Alexander Luthor and I are at the start of what I hope will be a long and fruitful association. I believe you know Alexander as well, do you not, Mr. Kent?"

Clark's perception of Quick shifted: business with Lex. There had been something: a worry, a concern. Lex had-he had bought-

"Come, Mr. Kent!" Quick's voice broke through Clark's labored thinking and scattered the memory across the moment. The little man slapped his hand down on the counter. "Even you cannot take offense at such a simple question. Do you know Alexander Luthor?

"Yes. Sure, I know Lex," Clark answered blinking a few times, something-something had happened.

"And do you stand by him as you stand by your parents? Although of course there would be a conflict of interests, wouldn't there?" Quick nodded and pursed his lips. "The question of who's to blame for the current crisis in local farming: the Kents for spreading the infestation? Or Mr. Luthor's factory for spawning it? Which side do you choose, Mr. Kent?"

"What are you are you talking about?" Clark clenched his fists and resisted the urge to throw the insulting man though the Talon's front window. "The maggots would have spread without any help from us, and there's nothing to show that LexCorp had anything to do with them at all."

"The middle road, Mr. Kent." Quick shook his head, tutting softly. "How uninspired. Are you afraid to stand up to such a powerful man as Alexander Luthor?"

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Clark said through clenched teeth, very aware of the restless crowd in the Talon. "Lex has done a lot of good for Smallville."

"Yes, he even saved this establishment, I understand." Quick leaned over the counter to address Lana with a grin made of shiny, sharp teeth framed in his slick black beard. "How very comfortable for you, Lana, to stand as a friend between two such strong young men."

"It's not like that." Lana blushed a shade of crimson that clashed with her lipstick, then shook her head. "I'm not-I don't stand between Lex and Clark. I mean, everyone knows that Clark is closer to Lex than anyone else."

"Everyone knows?" Quick sat back and turned to Clark with his eyebrows raised, hands up and opened wide in a pantomime of surprise. "Everyone, Mr. Kent? How very open of you. How very honest. You declare your feelings for the man whose plant may indeed be responsible for the pestilence that has over taken Smallville. You stand before the people of this town and openly proclaim your relationship with Alexander Luthor! I applaud you."

Clark's head hurt, and he couldn't quite seem to get a clean breath, but he knew Quick had to be answered. "You don't understand. It's not like that. Lex and I aren't-" Clark stopped, unsure how to answer the tone of Quick's statements when the content had been so ambiguous.

"Not? Not what?" Quick's eyes were shining and his voice came out in almost a hiss. "I am mistaken then? You are not friends with Alexander Luthor?"

Clark's head felt as if it were wrapped in cotton. There was something he was supposed to be remembering, but Quick's chatter was getting in the way.

"Again, you hesitate, Mr. Kent, but no need to answer, I see that we have all been mistaken. You are not friends with Alexander, are you?" Quick stood with a flourish and nod to Lana. "I do not associate with liars, Mr. Kent. I bid you good evening."

Quick took one step towards the door, and then another. The rest of the room seemed frozen as Clark went after the little man who was still moving briskly towards the door. He felt a pressure building in his head as if somewhere there was a breath being taken for the third cry of the cock.

"Wait!" The word was out and Clark was standing in front of Quick before he knew exactly what he was going to say.

Quick looked up at him now with genuine shock, "How-" but then snapped his teeth shut on the rest of the question. The little man's eyes narrowed and seemed to glow red for a moment, then he smiled. "Very slick, Mr. Kent. And very hard to see, but still you have nothing to say."

The atmosphere was so heavy that Clark had to chew the air to form the words, but as he started the phrase the weight began to recede. "Lex Luthor is my friend."

Quick scowled.

Clark took a step closer, forcing Quick to look almost straight up at him. "He's my best friend. I don't believe he's responsible for the maggots, and he'll do everything he can to help the farmers here recover from this."

The was a flash of fury in Quick's eyes, but he covered it and said, "I am sure then that you stand him in good stead. It is so rare to find true friendship or any relationship that is based on mutual trust. So few people tell the whole truth to anyone these days." As Quick's eyes swept the room, almost everyone looked away and returned to the solitary contemplation of their coffee.

Clark felt the weight of Quick's regard, too, and knew it almost to the point that he had forgotten it as something separate from himself. It was the same heavy, muffling weight that sat across his chest every time he lied, and he lied to Lex so often.

Maybe Lex lied to him as well?

No.

Clark shook his head and focused on the one solid truth: "We're friends."

Quick flashed Clark a smile. "You are quite good, Mr. Kent. Unique. I understand his interest now." Quick's voice was low, private and full of consideration.

Then he grinned with all his teeth and ran a finger up the inside of Clark's arm. Clark shivered and found his eyes shutting, images of Lex flitting through his mind. He heard Quick's voice as if from far away, "I shall tell Alexander so, next time I see him."

Clark was left standing in the middle of the Talon with an unsettled, suspicious crowd, and a hard-on he didn't understand.

Lex resisted the urge to speed. Smallville paragons of benevolent industry didn't speed. At least not in the town limits, and although the image was a bit tarnished right now, he'd try not to make it worse just because he wanted to get home as fast as possible and work on his latest project.

He was on Main Street when he saw the flash of green.

Quick?

Lex slowed, but couldn't spot the man. Still something nagged at his mind. He pulled over and parked, then walked back to the Talon. When he got to the door he saw Lana with her arms around Clark.

Of course.

He felt his face harden and go bland as he entered. Lana looked up at him all dewy eyed and frightened. There was a shuffle and a muttering from the evening patrons. So obviously his image was a bit more tarnished than he'd thought.

Game face was a wonderful thing.

He joined Clark at the counter where Lana was seating him. He didn't reach out. He didn't touch. Wouldn't want any of that tarnish rubbing off, now would they? Lex smirked.

"You okay, Clark? You look a little rough."

"I had a run in with one of your business associates," Clark said, and the color returned to his face in a rush of scarlet.

"Oh, who was it?" Lex was sure he knew. He wondered what Quick had said to upset Clark.

"Some guy named Quick. He said he had business dealings with you." Clark sat up straighter and frowned. "I didn't like him much."

Which coming from Clark was a condemnation indeed. Lex had a sudden and very realistic memory of the weight of his pistol in his hand and the force of the recoil when he'd shot Nixon. Clark could make him do it again.

He wondered if his friend knew.

"I barely know the man, but I have had business with him recently. If he bothers you again, just let me know."

Clark shook his head and rubbed at the counter with one finger, not looking at Lex. "You should just get rid of him, Lex. Get him out of town."

Lex shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. "He has certain expertise that I may need to keep on hand for a period of time. But he's not permanent, Clark."

Clark looked up and frowned. "What expertise?"

Lex suppressed a shiver of cold at the question. "He's still consulting for me."

"Consulting? On what? Does he have anything to with these maggots that are spreading everywhere?"

It was on the tip of Lex's tongue to start discussing the mirror, but he didn't. Why should he justify himself? Why should he try to explain to this sixteen-year-old child all the strange and sordid truths he was discovering in the antique scrying glass.

"It's none of your business who I hire or fire or in what capacity, Clark. You're a friend, not my boss or even a stockholder. I could sell the Talon tomorrow, and it would be my decision."

The little gasp from the other side of the counter and Clark's look of concern reminded him where he was and that Lana was standing just a few feet away. She looked as if she'd just been slapped, and he supposed it wasn't far off.

Stupid.

He was stupid to be losing his temper in public this way.

"Lana-" He cut off as a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Jonathan swung him around and glared at him. "I think you've said enough, Lex."

"Dad!" Clark stood and pulled his father off. "There's nothing going on. Really. Lex was just letting off a little steam."

"Is that right, Lex?" Jonathan glared at Lex, but the heat of his anger just made Lex colder. "Do you let off steam by playing with other people's livelihoods?"

It was so typical. Not just typical of Jonathan Kent, but Smallville as a whole: always watching for that one slip, always there to see Lex to fail some rural Kansas quiz on moral platitudes.

"I don't play with people's lives or livelihoods, Mr. Kent, but I do provide the economic underpinnings of more than half of this town. That's a serious business. And I treat it that way."

"And are you trying to take over the other half? Is that what these maggots are all about?" Jonathan snarled.

The room was beyond cold now. It was arctic.

How dare he.

How fucking dare he!

"Dad, there's nothing to link the bugs to LexCorp. Lex would never do that!" Clark tried to physically wedge himself between Lex and his father. Lex stepped back and let him.

"It's all right, Clark." Lex was pleased to hear how smooth his voice was. "You father's upset. It's understandable." Then he turned to Jonathan Kent. "Clark's right though, Mr. Kent. Neither I, nor my company, have anything to do with this infestation that is going on. I hope that it is resolved quickly, and anything I can do to assist I will."

"I'll bet," Jonathan ground out between his teeth.

Clark crowded his father towards the door. "Let's just go home, Dad. You came to get me, right? Let's just go home. Bye, Lex!" Clark called over his shoulder as they left.

Lex stood and watched. It didn't seem to matter what he did; Jonathan Kent would never lose his suspicions. Eventually, it would cost him Clark's friendship. He knew that. And considering how much more than simple friendship he wanted, maybe it was for the best.

"Lex?"

Lana's soft voice called him back to the here and now. She was still standing just in front of the espresso machine, eyes wide, biting her lower lip.

"I apologize, Lana. The comment about the Talon wasn't literal in any way."

"I know." She smiled hesitantly now. "But thanks for telling me for sure."

"Of course."

He thought about ordering a coffee, but looked around and realized there were still a good many hostile stares coming from among the patrons who had heard Jonathan Kent's accusation. He cleared his throat. "I'll see you later, Lana."

He swept out, head high, and refused to acknowledge the narrowed eyes and mutterings of people he'd begun to think of as neighbours.

He went home to the mirror.

He just had to be strong enough.

Focused.

Purposeful.

If one were strong enough, one could find any answer in the mirror.

Lex believed this.

So when he placed his hand on the mirror and demanded ways to fight the plague of maggots afflicting Smallville's crops, he was not in the least surprised to see a view into a lab come up. At least he thought it was a lab. He saw hands moving and selecting ingredients, grinding them, measuring them, combining them. It was a long and intensive process. The ingredients were herbal, and Lex often had to stop and go and look up the plant names. Sometimes he had to stop when the cold from the mirror numbed his right hand.

He watched and took notes for perhaps an hour before he started seeing Clark.

He would see Clark going about the farm, or sitting in the Talon with friends, and as Tuesday evening progressed into Wednesday morning, and then afternoon, Lex began to take fewer notes on the pesticide compound the mirror was showing him and spent more time gazing at the tall young man doing nothing special on the Kent family farm. Nothing, beyond working shirtless and bending over in tight jeans, but Lex was finding that more than fascinating enough.

The more he saw of Clark, the more he wanted to see, and he realized that through the mirror he could, indeed, see as much as he wanted. There was no danger of being seen here, no danger of discovery by his father, the press, Clark's father, or even Clark himself. On top of that there was virtually no limit to what he could see: Clark doing chores, Clark studying, Clark in school, Clark in bed-

The mirror's view flipped to Clark lying in his bed, and under the quilt there was movement. Rhythmical movement. Over Clark's crotch. Lex watched and wondered if the quilt would be removed.

Clark turned his face into the pillow, eyes closed in concentration, and his left hand started to push at the quilt that covered him.

Lex stopped breathing. He wanted-but-

With a vicious jerk of his shoulders, he ripped his hand off the freezing glass and turned away. He was panting and kept his eyes closed as he moved towards the door of the study.

Just as Lex placed his hand on the doorknob, he glanced back over his shoulder and saw that the image of Clark had gone to sleep. The quilt remained in place.

Lex licked his lips.

He went back to the mirror. After all, there was nothing wrong with watching his friend sleep, was there?

Some hours later he called Ms. Dean to send up a fresh case of bottled water.

The next time Lex looked up, he found the room getting dark. His right arm was numb to the shoulder and his left hand was cramped from all the writing. His notes were more than a third done, however. He'd been watching the process lab alternating with Clark all day. He was looking at the list of ingredients for the pesticide: chamomile, wintergreen, witch hazel, and mandrake root were just the start, when there came a knock at the study door. He flipped the tarp over the mirror and then went and opened the door to Ellen.

"Sir, Mr. Clark Kent is here to see you. He said he wanted to make sure you were 'okay'."

Lex thought of Clark's hand under the quilt. "Tell him I'm working on the pesticide for use against the maggots, and I can't talk now."

Ellen nodded, "Of course, Sir." she turned to go back down the hall.

"Ellen, tell him-" Lex paused feeling unable for a moment to frame exactly what he wanted. "Tell him I'll call him as soon as I have something. And send Ms. Dean up, please. I have some questions about herb suppliers in the area."

"Yes, Mr. Luthor."

Lex shut the door and locked it again, then uncovered the mirror. The glass was filled with rolling clouds, awaiting his will. Lex closed his eyes, then opened them again.

The pesticide.

All he wanted to see was how to rid Smallville of the maggots.

The hands and the herbs began again, and Lex picked up his notes.

Clark walked up the porch steps and into the house hardly seeing where he was going.

"Clark?" His mother called from the kitchen. "Where have you been? I was starting to get worried."

"Sorry, Mom." He looked up and saw that both his parents were seated at the kitchen table with dinner set in front of them. "I went over to Lex's, and then I walked back."

"You walked back?" His father's voice was skeptical.

"Yeah. I didn't get in to see Lex at all," he told them as he sat down and his mother handed him a plate. The roast chicken with peas and mashed potatoes didn't tempt him. "I'm kind of worried about him."

"No need to worry about the Luthors; they're the ones most likely to come out ahead of this whole thing," Jonathan growled and stabbed at a piece of chicken. "They're probably looking around already for farms to buy out."

"Jonathan!" Martha shushed her husband. "Why are you worried about Lex, Clark?"

"Everyone keeps talking like the infestation is Lex's fault." Clark shot a dirty look at his dad. "There was this big argument about it at the Talon, so I went over to check on him, but-"

"But what?" Martha prompted.

"But I couldn't get anywhere near him. When I started to walk up to the study, I felt sick."

"Sick?" Jonathan forgot his annoyance in his concern for his son. "Sick how? Did it feel like meteors?"

Clark nodded. "I asked Ellen to go up and see if Lex was free; when she came back, she said that he told her he was busy working on a pesticide to use on the maggots."

Martha paled, "You don't think he's going to try to use something made with meteors on those things, do you?"

"I don't know." Clark stared at his hands, not wanting to look his parents in the eyes. "I just know that Lex always feels that stuff like this is his fault, and he'll do anything to make it right."

"Well, maybe it is his fault, Clark." Jonathan's voice was low and angry. "These maggots aren't natural. They're resistant to everything we've thrown at them. They probably evolved in whatever chemical soup LexCorp's been dumping into the rivers and wetlands around here."

"You're just like that man, Mr. Quick; assuming that all of this is Lex's fault without any proof."

"I've met Mr. Quick. He's a strange man, but he had interesting things to say." Jonathan leaned back with his arms folded over his chest. "None of this gets around the fact that Lex Luthor is messing with meteor rocks that could cause even worse mutations than whatever made these creatures in the first place."

"We don't know that Lex is making anything with meteors." Clark protested.

"You got sick in his house, didn't you?" his father insisted. "Clark, I want you to stay away from Lex and the manor until this is all resolved."

"I can't do that!"

"You'll do as I say!"

"Both of you calm down!" Martha broke in. She took a deep breath and threw a warning glare at her husband before turning to her son. "Clark, for the next few days we are going to have a lot of work here, and you have to catch up in school. Wait until the weekend to go and see Lex. By then things may have settled down."

Clark gritted his teeth against the flood of complaint he wanted to let loose on his parents. They just didn't get it. They didn't get Lex! Not even his Mom did. Lex was going to drive himself until he found an answer, and it wouldn't matter how much it hurt himself or anyone else. Not until afterwards. Lex always regretted things afterwards. Someone needed to be there to help see the consequences before it was too late.

"Fine." Clark stood, pushing his chair back hard. "I'm going out to the barn."

He didn't wait to hear if they said anything, already thinking of the things he needed to do between now and the weekend. He grabbed the cordless on the way out and hit the speed dial for Chloe.

"Chloe, it's Clark," he said as soon as she picked up.

"Hi, Clark. Are you okay? I heard from Lana you had a really weird run-in at the Talon."

"I'm fine." He walked up the barn stairs and went to boot up his computer. "You have conferencing on your phone, right?"

"Yeah."

"Call Lana and Pete. I think we're going to need their help."

Lex sat at his desk in the plant office watching the clock over the shoulder of an EPA inspector whose name he couldn't even remember.

God, he was tired.

The protesters at the front gate when he'd driven in this morning had been a shock. After the scene in the Talon, it shouldn't have been, of course, but he'd gotten comfortable in Smallville in the last four months. He hated it when his father was right.

Wasn't this man done yet?

"...extending our investigations into next week. I can't say that we've been surprised by the lack of co-operation among your staff, but we had hoped for better."

The man was standing. Lex extended his hand, but the inspector just looked at it.

Fine, he thought and let it drop. At least this meant the visit was over. Belatedly he realized he should be saying something. "We appreciate your team's efforts and look forward to any suggestions you may have on where we can improve. Environmental safety and responsibility are a top priority here at LexCorp."

Where all this drivel was stored in Lex's brain he wasn't sure, but it was amazing how it poured out whenever necessary. The EPA inspector must have thought the same thing. He smirked at Lex's words and wished him a good day. Lex made sure he was escorted out the side entrance of the factory.

Finally.

As soon as the inspector was gone, Lex pulled a sheaf of papers out of his desk drawer: the pesticide ingredients, and preparation instructions-all laid out and ready to go.

Lex picked up the phone and fingered the speed dial for R&D. It was time to get this pesticide worked up and tested. Then he'd just have to deal with getting blamed for all of any lingering issues, and for not solving the problem faster in the first place.

And that was certainly what would happen, Lex knew. Smallville, epitomized by Jonathan Kent, was amazingly consistent on this point at least. The EPA would be right there with them, putting padlocks on the front gates of LexCorp.

God, his father must be laughing now.

Had it only been two weeks ago that Lex had thought he'd made it? Now, his company was threatened and his friends were avoiding him. Everything was in ruins. Still, he had responsibilities. He had to think in terms of what he could salvage.

He closed his eyes, and the mirror rose up before him. Images of certain additional ingredients added to the mix. A view of how this would slow the maggots, but not eradicate them. Charts and plans flashed by so quickly that he shouldn't have been able to comprehend them, but he did. It would take only a little extra work on Marcus's part; Lex could probably give him everything he needed over the phone.

With those slight alterations, he could create a pesticide that would control but not eradicate the threat. People would have to pay for it in order to farm. The maggots themselves would spread, or, another chart flashed, they could be spread until farmers throughout the world would require LexCorp's pesticide: all of them paying customers. Money flowing in, enough to make LexCorp bigger even than LuthorCorp.

It was a pretty picture: to be rich, to be more than his father had ever been. To put Smallville behind him and have everything he wanted.

Almost everything.

The phone rang in his hand.

"Lex," he answered, blinking as he opened his eyes and tried to focus on the here and now.

"I haven't seen any noticeable improvement in your PR, Lex. Are you sure you wouldn't like some assistance?"

"Dad, for the last time, I don't need your help. PR isn't going to win this game. Whoever gets rid of the problem will win."

"And you think you can do that? You think that will buy back the loyalty of your little town?" Lionel chided him over the phone. "You don't need them, Lex. Come home."

Lex felt a laugh bubbling up in his throat, but it ran into the ice in his chest and froze before it could escape. "I don't need this town and I don't need you," Lex hissed gripping the receiver.

"Good." There was labored breathing on the line, as if Lionel had run a long way. "You are destined for greatness, Lex. I know you are."

His father's voice sounded almost sincere, a realization that threw Lex for a moment. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.

"Come home, and nothing will stand between you and LuthorCorp." The last words were wheezed out as if against considerable pain. Lex smiled. He'd always known that giving compliments really hurt his father. Nice to have the proof.

"Do you honestly think I would even want it?"

And it was a triumph of sorts, the gasping breaths on the other end of the phone, the evidence of having hurt his father for once, an ice blade between the ribs.

"Good-bye, Dad."

"Good-bye, Lex." The words choked out as if perhaps Lionel would have said something else if he'd been able.

But of course, he'd never been able.

Lex smiled, cold and sharp, and tucked the notes for the pesticide in his inner jacket pocket. He'd take them home and review them one more time.

Clark stood outside the LexCorp plant next to the purple E-type Jag that could only be Lex's. It had been a huge relief to realize that whatever was making him sick at the mansion wasn't here at the plant, and an even greater relief to find that Lex had finally come in to work today.

Of course, with protesters at the gate, Lex would come to work just to prove they hadn't intimidated him. Clark frowned. Lex would do a lot to prove he wasn't afraid and that he didn't need anyone.

The man, himself, came out of the plant at 4:30 PM as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He was walking with his usual loose-limbed grace, arms swinging at his sides, long black coat over a deep blue shirt. Not silk, maybe brushed cotton. He looked so normal.

Except he kept his eyes on the ground and didn't notice Clark until he was almost to the door of the car. Clark thought he might have to step in front of Lex to stop him from just getting in and driving off, leaving Clark to choke on dust and amazement.

Lex's gaze ran into Clark's sneakers and followed on up his legs to his torso, chest and finally his face. Lex stopped. He pushed back the edges of his jacket and tucked his hands in his pockets, and said, "Hey, Clark. What are you doing here?"

He had the strangest impression that Lex was focused on the point of his chin, as if he couldn't meet Clark's eyes. "I was kind of looking for you. I haven't seen you since the other night in the Talon." He paused, not sure if Lex would be willing to take his apology.

Lex smirked. It was a standard smirk that said less than nothing. "There's been rather a lot going on, Clark. I'm sorry if I've been neglecting you; but with crops being devastated all over town, I would have thought you'd have been busy saving people."

Clark frowned. "I've just been trying to help my dad out. There's not much anyone can do against a bunch of bugs, Lex."

Lex chuckled and rocked back on his heals a bit as he looked up at the sky. "It's a day to mark in the calendar. Smallville has finally produced a menace that not even Clark Kent can overcome." He sobered suddenly and finally met Clark's stare. "What do you think those people at the gate would do if a Luthor managed to bring the maggots under control, eh, Clark? Would they take me back? Would your father accept a solution from my hands, from my labs? Or would losing the farm be preferable?"

"I don't know, I-" Clark took a step back, surprised by the viciousness and pain in Lex's voice. "Lex, do you have something? Did you find a way to kill these maggots?"

"I don't know." As quick as that, Lex shut down again, turning away from Clark as he ran his fingers over the racing stripe on the classic car.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Clark stepped in close again, enough so that he knew Lex would be able to feel his breath on the back of his neck.

"I mean, I don't know!" Lex wrenched the car door open, got into the driver's seat and slammed the door before Clark could protest. "It may not kill the bugs. It may only control them. I haven't decid-I haven't determined that yet. In any case, the EPA is itching to shut me down; if I put out an untested pesticide now, I risk the whole company!" He kept his eyes focused on the steering wheel and put on his driving gloves.

Clark leaned on the door of the car, trying not to grip it too tightly. "Lex if you have anything that can be used against these maggots, then you have to come forward with it." He put his right hand on Lex's shoulder trying to force a bond that he'd always felt was as natural as breathing before.

"You have to."

Lex turned and looked at him, his glacial-blue eyes wide with something that Clark could only identify as need and fear. His mouth was partly open, and his lips were pink and soft in the light of the late afternoon sun. His skin was like cream or silk or something that was so rich Clark had never seen it. Lex's tongue came out and teased at the edge of those pink lips, and Clark wondered what Lex tasted like, and he wished they were indoors instead of outside so that he could have had a chance to catch Lex's scent and taste on the air instead of letting the breeze carry it into the trees.

Lex closed his eyes, took a deep breath and put the car into gear.

"No, Clark. I don't."

The car ripped out of Clark's hands, and he let it go.

Let Lex go.

And it was like standing in the middle of the Talon all over again: hard, wanting, and alone.

They met in The Torch office early Saturday morning.

Lana had arranged for Nell to cover for her at the Talon, and she and Pete arrived with backpacks full of books they'd checked out from the library the day before. Chloe and Clark had both been at the computers almost non-stop with barely a break to go home and sleep.

"All right, so what have we got?" Clark looked at each of them expectantly. "Chloe, you want to go first?"

"Right, well, I've checked with several insect-zoo databases and couldn't come up with a match for these maggots. They look a bit like beetle larvae, but they don't have enough legs, and they haven't molted into beetles yet. I got a look at the Ag. Department's report, and they're stumped too." She sighed and shrugged. "I wish I had better news, Clark, but all I've come up with is negative evidence."

Clark nodded and frowned. "Me too. I've looked through all the different places on the internet that you told me to, and I can't find a single record on Alistair Quick. It's like he doesn't exist."

"So maybe he doesn't," Pete chimed in. "I mean if he's as shady as you think he is, then probably he's using an alias."

"Yeah." Clark sighed.

"Alias!" Chloe crowed and sat up straight. "Pete, you're a genius!"

"Glad to see that you're finally catching on to that, Chloe," Pete looked at her skeptically, "but you want to tell me why?"

Chloe bounced over to her iMac and started clicking on the mouse. "Well, I couldn't get anyone to take on the puzzle page of The Torch this semester, so I've been doing it myself. I found this neat site that helps you make anagrams. You just type in the phrase and see what comes up. Way easier than trying to create one on your own, I can tell you."

She paused and typed into the site as the others came to stand behind her.

"Still, even using the site to generate them, I think I've kinda developed an eye for it, and as soon as you said 'alias', Pete, it hit me. Look!"

On the screen were the results of her query:

FOR: "alistair quick" -

RESULTS:
a quit, sick liar
quit slick aria
alias quit rick

Clark shook his head. "Rick maybe, Chloe, but Quit isn't a name."

"Yes, it is." Lana grabbed her backpack and started rooting through the books she and Pete had brought from the library. "We were checking out the town histories, like we discussed-"

"But we didn't find anything on insect infestation or maggots. At least nothing unusual," Pete broke in frowning.

"Right, but one of the books we looked at was this one on Smallville Folklore. It was written in 1910 by the local historical society." Lana started flipping through the slim book. "Look!"

She shoved the book at Clark, who read out loud, "Local slang and dialect of Smallville. The earliest settlers in Smallville came from various locations in the British Isles and had a dialect with many unique vocabulary elements dealing with common crops, pests, and various figures from local folklore, such as-"

"Wait. So I was checking for references to the maggots like we discussed, and I saw this." Lana reached over, flipped the page and pointed. "Read."

"A quit: slang for a liar or conman." Clark raised his eyebrows and looked at Chloe who just smiled. "From the local legend of Quit Rick and the Mirror."

Chloe was already tapping into her search engine. "I'm not coming up with anything relevant for 'quit' 'rick' and 'mirror'; some stuff on e-zines and pop music. No legends."

"Mirror." Clark frowned as his head began to ache. His stomach clenched at the overwhelming odour of sunflowers and fetid water.

"Clark, are you okay?" Pete grabbed Clark's arm as he swayed.

"Lex! Lex has a mirror!" Clark gasped out as the pain in his head peaked, and then finally began to fade away.

"Okay," Chloe drawled. "But, you know, I think the mansion has a lot of mirrors."

"Not like this one." Clark shook his head to clear it. "He wouldn't show it to me. Ms. Dean said he bought it from Quick. Lex said it was a puzzle."

"Okay, that is a little strange," Lana agreed. "But still not a lot for us to go on. And we still haven't found any connection to the maggots."

"There's one more thing." Clark hesitated, not sure they would believe him.

"Spit it out, man," Pete told him. "It can't be any weirder than anything else on Chloe's wall."

"I saw that mirror last Saturday, but when I woke up on Sunday I couldn't remember it." Clark tried to sound steady and reasonable, even though he knew how unreasonable it sounded.

"Maybe it didn't make that much of an impression until today?" Lana suggested.

"No, it definitely made an impression. I remember I was worried about Lex when I saw him." Clark closed his eyes and talked himself slowly through his newly acquired memory. "I saw Lex for something like ten minutes. He showed me the tarp-covered mirror, and I started to feel sick. When I woke up the next day I had forgotten all about it, and when I tried to remember, I'd black out or feel sick."

"How are you feeling now, Clark?" Chloe asked.

"Okay." Clark was surprised to realize that the pain was completely gone.

Chloe cocked her head to the left and gave him a look of careful consideration. "It sounds almost like a spell or something. A geas."

"What's a geas?" Clark felt the hairs stand up on his arms when he asked.

"It's a spell that impels the subject to an action, or in your case, inaction. The geas was for you not to remember Lex showing you the mirror, but I guess having an external cue overcame the compulsion, and-voila!-you remembered."

"So what, now you believe in magic?" Pete scoffed. "That beyond the Wall of Weird, Chloe."

"Pete." Lana pursed her lips as if she'd swallowed something unpleasant. "This is Smallville. There're a lot of things we don't want to believe that turn out to be true."

"Meteors, mutants, fine; but magic?" Pete kept shaking his head.

"Have you got a better explanation, hot shot?" Chloe slapped the printouts of her maggot research on the table. "These don't exist anywhere outside of Smallville. Then one day they turn up in a full-blown epidemic? And nothing kills them. You tell me where they came from, Pete."

"Guys!" Clark called for their attention and waved the folklore book at them. "I found the story."

Clark began to read.

"The story goes that when Jacob Small, founder of Smallville, came to the frontier of Kansas, he was followed by a servant from his home country of England. The little man's name was Quit Rick, and he served Mr. Small as his manservant and advisor, growing more powerful as his master's wealth increased each year.

Eventually Mr. Small married and in due time his wife became pregnant. At the baby boy's birth, Quit Rick presented his mistress with a beautiful mirror in a golden frame. Mistress Small became obsessed with the mirror and sat before it day and night, refusing to leave it even to feed her son, insisting that the child be brought to her.

The legend has several versions with differing details from this point, but all agree that only a week after the birth of the baby Mistress Small was found wandering the woods at the edge of her estate, raving about her husband's infidelities and having given her child to Quit Rick to take through the mirror. The child, the mirror, and Quit Rick were never seen again."

"Ew." Chloe gave a shudder and wrinkled her nose. "Now I am seriously creeped out."

"You know, when I was over there, Ms. Dean said that Lex has hardly left his study since he bought the mirror," Clark said remembering more details from his visit. "He's even been sleeping there."

"Okay," Pete started counting off on his fingers, "so we got a freaky short dude and a freaky mirror, and maybe we have a story that tells us they are bad news. But we still don't really know what they're doing, or if this has anything to do with the maggot infestation."

"It does." Clark clenched his fists in frustration, "I'm sure of it."

"But Pete's right." Lana laid her hand on Clark's arm. "We need more information before we can do anything. Right now we may have an idea of what the mirror does, but we don't know how to stop it or the maggots."

"So the plan is we get back to research." Chloe sounded like a general marshalling her troops. "Pete, you get back to the library; I've got the Internet. Clark, you and Lana ask around; both your families have been in Smallville a while, and maybe Nell or Mr. Kent remembers the story. We'll meet at the Talon tomorrow morning. Say, 11:00?"

Clark nodded along with the others, and they broke up: Chloe stayed in the office searching the Internet, Pete gave Lana a ride into town, while Clark elected to walk back home.

The Indian summer sun beat down on his neck, and the air smelled like sunflowers as he put one foot in front of the other and thought about truth, lies, mirrors and gifts.

Clark was almost home when he heard them.

The cows.

They were in pain: moaning and lowing their distress. Underneath that he heard his mother and father trying to calm them, to get them into the barn.

Clark sped up the lane to the pasture and stopped at the gate. He couldn't figure out what was going on. The cows were unsettled, and several were shaking their heads and foaming at the mouth. He saw little flecks of blood in the foam as well. Martha was at the gate to the milking barn while his dad was in the pasture trying to convince the cows to go in.

Then his father spotted him.

"Clark! We have to get them into the barn. The field's infested!"

"Right!" Clark glanced around, and once he was relatively certain no one was around, he started zipping from side to side around the herd, encouraging them. It only took a few minutes, and then he carried in the last reluctant heifer.

Jonathan walked up with heavy leather gloves on. "Hold her, Clark."

"Got her!" Clark was a lot stronger than any cow, but he found the heifer awkward to keep hold of because he wasn't willing to hurt her. He did manage to keep her still long enough for his dad to clean out her mouth. They repeated the operation on the rest of the cattle.

After the last cow was done and all were in their stalls, Jonathan gave Clark a good look at what had been hiding in the grass and gotten in the cows' mouths: beetles. With very sharp pincers.

"Now we know what those damn maggots turn into. I've been farming for my whole life, Clark, and I don't know what this thing is," Jonathan told Clark, as he held up his example right in front of Clark's eyes. "You ask Lex if he knows anything about these and see if you get a straight answer."

"Jonathan!" Martha's voice was low and tight. "Not now!"

And it hurt Clark, because he didn't know how to defend Lex anymore.

Lex spent the weekend with the mirror.

He started watching Friday night after his conversation with his father and the only slightly less painful one with Clark. That was when he finally decided that he might as well live down to Smallville's opinion of him. He was going to burn for it either way.

He went home to his study, locked the door, walked up to the mirror stand and yanked off the tarp.

Lex ran his hands gently over the frame and the cool glass, leaning against it. It knew exactly what he wanted.

Clark.

Ellen came and went with necessary items: food and water enough to keep going but not enough to distract. She would knock, he would let her in; there were phrases that his mouth handled automatically, and then she would leave and he'd re-lock the door.

Her instructions were to run interference with any visitors. Mr. Luthor was on a weekend trip to Metropolis. He gave the weekend off to the rest of the staff and told Ellen he wouldn't need her in the evenings, she should go home as usual.

The mirror started gently with silent scenes of Clark going about his normal deliveries. Lex tried to limit himself to that: the little slices of Clark's life that he could hoard away just like he'd been hoarding their visits at the Talon and their pool games. Soon enough the mirror demonstrated how futile that was.

It showed Clark returning to his fortress in the barn after he was done. Climbing the steps, a little dusty, and brushing his bangs out of his eyes, Clark reached the loft and flung himself down on the old couch. He stretched and made himself comfortable.

Lex took a deep breath.

Then Clark unbuttoned and reached deep into his jeans and started rolling his balls with one hand and stroking his dick with the other.

Lex couldn't stop watching.

Lex ran his hands down his own chest and then over the aching bulge in his pants. He watched Clark shift his hips on the couch, shoving his jeans down a few inches for better access; Lex did the same, unzipping his slacks and reaching in to stroke himself. Soon they were in rhythm, and Lex was on his knees panting before the mirror as Clark silently writhed on the couch. Clark's mouth moved, his chest heaved, but the room was silent except for Lex's gasps and moans.

Lex came first. With one sharp shout, his cock jerked and the stream of semen hit the glass and part of the frame. The Clark in the mirror shut his eyes and smiled, then bucked through his own silent orgasm.

That was the first time.

Now Lex sat before the mirror on the couch he had pulled up in front of it in just his robe with his legs splayed out as he jacked himself to completion again and again. He didn't have to touch it now, to keep the connection. The mirror's chill penetrated every corner of the room.

Sometimes he would fall asleep. Pass out. Whatever. But when he woke, the mirror would be there. Watching Clark.

Lex touched himself.

He couldn't stop.

He didn't want to.

It seemed as if Clark couldn't either:

First, Clark was rounding up the cows.

Then Clark was jerking off in the barn.

Next, Clark was kissing his mother goodnight.

Then Clark was lying in bed, thrusting into his own asshole with three fingers.

Every time, Clark came in long pearly streams over his own fist while calling out a name that Lex couldn't quite make out just by lip reading, but it didn't matter because Lex came too. He came because it was such a beautiful lie, and he wanted it so badly to be true.

Saturday night had been long and sleep had been short. Clark had watched his father call the men heading up the task force from the Department of Agriculture and then walk them around as they took samples and gave advice. They'd explained that they were convinced it was a new species of beetle, but they weren't any closer to finding a way to control them, or figuring out where they had come from. Jonathan had just nodded and held on to Martha a little tighter.

Unlike the maggot form of the insects, which had focused on the soft fruit and vegetable crops, the beetles were in the grasses: hay fields, cornfields, and pasture. As the Kents had discovered, they bit livestock and people, causing welts that itched for several hours.

Sunday morning Clark let his parents sleep while he did the milking and fed the cows. He used his X-ray vision to double check the fodder for infestation, but it was clear. He decided not to think about how long they would be able to feed the cows on fodder that cost money or what they would do after the money ran out.

Once the chores were done, he went up to the loft and wrapped Lex's birthday present. He hoped it was enough.

He'd just finished up when he heard Pete's convertible pulling in.

Clark sped out of the barn and stopped in the drive just as the car came into view.

Chloe was in front and Lana was sitting up the backseat waving a book. "Clark! We found it!"

"Shhhh!" Clark jogged up to them at normal speed, making hushing motions at them. "My mom and dad are still asleep."

"Is everything okay?" Pete frowned.

"We had a rough day yesterday. The maggots finally grew up into stinging beetles that like grass." Clark shoved his hands in his pockets and scuffed at the dirt with the toe of his shoes, then waved at the empty pasture behind him. "Notice the lack of cows."

"Oh, God, Clark!" Chloe gasped "They didn't-"

"No, we're just keeping them in the barn." He sighed. "But that's not going to be doable for long."

"Well, I don't know if it will help," Lana said, handing him a book, "but I did find this. It's my grandmother's diary from when she was a kid. She grew up here in Smallville. Read it."

The binding was leather, old and cracked, and Clark took it carefully, a little afraid of damaging one of Lana's family relics. The pages were yellow and had been lined once. The handwriting was stiff and very careful, and he had to kind of squint to read it.

"Today Margie was out playing skip-rope, and I taught her the Mirror rhyme so we could find out her 'True Love'. She thinks it's creepy, but I like it. It goes like this:

Mirror, Mirror
Spell to make
Find the heart-sore
Soul to take

Mirror, Mirror
Fool them all
Show them lies
And tell them tall

Mirror, Mirror
Spell to break
Shatter glass for
True Love's sake

Mirror, Mirror
End the game
Stop the rope
On true love's name

Then you just chant the alphabet until you're out and the letter you're out on is your true love's initial. She got T for Tony Johnson! She thought that was terrible, but I told her it was better than getting Q, because that meant you would marry a quit and end up with a liar and a cheat for your true love."

Clark frowned and looked at Lana and Chloe. "So what does it mean?"

"See!" Pete chimed in. "I told you it wasn't just me; Clark doesn't get it either."

Chloe shot Pete a dirty look, then rolled her eyes and sighed. "Okay, here's the deal. This is obviously a rhyme that tells us what the mirror is doing and how to get Lex out from under its spell." Chloe grinned. "Clark, you just have to break the mirror."

"Wait, why Clark?" Pete protested, "The rhyme says 'for true love's sake'. If Lex has a true love, then that's who has to break it."

Clark didn't know what to say. He was sure there wasn't anyone closer to Lex than he was. Plus, when it came to breaking things, he could be very effective.

"There are lots of kinds of love," Lana answered for him. "Lex may not have a girlfriend, but I think everyone knows how special his friendship with Clark is."

She blushed and ducked her head as she finished, and Clark knew she was thinking of his confrontation with Quick in the Talon.

Everyone knew?

"Anyway," Clark jumped in before Pete could make a comment about that, "the true love thing is probably something that the kids made up to go with the rhyme. The main thing is to break the mirror."

"So what are we gonna do?" Pete asked. "Just walk on over, ask Lex if we can see his mirror, and then throw it at a wall?"

"Yeah." Clark set his jaw and nodded. "That's exactly what I'm going to do."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Whoa, Lone Ranger." She pushed open the convertible's door and then climbed into the back with Lana, before waving Clark into the front seat. "I know you mean we, so get in."

"Chloe, it could be dangerous," Clark said taking a step back from the car.

"Right," Chloe raised an eyebrow, "and that's your argument for doing this by yourself?"

"Chloe-"

"She's right, Clark." Lana chimed in, and her mouth was set like it had been when she decided to quit cheerleading or when she was going to meet with Lex about the Talon the first time. "Quick is scary, Clark. He won't like you breaking his mirror."

"Hey, kids, what's going on?" Jonathan Kent came out onto the porch, dressed, but obviously sleepy.

Everyone looked up at the porch. Everyone, that is, except Clark. He made the decision as soon as he saw his father-his father, who didn't think much of Lex and would put off any further investigation for as long as he could.

So while everyone else was looking up the steps, Clark left.

Running felt good. Sometimes it felt not so much as if Clark was going faster, but that the world was slowing down. That's how it was now: everything was frozen, and in a few moments he would be at the mansion. He'd speed through the gates, into the house, up to the study and break the mirror. He figured even if he felt sick, his momentum would be enough to carry him though.

"Mr. Kent! Fancy meeting you here!" Clark almost tripped over his own feet from shock at the sound of a voice here in this space where no one but Clark had ever moved before. He looked down and running next to him, just as fast, was Quick.

Clark stopped dead and Quick did as well, just a few feet away. "How did you do that?"

"How did you, Mr. Kent?" Quick grinned when Clark didn't answer. "Do you require another demonstration in the art of conversation? Very well. Free advice, always a good conversation stand-by: Go home, Mr. Kent. There is nothing for you here."

They were in a stand of woods just south of Lex's property; the lake wasn't far. Just beyond the lake would be the mansion gates, and inside the mansion was Lex, alone with a mirror that for all Clark knew really could take a soul.

Clark smelled sunflowers.

"My friend is in there. That's enough for me. Excuse me." He started to walk around Quick.

Quick moved in front of him. "He's leaving, and he's not your friend, Mr. Kent. How can he be when the two of you constantly lie to each other?"

Clark flinched but didn't stop trying to move past Quick. "You don't know anything about me or Lex. He bought that mirror off you, that's all. It doesn't mean you know him."

"Oh, I know a great deal about our friend Lex." Quick's eyes began to glow red. "About you, not so much, it is true. For example, will you tell me how you remember the mirror? You should not, you know." He paused as Clark continued to glare at him. "You are very hard to know, Mr. Kent. However, perhaps I don't need to know so much."

With that he flicked his wrist and Clark found himself in a shower of green dust that brought him to his knees in pain and nausea. He groaned and tried to roll over to find Quick, but the little man was gone. Clark still heard Quick's voice in the woods though, as he laughed and called out, "Just a little fairy dust, Mr. Kent. A parting gift."

The dust was all over Clark: in his hair, in his clothes, in his eyes. It felt like his skin was being boiled off and his stomach had already been simmered. He rolled around in the dirt and leaves, but he couldn't get it off.

His last thought was of crawling to the mansion, but he only went a few feet before he passed out.

Someone was knocking at the study door.

"Yes?" Lex rolled his head back on the couch and watched the door. Wondering, in a vague way, what he would do is someone opened it right now.

The door stayed shut.

Ellen's voice came, low and professionally modulated. "Sir, I thought you should know, Chloe Sullivan was here looking for Clark Kent."

Chloe with her white blond hair and whiter teeth; Lex remembered her interviewing him. Her eyes had been so hungry, and he'd thought he'd known how to feed them. The thrill of meeting a billionaire, free pass backstage to the castle, but she'd ended up thrown out of a window. Funny how that worked.

Ellen was still calling through the door. "Sir?"

"Why was she looking for him here? Has Clark-has he been here today?"

Lex sneered at his own innuendo, because of course Clark had certainly come here many times over the last two days. Or at least the image of Clark.

"She said he hadn't been seen since this morning and that he'd been planning to come here. However, I haven't seen him, Sir."

Which as Ellen well knew didn't mean Clark hadn't been here.

"I did tell her that you had gone to Metropolis, Mr. Luthor, as you instructed."

"Thank you, Ellen."

He listened to her heels click away on the hall's stone floor. He wondered if she was looking for a new position yet. How long would she stick it out with the mad Luthor who only talked to his staff through closed doors?

The Clark in the mirror was stretched out on his couch in the loft of the Kent's barn, his jeans pushed half way down his hips, his thighs open, and his T-shirt spattered with semen. A beautiful, beautiful lie.

The real Clark had disappeared, as he often did. Lex could never find him until he wanted to be found. When he showed up again, it would be with another lie, more or less beautiful as the case may be.

But now Lex had his own lie, and maybe he didn't need to wait. Without bothering to wipe the semen off his belly, he stood up and went to his phone.

He thumbed it on and took a card from his desk and dialed.

It rang.

"Quick Antiquities." A brief but clear greeting.

"This is Alexander Luthor." His voice was so rough he hardly recognized it himself, but Mr. Quick had no such problem.

"Ah, Alexander! Delightful to hear from you. What may I do for you?"

"You said to call." Lex cleared his throat and tried to focus. "You said to call when the images in the mirror weren't sufficient any longer."

"Yes, indeed, I did." Quick's voice was smooth and lively. "I take it that you want to enhance your experience of the mirror then?"

"I want it all. I want to feel it. Hear it. Everything." Lex swallowed hard. "Can you do that?"

"Yes, of course. There will be a price, you understand."

Lex smiled a cold shark's smile. As if there weren't a price for everything in life. "Yes, I understand."

"Very well, I shall be there as soon as possible." Quick sounded so pleased with himself, as if Lex were some blind fool that didn't know what he was getting into.

"I know it's not him."

There was a moment of silence before Quick answered, then a very careful, "Indeed?"

"I know it's not him." Lex said again. "And I don't care."

"Then I am delighted that we understand each other."

"Just get over here and close the deal."

"Of course."

Placing the phone in its cradle, Lex turned back to the mirror to find the Clark-reflection still on the other side of the glass, but now he was smiling at Lex with his hand outstretched. Black hair, cherry lips, and a long luscious body that was all for Lex. Immediately, he was hard as if it'd been days and not minutes since his last orgasm.

Lex didn't smile, but he walked back to the mirror and took a firm hold of the frame on each side. The Clark-reflection seemed to do the same. Finally, Lex leaned in until his dick was pressed up against the glass so hard that the cold burned and his pre-come smeared into a frost. The Clark-reflection grinned and lined up his cock with Lex's.

They started to rub as if they could meet through the glass. Hot and cold and slick and hard all at once, and Lex kept his eyes open watching the silent moans and pants of the Clark that could be his.

When they orgasmed together, he screamed loud enough for both of them as he collapsed against the freezing glass and slid down to the floor, smearing his cheek through an icing of semen and sweat.

Lex slept and dreamed of thorny vines wrapping tight around the castle, growing more numerous with every scratch of his fingers. And in his dream he watched Chloe, Pete, and Lana drive around and around in circles outside the brambles.

Night came eventually. It always did.

Steel and granite, commerce and government; it was all reduced to fairy lights in the dark, lights that could be snuffed out by chance or planning at any time. Lionel stood at the windows of his office and watched them winking on and off all over his city

The night did not scare Lionel Luthor, but it did present challenges. Not that the dark could not be used to his advantage, but as it hid things from others, so it could hide things from him. Things that, once revealed, required him to change his ideas, change his plans, change everything.

The phone on his desk rang.

"Yes?"

"I am about to exercise my option. You will need to be here to witness it, Lionel."

"It's getting rather late, Quick." It felt good to hear his own voice maintain its normal smooth tones. "Do you really think you can get him to agree in time?"

A deep chuckle rolled over the receiver. "No, Lionel, I've just learned to appreciate your flair for the dramatic. He's as good as mine, but I want you here to see it."

A steel band that had been around his chest since Quick's last visit, the one that had tightened any time he had tried to warn Lex, or go to him, vanished.

"Come to Smallville, Lionel. Come say good-bye to your son."

And the line went dead.

It was cold. So cold he felt almost warm.

Hypothermia.

The thought made Lex blink slowly into the darkness. He wondered if he should do something. Where was Clark?

"Good evening, Lex."

It was Quick.

Ah.

So Clark had to be here somewhere. Or at least the reflection of Clark: the Clark he could actually have. The Clark Quick had promised him.

He looked up into what had been dark and saw Quick's smiling face with pointy teeth and sharp goatee limned in a sickly yellow flash, followed by darkness and the hiss of rain. Lex narrowed his eyes. Theatrics were not getting him closer to what he wanted.

He wanted Clark.

Lex opened his mouth, but was surprised when no sound came out. He swallowed and tried again.

"Good evening, Mr. Quick." Using the mirror frame for balance, he stood shakily and arranged his robe even though the dark pressed in against him so hard he could feel the weight. "I presume you've come prepared to give a demonstration of what you promised?"

"Indeed, indeed I have, Alexander, but we must wait for our witness. The proprieties must be observed." Quick chuckled, moving around the room, leaving Lex completely in the dark.

More games.

Supercilious twit. Lex was at the end of his patience. He felt his way to his desk, talking as he went. "Witness? What witness? And tell me about the price. We haven't discussed the particulars."

"The particulars were laid out some time ago." Quick's voice seemed to shift 'round the room. Lex shook his head and tried to focus as he searched for his desk lamp. Quick was still speaking. His voice buzzed from one corner of the room to another. "But of course you have not had the chance to review the contract. Suffice it to say that you may have what you want for a simple trade."

Lex laughed. "The words 'simple trade' and 'contract' can't be used in the same breath."

"Oh, but this is very simple, Alexander." Quick's voice was suddenly very close. "Like flipping a switch."

Lex heard the light switch click just inches from his hand as the light came on directly under his eyes.

"Ah!" He jerked back a few steps and caught his shoulder on the mirror frame. The cold climbed through his bones and whispered promises, but Lex wouldn't be comforted. He blinked off the glare. "Explain about the contract."

The desk light cast grotesque shadows on the walls that bled out onto the bookshelves, undulating over the spines of first editions and then dripped up to the ceiling. Another flash of lightning sent the shadows dancing around the room again, followed by somber thunder.

"Why don't we let our witness explain? He was, after all, instrumental in the framing of the terms." Quick stepped back away from the desk and further into shadow, his eyes sinking into darkness except for two pinpoints of red.

The study's double doors banged open in time with another flash of lightning to reveal Lionel Luthor striding into the room with a grey leather coat flaring out behind him and his hair and beard standing out around his face, looking as wild as Quick looked slick.

He stopped when he caught sight of his son standing next to the mirror in his robe. "Lex! What is the meaning of this?"

Lex tightened his jaw and leaned harder on the mirror, sliding his left hand over the edge of the frame and onto the glass. The cold was reassuring, keeping him beyond the disgust in his father's eyes. "This is the birthday present you bought me, Dad." Lex bared his teeth. "Don't you like it? I do."

"What are you talking about?" Lionel scowled and turned to face the shadows. He found Quick without hesitation. "If you've drugged him, then the agreement is void."

A hiss and then a chuckle before Quick answered. "No drugs, Lionel. You will not be so lucky. Do you think I would throw away this chance with such an amateur mistake? You wound me."

Lex thought it was amazingly like putting two spiders in a bowl. They were circling, but soon one was going to strike. They'd keep going until one ate the head of the other. Wasn't that how spiders ended their fights? And if they were spiders, did that make Lex the fly?

He scowled.

"Mr. Quick, I believe you came here to conduct business with me. Whatever is between you and my father can wait, I think, until we are through."

"The two are woven together, Alexander. Inextricable." Quick circled closer to Lex, keeping to the shadows at the edge of the room. "Will you explain it to him, Lionel, or shall I?"

"There's nothing to explain." Lionel raised his chin and looked Lex in the eyes. "I saw an opportunity to ensure certain advantages for LuthorCorp. There were risks, of course, but I minimized them and made the best use of the advantages I gained."

"What risks?" Lex asked, his eyes narrowed.

"And it's been worth it, Lex." Lionel continued as if Lex hadn't spoken. "LuthorCorp is at the top of the Fortune 500, with few peers and no real competitors."

"The risks?" Lex insisted.

"When you take over, you will be in a better position than any CEO in corporate history." Lionel spread his hands as if offering the world to his son. "You'll be in a position to influence governments, control empires. No one and nothing will have any claim to you. You will be above it all."

For a moment Lex could see it: wealth, power, his every whim within reach, his dreams taking only a moment longer. He would stand so high above everyone else that they would only exist for him as pawns in his game. The battlefields of the world would be his to sow and to reap; the blood would be little more than fertilizer.

He would be completely alone.

Lex took a half step to his left, sliding along the glass of the mirror, letting the cold soak through the fabric of his silk robe and stroke along his skin. The surface seemed to give a little as he curled his fingers into fists.

"And that is the trade," Quick's voice snapped across the room. "That's what I want, Alexander, and what your father bought my luck with. Luck enough to build a fine company. Luck enough to win every litigation. Luck enough to build it all and give it over to me. But only if you don't want it. That was his clause."

"There is nothing my son wants more," Lionel growled. "LuthorCorp is everything to him. It's the only thing he's been brought up to desire."

He had a roaring in his ears, or perhaps it was the rain. Lex glanced up behind him and in the mirror he saw the Clark-reflection smiling down at him. Not as innocent, not as strong or as fast as the real thing, but still better than being alone.

"Yes, Alexander. You get the reality on the other side of the mirror." Quick started to walk into the light from the desk lamp, his eyes still glowing red, "And I get your life."

Lightning flashed again and suddenly Quick stood by the desk, taller now, and clean-shaven. Completely. Lex grinned; the green suit really made him look like a corpse with all that expanse of pale skin. The red eyes gave it away, of course, but there were always sunglasses. Otherwise the likeness was perfect.

"I have the beginnings of it right here, Alexander." Quick picked up the altered formula for the pesticide from the desk. "Just as you planned, Alexander. Don't ever doubt that it was your plan, Alexander. The mirror can only focus on what is already there. You designed this, and I promise to put it to good use. With this I'll make LuthorCorp a world power. "

"Never!" Lionel growled. "You will never have Luthor-Corp." He took a step toward the man wearing his son's face, but Quick just smiled.

"Be still, Lionel," Quick said with a snap of his wrist and a flick of his fingers. Lionel lurched to a halt, jaw clenching and eyes flaming, but unable to move.

Lex laughed then. His first laugh in a long time. He looked at his father, but his words were for Quick, "Take it, if you want it. Take it all." He felt the icy fingers of glass mold into hands on his shoulders, a mouth on his neck, a voice in his ear murmuring something he couldn't quite hear. "I choose the mirror."

Rain and lightning and thunder and dirt in his mouth and his whole world was pain as he struggled up onto his knees, spitting grit and clawing at his shirt. Clark felt enormous satisfaction as the cloth ripped and he threw it as far as he could, which even as gross as he felt was still pretty far. He got to his feet and stumbled a few steps, looking back to see the glowing green specks wash away in the rainwater streaming down from the trees.

Powdered meteor rock. Quick had called it fairy dust.

Oh, Jesus.

Quick.

Lex.

It took Clark a moment to orient himself; but once he found the lake, it took just seconds to arrive at the mansion. He stopped at the front of the house, letting the rain beat into him, forcing himself to think rather than go rushing in. If Quick had more of the meteor powder, then Clark would be no help to Lex at all.

He took a deep breath and scanned the house, finding the one room with a light: the study. Squinting in the rain, Clark brought the inside of the room into focus and thought his heart would stop.

It was him.

A silvery-green version of himself. With Lex.

Lex with his head thrown back against Clark's shoulder, his back arched, his robe open, his cock hard and begging.

Begging for Clark.

And getting someone, or something that was almost Clark, that was silver-green and standing in front of what had to be the mirror. Except the almost-Clark wasn't in front of the mirror, he was the mirror.

Clark saw Lex's arm sink into the surface of the mirror and he lost all thought of strategy or planning.

Mistress Small was found wandering the woods at the edge of her estate... having given her child to Quit Rick to take through the mirror. The child, the mirror, and Quit Rick were never seen again.

He forgot about the meteor rocks. He barely looked at the two other figures in the study with Lex as he slammed into the mansion, down the hall and blew open the doors into the study.

He had to break the mirror.

Clark slammed into Quick, taking in the red eyes and nothing else; he threw him against the far wall of the study, bringing down a whole library shelf on him. He hit the mirror next, already beginning to feel sick, but putting all his strength behind his fist. He drove it into the upper right corner of the glass, as far from Lex as he could.

The mirror absorbed the blow and then rebounded, throwing Clark back several feet as he screamed and his veins turned greenish grey and his blood boiled.

The ice of the mirror was spreading over Lex, covering him, making him ache from the promises. One finger of cold slipped down his chest, then teased at his belly, and he wanted-he wanted-

His world shook. There was heat and abundance and hope covering his front for one sweet moment balancing the chill and the want and the resignation at his back.

Lex screamed.

And then it was gone. Lex opened his eyes to see Clark thrown into the middle of the room, writhing and in pain.

"Clark!" He pulled at the tendrils of the mirror that held him. "Let me go!" He jerked his whole body forward, and with a sound like pulling a body from out of the mud, he was free and stumbling across fallen books, antiques and papers to get to Clark. He felt something warm and wet trickle down his spine, and his back stung, but he ignored it as he tried to examine Clark.

"What happened? Where are you hurt?" Lex mumbled as he ran his hands over Clark, trying to figure out the cause for the convulsions and the grey-green veins that stood out all over Clark's chest arms and face. He didn't really expect an answer, but Clark whispered something that got lost in a crack of thunder.

"What?" Lex leaned closer crouching over Clark curled in on himself, gasping.

"Break it."

Lex stared at Clark, at his skin veined green and his wide, glassy eyes, and then he looked up at the mirror. The Clark reflection stared back over a dark stain of liquid dripping slowly down the glass. It scratched and pushed at the mirror, which bowed out from the pressure.

"How?"

There was a tumble and thump from the corner behind the desk, and Lex saw a parody of himself stand up as Quick hauled himself out from under the books Clark had shoved him into.

"Why is it that people never want to honour their agreements?" It was Quick's voice coming out of a ravaged version of Lex's face: white skin stretched over a skull with sharks teeth and red pinpoint eyes. The green pinstripe suit was smudged and ripped at the right shoulder. He limped over to where Lionel still stood. "I thought you would have raised your son better, Lionel."

Lionel, still frozen, managed a snort of derision.

"Ah, well, yes." Quick nodded. "I suppose I see what you mean. But you, Mr. Kent, I thought you would have better manners than this. What would Jonathan say?"

"He'd ask for his shotgun!" Clark growled even though he was obviously in pain. Lex stayed kneeling next to him and laid a quieting hand on his arm.

"Really? But I thought we got on so well when I visited your stall at the market. Didn't he like the present I left you?" Quick pulled from his pocket a quivering handful of maggots.

Lex stared. Jonathan Kent was right: Luthors really were the root of all evil. And Clark knew it now. All Lex could do was try to repair the damage. He had to at least do that.

"I think we've all had enough of this little passion play, Mr. Quick." Lex kept his voice level, although he couldn't quite reach his usual level of detached irony. "Go back to wherever you came from and take your mirror with you."

Clark clutched at Lex's hand. "No, Lex, break it!" he gasped through his pain.

Which was fine to say, but he'd seen what had happened when Clark had tried to destroy it.

"No, Alexander. No, no, no. You can't even name me! You can't send me back." Quick tsked at Lex as his death's head grin became even broader. "I told you, Alexander. All sales are final. You should understand. Deals are made depending on other deals. You pull one out, and the whole arrangement collapses."

"What arrangements?" Lex asked, playing for time and wondering frantically how he could get Clark out of there.

"Your father wanted luck in business!" Quick pointed to Lionel.

"I wanted a new life!"

Quick did a little pirouette and bowed, but Lex noticed his movements were jerky now, not smooth and crisp as they had been before.

"And the mirror required a soul as payment for it all." He pointed to the mirror, and Lex glanced that way automatically, freezing at what he saw. The Clark reflection was pressed up against the glass; it's mouth open wider than humanly possible showing row after row of tiny sharp teeth. It licking at the dark liquid streaks that Lex had noticed before with a long thick tongue. It saw Lex staring and closed its mouth to smile its cold Clark-like smile as it licked the blood, Lex's blood, off its lips.

Lex shivered. There was warmth around his leg and then his wrist, but he couldn't turn away, couldn't break his gaze with the mirror. Still, he felt Clark press something heavy with weight and years into his hand and wrap his fingers around it.

"For me, Lex. Do it for me." Soft words, like spring, and he would, he thought, but wasn't it too late? Wasn't it always too little too late?

"Now, Alexander Luthor," Quick's voice echoed through the study riding another clap of thunder, and Lex felt himself jerk forward on his knees only just managing to keep his grasp on the leather-wrapped weight in his hand. "By your name, go through the mirror."

He stood and took a step, thinking of timing and warmth and secrets, and realizing that one was not so much more important than the others.

"Alexander Luthor!" Quick's voice cracked. "Go through the mirror!"

"His name is Lex." Clark's voice was rough but clear, "But I call on you, by your name, Quit Rick, go through the mirror, and stay there!"

An icy wind rushed through the study. The little man screamed and it grew higher and thinner as he changed: his arms and legs grew longer, his body shorter, and his own sharp features broke through the glamour that had let him take on Lex's face, and his beard grew long and coarse down to his waist.

"My name! My name! How did you know my name!" The wind slammed him into the mirror, which still didn't break, but instead began to fold in on itself around Quick's screaming form.

"Now, Lex!" Clark shouted, "Do it now!"

The world was spinning. Heat and cold running over him, through him, as he watched the thing in the mirror sucking the life out of what he had thought was a man, and still it looked at him with Clark's face as it mouthed the flesh of Quick's shoulder and caught up the blood with its tongue.

It still wanted him, and he shuddered because some part of him still needed that.

But he was a Luthor, and need was a weakness.

Lex raised his arms and his body responded with years of blade practice as he brought down the full weight of the Templar two-handed sword on Quit Rick and the mirror.

By all rights Lex should have passed out at that point. He shouldn't have had to watch silver and green mirror fragments flash into something like a cyclone, picking up books and debris from around the study and then blow out all the windows as they spread out into the storm, melting into the more natural winds already ripping across Smallville.

He shouldn't have had to deal with Clark being fine, fine, within moments of the mirror's disappearance, without a word of explanation, and blushing fire engine red when they both became conscious of the fact that not only was Clark shirtless, but Lex was still naked, and, yes, that was dried semen all over his stomach.

Perfect.

Lex decided not to ask about how Clark managed to get up to Lex's bedroom, where he'd never been before, get a change of clothes and a pair of shoes, and get back in less than two minutes. In the dark. He decided to just be grateful.

In any case, he most certainly shouldn't have to be standing here while Lionel Luthor, his father, hugged him. Fucking hugged him, which hurt the scabs on his back from where the mirror had tried to suck out his life. But he couldn't wince or tense up because the man was spilling out platitudes worthy of Jonathan Kent, in some other twisted reality where Jonathan Kent had no soul.

"I expected no less, Lex, although you did cut it a bit fine." Lionel pulled back a little and clapped his hands to Lex's shoulders. "Using your friend Clark here as a distraction was an excellent idea. Not a tactic I would have used, but it's the end results that count. You've turned into a man I can be proud of, Lex."

Lex was very aware of Clark out in the hall where he had excused himself , with a muffled explanation of calling his parents. Lex wondered if he would say good-bye before he left.

He wondered if his real father had gone through the mirror with Quick and left this changeling in his place.

"I suppose the part where I disowned LuthorCorp in preference to getting fucked by a mirror demon is something you're just going to let slide? Very generous, Dad." He felt himself reaching for the icy shell that he knew would protect him from this conversation, but he couldn't quite pull it together. Everything was too real. Too warm.

Lionel was looking at him with strangely soft eyes. "It was obviously a tactic to draw Quick out about his plans," Lionel said with a slow smile. "After all, I know you would never be so foolish as to actually reveal your relationship with a high school boy. Even if the age difference is only five years. This is still Kansas."

"There is no relationship." The cuts on Lex's back hurt, which was why his eyes were tearing up, obviously.

"Isn't that what I just said?" Lionel grinned with that insane energy that he had sometimes, that always made Lex want to skewer him on an epee. This was usually right after Lionel had won a match. "Which reminds me, fax the instructions for that herbal compound you came up with to head office R&D. We'll be able to have it tested and ready for production sooner than you can here. Although, with Quick gone, you might not need it; with him gone, they may have gone back to wherever it is they came from as well."

Lex just nodded and decided to wait until tomorrow to figure out whether he could trust this new Lionel. He'd have his own plant make up the compound. The original compound. Just in case.

Lionel finally let him go and adjusted his coat as he glanced around the dark study as if inventorying the glass and water damage. "Don't worry, I'll see myself out. If I were you, I'd just shut this room up. I'll send a restoration crew in on Tuesday. Give you a day in peace. Then, next week we'll discuss you taking a more active role on the LuthorCorp board."

And he left. Blew out of the mansion just as he'd blown into it a few hours before, with hardly an indication that he'd been held immobile most of the time by some whacked out sprite on meteor crack.

Lex swept debris off a corner of his desk and sat down next to the lamp, which had amazingly survived the evening and was still casting a halo of light around the ruins of the study. He could hear the water dripping in from the windows, although the rain seemed to have mostly passed on.

Lex heard sneakers crunching across the remains of the stained glass windows. He wondered if he should just give up and replace them with regular glass. Or maybe ply wood. Smallville was tough on windows.

"Hey."

Lex looked up slowly, taking in the muddy sneakers and worse jeans, and then the expanse of dirt-streaked skin from the waist up. "Do you need me to loan you a shirt?"

Clark shrugged. "Maybe a shower?"

"I thought you'd be heading home. You're not hurt, are you?" Lex was ready now. Play would now return to normal, and the rules said it was time for Clark to prevaricate and exit.

"Nah, I'm fine." Clark grinned. "Now, anyway. I told mom the storm damage here was bad. I told her you needed me to stay the night."

"On a school night?" Lex was stunned. This wasn't right. Clark was supposed to be blushing and shuffling feet right out the door so that they could proceed to sweep this whole night under the carpet and into a secret vault from which it would never escape.

"Yeah, well, I'll have to get up and leave early, but I figured I could at least make sure you're set tonight." Clark dropped his head and then looked up with a half smile as he reached back to pull something from his hip pocket. "And I wanted to give you this. Happy birthday."

Lex looked numbly at the small rectangular package that Clark was holding out. The lavender paper was frayed on the corners and there was a smear of dirt across the top where it had stuck out above his pocket.

"Go on, Lex, take it. I promise it won't-" Clark cut himself off and blushed as he realized what he was about to say.

"Bite, Clark?" Lex felt a grin spreading across his face. "Not like my last birthday present, huh?"

"Nothing like," Clark assured him with a relieved smile, which meant the rules were changing. Lex wondered how much? If they could joke about blood-sucking meteor mirrors, then what else?

So Lex reached out and took the small and surprisingly heavy package, opened it up and stared at the flat rectangle of metal. He'd only seen metal like that once before. He held it tightly in both hands as if afraid that it or he was going to fly apart any second.

Clark wasn't changing the rules. He was wiping them out.

"This is only one part of the presents," Clark said softly and settled next to Lex on the desk, his thigh warm against Lex's. "It was the easiest to wrap."

"And the other parts would consist of what?" Lex asked carefully without taking his eyes off the inscribed rectangle, as he felt his way along this new thing without rules.

"Some of it was too big to wrap; I'll take you over to the storm cellar to show you later. And some of it can't be wrapped, just told. And some of it's too new and I'm not sure what to do about it."

"If you tell me a little about it, I might be able to help you with the new things," he said, carefully leaning his shoulder into Clark until there was one heated line of touch running from their ankles to their shoulders, and Lex was thinking that this was the kind of flirting he hadn't done since high school.

"Well," Clark looked at him through his lashes with a small sly smile, "I think there's this guy that likes me."

Likes? Actually, Lex had never flirted like this.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah." The smile grew. "I think he fantasizes about me."

Lex blushed now, and he hated that because he knew it went all the way up to the crown of his head. "What was your first clue?" He managed to smirk, but couldn't quell the blush.

"The fact that he was willing to give up everything just to be with someone that looked like me, and then he gave that up to protect me." Clark was leaning in closer, and Lex could feel his breath on his cheek. "That was probably what gave it away."

Lex closed his eyes and gripped the edge of the desk because he thought he might fall off any second. "I guess that would do it."

And when he felt Clark's lips on his neck and then Clark's tongue tracing his ear he shuddered, before giving in to the questing mouth and turning to kiss Clark back.

They were sitting in a wrecked room where less than an hour before they had almost lost everything. There was water dripping all around them, the air was clammy and cold, and Lex was not entirely sure that this wasn't all the result of his finally going mad.

Still.

Lex pulled away, caught his breath, and smiled into uncertain green eyes.

"This is the best birthday present ever."

The End