Title: His Alibi

Author: danceswithgary (danceswithgary@yahoo.com)

Pairing: Clark/Lex

Rating: R for sexual situations and language

Warnings: m/m sex

Spoilers:  Vague references to SV canon seasons 1-4

Word Count: 20758

Archive: Fine, just let me know

Summary:  Falling for a beautiful man can be murder!  Remix of 1989 movie 'Her Alibi'.

Standard Disclaimer:  I do not own any of the characters herein. The characters of Lex Luthor and Clark Kent as well as any supporting characters are the property of their creators and DC Comics. Gough/Millar Inc and the WB Network TV own Smallville.  Charlie Peter and Warner Brothers own 'Her Alibi.' Any deviations (or deviant behavior) from the originals, however, is mine.

Author's Notes:  This movie has always been a favorite of mine; I pull it out when I need something silly to cheer me up.  I hope my rewrite does the same for you.  I don't pretend to be an expert in either Smallville or DC canon.  I just picked the parts I like and took off from there into AU - in this case almost completely into AU land.  Feedback is both welcome and appreciated.

His Alibi

Prologue

Glancing back at the brightly painted tractor-trailer pulled to the side of the road, the small, thin redhead pushed his way into the tall rows of corn.  He had become bored while waiting for the flat tire to be changed and had decided to explore a bit.  Hearing a faint noise, he advanced until he entered a small clearing with what looked like a wooden cross in the center. 

"Help me..."  The noise was actually a weak cry issuing from a nearly naked figure tied to the crucifix as if offered for sacrifice, his chest splashed with crimson.

Backing away in fright, the boy had turned to run for help when his senses were overwhelmed with a screaming roar followed by a blistering, billowing cloud of glowing dust and stones.  Hell engulfed the boy and the crucified man.

@@@@@

Glancing back at the brightly painted tractor-trailer pulled to the side of the road, a pale, slim man pushed his way into the tall rows of corn.  He had become bored while waiting for the flat tire to be changed and had decided to explore a bit.  Hearing a faint noise, he advanced until he entered a small clearing with what looked like a wooden cross in the center. 

"Help me..."  The noise was actually a weak cry issuing from a nearly naked figure tied to the crucifix as if offered for sacrifice, his chest splashed with crimson, a brightly glowing gem suspended around his neck.

Overwhelmed with a feeling of deja vu, the shocked man ran his hand over his naked skull, unsure about his next action.  Making his decision, he quickly approached the cross and loosened the binding ropes. 

His body dropping awkwardly to the ground, the dark-haired boy crouched, gasping for breath.  Reaching up to his throat, he yanked the pendant off and tossed it away.  His breathing immediately eased and he stood, revealing his true dimensions.  Several inches taller than his rescuer, he displayed well-defined muscles under the S-shaped slash of red paint. 

Grasping the boy's arm, the man was disturbed by the electric quiver that ran between them, a rapid warm flush that called to him.  Tortured green eyes framed by impossibly thick lashes gazed into startled blue, then lowered as the boy muttered, "Thanks, I have to go," gathered up his clothing, and disappeared into the corn.

The man, his head gleaming in the moonlight, was alone; the only evidence of the surreal encounter the silver necklace with its faceted green stone.  Pocketing the necklace, he returned to his repaired vehicle and drove away.

Chapter 1

"But the lipstick-stained cigarette said this was no dream. So there was only one problem. If only he could... remember what she looked like?"  The quirkily dressed blonde reading from a handful of coffee-stained papers looked up, her brows raised in puzzlement.  Her tablemate grimaced back. 

"You don't like it? 

"Well..."

Leaning forward, the handsome, but disheveled, man cut her off abruptly, "I know - I know - it's not that good."

Seated at a front window table in the small cafe, neither companion seemed interested in finishing their meal.  Putting the manuscript down, the woman concentrated her attention on her friend, noting the sad green eyes, rumpled shirt and heavy beard.  Reaching into her large bag, the woman pulled out a book and handed it across the table.

"I re-read this last night. It has an edge that your new stuff just doesn't have."  She sighed, "I'm not going to lie to you Clark - the publishers are getting antsy.  You need a bestseller and you need it soon."

Shrugging his shoulders as he took the book, the dark-haired man scowled and retorted, "I'm going through a dry spell. 

"Of course." was the sympathetic response.

"These things happen to writers.  How long's it been? Two years?"

Shaking her head as she picked up her coffee, his friend replied flatly, "Four."

Slumping in dismay, Clark ran his large hand through his curls, leaving them even more disordered. "Four!  Damn! Damn... Chloe, I'm researching all the time. I just can't come up with any new crimes."

Chloe brought her attention back from the attractive waiter re-filling her cup and sarcastically offered, "Get married again, you'll think of crimes you never knew existed."

"The last thing I need is to get involved with another woman."

"You haven't been with anyone, man or woman, since Lana."

"That's not true, of course I have." Clark's monotone wasn't convincing as he flipped open the book and riffled through the pages.

"Forget Lana, she left you!"

"Thanks for reminding me Chloe."

"That's OK Clark.  My God, it must have been so humiliating, her leaving you for a literary critic."  Chloe winced when she remembered the title of the book she had just handed to him, 'Death of a Critic'.

"Why would you think that?" was the sarcastic rejoinder.

Returning to her previous suggestion, Chloe flipped her chin towards the waiter who had bent over to retrieve some clean flatware from a nearby cart.  "This is what you need."

"What I need is a story!"

"So, sleep with him and take notes. Uh, young man..."  Chloe signaled the waiter who then approached their table.  "Now go for it.  Go on," she whispered.

Clark surrendered.  "Hi, my name's Clark.  I wrote this."  He held up the novel.

The waiter smiled at him. "Hi, my name's Christian, and I wrote this."  He handed Clark the check and walked away.

Clark just looked at Chloe with a silent "I told you so" as he dropped the book on the table.

Chapter 2

Clark carried his coffee mug up the stairs and into his study.  He sat down in the sun at his old desk and pulled his laptop forward.  Turning it on, he brought his latest document up and frowned at it, fingering his beard. 

Chloe was right.  His writing had been missing something for years.  He thought the 'New York Times' critic put it best,

     //'Kent's characters seem to have lost their humanity. While his early

      mystery novels showed promise with grit beneath the satire, his later

      work is facile and predictable.  Peter Swift solves crime by unbelievable

      physical feats.'//

Clark supposed the original 'grit' was due to his time in Metropolis. He had managed to write his first five bestsellers in-between tracking down headlines and his night patrols, using his observations of the human condition.  After the divorce, he abandoned Metropolis and withdrew to his hometown of Smallville to lick his wounds and simply concentrate on writing.

While Clark didn't miss the newspaper, he sometimes felt guilty about leaving behind his alter ego.  'The Guardian' was born during Clark's first year at Metropolis University when he started rescuing his fellow students from danger.  Clark found using his speed, strength, enhanced vision and hearing was second nature after the numerous times he had to protect his friends and neighbors from Smallville meteor mutants. 

After twelve long years, he had finally abandoned his vigilante efforts. His attempts to save Metropolis citizens from injury and crime were not welcomed by either the city government or law enforcement agencies.  The newspapers began to decry the property damage and injuries sustained during his rescues more often than they praised his heroism.  Without anyone to champion his efforts, it was time to retreat.

"'Characters have lost their humanity'."  Clark's mouth twisted wryly as he muttered at the screen displaying his latest efforts, "I guess that could be a fair criticism considering the author isn't human. The old adage to 'write what you know' certainly doesn't apply in this case."

Lost in the past, Clark recalled how he had actually believed himself another Smallville mutant until his parents' deaths in his senior year of high school.  He hadn't just inherited the farm with all its debts, they had also left him a letter telling of his arrival in the meteor storm, a puzzling metal tablet and the spaceship they had hidden in the root cellar for fifteen years.  The ship's AI cleared up some of the questions he had struggled with most of his life, but left others still unanswered.  He rarely visited the ship, still stored in the root cellar, not wanting the reminder that he was the only survivor of the planet Krypton.

Thirty-nine years old, twice orphaned, divorced, disillusioned. Looking like a man in his early twenties made it especially hard to maintain friendships when people started to notice he wasn't aging.  It was one of the reasons his wife left him, but not the only one.  Only Lana, Chloe and Pete Ross knew his secret and they had sometimes suffered because of it.  He understood he was too isolated.  Maybe he simply needed a reminder of human limitations, human pain. Clark knew one way he could become 'human', but he really didn't want to wander around with green kryptonite in his hand waiting for a convenient bolt of lightning.  He would have to visit the AI to see if it had any alternatives. 

Reaching his decision, Clark advanced a single finger, depressing the Delete key.  He contemplated the "Are you sure you want to delete this file?" message and finally typed 'Yes'.  The message was repeated, and Clark typed 'Yes, Goddammit!'  The file disappeared.

Chapter 3

"Freeze buddy!  Place your hands on your head and turn around slowly."

The slender male surveyed the narrow alley he had ducked into and realized it was a dead end.  Dropping his leather case, he laced his fingers together and placed them atop his head where they slipped a little.  There was no hair there to absorb the sweat from his recent run. Slowly he turned to face the two Metropolis police detectives behind him.

One of the detectives holstered his gun while his female partner covered his advance towards their suspect.  Grabbing his collar, the detective forced the man face-first against a nearby wall and slid both hands over his body, searching for weapons.  Pulling out his wallet, the detective handcuffed him and turned him back around.

After looking at the restrained man's identification, the detective spoke.

"Alexei Ialuthovic?"

"Da."

"We're taking you in for questioning.  You're a suspect in the murder of one Victoria Hardwick.  You have the right..."

While the detective rattled off his Miranda rights, his suspect tried to decide where he had made a mistake.  Had he been seen leaving the apartment?  He was sure they wouldn't find any evidence there, he had been careful not to touch anything without gloves.    

"...do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?"

The slender man just shook his head at the detective.  He needed time to think and pretending he couldn't speak English might work. "Nu, Romanes."

"Great, just great."

Chapter 4

"Case 234-65A, State of Kansas vs. Richard Ryan"

The public defender stood in front of the judge attempting to convince her that his client had never used drugs so how could he be guilty of selling them.  Conceding to possession charges, the struggling attorney then tried to get the assault charges dismissed.

At the back of the courtroom, a tall, well-built man in sunglasses entered attempting to be unobtrusive despite his size.  Sliding into the last row of benches, he leaned forward to whisper a greeting to the group of elderly men and women seated in front of him.

"Rose, Eleanor, Harry, how are you?"

"Clark, good to see you, it's been forever!" 

"You look tired, have a liverwurst sandwich."

"No thanks Eleanor, I'm not hungry."  

"Look, here comes Roger." 

"How'd it go Roger?"

The public defender stopped to talk to the observers as he followed his client out.  "It went just as Rose predicted, felony possession and she dropped the assault charges."

Rose nudged Harry, "That'll be five bucks," then turned to Clark.  "How's the new book coming?  Hey, is that a new watch?"

"Yeah, I just got it the other day.  I need to find a new story.  What's happening?"

Harry started listing the day's cases.  "There's a drug case down the hall, a kidnapping on the second floor and a big malpractice on the top floor..."

Rose interrupted, "Stick to the murders, they're the cream."

As the cases proceeded, the group issued their predictions of pleas, bail amounts and guilt vs. innocence with surprising accuracy.  Clark absently traced the golden face of the watch he wore as he tried to pick up the same clues that the aged experts used in their speculations.

Suddenly, Clark's attention was drawn to the door where a stunningly beautiful man had just entered.

He straightened up from his habitual slouch, removed his sunglasses and gasped, "Who is that?"

Clark stared as the slim figure surveyed the room.  He seemed slender next to the bulky detective escorting him into the courtroom, but Clark estimated his height to be at least 6 feet and the loose sapphire knit shirt and fitted black jeans did not disguise his well-toned body.  Regal head held high, intense blue eyes alert for any movement, his face was impassive under the scrutiny of the court as he advanced towards the judge.  His movements reminded Clark of a panther, his soft leather boots making no sound.  Clark could detect no flaws in the pale skin unconcealed by any hair.  Despite his stoic appearance, he seemed to carry a hint of distress around his eyes.

"That must be the guy Mason told us about."  "They say he killed a woman."

"Case 275-63C, State of Kansas vs. Alexei Ialuthovic"

"Him? How could he kill anybody?"  Clark was completely fascinated as he waited for the answer.

Rose filled Clark in, "Stabbed her through the heart once with a nine-inch pair of scissors."

"He'll go to prison," said Clark in dismay.

"A major drawback when you kill someone," agreed Rose.  "Now listen."

A new public defender stood next to the prisoner and addressed the judge.

"Your Honor, my client doesn't speak very much English."

"Guilty or not guilty?"

"Your Honor, I'm requesting a 24-hour continuance so I may talk with my client through a Romanian interpreter."

"Granted, Mr. Tiptree. Next."

Fascinated, Clark began to make notes.

Chapter 5

Clark perched on his desk chair, feverishly typing the opening of his latest book.

     //Chapter 1 

     The tough heart of private eye Peter Swift turned to molten lava when

     he saw him in the courtroom.  He had the face of an angel, noble,

     ethereal...

     ... he wondered what he would look like without his shirt...//

This was a definite change from his earlier writing where his protagonist, Peter Swift, was unmistakably straight.  Clark had dated both sexes in the past, but he had never felt such an intense yearning for anyone before today.  He needed to transform that ache into words, to share it with his readers.  Flipping through his notebook to review his scribblings, he hissed through his teeth and thrust his index finger in his mouth.  He pulled it out for inspection. "God, I hate paper cuts."

@@@@@

In the interrogation room, a young female Assistant DA, one of the arresting detectives and the public defender were attempting to question the suspect. 

"We know Alexei Ialuthovic has a valid Romanian passport, but that is about all we know.  It says he's 28 and has no distinguishing marks and hair color is useless."

The Assistant DA stood in front of Alexei and tried again, "We, uh, we want to help you. You don't understand a word I'm saying do you?  Would you like to confess?  In lieu of that, would you like to father my children?"

Detective Lane stalked over, "Careful Jessie, the dead woman was probably all over him too."

"What a way to go, Lois."

The door to the room opened and two men walked in followed by an officer.  The elder was cadaverous-looking and definitely in charge, the other an obvious subordinate.  The prisoner's eyes widened slightly and he shifted on the chair, but otherwise appeared unaffected. 

The assistant DA made the introductions.  "Mr. Ianescu, Mr. Kenorkov, this is Detective Lois Lane, the defendant's attorney Mr. Tiptree, and I'm the assistant DA, Jessica Bennett.  The prisoner is Alexei Ialuthovic."

Ianescu immediately started speaking in English with a heavy accent.  "I am told you will not release him to Romanian government."

The Assistant DA stepped up, "Sorry comrade, no can do."

"But the victim was Romanian citizen."

The prisoner was obviously following the conversation, eyes shifting between their faces as they spoke.

"Well, the victim made the mistake of getting killed on American soil.  The DA's going to try the case here."

"I will talk to the prisoner?"

"Be my guest."

Advancing to stand directly in front of Alexei, the elder Romanian spat out several bitter-sounding phrases.  Raising his chin, Alexei bit out three short words, obviously rude.  After another short exchange, Alexei pushed himself up and attempted to attack the two men despite his restraints.  Pushing Alexei back into the chair, the detective asked, "What did you say?"

"He was begging for our assistance," sneered the skeletal diplomat. Spitting out a final phrase, he signaled his assistant and both left the room without looking back.

Lois turned to Jessie.  "What was that all about?"

"I don't know.  Maybe that's how they say goodbye in Romania."

Chapter 6

He had to see him.  After 30 hurried pages, his typing had halted - the well of inspiration dry yet again.  Clark knew if he could just see, maybe even talk to his muse, the words he needed would return.  Of course, additional material for his fantasy life would be a bonus.  He had *really* enjoyed his shower this morning.

A disguise was needed, something that would allow him to see the prisoner without arousing suspicion.  Recalling the research he had done for his second novel, ‘A Dying Habit', he located what he needed in the back of a closet. Clothing addressed, Clark regarded his image in the mirror.  The beard could stay, it added at least 10 years to his appearance.  The hair was a little long, but he thought it would pass, especially if he added some grey highlights to it and the beard.   Now he just needed an English-to-Romanian dictionary.

@@@@@

Clark waited patiently at the jail entrance as a guard ran a metal detector over his body.  When an alert sounded, he pulled a large crucifix from his pocket for the guard's inspection.  Nodding, the guard allowed him to proceed.  As Clark walked down the echoing halls following a rather overweight female guard, he mentally composed the next paragraphs of his novel.

    //...Swift had penetrated enemy headquarters, his mastery of disguise

     was legendary.  Was this a trick, were they actually aware of his brazen

     plan?  Swift suspected this group of thugs were leading him into a trap.

     The nubile Scandinavian guard hurled the door open and he was flung

     inside....//

@@@@@

He was frustrated.  Escorted to this visiting room, the guard left without explanation.  They had no time to waste on prisoners who didn't speak English.  Left alone, he ran through all the possible scenarios in his head, waiting until something, anything, happened.  After recognizing Edge's men in the interrogation room, pretending to be Romanian diplomats, he felt vulnerable even while surrounded by the police. 

Hearing the door open, he turned from the barred window.  Seeing a set of broad shoulders in a dark suit speaking to the guard, he tensed, fearing a return of the fake Romanian diplomats.  He didn't relax until the figure faced him, revealing a Roman collar.

As the door closed the priest advanced, pulling a small battered book from an inside pocket.

"Alexei Ialuthovic?"

He nodded as he surveyed his visitor.  It was a shame this one was a priest, he reflected.  The man really was quite attractive and built...well, just as he preferred.

"I am Father Flanigan. Nu vorbesc bine romaneste."

"No," he agreed silently, "You don't speak Romanian well."

"Nota de plata, va rog." 

Puzzled, he raised his eyebrows.  The priest wanted the check?  The poor man really needed help with that phrasebook.

"Pot sa folosesc sampon dumneavoastra?"

That sentence finally broke through his composure.  Laughing, he asked the priest in English with a slight accent, "Do you really want to use my phone's shampoo?"

Blushing, the priest thrust the book back into the pocket and sighed in relief. 

"You do speak English."

"Yes, Father, but I didn't ask for a priest."  He walked back to the window and resumed gazing out.

Coming closer, the priest replied, "I visit all the prisoners who might need solace, my son."

Turning to look at the priest, he shook his head.  "Father, I'm from a Communist country. We have no religion."

Clark reached out and extracted the silver chain exposed at the neckline of the prisoner's shirt.  Instead of the cross or religious medal he was expecting, it was a small green gemstone.  Recognizing it as kryptonite, Clark reeled back, expecting to feel the familiar nausea and weakness.  Stopped short in surprise, a glance at the watch provided the reason.  Continuing to examine the necklace more closely, Clark enjoyed the pleasant warmth advancing through his body as his large hand lightly touched the pale skin underneath.

"Where did you get this?"

Standing close to the priest, he realized that he was an imposter.  The man currently looming over him was wearing stage makeup and the gray streaking his hair was artificial.  Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, he started to speak when he felt a radiating shock across his skin.  It originated where the back of the imposter's hand lightly touched his throat while examining the necklace.  It felt oddly familiar and he searched the bright green eyes watching his for a clue.  They too, reminded him of something in the past, but he was unable retrieve the memory.

Closing his eyes for a moment to break the connection, the slim man reluctantly pulled away from the source of that almost irresistible sensation and tucked the pendant back inside his shirt.  "I picked it up in a field over twenty years ago.  I wear it sometimes as a good luck charm." 

Deciding to play along until he could figure out why the man was here, he continued," I've changed my mind, Father.  I would like to confess."  Pulling a chair out from the interview table, he sat down.

Clark needed to touch that unbelievably smooth skin again, to bend his head and trace those lips, the upper bisected by a small scar and crying out for tasting slowly and thoroughly with his tongue.  There were no traces of hair on the pale smooth skull and soft cheeks; could the rest of the slender body be the same?  Clark was glad the priest's coat concealed the result of those thoughts.

Crossing to the table, Clark sat down across from the object of his unholy desires.  "And how would you like to begin, Alexei?"

"Please, call me Lex.  To start, I've had impure thoughts."  Lex's mouth quirked, suppressing his laughter at the raised eyebrows across from him.

"Y-Yes?  Were they thoughts of anyone in particular or just random lust?"

"Just, ah, random?"

"Yes, my son."

"And I de..de.."

"Deceased?  Destroyed?"

"No, de.."

"Decapitated?"

"No, despaired."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"There's nothing else you want to tell me?"

Lex just shook his head, trying not to laugh aloud.

"Take your time. You didn't maybe cheat at cards or steal anything? No insider trading?" 

Lex shook his head again.

"Murder anybody?"

Lex's humor disappeared and he replied dully, "I have nothing more to confess."

Not detecting the change in the atmosphere, Clark flashed a grin.  'I can't tell you how happy that makes me feel."

Dazzled by the smile, Lex absently asked, "What about my penance?"

"What?"

"My penance?"

Flustered, Clark sketched a rapid sign of the cross, stretched forward to place his hand on Lex's head and muttered, "You're forgiven," with his eyes closed.  A wave of desire crashed over him and he wanted to span Lex's head with both hands, caressing the ivory silk of the fragile orb.  He forced himself to release Lex as the waiting guard tapped on the door, indicating his time was up. 

Clark stood and moved toward the door.  Spinning back, he dropped his eyes and shuffled his feet before he spoke. "Look, it's my turn to confess."

"But, I'm not a priest."

"Well, neither am I."  Clark blushed as he raised his head, waiting for Lex's reaction.

Lex pushed himself up from the table, angry.  "You work for the police."

"No, I don't."

"Who, then? ...is it Edge?"

Clark protested, "I don't work for anybody."

Lex paced as he tried to think. He couldn't risk his friends' lives. "I don't understand."

"Well, I was in court the other day when you were arraigned and I'd like to help you."

Puzzled, Lex stared at Clark.  "How, why?"

Clark said confidently, "I can give you an alibi."

"Why are you doing this?"

Clark shrugged.  "I don't know...but I'm your only hope."

Intrigued, Lex stepped closer.  "So, what is this alibi?"

Chapter 7

"We're having an affair."

Clark turned back from the window of the Assistant DA's office and waited for her reaction.

Detective Lane sneered, "Since when!"

Calmly, Clark replied, "Since last week, he's been with me.  I told Chloe about him last week."

Detective Lane turned to Clark's friend, "Is that right?"

Chloe grimaced, "That's right."

Pacing, Lane snarled in frustration.  "And where was this...affair?"

"At my place, in Smallville."

"How'd you meet him?"

Clark spoke to the Assistant DA, "I already told them this, this morning.  I met him at a lecture I was giving..."

"Bullshit!" Lane blurted out.

Chloe interjected, "Well actually, it was a brilliant analysis of the American detective novel from Poe to Chandler."

"Not the lecture you twit, the meeting.  There was no meeting, not then!"

Clark looked to his friend for confirmation.  "Didn't I meet Lex after the lecture, Chloe?"

Chloe nodded, "I was there...brilliant analysis of the American detective novel from Poe to Chandler."

Lane turned to the Assistant DA, "Are you listening to this crap?"

Pulling the detective outside of the office and closing the door, the Assistant DA tried to keep her voice low.  "We're going to have to take this one real seriously, Lois."

"What!"

"We're only running five years behind in the murder cases as it is."

"You aren't really buying his bullshit, are you?  He's lying!"

"And why would he do that?"

"Are you blind?  Did you take a look at our suspect?"

"The case against him isn't exactly conclusive.  No one actually saw him do ..."

"We've gotten convictions on less evidence.  Just because he's some kind of looker doesn't mean..."

"Lois, we've got two solid citizens in there with an alibi.  Why in the hell would they make it up?"

Watching the confrontation outside the office, Chloe turned to Clark and asked, "Do you think they'll put me in one of those prisons for executives?"

@@@@@

"...wallet containing $314.00, passport, folder containing 16 pages of legal papers, black driving gloves...makeup case?  Lex signed for his possessions, placing his spare clothes, paperwork and 'makeup case' into the soft-sided leather case and slinging it over his shoulder.  The guard escorted Lex to the entrance of the jail and waited for the gate to open.  Lex stepped through and took a quick look around for any observers before setting off down the street.  Quickly exiting his car as he saw Lex pass, Clark presented him with a bouquet of flowers.  "Hi, these are for you."

"Thank you."  Grabbing the flowers, Lex stalked past Clark not even looking at him and continued down the street.

"Where are you going?  You have to come with me!"  Clark pushed his way through the crowd, overtook the slim man and then stood in front of him, forcing him to stop.

Lex angrily pushed by him, "No."

Clark grabbed him by the arm, pulling Lex back to face him.  "We agreed.  This alibi has to be supported.  I could go to jail for this," he whispered frantically.

Still refusing to look at Clark, Lex glanced across the street, his eyes widening.  Standing at the next corner, he recognized one of the men he had seen at Victoria's apartment.  Holding yet another bouquet of flowers, the thug lowered them to show Lex the gun he was concealing.  Suddenly, Lex remembered why he chose to go with the police peacefully the day of the murder.

"You're right...you're right, let's go."  Lex reversed his direction and slid into Clark's waiting Porsche.

A puzzled Clark followed Lex shrugging, "O...K..."

Chapter 8

Driving along the rural highway to Smallville, top down on the Porsche, Clark attempted to start a conversation.  Paying little attention to the familiar route, he focused on his passenger.

"Do you have many friends here?"

Lex wasn't interested in sharing too much information with this stranger.  He was still unsure of his motives, not willing to trust Clark too far.

"No."

"What do you do in your spare time?"

"Nothing."

"Sounds like fun." Clark couldn't resist a sarcastic response.

Clark's cell phone rang and he picked it up.  "Hello?"

"Is he with you?"

Clark recognized Chloe's voice.  "Yes, and I'm very happy about it."

"Thank God, I never thought this would work.  Now Clark, do me a favor, get back to your computer.  I've been warned that if this book doesn't sell, I'm out."

"OK Chloe, I'm on it."

While Clark was on the phone, Lex had taken the opportunity to inspect his rescuer.  The beard was gone, quite recently based on the fresh nick under his chin.  He was glad to see the soft waves of hair restored to glossy black.  As Clark glanced at him, Lex felt a shiver of recognition, the green gaze teasing at his memory yet again.  Where had he seen him before?  Watching Clark put the phone down between the seats, Lex decided he could try to be a little friendlier, as long as he kept up his pretense of limited English. 

"What do you do?"

Clark chuckled, "I write books."

"What kind of books?"

"Mystery novels, thrillers."

"Oh.'

"You're not impressed."

Lex shook his head, "No, I read only serious books."

Clark flashed him a sheepish grin as he pulled through the farm's gate and stopped in front of the old farmhouse.

"You must be a very rich American to have such a big house and so much land!"

"Not really, but I do OK."

Clark regarded the house he grew up in, his refuge.  He had added on several rooms, doing the work himself on weekends and taking advantage of his speed and strength while he was alone.  The in-ground pool and roomy patio were sheer self-indulgence, catering to his love of the sun.  The barn was still there, relatively unchanged, although the cows were long gone.  Two horses shared quarters, available for the occasional ride. Often lonely in his isolated farm, he was looking forward to sharing his life with someone the next few days.

Leading Lex into the house, quickly pointed out the kitchen, laundry room and downstairs half-bath. Preceding Lex up the stairs, Clark showed him into one of the guest rooms.

"The bathroom's down the hall, extra towels in the closet. I'll bring you some sweats and t-shirts you can borrow if you want."  Clark walked backwards out of the room.  "My room is right across from yours in case you need anything like extra hangers, blankets..."  Lex nodded and closed the door in the middle of Clark's rambling, "...unbridled passion..."

Chapter 9

      //Despite the dozens of ravishing creatures begging to be part of his

      life, Swift had lived alone since ... his wife had been incinerated

      several years before when the microwave went berserk during a

      thunderstorm.  But now, a stranger was living with him, an exotic

      sensual creature whose obvious passion for Swift was barely contained

      beneath the cool facade.//

"What is this?"

Lex pointed to the bowl in front of him.  He and Clark were in the dining room, sharing a light dinner.

Clark wrinkled his nose and quipped, "I call it soup."

"Oh, soap."

"Soup!"  Clark toned down his voice. "May I ask you a question?"

"It is not personal I hope?"

"No...no, so what's the population of Romania?"

"Um...22 million, eight hundred and 32 thousand."

"Are you married?"

"And Romania is 91 thousand and 700 square miles."

Clark grinned, appreciating the humor.  Lex, unable to resist, returned a small smile before resuming his meal.

     //As the Japanese servants unobtrusively cleared away the remnants of

     Swift's gourmet meal, he and his guest exchanged sparkling repartee. 

     His turn of phrase clearly had him entranced.  Yet perceptive as

     always, Swift knew that he needed him.  He'd be as helpless as a

     lost child.//

Lex cleared the table while Clark loaded the dishwasher.  Watching Lex replace some unused utensils, he was startled as Lex pulled a sharp knife from the block on the counter, whirled and threw.  Clark flinched as the knife flew over his shoulder and embedded itself in the wall behind him.  Eyes wide in shock, Clark spun to see the knife skewering a large beetle. 

"Damn!"

Lex shuddered, "I do not like bugs."

"Well neither do I...," Clark retorted as he pulled the knife, with beetle, from the wall.  "...but I usually just scream at them and hit them with a rolled-up copy of 'Sports Illustrated'.  How'd you do that?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Lex obviously was trying to come up with something believable. "Um...I don't know it was just a..."

Looking from the knife to Lex, Clark prompted, "Instinct?"

"Yes. Instinct." Lex nodded his head in grateful agreement. "I'm tired now. I'm going to go to bed."  With a final lingering survey of Clark's form, he left the kitchen and headed upstairs.

Clark continued to study the knife, bug still attached.  After years of offering implausible excuses for impossible rescues using too much strength or speed, he could recognize an evasion when he heard it.  He was glad Lex hadn't missed; he could have been badly hurt.  He hadn't even reacted until it was too late.  On the other hand, had he really missed after all...?

The doorbell rang.  Still carrying the bug-splattered knife, Clark opened the door to Detective Lane.

"Detective."

Lane walked in and pointing to the knife remarked, "That's not a bad idea.  You may need it for more than just bugs."  She advanced into the room, scanning the area.

"What do you want, Detective?"  Exasperated, Clark shook the knife over the plant by the door, finally dislodging the beetle, and placed the knife in his pocket.

"I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd check in on you."

Clark snapped, "Thoughtful of you, but as you can see, everything is fine."

Walking to the fireplace, Lane turned to Clark. "Very classy place you have here.  My kind of house."

"Thanks."

"You know something occurred to me today..."

"Did it.", Clark replied flatly.

"Yeah, what if he's guilty?"

"He's innocent!"

"OK, fine.  But just for the sake of argument, let's say you're lying.  Let's say you didn't have an affair with him.  Let's say you never even met him until after the crime.  Consider the position that puts you in."

Clark shrugged.  "I'm a perjurer?"

"Not just that."

Clark waited for her to continue.  "What."

Picking up one of Clark's books from the mantle, she waved it at him. "Well, you're the mystery writer.  I thought you would figure that out for yourself. 

"What!"

"While you're alive there's always a chance you could rescind your phony alibi and send him back to jail and he knows that."  She tossed the book onto a nearby table and moved closer to where Clark stood, his brow furrowed as he listened.  "But if you die before you rescind your alibi, it'd stand forever.  His freedom would be practically guaranteed by your death."

Clark pulled the knife back out of his pocket and set it down carefully next to the book.  "It doesn't matter.  He's innocent."

Lane retreated in the face of Clark's certainty. "Well, I just thought I'd tell you that."

"Well, I'm glad you shared that with me, Detective.  Now did you want to tell me anything else?  Clark returned to the front door and held it open for her.  Lane picked the book back up before she followed.  "Do you mind if I borrow this?  I see it's one of yours."

"Be my guest. I'm going to bed."

"Alone?"

"Yes! Alone!

Stopping in front of Clark, Lane retorted, "Thought you were having an affair?"

"Oh...I have a headache."

On the way out the door, her final words were, 'I hope you have a good lock on your bedroom door. Safe dreams, pal."  Clark closed the door firmly and set the alarm.

@@@@@

     //The cop turned and left, but his insinuations hung in the air like a

     bad smell.  It was absurd, but...could he be right?  What if he was a

     killer and he was the only thing standing in the way of his freedom?//

Clark looked up from his notebook and frowned at his closed bedroom door.

     //He tried to relieve the tension with a strenuous workout, but even the

     200 extra one-arm pushups did nothing to calm him.  Do any of us, Swift

     wondered, really know the person we fall in love with?//

Hearing a noise, Clark set the notebook aside, tiptoed to the door and turned the key in the lock.  He shook his head at his foolishness and unlocked the door.  He really missed his x-ray vision that would have let him see where Lex was at any time.  That thought lead to contemplating Lex in the shower...he stopped himself, ashamed at even thinking about taking advantage of his guest.  He walked back to the bed, but halfway there he changed his mind again.  He really needed to remember he wasn't invulnerable anymore.

He suddenly decided he needed to block the door.  Grasping the armoire next to his window, he dragged it across to the door.  It was not a silent exercise as he couldn't lift it all the way and it left gouges in the floor.  He locked the door again and then as he maneuvered the large piece of furniture into place, there was a knock on the door.  "Clark?"

A quiet "Shit," and then Clark raised his voice, "Just a second!"  He moved the armoire to the side of the door.  "Just a second, I'm coming!"  Realizing he was only wearing boxers, he struggled into his robe, managing to tear one sleeve off in his hurry.  'I'm coming, just a second..."  He only just managed to close the robe and tie it shut as he unlocked the door and opened it.

Breathing heavily, sweat running down his face, Clark looked at Lex framed in the doorway.  Wearing just a navy robe that accented his pale skin while deepening the blue of his eyes, he moved letting it gap open enough to reveal his smooth chest, adorned with nothing but a few freckles. His feet were bare and his slender yet muscular legs exposed to the knee.  Clark was glad he had put on his own robe, hoping it masked his instantaneous reaction to a nearly naked Lex in his room. 

"Hi," he managed to gasp out, "I was just exercising."  He wondered how he was managing to remain standing with all of his blood rushing from the big head to the little head.

Lex peered around the room, noting the items Clark had knocked over in his haste to block the door.  "Hmm. It looks more like you are moving furniture."

Clark nodded, "That's how I exercise. Some people ride bicycles, some people jog. I move furniture."

Lex laughed, "You're a very odd man."

"I take it that's a compliment?"  Clark's mouth quirked as he tacitly acknowledged how silly his behavior and excuses appeared.

"No...I wanted to thank for everything you have done for me."

"That's OK, anytime you're locked up..."

Stepping closer, Lex tilted his head up to deposit a kiss on Clark's cheek.  "Thank you."  He left and Clark just watched in bemusement as he walked across to his room and closed the door.  With a goofy smile in place, Clark closed his own door and then leaned against it with a sigh.

Back in his room, Lex removed the robe and unrolled his pants.  He grabbed his boots and few possessions and listened at the door.  Judging it safe, he opened it and crept downstairs.  As he reached the bottom, he heard the sounds of furniture moving in Clark's room again.  Lex chuckled to himself.  He almost regretted not being able to pursue the mystery that was Clark Kent.

Peering out the window before leaving the house, Lex watched as a black sedan drove slowly by the isolated location.  The odds of anyone being in the area at this time of night were slim and Lex had to assume they were probably after him.  Realizing he was safer here with Clark behind alarmed windows and doors, he stopped to pour a tumbler of scotch to take back to his room. He hoped he would be able to contact his friends the next day.  He was running out of time.

Chapter 10

One eye opened and Clark blearily tried to make sense of the numbers on the bedside clock.  Startled by the late hour, Clark extracted himself from his tangled sheets and stumbled into the bathroom, hoping a shower would revive him.  He had lain awake for hours, listening, until he finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.  Suddenly, he was a lot more sympathetic to the human addiction to caffeine.

Showered and dressed, Clark made his way downstairs and followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen.  Lex had obviously taken his words to heart and made himself at home, making coffee and even baking muffins.  Through the kitchen window, Clark spied Lex seated at the patio table, reading the newspaper and enjoying the country air.

Pouring a large mug of coffee, Clark was reaching for a muffin when he saw the message light on his answering machine.  He pressed the button realizing he must have slept right through the phone ringing.  He recognized Chloe's voice.

"Clark?  Are you there?  Pick up.  Where are you?  I couldn't reach you on your cell either.  I saw the paper and I'm worried.  Call me."

Automatically patting his pockets, Clark recalled he'd left the phone in the Porsche yesterday, too distracted by Lex's arrival to remember to pick it up.

Pete's message was next, "Clark man, are you there?  Talk to me man, you know it wasn't your fault.  You have got to cut yourself some slack.  Just call me OK, we'll work it out."

Clark was starting to get worried.  What had happened last night?

"Clark, this is Chloe again.  Please pick up!  What's going on?  Pete called me because he heard and you need to talk to one of us as soon as possible.  Call me!  Call Pete!"

The last message was abrupt.  "I'm on my way.  You'd better have a good reason for ignoring my messages.  I told Pete I'd call him when I get there."

Clark headed out to the patio to retrieve the newspaper, determined to find out what was causing all the anxiety.  Lex looked up from the financial section and smiled.  "Good morning."

"Hi.  Thanks for the coffee and muffins, they were great.  Do you have the front page?"

Lex shuffled through the pile of paper and produced the requested section.  He raised his brows in a silent question.  He saw Clark's face crumble as he read the headline, his hands trembling.  Clark gently returned the paper to the table and stumbled back into the house, mumbling, "I need to take a shower."

Lex stared after him.  His hair was still wet, why would he need another shower?  Turning the page so he could read whatever had upset Clark so badly, he saw '213 LIVES LOST IN CRASH OUTSIDE METROPOLIS!'  There was no list of names, so Lex was puzzled at Clark's distress.  Did he know someone was going to be on that plane?

Concerned, Lex lingered outside the bathroom listening, sure he heard sobs over the sound of the water.  He stood there debating, unsure that his presence would help, reluctant to abandon the man who had helped him.

"Clark?"  Lex tapped on the door and tried again a little louder, "Clark?  Are you OK?"

The shower shut off abruptly and Lex could hear Clark moving around.  A muffled "I'm fine" along with a few sniffles came back through the door.  Lex didn't want to embarrass Clark so he called back, "Just checking. I'll be downstairs."  As he walked back down, he heard a knock on the front door. 

Checking through the sidelights, Lex saw a petite blonde shifting impatiently from foot to foot as she waited.  She looked like she was in her late thirties and she was dressed in bohemian style.  Deciding she was probably harmless, Lex disabled the alarm and opened the door.

"Hi, you must be Lex. I'm Chloe Sullivan. Is Clark here?"  She pushed past him into the house and raised her voice.  "Clark, are you here?"

Clark shouted from the second floor, "Come up to my study!"

After a quick glance at Lex, Chloe proceeded up the stairs and down the hall to meet Clark.  They went into the study and closed the door behind them.  Waiting a few seconds, Lex followed and eavesdropped outside.

"...OK, but I was worried when you didn't answer the phone."

"I didn't mean to ignore you, Chloe, I just overslept and didn't hear it."

"Well, I can see by your eyes you've been crying..."

"Chloe..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know I'm not supposed to notice things like that, but it's pretty obvious. Let me help, you need to talk it out. What happened?  Were you just too late to help?"

A lengthy pause, then Clark stammered out, "N...no, that's wasn't it.  I just didn't hear them.  I didn't even know it happened until I saw the paper."

"I don't understand."

Standing outside the door, Lex was just as confused.  Was Clark referring to the plane crash?  Why would Chloe expect Clark would have heard 'them'?

"It's sort of complicated, Chloe.  I...I don't have my powers right now."

"Clark!  Are you OK, are you hurt?  There haven't been any lightning storms, how did it happen?  When did it happen?"

"I'm not hurt.  It's temporary...at least I'm pretty sure it is...the AI helped me.  But God...Chloe, I never thought people would end up dying because of it.  It's all my fault."

Lex was sure he heard Clark crying again, the sound muffled as if he was against someone's shoulder.  It surprised him how much he wanted to be the one who was comforting Clark.  He barely knew the man, yet he seemed to feel a connection unlike anything he had ever encountered before.

"Clark, don't do this to yourself again. You know you can't save everyone.  Yes, it's sad that they died, but you can't take responsibility. The last time you got this way you were no good to anyone.  Remember, that's why you're here instead of Metropolis, you were losing your perspective and killing yourself with guilt."  Chloe's soothing tones were slowly getting through to Clark and the sobs were becoming less frequent.

"Suppose you had lost your powers by accident instead of choosing to give them up?  Those people would have still died.  Would it be your fault then?"

"No..."

"OK, you think about that for a while.  Now, can you explain what the AI did?"

"I needed to be human, Chloe.  Sometimes I feel like I'm getting farther and farther away from the real world, or at least human reality.  I wasn't sure anymore if I felt the same as anyone else did when they smelled a flower or touched a friend.  What was it like to bump into something and get a bruise or to burn your tongue on a cup of coffee?  Did I really know what a kiss feels like? How could I write about life, even in my silly little novels, when everything I am is possibly different?  I just don't want to feel so alone anymore!"

"Clark, you are more human than a lot of people I deal with everyday and you're not alone.  You have me and Pete and ..."

He wasn't human?  Was Clark different like him, Lex wondered, or was Clark just having an existential crisis? 

"Acting human is one thing, Chloe, but I needed to feel human. I'm scared.  What if I'm never able to have a lasting relationship with anyone; never able find someone who can share my entire life and know all of me? Look at what happened with Lana."

"Lana. You were lucky you never told that bitch everything. I don't want to think what she would have done if you'd told her you weren't just a meteor mutant!  Oh Clark, I can't really argue with you on needing to feel human.  Only you can decide what you need to be happy.  So, what did the AI do?"

"It gave me this.  As long as I wear it against my skin, it suppresses my powers with gold kryptonite. The AI couldn't tell me exactly how long they'll be gone after I take it off though, it thought possibly as long as 24 hours."

Lex wished he could see what Clark was showing Chloe.  What or who was this AI, and powers...what kind of powers?  What was 'kryptonite'?  Lex was beginning to think he'd ended up with more questions than answers listening to the conversation.  Afraid they might come out and find him there, he went back downstairs to wait in the kitchen.  It was a good choice because a few minutes later, he heard them coming down.

"So I'll call Pete and let him know what happened.  You're going to be alright?"

"Yeah. I'm glad you came out. It helped to talk about it. I'll think about what you said and let you know if I change my mind."   Clark walked into the kitchen and seemed almost shocked at Lex's presence.  It was as if he'd forgotten Lex was there in his distress. 

Lex was relieved to see Clark was calmer although there was still some redness around his eyes and nose.  Oddly, it didn't detract from his appeal; instead, Lex felt the need to hold and protect him from whatever or whoever had hurt him.

"Oh, Lex!  Um, did you meet Chloe?  She's one of my best friends as well as my long-suffering editor."

"We met briefly.  I'm happy to officially make your acquaintance, Lex."  Chloe held out her hand in greeting.  She seemed much friendlier now that she had been able to talk to Clark.

Shaking Chloe's hand gently, Lex greeted her, "As am I.  Is there anything I can do to help?"

Smiling, Chloe shook her head.  "Nothing for me, I'm on my way back to Metropolis.  You'll have to work things out with Clark.  Well, I'm out of here."

Clark escorted Chloe to her car, giving her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before opening the door for her.  Looking up from her seat, she smiled, "Take care, Clark.  You deserve good things in your life."  She looked past Clark to Lex. "I hope you've managed to find one of them here. See you soon!"  With a wave, she was gone.

Chapter 11

Clark called Lex in from the patio for lunch.  As Lex sat down, Clark asked, "I should have checked before, but do you need any sun screen?  You've been outside all morning and I'd hate to see you sunburned."  Indeed, the thought of that perfect skin damaged disturbed Clark.

"No, it's no problem, I...I don't burn."

Lex had to stop himself from expanding on that.  He searched for something to distract Clark before he probed any further.  He placed the book he was holding down deliberately, hoping to attract Clark's attention. It worked.

"You're reading one of my books? I thought you were strictly Proust and Dostoevski?

"Yes. I couldn't seem to get to sleep last night and I knew this would help." 

Clark winced and then recovered with a smile.  "'Murder Becomes Her', my personal favorite. What'd you think?"

"It was ...how do you say..pr..."

"Profound?"

"No. It was not...it was per..."

"Perceptive?"

"No..."

"Perfect."  Clark was really trying.

" No...wait...perdictable."

Clark's face fell, "You mean predictable?"

"Yes, that is it!"

"I'm going into town."  Clark threw down his napkin and getting up, began to clear the table.

"Um, I will go with you? I need some...," waving at his borrowed clothes.

Lex smirked as Clark nodded and then stalked into the kitchen muttering "Predictable."

Mission accomplished. He was just too easy.

@@@@@

After backing his SUV out, Clark grabbed the controls for the garage door opener and started clicking.  His attempt left the door in a halfway position refusing to move any further.   Exasperated, Clark climbed back out of the vehicle, leaving it running in Park. He threw the controller down on his seat and watched as it slid the floor.

"Damn."

Yanking on the door didn't shift it, so Clark called to Lex, "Could you push that button again?" 

Lex fumbled for the controller on the floor.  Locating it, he pressed button multiple times with no success and shrugged his shoulders at Clark through the windshield.  Turning back to the door, Clark resumed pulling, unwilling to give up.  Suddenly, Clark heard the engine roar behind him and spun around just in time to jump onto the hood as the SUV surged forward.

Clark was jammed between the uncooperative door and the hood as the engine continued to race. "Remersh...remersh" was all Clark could get out with his face mashed flat against the windshield, directly in front of a shocked Lex.  Unable to look away from Clark, Lex scrambled across the seat so he could reverse as directed.  His arm dragged across several buttons on the dash, turning on the windshield wipers as well as dousing Clark with the washer fluid.  Throwing the vehicle in reverse, Lex floored the accelerator, releasing Clark.  He fell to the gravel driveway, soaking wet, scraping his hands and knees.

@@@@@

After the third shower of the day, Clark silently headed towards town, watching the road carefully.  Lex glanced sheepishly at Clark and noted a small cut by his eye, still sluggishly bleeding.  Gently reaching to wipe it away with his thumb, he then absently sucked off the blood.  Freezing as he realized how that must look to Clark, Lex hastened to apologize for the accident, almost forgetting his ruse of minimal English.

"I'm sorry, I must have moved the..."

Clark grumbled sardonically, dabbing at the cut with a tissue, "Gear shift. That's OK, accidents happen.  The destruction of Pompeii, the Titanic..."

"It is your fault anyway."

"Why is it my fault?"

"Because you get all panicked and make me nervous."

"Oh."  Clark failed to come up a cutting reply to that simple statement. The ride continued in silence. 

@@@@@

"Whoa, son.  You better watch where you're going - I might fall down and break!"  Clark chuckled as he caught the young boy who had just collided with him. After checking that the boy was unhurt and exchanging a greeting with the smiling mother, Clark looked around for Lex. He guessed he had headed for the registers with his selection of boxer briefs, socks, jeans and casual shirts.

"How about this one?  They don't make them any sharper."

A sales clerk's inquiry caught Clark's attention.  Peering over the shelf, he saw Lex and the clerk examining a knife. It was difficult to envision those graceful hands touching such a cruel-looking weapon.

"Here, feel that edge."

Lex tested the knife against the ball of his thumb before returning it.  "Yes, it is," he agreed.

@@@@@

     //The knife.  Why would he tell him nothing?  Swift had to find the truth

     for himself. That night he crept with leopard-like stealth to where he

     could observe him unnoticed.//

Clark carried the full metal trashcan towards the barn where it would be stored until the weekly pickup.  He stopped when he saw Lex through the window of his bedroom. He had left the curtains open and Clark could see him seated at the small desk. Lex was looking into a small hand mirror, his face appearing paler than usual as he drew a geometric pattern around his right eye with what looked like a black crayon. 

     //What strange exotic ritual was he watching?  He tightened his grip on

     the pistol in his hand.//

Caught up in his internal dialogue, Clark closed his own grip on the can's broken handle and cut himself.  Jerking in surprise, he lost his balance falling backwards down a small incline onto the patio.  Unable to stop himself, he rolled along with the trashcan until they both ended up in the pool.  The bedroom light went out and Lex came to the window to see what caused the crash.  He couldn't see anything to be concerned about, so he shrugged and returned to the desk.

Chapter 12

     //From the bedroom of the otherwise innocent-looking bungalow, he

    stared coldly into the darkness, like a primeval predator surveying his

    prey. And slowly, irreversibly, he closed the shutters.//

Tucked into the sofa in Clark's study, Chloe finished reading Clark's latest pages and looked up.  "He did that?" she whispered, gesturing over her shoulder towards Lex's room. 

"Of course not, it's fiction."  Clark couldn't stand still, almost vibrating in place as he waited for Chloe's opinion.

"You know, I never liked this situation between you and him, it's very dicey."

"You want me to quit writing this book?"

"No, no, no.  Of course not, don't give up on the book."

"So you like it?"

"Very promising.  Of course, this priest stuff is totally unbelievable.  Only a cretin would do something as stupid as that..."

Clark looked away in chagrin.

"...but very inventive.  So what happens next?"

"I'm not sure."

"I thought you planned out your stories before you started writing?"

"Usually, but this one's different. I'm going day-to-day on this one."

Chloe struggled up from the overstuffed sofa spilling the unbound manuscript over the floor.  "Geez, I'm sorry! If it's any consolation, this is your best work in years."

Looking up from where he knelt to gather up the pages, Clark grinned, "I know."

"Are they going to have an affair?"

Clark replied softly, "I don't know.  I hope so."

Chloe thought for a moment.  "Where is he now?"

"I don't know. Out somewhere?"

Looking out of the study's window, Chloe mused, "Buying more weapons I suppose..."

@@@@@

Standing at a pay phone in the mall, Lex was arguing in a mix of English and Romanian.

"That's right, I was arestat.  The politia caught me after I left Victoria's camera."

"Tell Dominic find out all you can about someone. Kent, Clark Kent.  That's right, K-E-N-T.  Have him send it along with whatever he's gotten on Edge."

"How much longer? Eu raman trei nopti, maybe more."

"Stai! I'm OK and I'll call you to pick me up when it's safe."

"I have to go, pe curand."

Lex hung up, unsettled by the argument.  He understood Nicolae's concern, but the sale would take place as planned, despite Edge's attempt to take over.  By staying away, Lex was keeping Nicolae and the rest of them safe until everything was in place.  Victoria's murder was unfortunate but it kept Edge from moving forward too quickly.  He had been lucky he'd taken his Romanian identification with him to the aborted meeting. It would have been much more difficult to get released from police custody as the American, Lex Luthor.

A heavy hand came down on his shoulder.  Whirling, Lex kneed his attacker and then brought his fists down on his neck as he bent over in pain.  Leaving him writhing on the floor, Lex started toward the exit.  Another of Edge's men stood just outside the door, waiting for Lex.  At least they didn't just shoot him; he was still more valuable to Edge alive.

Lex reversed his direction and walked rapidly down the mall.  He scanned ahead for another exit.  A large discount store looked like his best option.  It had crowds that he could use to mask his escape. He was glad he had one of Clark's white t-shirts on. Even though it was very loose on him, it helped him blend in.

Edge's men walked quickly behind Lex along the aisles, trying not to attract any attention.  Suddenly, they rushed him from either end, intending to trap him in the center.  Spotting a row of exercise trampolines, Lex launched himself onto the first one gaining momentum, flipping over the shelves to the next aisle.  Executing a neat back handspring combination, he vaulted over the rank of cash registers and out the door, leaving Edge's men far behind.

@@@@@

Lex pulled up to the porch on the borrowed bicycle.  No one had followed him back to the house, so he assumed the men were still searching the mall. Clark came out of the house and headed for the garage.

'Where are you going?"  Lex didn't really want to be alone in case Edge's men decided to check out the house.

"Oh, I have an appointment at my barber's."

"But your friend, she's still here?"

"No, she's gone."

"But I can cut your hair."  Lex grabbed Clark's hand and pulled him back into the house. "I used to cut my family's hair."

Unsure, Clark offered a mild protest despite allowing Lex to continue dragging him into the kitchen. "I think I'll skip it.  I don't really need a haircut.  Long hair's making a comeback."

"Don't be silly. Now where were those scissors?" Lex started searching the drawers and cabinets.

Recalling how Victoria met her death, Clark choked out, "Scissors?"

"You know what they are. Scissors..."  Lex mimed a cutting motion.

"No...no there's no scissors.  There were scissors but I loaned them to Pete.  There's no scissors."

Lex pulled a pair of scissors out of a jar on the counter.  "Ah, here they are.  Do you think they are sharp enough?"  He pulled a dishcloth out of the drawer and advanced towards Clark.

Clark's eyes bulged.  "They look very dull to me! Besides, my hair is very coarse, it's a family trait, coarse hair."

Pulling a stool out to the center of the floor, Lex forced Clark to sit. "Come on, sit down.  Keep still or I'll cut you."  He wrapped the towel around Clark's shoulders.

"Just a trim, nothing radical," said Clark nervously. 

Lex nodded his understanding and began to use his fingers to comb Clark's hair.  Grasping a small section, he pulled it out from Clark's head and made a small snip.

"Perfect. God, you're wonderful at this!"  Clark sprang from the stool and away from Lex and the dreaded scissors.  "You've cut hair professionally.  Go on, admit it," he gushed.

"But I did not cut anything!"

"But it's not how much you cut, it's what you cut. Minimalism, it..." Clark continued to babble as Lex pulled him back onto the stool.

"Sit down. You're so nervous." Lex began to slide his fingers into Clark's hair again.

Clark jerked away, "No, I'm relaxed. I just look nervous when I'm relaxed."

Lex ignored him and gently pulled his head back into position and starting snipping as he pulled the hair slowly away from Clark's scalp.  "You make fun a lot. You hide your feelings in, how you say?"

"Sarcasm," Clark supplied.  The rhythmic movements of Lex's hands through his hair were relaxing Clark more than he had thought possible. 

"Why do you do that?"

Clark just sighed.  He couldn't think with Lex so close. His eyes nearly shut as he fell into a haze of sensuality.  The heat of Lex's body as he moved around him, his rich scent after his recent exercise, the graze of soft skin as his arms touched his face and neck, they all combined to bring Clark to a state of bliss he'd never reached before with anyone. He wanted it to go on forever.

Lex stepped between Clark's legs and pulled his head down to rest on his chest as he continued to work his magic.  Clark didn't think he could get any harder and still have a working zipper.  He was sure he was going to come just from Lex's long slender fingers running through his hair, an electric flush generated from each contact.  How was he going to explain his Pavlovian hard-on during future visits to his barber?  Maybe Lex would be willing to cut his hair exclusively in the future, he thought wryly.

Head still resting on Lex's chest, Clark glanced down. The T-shirt pulled out of Lex's jeans didn't quite conceal his own interest in the proceedings. Clark was happy to know he wasn't alone.  His large hands flexed on his thighs as he restrained his impulse to reach out and trace the impressive shape displayed so temptingly close.  Only Clark's unwillingness to engage in casual sex kept him in check.  He had always craved more than a momentary release.  As a result, he could count the number of previous partners on the fingers of one hand with several left over. Maybe this time it would be different.

"Closer, closer...that's good."

"It's great." Clark murmured.

Lex was glad Clark had finally settled down so he could indulge himself. Clark's hair was incredible, thick, shiny, silky, soft, and fragrant...Lex was running out of adjectives to describe it.  It curled around his fingers as if reluctant to let them go.  He hated cutting any of it and made only the most minimal of snips to prolong the experience.  Clark's eyes had shuttered until only a glimmer of emerald showed.  His neck was slightly damp where Lex's arms touched, his arousal releasing the heady aroma of soap, after-shave and sex.  Each touch engendered the same flowing warmth Lex had experienced earlier, enticing him to continue.

After stepping between Clark's legs, Lex had allowed himself to pull Clark forward to rest on his chest. The weight of his head was welcome and Lex yearned to feel his full weight along his entire body. He looked down and saw Clark's obvious response to his caresses. How was he going to let him get up and walk away from this untouched?  His impulsive offer, made to keep Clark with him, was turning out to be torture.  He didn't want to add to this kind man's hurt, the hurt he hid with mocking phrases, by simply fucking him and leaving.  Clark deserved someone who could love him.

"There, it's very good. I'm finished." Lex was proud of himself as he managed to pull away.  He took the small mirror off the wall and brought it over to Clark so he could check the cut.  "Is it OK?"

Clark gazed up dreamily at Lex. "Perfect. How was it for you?"

Chapter 13

Searching for Clark, Lex followed the sound of hammering across the horse pasture. He stopped to pat the bay that ambled up to him and then continued on to where Clark was repairing the old wooden fence.  His shirt was hanging on the nearby post, discarded in the heat.  Lex enjoyed his view of the impressive back as it flexed and he followed its curves down to the age-softened jeans cupping tight buttocks.  As he drew closer, he tried to get Clark's attention. 

"Hi. Can I help?"

Startled, Clark almost dropped the board and Lex instinctively moved to catch it.  Lex's hands closed over Clark's work gloves as they stood a few inches apart.  A bead of sweat made its way from Clark's temple down to his jaw and Lex's mouth watered as he imagined picking up that salty drop with his tongue and dragging his mouth along the dark stubble to taste Clark's waiting lips.  Watching as pupils dilated to reduce the green to a sliver, he heard Clark's breath catch before he released it again in a soft sigh. Overwhelmed by his intense yearning, Lex stepped back and tried to regain his equilibrium. 

As if a spell had been broken, Clark shook his head to clear it and finally responded, "Thanks, I think I have it, but could you hand me the hammer?"

Lex located the missing tool and presented it to Clark.  Looking around, he ventured, "It's beautiful out here."

Head down while he used the hammer, Clark nodded. "Yes."

Without really knowing why, Lex suddenly asked, "Why did your wife leave you?"

Clark stopped and straightened up to study Lex. "She said she had to grow."

"To grow?"

Hurt flashed across Clark's face before he returned to his task, looking away from Lex. "I assumed she was fully grown when I married her.  Stupid of me wasn't it?"

"It was painful for you, her leaving?"

Clark sighed. "Yes. Actually, I'm not being completely fair about her; she thought she had a reason for leaving."  Clark pulled off his gloves and dropped them into the bucket holding his tools. 

"What was her reason?" 

Grabbing his shirt from the post, Clark put it on, leaving it hanging loose and unbuttoned.  Lex wished he'd forgotten it completely.

"She said she left me because I...wrote."

"But you are...a writer."

"Yeah, well, that's just it. It was all very nice at first, very romantic, very mysterious, my being a...writer but she said I wasn't able to get involved outside of my work, that I wrote about life, but never lived it."

Somehow, Lex didn't think the work Clark was talking about was writing.

Picking up the bucket, Clark started for the barn.  Lex looked after him for a moment then followed, catching up quickly.

"This would make your wife happy."

"What would?"

'Me."

"You?"

"Yes." Lex laughed and walked backwards so he could look at Clark's face. "This is something very different for you, this alibi you've given me.  You're involved outside of your work, your books."

Clark stopped to think, kicking the ground idly. "Yeah, I guess it is."  He looked up at Lex and smiled, eyes crinkling in pleasure.

"I don't fit in your world."  Lex's words almost sounded sad as he watched Clark approach.

"Not entirely. No."  Clark's words were soft as he tilted his head and gazed into Lex's eyes.  It was as if he wasn't ready to give up on the possibility.  His hand came up slowly to carefully cradle Lex's cheek.

Lex searched the brilliant green eyes, trying to discern what kept him here, captivated by this gentle giant.  A large drop of water on his bare head interrupted his reflections, soon followed by another.

Clark pulled back and looked up. "It looks like it's gonna rain."

Lex grinned, "So, we'll dry. Doesn't it rain in your books?"  Personally, he was looking forward to a wet Clark.

@@@@@

Humming softly, Clark exited the bathroom after his shower, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.  When Lex opened the door to his room to take his turn in the bath, Clark saw he had emulated his attire. With a shy smile, Clark retreated to his room only to stand against the closed door and ache.

     //They let their towels drop to the floor.  Swift's eyes explored

     every inch of his glistening wet body.  His eyes explored every inch

     of Swift's muscled torso.  Swift took him in his arms, their chests

     flattened against each other with nothing between them.  They kissed.

     He nearly passed out from the rapture of the moment but Swift, familiar

     with the reaction from past encounters gathered him into his arms as

     his body went limp and carried him into his bedroom.//

Chapter 14

"Careful, it's not as easy as it looks!"  Clark shouted from the patio to Lex, who was a fair distance away and preparing to loose an arrow at a target set up in the field.  A neighbor's dog was frisking near Lex, barking occasionally.

Lex lowered the compound bow and looked back over his shoulder at Clark, nodding patiently before beginning again. 

"You've got to allow for wind!"

Lex ignored him this time.

"...arrow weight, trajectory..."  Rolling his eyes, Lex began to pull back the string.

"And don't shoot that dog!"

Lex glanced at the dog, made a shushing sound, sighted and released.  The arrow struck dead center. 

Clark muttered, "I think you've grasped the principle."

Hearing the phone, Clark reluctantly abandoned his view of Lex to answer, closing the patio door behind him.

"Hello."

"Hey Kent, Detective Lane. You're still alive."

"Yes. Thank you."

"Listen I read your book over the weekend, Kent, I gotta tell you something. Your work is a little...predictable."

"Predictable?"

"Yeah... You know you should spend some time down here with me at the station. Get a little grit into it."

"I'll think about that, Detective."

"So tell me, how's the guy?  You get rid of those headaches?"

"You know what your problem is?"  Clark began to pace around the room as he tried to keep his temper with the obnoxious detective.

"No, what is my problem?"

"I think you're jealous."

"Is that right?"

At the patio door, Clark watched Lex continue to hit the bullseye. "Yes, that's right. And do you want to know why? Because I bet you've never had a decent relationship in your life. Am I right?"

"Sure, sure," Lane mocked.

Clark turned away from the screen door.  "I knew it.  You are suspicious of everyone and everything.  Well, let me tell you something Detective, the right man will change all that for you. He'll make you want to sing."  The level of Clark's voice began to rise as he warmed to his subject. "Did you ever feel like that Detective?"

Lane snickered, "No, what's it feel like?"

Clark felt a burning pain. Startled, he yelled into the phone. "Aaaahh, aaahh!"

"Okay, okay, alright. I didn't ask for a frigging recital!"

Clark dropped the phone and twisted to see what was causing such incredible agony.  An arrow protruded from his buttock, deeply embedded at the crease above his thigh.  Unused to pain, Clark tried to calm himself as he staggered to the door, while the detective continued to berate him from the phone on the floor.

"You listen to me Kent, I'd haul you back down here for perjury if I could, your ass would be grass, you understand me, you hear me? Kent?"

Seeing Lex sprinting in from the field in response to the noise, Clark tried to regain control of the situation as he picked the phone back up.  He didn't want the police to send someone out to investigate.

"Uunh...you have to...uhnh...work at a relationship."

"What the hell are you talking about? Don't change the subject on me."

"It's very easy to get hurt...unnnh." Clark's voice strained to remain level.

 "Alright, I know I've been there once or twice myself and maybe I am a little jealous of you. I mean...he's a beautiful man."

"Exactly." Clark couldn't restrain a small grunt of pain as he shifted to the sofa, trying not to move the arrow.

"So tell me. What's he like?"

Clark tried to yank the arrow out by himself, dropping the phone again. "Ahhh, God..."

"That good, huh?"

Lex burst through the door, horrified.  "Oh my God, what happened!"  He saw Clark trying to retrieve the phone. "Clark, this is no time to make a phone call!" 

"That's right Detective, he's great." Clark barked into the phone right before the dog ran in and jumped onto the sofa, knocking into the arrow.

"Ow, get down! Get down!"

Lane asked suspiciously, "Am I interrupting something there?"

"Get down! Yes, yes you are. Don't pull it!" Clark couldn't prevent the yell, not expecting Lex to grab the arrow.

Lex continued his attempt to remove it, "It's coming, it's coming!"

Lane was still on the phone, "Sheesh, I don't believe what I'm hearing..."

Lex's efforts were making it impossible for Clark remain calm, "That's enough, leave it alone!  Aaaah, don't touch the shaft! That's too hard, be gentle with it!"

"He's an animal...he's tearing him apart," Lane was dazed by the emotion coming across the line.

Clark had reached the end of his endurance, "You'll never get it out. Let's try something different! Aaaah!"

"Lucky putz." Lane hung up.

@@@@@

"Thanks for taking care of me."

"It was least I could do. I really am sorry. The dog jumped up on me and..."

Clark interrupted, "I can't believe I fell apart.  I've just never felt pain like that before or at least in the last twenty years or so.  I feel like such a baby."

"I wasn't helping by panicking when I saw the blood. I would have been yelling even louder if I had that arrow stuck in me. Why wouldn't let me take you to hospital?"

"That would have just landed you back in jail. I could just see me trying to convince them I shot myself in the ass." Clark said sardonically. "Really, officer, I didn't know it was loaded..."

Lex laughed, appreciating Clark's ability to see the humor in the accident. "I can see where they would wonder just how you managed it."  He sobered, "I still feel bad."

"Well, at least you listened to me and didn't shoot the dog."

Chapter 15

     //The cold steel shaft of the arrow pieced his sinewed shoulder.  The

     pain would have been unbearable for the average man, but Swift simply

     pulled it cleanly from the wound. At the same time, his amazing instincts

     told him something was wrong with his story about the dog. As Swift lifted

     the 400 pound weights above his head he was in agony, but he bore it in

     silence.//

"Ouch!"

As Clark reached to place his empty tumbler on the nightstand, he rolled onto his injured buttock and flinched, sending his notebook to the floor.  Despite wine with dinner and the scotch he had just used to wash down several pain pills, the wound was still throbbing and he wasn't sure how he was going to get to sleep.

Clark lay there, thinking about earlier this evening. Still feeling guilty, Lex had prepared dinner while sharing anecdotes about his grandmother teaching him to cook Romanian specialties. After dinner, Clark managed to arrange himself comfortably on the sofa and Lex had demonstrated several card tricks and simple sleight of hand. Although Lex had been amusing, he had revealed little else about his past or his activities in Metropolis at the time of his arrest. He had, however, abandoned all pretenses of fractured English.  Clark couldn't help wondering what he had really learned about his mysterious guest.

@@@@@

A rumble of thunder woke Clark. Lying in bed, he stared as the gauze curtains at his open window billowed in the wind. Silently, his bedroom door swung open and a shadowy outline seemed to float in from the hall.  The pallid-faced figure, with a black diamond painted over the left eye and cheek, advanced on the bed, its flowing garments illuminated by flashes of lightning.  Standing over Clark, it raised its hand holding a glittering knife that changed into a gleaming pair of scissors.  The scissors started opening and closing rapidly...

Drenched in a cold sweat, Clark lurched up with a yell.  He looked around his sunlit room with the armoire still in front of the door. Thank God, it had just been a nightmare. Hadn't it?

@@@@@

"You think he's really trying to kill you?"  Chloe looked up at her friend as they stood whispering together in the bookstore. 

"No...yes...maybe.  Of course not."  Clark's face went through a range of emotions as he tried to pinpoint how he felt.  "I don't know, why do you ask?"

Chloe waited for a customer to move on to another aisle before leaning closer and hissing, "Because if he kills you, I'm next, that's why!  Keep in mind you can get hurt now.  The hole in your ass should be reminding you of that!"

"He's not going to kill me."  Clark started down the aisle with Chloe following.

"Oh, he's just using you for target practice?"

"That was an accident!" Clark protested, frowning down at the petite blonde.

"There's no such thing as accidents, Clark, only plans other people make and don't tell you about." Chloe poked Clark in the chest. "I hope he's a tornado between the sheets."

Clark mumbled, "I haven't slept with him yet."  He moved away again, trying to avoid Chloe's next outburst.

"You haven't slept with him!" 

An elderly patron looked up from the book she was reading, looked at the two with narrowed eyes and left with a sniff.  As she passed, Chloe whispered "Sorry."

She returned to her interrogation. "What's the point of this?"

Eyes downcast, Clark breathed out, "I love him." 

'Oh right, I keep forgetting that," was Chloe's sarcastic reply.

Clark protested, "Doesn't anyone recognize love anymore? The tensions, the pain..."  He peered around the corner to see Lex a few rows away, browsing through a pile of remaindered books. "...the uncertainty."  Returning his attention to Chloe, he continued, warming to his subject. "...cold sweats, the nauseous feelings that swell in the pit of your stomach. Where in the hell has romance gone today?"

Chloe waved her hands, "I'm sorry. I don't buy this whole thing with him." She poked him in the chest again. "And you're jeopardizing a gigantic bestseller! I think you should just end it with him!"

"Chloe, you don't understand. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't do that! I need him for this story. I'm not writing it alone, we are. I don't know what comes next."

"Lie! That's what writers are paid for!"

"That's not going to ring true, Chloe. Look, ever since he moved in, the story just...flows."  Clark looked around the corner again. "Sometimes he seems lost," sighed Clark,"...other times I think he's just hiding something." 

Lex was talking to a man. Clark couldn't see the man's face.  Accepting a large manila envelope, Lex tucked it into his leather case and returned to the books, dismissing the man.

Pulling back behind the shelves, Clark faced Chloe again. "I love him...and I'm terrified of him."

"Sounds like a normal relationship."

@@@@@

"What drives our characters, what drives us all is lust. Lust.  We're slaves to its power; we let it run our lives.  Well, don't kid yourselves, we're all its willing victims, its raw molten lasciviousness motivates all of us."

The stunned book club members stared at Clark standing at the podium, his last emphatic phrases still echoing through the room.  The silence finally ended with a single person's clapping.  Clark looked through the group to see Lex standing at the back, applauding enthusiastically.  Jolted out of their trances, the blue-haired ladies joined in politely.

After waiting for the delayed response to die down, Clark asked, "Are there any questions?"

One woman stood and ventured, "People say you base the tough, but suave and debonair character Peter Swift on yourself. Is that true?"

Clark paused and then replied modestly, "Well...um...yes, that's true."  Glancing at the back of the room, he watched Lex's smile broaden. Focused on Lex's laughing azure eyes, Clark absently shuffled his notes, upsetting his glass of water and sending a titter of laughter through the room. Recovering the glass, Clark re-filled it without mishap, but then set the glass jug down on the edge of the podium.  The resultant crash showered Clark with ice cubes, water and shards of glass, bringing the lecture to an abrupt end.

Walking to the Porsche, still brushing at his clothes, Clark heard Lex come up behind him.

"Do you do that often?"

"What?" Drench myself with ice water in front of my adoring public?" Clark replied with a wry grin.  "It's one of my many talents."

Lex laughed wholeheartedly. Clark decided he would dump jugs of water on himself everyday if it meant he could keep that sound in his life.

Chapter 16

      //His lecture on laser weapons to the assembled anti-terrorism group

      was, as expected, a great success. But the man, why was he there?

      Was he KGB? CIA? IRS? There was no denying his physical attributes.

      But Swift brushed these thoughts aside as he went about his daily

      routine of righting wrongs, settling long-dead scores and yet, even

      now was he being furtively followed.//

Concentrating on his typing, Clark jumped when Lex dropped the copy of Clark's book on the corner of the desk.

"Finished."

Closing his laptop, Clark swiveled in his chair to face Lex. "Yeah?"

"This genre has possibilities."

Clark shyly smiled, "I'll look forward to that."

"Good."  Lex walked along the wall examining the posters of Clark's bestsellers. "Your detective, Peter Swift, never makes love to the women he helps. Is he gay?"

"No...yes...it's a code he lives by."  Clark grabbed a pencil and began to tap it on the desk.

"Oh, why?"

"Because...that's the way it is!"  The tapping grew harder.

"Or because that's the way you want it to be."

"It's the same thing. What I want is how it is."  The pencil broke.

Lex turned at the sound and looked into Clark's scowling face. "Are you angry with me? What is it?"

Quietly, "Who are you?"

"What do you mean?"

Clark pulled himself out of the chair and moved a few feet to stand in front of Lex.  "That's an easy enough question, isn't it? Who are you?"

Lex didn't move away and looked steadily into Clark's eyes. "I wish I could tell you."

"Then do it, tell me."

"No."

"Why not