cover by laurab1
Title: Day 403
Author: danceswithgary (danceswithgary@yahoo.com)
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating: R
Warnings: m/m sex
Spoilers: Vague references to Seasons 1-4
Word Count: 7014
Archive: Fine, just let me know
Summary: How long does it take to forgive the one you loved?
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. Any deviations (or deviant behavior) from the originals, however, is mine.
Feedback is both welcome and appreciated.
***
Day 403
***
"Thanks for seeing me, Lex."
I could see his partial reflection in the window as I stood gazing out at Metropolis. He stood there in front of my desk, reminding me of past visits in Smallville when he would arrive looking for some kind of favor to be granted. He shuffled his feet and looked down before clearing his throat nervously, still waiting for some acknowledgment from me.
"What do you want Clark?" I kept my tone cold and refused to grant him the courtesy of speaking face to face and the angle of my position prevented him from observing my own reflection.
"Nothing, Lex. I don't want anything from you, except maybe a chance to explain a few things. I know it's been a long time ..." His voice died as I still refused to face him and made no reply. "There were things I never told you, that I wanted to tell you and..." He tried again and this time I interrupted.
"Ah yes, your never-ending lies. How could I forget? I didn't think I'd ever forget those just as I'd never forget the day you told me our friendship was over. However, I have forgotten those days in exile and how I actually cared about you and your secrets. I've moved on and those days are gone. Forever."
The strain in his face was visible even in the wavering reflection. "Lex, I'm an alien."
"And this is supposed to mean what to me, exactly?" I was glad I had placed my hands in my pockets before he stepped in the office so he couldn't see my tightly clenched fists.
"All those things you thought you knew about me are true, the speed, the strength..."
"These revelations come much too late, Clark. They no longer interest me. *You* no longer interest me. If that's all you have to say, please see yourself out."
"Lex, please..."
I closed my eyes. "Goodbye, Clark."
There was a small sound I couldn't quite identify, a slow shuffling, the opening and closing of the door and then silence.
Opening my eyes, I checked the reflection to make sure he had indeed left my office, then turned around and called my assistant in. "Charity, please have all the security feeds of my office for the last half hour collected and brought to my office. No copies retained. I also want the feeds for the elevator and the building exits showing Mr. Kent's arrival and departure. Again, no copies retained."
"Yes, sir."
"And Charity, revoke Mr. Kent's security clearance to this building and the penthouse and refuse all calls from him in the future."
"Yes, sir."
. . .
Day 2
Even my meteor-enhanced healing wasn't rescuing me from the hangover resulting from far too many tumblers of scotch consumed last night. Even after all that, sleep eluded me and my staff was paying for it today. They'd gotten complacent. I hadn't had a Kent-driven fit of temper in months and now I was making up for it in spades.
I'd reviewed the security feeds before destroying them, those records of the fool revealing his precious secrets in an office wired and monitored for my protection. I watched him enter the lobby of the building and ask to speak to my assistant. I watched his surprise at the direction to the private elevator and immediate scan through by the security guard. I watched his nervous fidgeting as the top floor drew near and as he approached Charity to ask if he could speak with me. His shock at being escorted into my office without any notice was almost amusing. Almost, until I remembered those orders had been in place for over two years without Clark's knowledge and he hadn't tried to call or see me once in all that time.
The office feed proved that the reflection had not done justice to the young man who warily entered my office. I hadn't thought it possible, but he had become even more beautiful since the last time I saw him in Smallville. The plaid, jeans and work boots were gone, replaced by a barely adequate off-the-rack grey suit and wingtips. His stylishly cut hair emphasized his dark curls and the glasses he wore did nothing to disguise his stunning emerald eyes.
That he hadn't lost his ability to blush was soon demonstrated as he waited for me to turn from the window. The smile he started out with faded and he began to look puzzled. As he apologized, his shoulders took on the familiar rounding from his high school days when he tried not to stand out in a crowd. He straightened up once when he confessed his difference, but crumbled again when I rejected him. At the end, it was as if he had shrunken down into an entirely different person as he gave a small moan and retreated with bowed head.
"Charity, tell Mercy and Hope to meet me in the gym in fifteen minutes."
I needed to hit something very hard until I no longer saw his devastated face and no longer heard the hoarse scream of despair he released as he rode the elevator down. I had to block out the memory of the tears he vainly tried to wipe away before he exited into the lobby and almost ran out to the street.
"And Charity, the left hand rail in the elevator needs to be replaced. It seems to be bent in the middle."
***
Day 42
He was hovering outside the penthouse again last night.
Security brought some recurring proximity alarms to my attention a few weeks ago. They were typically between midnight and 2:00 AM so birds didn't seem likely. Perhaps there were bats flying about the penthouse? I had my suspicions after recent events, so I had inconspicuous cameras installed pointing out of the building at several angles and a single set of feeds from them directed to my personal files.
There was no activity for the first few days, but then the cameras caught the intruder. The primary-colored clown had arrived a month ago in Metropolis and been quickly dubbed 'Superman' by the lovely Ms. Lane. How Clark thought that costume would keep his identity a secret baffled me. I knew it was him the first time I watched a news clip. Perhaps he believed it would blind anyone who attempted to look past to glimpse his face. Oh, I'm sure the slicked-back hair and blue contacts helped, but the profile and figure were unmistakable to someone who had spent as much time as I had studying it.
It seems that saving Metropolis citizens and working, as a reporter for the Daily Planet, wasn't enough to keep him busy. He added stalking me to his daily chores. Morning news bulletins extol his latest feats outside Metropolis, rescuing hapless people from natural disasters, following the nights he is absent.
I don't suppose that it's any coincidence that timeframe is typically when I retire for the evening. It probably wouldn't bother me except for the x-ray vision and resulting lack of privacy. I'll have to check on the possibility of installing lead shields around the perimeter of the penthouse.
***
Day 87
"Charity, add this to the Kent file, please." I tossed today's Daily Planet on my assistant's desk as I walked into my office. I'd read Clark's latest article and had been impressed. It was his first front page and well earned. The newspaper would join the transcripts and photos I'd collected on Clark since our final conversation in Smallville.
My original collection had been destroyed the day after Clark found it, but it was too late to save our friendship. Only Clark's innate sense of honor put him on the witness stand to testify against my father, despite what he considered my betrayal. We had never spoken to each other again after that day. Now I made sure nothing I gathered could compromise Clark if discovered, unwilling to give up that small remaining connection with the boy who saved my life so many times.
The nightly flybys continue and I never did get around to putting up the shielding. I don't understand why now after all the time that has passed. I knew his senior year in high school was rough with Jonathan so ill and I'd hoped to speak to him at the funeral. Only Martha's head shake over her grieving son's shoulder stopped me. I hated Chloe for calling and telling me Clark needed me. It was obvious he didn't when he wouldn't even look at me that day.
***
Day 108
It's his last stop for the night before he goes back to his apartment to rest. I've done the time checks a dozen times and within a minute of his last sighting on the penthouse cameras, he enters his apartment window. That was just a simple trip timer; I didn't want to risk interception of a long distance camera feed. He's already at risk with some of the stunts he pulls.
He hasn't gotten any better at lies or excuses. Surely, his partner must suspect something and just puts up with it so he stays around. I know what that's like. The disappearances, the ill-hidden strength and seeing or hearing something no one else could. It was so hard to ignore, impossible not to question unless it meant you wouldn't have him as a friend anymore. Look where my investigations got me.
The last time I looked into Clark's eyes was at my father's grave. There were few people there; after all dying in prison isn't helpful if you want to kings and presidents to attend your funeral. I had turned to leave and there he was. His green eyes seemed sympathetic and I turned to my assistant to tell her I would be staying behind, only to find he was gone before I could look back at him. I convinced myself the look in his eyes was just a trick of the light and he didn't really care.
I didn't have the heart to try to attend his high school graduation, although I still have the tape of it in my file. The check I sent as a gift returned to me without a note. That's in the file too.
***
Day 125
How does he always manage to arrive within a few minutes of my climbing into bed? I'd set up a small LED to turn on when the motion-sensitive cameras were activated outside the penthouse. After a few nights, the pattern was apparent; I climb into bed, 2-3 minutes later the LED turns on. However, I still don't know what alerts him. I have been trying to get to bed closer to midnight since that seems to end his day too. Maybe he won't look so exhausted at the next press conference.
I'm surprised he hasn't collapsed with the pace he keeps. Even aliens must have their limits. He hasn't slowed down since he started at Met U during the summer session after graduating from high school. His academic scholarship only covered his tuition, so he worked as an intern at the Daily Planet to help cover everything else.
Martha wasn't able to help very much with the expenses. Clark insisted she use the money she got selling the farmland to buy the Talon and start up her bakery. Fortunately, that seemed to be thriving now, but it was slow going at first. Having the current plant manager arrange for the Talon to supply the cafeteria with baked goods made a difference. I was glad I didn't have to sell the plant to a shadow company just to get her to accept a contract from a Luthor holding.
Clark doubled up all his courses and was able to finish his journalism degree in two years, a few months before his 21st birthday. I guess he had given up on pretending to be an average college student and just let loose for a change. He still managed more than one rescue during that period, but he was better at keeping it low-key. I only had to encourage one witness to doubt what she'd seen during Clark's college career. Charity is the best assistant I've ever had.
***
<;;/p>
Day 149
I realize filming myself as I prepare for bed might seem odd, but it's what helped me narrow down how Clark knows. I used the captures from several nights to pinpoint similar actions and narrowed it down to the noise made when I close the box holding my Napoleon franc watch. In a way, it is disturbing to find out just how much a creature of habit I've become. I disliked leaving the watch out to test my theory, but Clark's failure to arrive at the usual time proved it valid. Now that I know, I'm not sure what I'll do with the information. I suppose if I stop that action, he'll just figure out another to use.
He usually looks sad, even resigned as he hovers outside my walls. Security hasn't reported any requests for access since he was barred for the third time several months ago. It's easy enough to make sure he isn't assigned to cover any of the events I attend and he has to behave at press conferences, so I haven't had to speak to him, although I'm sure the other reporters have noticed I do not call on him, ever. I don't want to put myself through that pain after I worked so hard to free myself from my obsession with him.
I never returned to Smallville after I relocated to Metropolis. I find it easy enough to delegate plant inspections and the ongoing meteorite cleanup and disposal can certainly take place without my personal supervision. There's no need to drive through that town and bring back memories of the places we used to meet, when we weren't at the mansion or in his inane 'Fortress of Solitude'.
I wonder why he never tries the balcony door.
***
Day 176
I never keep copies of the nightly feeds, too risky for me as well as Clark. It wouldn't do to let the world know that my security has a hole in it large enough to let Superman stalk me without setting off alarms.
I think I'll make an exception for last night's capture.
I don't bring my escorts to the penthouse. If I want sex, it's on my terms and in a neutral location, usually one of the hotels I frequent. Those encounters have been few since the infamous diamond earrings. It's just too much trouble to pretend to desire someone long enough to get laid. I left that behind in Smallville too. I usually take care of my needs during my morning shower, convenient and no emotion involved.
Last night, I was out later than usual and reeked from the cigars my business associates had indulged in. It was almost 2:00 am, but I decided to shower just so I could sleep more comfortably. I took off my watch, placed it in the box and then headed for the bathroom, pulling off my clothes as I went. The evening's conversation had been raunchy and crude and it still resonated in my head as I stood under the water. I decided I needed to clear everything out, so I eased into one of my favorite fantasies.
// It's warm. A clear Smallville summer day with nothing but a few cotton candy wisps of cloud hanging on high. My eyes are closed as I soak in the sun; at least they are until a shadow falls over me and some cool drops spatter on my face and chest. The shock brings me upright and looking into Clark's face, just a few inches away, his wet curls still dripping from his dip in the pool. He grins at me and holds up my tube of sunscreen, then pushes me back down onto my stomach so he can apply it for me. He straddles me, his knees on either side of my hips and I feel his wet trunks brush the tops of my thighs and lower back as he leans forward to smooth the warm cream across my shoulders and along my spine. His hands, so large and strong, are gentle as he coats my arms and then glides down my side. He shifts back so he can cover my lower back, dipping just under the top of my suit to make sure I'm fully protected. He knows the back of my knees are ticklish, so he finishes my legs quickly. Grasping my hips, he pulls me up and back against his chest, seating me on his thighs, and begins to apply another warm handful of sunscreen to my neck, tracing my collarbones before sweeping down over my hardening nipples. I feel his response against me as his hands move continuously lower until his slick right hand slides under the waistband of my suit and closes around my aching ... //
The LED wasn't lit when I exited the bathroom and after checking the timestamps, I calculated we both came at about the same time.
***
Day 211
I find I sleep more soundly if I see the LED light up before I close my eyes. If it wasn't lit, I wake up earlier and check the news to see where he might have been instead. I'm surprised he doesn't miss more time at work when he handles floods and landslides halfway around the world, but that must be when he doesn't bother to sleep and just keeps going.
He didn't return for several nights after the shower incident. I suspect it surprised him as much as it did me. We went back to our normal routine, but now I feel like something is missing or incomplete.
Clark never dated again after Lana left for Paris and Chloe moved to Gotham with her father. It was as if he gave up on making any friends or socializing. His heavy course load and work schedule didn't help. He hasn't made any effort even now that he's out of school. He refuses his co-workers' invitations and isn't into the club scene. He works at the paper and then he...works. Even I take time off for the occasional night at the opera or charity event, but he seems driven. Perry needs to have him cover one or two events for the paper just so he can get out.
I'll probably need to take a shower after the next one.
***
Day 249
Mercy spotted him outside the hotel in Brussels the second night of the conference I was attending last week. The conference wasn't publicized heavily in the US, which likely explains why the feeds picked him up outside the penthouse the first night I was gone. I suppose I should have expected the corresponding 4-day rise in Superman rescues across Europe.
It didn't take Clark long to settle into his new apartment. After all, when it's just you, a new pullout sofa, clothing, and some kitchen utensils it should be just a matter of a few hours. I'm sure as soon as the insurance check arrives he'll replace the rest of what he lost in the fire. He was lucky he found that top floor studio with access to the roof. I'm sure it doesn't bother him at all that the lights for the billboard keep blowing out so there are handy shadows for exits and entrances. Oddly enough, the property owner is finding it hard to find any tenants for the rest of the floor.
Living on coffee and takeout food all of the time isn't healthy. His refrigerator had leftover pizza, milk and eggs, his cupboards had a single place setting and some dry pasta. I don't know how he keeps going without the hearty farm meals Martha would make for him and Jonathan. I know she must miss him since he doesn't visit her very often, although he calls her every few days.
It isn't often I can surprise my assistant, but telling her I wanted to visit Smallville for a 3-day weekend after all this time startled her. It's good to shake things up every now and then. I hate being too predictable. I reminded her to let the gossip columnist at the Planet know about my plans.
***
Day 273
Lois Lane's latest expose appeared on the front page of the NY Times today. It didn't take her long to settle into her new position. I received a nice note from her editor thanking me for bringing her work to his attention. He'd been surprised when I called him seeing we hadn't spoken since I left Princeton.
At least Clark's new partner Trevor Howard won't be dragging him into quite so many awkward situations. A married man with two children should be less inclined to stakeout drug lords or try to interview syndicate bosses without taking the necessary precautions. At the rate Lois needed rescuing, she would have figured out the connection between Superman and Clark any day.
I don't think Trevor will be draping himself over Clark's shoulder while he types, either.
***
Day 298
He looks good in a tux.
You'd think after seeing him in spandex that doesn't hide a thing and watching him jerk off in midair outside my penthouse multiple times, a tux would be pretty boring.
He *really* looks good in a tux.
I couldn't hear what he was saying to the group he was with last night but I guess it was amusing. It was a typical dinner for the 'disease du jour' and Clark was covering it for the Planet. He'd been to a number of these affairs now and had made a few acquaintances. He no longer stood in a corner looking uncomfortable.
He looked up over the shoulder of the man he was speaking to and caught my eye. He didn't look away immediately, unlike past occasions; instead, he gave a small nod before dropping his eyes back down to his audience. The faint reddening of his cheeks was almost unnoticeable, almost.
I left soon afterwards. The fish hadn't agreed with me.
***
Day 327
I didn't see the handprint on my bedroom window until I opened the curtains, just as I always do, right before I leave for the office.
Intellectually, I knew it couldn't be his blood.
Viscerally, I needed to know right then that he was unharmed.
The LED wasn't lit last night, so I had checked the news as usual while I drank my coffee. The scenes from the explosion were horrific and I was sure Superman was on the scene well past 2:00 AM, the latest he'd ever arrived at the penthouse. Normally, I would have just gone on to the office, but now I needed to check the feeds immediately.
The apartment trip timer showed he had arrived home around 4:30 AM, but I had no cameras set up there so I had no idea what shape he was in now. Reversing the camera feeds back to just before 4:00 AM, I flipped through each angle until I finally found him. It wasn't his usual position, hovering lightly about 50 feet out and up to the right of my window. He came into view and I could tell something was wrong when saw how jerky his movements were and how he kept halting before coming closer. It's often hard to distinguish colors at night on the feeds, even with the ambient light from the city. The only way I could tell what was blood and what was char on him was by the sheen where the blood had not yet dried.
I saw him wipe his arm across his eyes, smearing the gore even further just before he reached out and touched the window. His head fell to his chest and I could see his shoulders heaving. After a minute or two, he pulled away and headed towards his apartment. He stopped and looked back twice.
I sent Mercy to the Planet and Hope to his apartment while I headed to my office. I could coordinate things better there if needed. Mercy spotted him as he entered the Planet; Hope had missed him at the apartment. Mercy reported that he was moving more slowly than usual, but didn't look injured.
Charity already had Trevor on the phone when I walked in. He told me Clark looked completely 'wiped out' and that he hadn't said much yet. I also found out children had died in the explosion that was front-page news this morning. I thanked him and handed the phone back.
As I closed the door to my office, I heard Charity ordering maintenance to have all the windows of the penthouse cleaned before the end of the day.
She's getting a raise.
***
Day 363
There was an article in today's paper pointing out Superman hasn't been seen for 3 days now.
He hasn't been to the Planet, his apartment or the farmhouse.
The camera feeds are clear.
It's ridiculous that I can't go to sleep if that damn LED isn't lit.
***
Day 364
"Lex, please, you have to come with me right now." Martha was in my office, her face drawn with worry. When I ordered Clark's access revoked, Charity obviously took me too literally and didn't ban all Kents.
"Martha, I can't imagine there's anything you might want to discuss here in my office. Why don't we go out for a cup of coffee?" Getting up and meeting her in front of my desk, I took her elbow and steered her towards the elevator. "Charity, please cancel the rest of my appointments for the day and ask Mercy to meet me downstairs."
"Lex, I don't have time for coffee."
"We'll talk about it when we get downstairs."
I shook my head as Martha attempted to speak again in the elevator and she finally subsided. When we reached the base of the large fountain in the outside plaza, I turned to her and said, "Now."
I confess I wasn't prepared to hear, "Lex, you're the only one I can trust. He's dying."
He'd disappeared for almost 2 months in high school, returning just in time to start his senior year. I'd never had an explanation for his absence but I suspected it had something to do with the caves. I'd assumed it had simply happened again.
I hate being wrong.
***
Day 365
Martha is sleeping on the cot a few feet away.
I'm trying not to make too much noise as I pace around the perimeter of the main cave, just outside the circle of light cast by the lantern. I don't think it would matter if I did; she's exhausted from the last 4 days. I don't think she's slept more than a few hours since she found Clark lying on her kitchen floor. He'd been at the farmhouse all along. It seems the trips I had set up don't register if someone crawls into the house. That will need to be addressed as soon as we get out of here.
It's been eighteen hours since his body disappeared in the blue beam and we have no idea how much longer it'll be before we see him again. Hope and Mercy helped me carry him in here and then I sent them back out to bring back supplies and guard the entrance. I realize that they probably know at least part, but it kept Martha calmer to think everything was still a secret. As soon as they were clear of the cave, she put the octagon in the wall, pressed three of the symbols and pushed me back so the beam wouldn't touch me.
I just hope we got him here soon enough.
I can't help wondering; will he die now because he wouldn't let his mother try to contact me? Or, will it happen because Martha didn't have the priority phone numbers and had to drive to Metropolis to see me in person after he slipped into a coma? I also wonder where she found the courage to leave him, knowing he could be dead before she got back with help.
It's been a year since I sent him out of my office.
I've been such an ass.
***
Day 366
"He loved you."
Martha's use of the past tense brought my compulsive pacing to a halt. I turned to where she sat on the cot, her head back against the wall and her eyes closed. "Loved?"
"Yes, loved. It probably started the day he pulled you out of the water. Oh, he had his little crushes on Chloe and Lana, but it was always you he came back to, you he wanted. It drove Jonathan crazy."
"I guess that was just another one of Clark's secrets I wasn't good enough to be trusted with."
Martha opened her eyes and leaned forward. "Lex, it had nothing to do with Clark trusting you. How could you expect him to tell you he loved you, when he couldn't even tell you he wasn't human?'
"Because he didn't trust me."
"No! That wasn't it at all!" Martha made a visible effort to calm down before she continued. "The day he came home from the courthouse he looked like he was going to collapse. He went to his room and stayed there for 2 days before Jonathan and I could convince him to come downstairs and eat. When he finally told us what he had said to you, Jonathan was thrilled. I wasn't so sure it was such a good thing myself." Burying her face in her hands, Martha shook her head and muttered, "Sometimes that man..."
"So Clark made Jonathan happy..." I prompted her.
"So Clark made Jonathan happy and himself miserable. I was finally able to get him to talk to me and he was able to see that even though someone you love does something that hurts your heart, it doesn't mean you shouldn't give them another chance. He was ready to try and see you in Metropolis and tell you everything when Jonathan went into the hospital and then Jonathan died and it was too late."
"I don't understand. I was at the funeral and he wouldn't talk to me."
"It was too late then because of the promise he made to Jonathan right before he died." Martha got up from the cot and began to pace, wringing her hands. "That damn promise! I couldn't convince Clark that Jonathan wasn't in his right mind when he asked Clark not to contact you in any way until he graduated from college or his twenty-first birthday, whichever came first. I suppose Jonathan wanted to make sure Clark had a chance for a 'normal' college experience before he became involved with you. Normal!" Martha came to a stop in front of me and looked at me, tears running down her cheeks. "He ended up with an insane course load and worked when he wasn't studying just so he could graduate five months before his twenty-first birthday. He did that so he could tell you five months earlier!"
I was finding it hard to breathe, but I managed to gasp out, "So the day he came to my office..."
"Was the day after the Met U graduation ceremony. And you wouldn't even talk to him." Martha pushed by me and started walking out of the cave. "I need a shower. I'll be back in an hour or so."
I didn't really feel the cuts from the rocks when I fell to my knees.
"Please, I didn't know. Oh God, I didn't know."
***
Day 367
"Maybe you should leave before he wakes up."
I straightened up after I finished arranging the sheet and light blanket around his shoulders and looked into Martha's concerned face. "Why? I'd like to talk to him."
"Lex, he was so distressed when I wanted to contact you for help. He even tried to make me promise I wouldn't if..."
"I understand, but now that I know..." I just couldn't grasp her reasoning. We loved each other. Why did I have to leave?
"You need to let him come to you when he's ready. I don't think it will be much longer after I tell him you were here, but you can't push him too hard or he'll pull back behind that wall he built. He seemed happier the past few months and I think it might be due to some of the things you've done without being obvious. He knows about the apartment and he's pretty sure he's got you to thank for Trevor. Give him a little more time."
I looked down at his peaceful face. When he re-appeared on the floor of the cave, after seventy-one excruciatingly long hours, it was as if he had never been ill or injured. The oozing wounds were gone, his skin had regained its normal healthy glow and his breathing was deep and regular. He hadn't woken when we transported him back to the farmhouse and placed him in his old bed, but now his sleep seemed lighter and he would probably be awake soon. Still, I didn't want to leave him before I was sure he was recovered.
I waited in the kitchen until I heard the rumble of his voice followed by her delighted laugh. She hurried down the stairs into the kitchen, happily exclaiming, "He wants pancakes!"
The drive back to Metropolis seemed to last forever. It was probably because I felt like I was headed in the wrong direction all the way there.
***
Day 389
I think the press conference went well today.
After announcing the setup of the fund and LexCorp's intention to match corporate donations, I took questions. While I addressed the usual questions on the fund's goals and affiliations, I waited for the one query I really wanted to answer.
"Mr. Luthor, what do the K and L stand for in the K-L Children's Relief Fund?"
"Well, Mr. Howard, they don't stand for anything in particular at this time. I've just always thought those two letters naturally belong together." I laughed to pass it off as an insider joke, but as I looked into those green eyes, I saw them soften before he dropped his head and scribbled a hasty note.
Martha had called me when he left the farm, using one of the two fully programmed cell phones I left for them. She told me he had been upset that she called me and refused to take the other phone, but she was optimistic. She and I had come to an understanding during those dark hours in the cave, and she was willing to help me where she could.
I had the cameras dismantled the day I returned to Metropolis, although the motion sensors still activated the LED. I wasn't ready to give up my signal to sleep just yet. Now I keep the curtains open in my bedroom every night and simply wait.
***
Day 391
He came up to the window last night as I stood looking out over the city. He studied my face for almost a minute before he granted me a smile and then he flew away slowly. I watched until I could no longer see him against the night sky and then I went to bed and slept without dreams until the morning sun woke me.
***
Day 399
Last night's fundraiser was a quite a success. I have to be honest; it felt good to use my connections for something other than acquiring a new company or contract. Clark was there, covering it for the paper and his blinding smile flashed for the first time in years. As wonderful as it felt to finally see that smile I had missed so much, I found it hard not to pull the captivated men and women away from him and growl, "Mine!"
After pulling my tie off in my bedroom, I placed my watch in the box and headed for the shower. Suddenly, I changed my mind. It didn't feel right anymore, as though I had been pretending he didn't have feelings, just desire. I changed my direction and went to the window instead. He came up to it as he had been but this time I placed my hand on the window at the level of his face. After a moment, he matched my gesture, the outline of his large hand extending beyond mine. We stayed that way for a while, smiling at each other, until he finally nodded and left as usual, very slowly, taking my heart with him.
***
Day 401
I was on the balcony when he arrived last night. It was a beautiful evening, with the moon almost full and wisps of fog floating by. He was beautiful too, his figure limned by the moonlight as he approached. I looked up at him and held out my hand. He touched my fingertips, but came no nearer, simply tilted his head and softly smiled. I didn't wait for him to leave this time. I turned and walked back inside, deliberately leaving the sliding door open a few inches.
I told Hope and Mercy to leave it that way. I'll take my chances.
Day 403
Some small noise woke me, but I'm still not sure what it was. Quite possibly, it was the balcony door or muffled footsteps, but more likely a tortured moan that he could no longer suppress.
He stood there at the foot of the bed, swaying a little, arms lax at his sides. The moonlight was bright enough that I could see he was covered in mud and who knows what else. I sat up slowly and got out of my bed to go to him. His eyes gleamed in his mud-spattered countenance and they drew me as I approached slowly, restraining myself so as not to frighten him away. As I neared, he extended his right arm and opened his hand. The child's shoe filled with mud fit in the palm of his hand with room to spare. I took it from him and placed it carefully on the dresser before I pulled him into my arms and just held him as he shattered.
When the first storm of tears passed, I gently pulled him into the bathroom and into the shower. I needed to rinse him off just to be able to locate the fastenings of his muck-covered uniform. My habit of retiring in the nude had worked in my favor; I did not need to waste any time disrobing before I joined him. He stood there passively with his head bowed, and allowed me to position him as needed, a warm-blooded mannequin. I was finally able to peel everything off and dropped it in the corner. I would address the clothing later, after I took care of my beautiful broken man.
Moving him under the spray again, I lathered and rinsed his hair several times before the water ran clear. I moved down to his face and neck, carefully stroking over his closed eyes and lips with my lathered fingers, as he stood silent and submissive. I moved to his back and dug my thumbs into the tight muscles as the soap slicked my way as smoothly as any exotic oil. As I ran my hands over his lower curves, I treated him gently, not wanting to push him too far too fast. The muscles of his hair-roughened legs flexed as I squatted to scrub them. I knelt in front of him and placed his hands on my shoulders, urging him to lift each foot in turn to allow me clean them. That task complete, I regained my own feet and faced him, steeling myself to handle the most challenging section of his exquisite body.
I had tried to suppress my reaction to this man I had wanted for so long, but sliding my soapy hands across his broad chest proved my downfall. My body responded just as his did, heart pounding under pebbled nipples, abdominals clenching as hands drifted lower until they were filled with hard, ready heat. He came alive then, pulling me into him, the soap providing the slick as we moved gently, tracing each other's limbs until reaching a silent completion together. Eyes closed, foreheads together, we allowed the water to rinse the evidence of our desire away.
The last of his strength seemed to leave him now and after I dried him, I led him to the bed where he laid down and immediately curled up, his face buried in my pillow, breathing deeply. He still looked tense with an occasional shudder running through his body, so I decided cleanup and phone calls could wait. Climbing in from the opposite side, I wrapped myself around him, and placed single kiss on his shoulder where it met his neck. Almost instantly, I could feel his muscles soften and relax until he opened up and onto his back. I wasted no time sliding under his arm and pillowing my head on his shoulder and falling into the deep rhythm of his heart.
I woke with the sun and pulled away gently, unwilling to disturb his rest. We had yet to speak, but we had time now and the words would come. I went into the living room and stood at the balcony door while I made the necessary calls to the Planet and my office. Just before I hung up, I remembered the tiny shoe and after asking Charity to alert the fund, I turned off the phone and dropped it on the desk.
Now, for the first time in my life, as I stand in the doorway of my bedroom, I wish I were an artist instead of an executive. I want to be able to immortalize this magnificent creature lying on my bed, dreaming in the morning sun. In the absence of that talent, I'll simply do whatever it takes to keep the original with me, until the end of our days.
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