Title: Unforgiven

Author: danceswithgary (danceswithgary@yahoo.com)

Pairing: Clark/Lex

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: None

Spoilers: Through Rage, then AU

Word Count: 8300

Archive: Fine, just let me know

Summary: Lex has been waiting years for his chance. It's time.

for·give [fer-giv]

verb, -gave, -giv·en, -giv·ing.

–verb (used with object)

1. To grant pardon for or remission of (an offense, debt, etc.); absolve.

2. To give up all claim on account of; remit (a debt, obligation, etc.).

3. To grant pardon to (a person).

4. To cease to feel resentment against: to forgive one's enemies.

5. To cancel an indebtedness or liability of: to forgive the interest owed on a loan.

–verb (used without object)

6. To pardon an offense or an offender.

[Origin: bef. 900; for- + give; r. ME foryiven, OE forgiefan]

—Related forms

for·giv·a·ble, adjective

for·giv·er, noun

—Synonyms 1. See excuse. 3. absolve, acquit.

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1)

Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.

Unforgiven

You left me before I agreed that it was over.

Lex watched the security footage again, seeking any details he might have missed the first time through. The heavily encrypted file had been sent to his personal attention when the motion detectors had tripped the feeds from a long-dormant location. The cameras tracked the trespasser's slow, deliberate pacing through the dim stone corridors, his boots raising puffs of long-accumulated dust, but little noise. It was no surprise to see the man stop in front of once-familiar doors, but his hesitation before opening them was uncharacteristic. In the past, many empty, lonely years ago, he was more likely to fling them wide and stride in as if he owned the place. There had been smiles in the early days, bright grins and laughter that had faded to bitter words and frowns at the end. Now, the door opened slowly, and the handsome face that peered inside was blank of all emotion.

The cameras inside the room cycled and the tall, broad figure had been captured from various angles as it advanced into the room. The dark head, carrying curls that Lex hadn't seen so untamed since those halcyon years, turned slowly. It became obvious that the man wasn't looking for anything in particular. He was just taking in the room as it was, the dawn filtering through the stained-glass windows providing just enough light to see the shapes of shrouded furniture.

The intruder prowled the edges, long, blunt fingers trailing over the cobwebbed paneling, occasionally nudging a dusty vase on a table, or tracing the title of a book shelved and forgotten for decades. As the minutes slowly passed, flannel-clad shoulders grew hunched, as if the weight of the world had become too much for them to bear, and a once-unbowed head dropped low between them. As he stopped before a glass-topped desk, a heavy fist opened and closed convulsively, a muscle memory from the past triggered. An audible sigh, and then he turned away.

When he approached the heavy wood and dust-filmed felt of the pool table, his steps stuttered, the moment that he caught sight of a gray-white rectangle in the center apparent in the catch of breathing that had been imperceptible until then. A trembling hand, one affected by emotion rather than age, fumbled to pick up the vellum envelope with the distinctive name of unearthly origin slashed across it in faded ink.

I remember everything.

The grime of years was wiped away carefully and the heavy paper weighed before the crumbling glue of the flap gave way to tentative fingers. A single, folded sheet was extracted and the three short phrases read silently. Lex mouthed the words he'd memorized, but the reader's lips stayed stubbornly closed, although they thinned perceptibly after a tongue darted out to moisten them. There was a crackle of paper as fingers clenched, and Lex was almost positive that a moan escaped from the full, red lips.

Lex found himself leaning forward unconsciously, almost as if he believed the images on the screen would become more real the closer he came to the electronic window. Although that wasn't the case, Lex sat spellbound by the sight of the man dropping to his knees and burying his distraught face in his hands. The once-proud figure rocked slowly as shoulders rose and fell with heart-rending sobs.

Nothing between us has been forgiven.

With a tap of a finger, Lex summoned the live feeds and verified that nothing had changed. He nodded in satisfaction and rose from his desk, completely ignoring the stunning view from his glass-and-metal aerie. The safe inside the nearest wall was easy for him to open, the sophisticated mechanism keyed to his voice and palm print recognizing him immediately. Tucking the small box he'd retrieved into his pocket, Lex closed the safe and headed for the door to his office. A quick voice command into the communicator on his wrist, and the two women who had served as his bodyguards slash personal assistants for years met him outside. They fell in place behind him without a word as he issued instructions in his usual clear, controlled fashion. The helicopter was waiting, as he had expected, when Lex emerged from his private elevator onto the roof. He entered it immediately, and then supplied the destination in two sharp syllables.

"Smallville."

. . .

A helicopter ride from Metropolis to Smallville took much less time than it had ten years earlier, but Lex still detested flying and preferred the control of driving his favorite cars. Unfortunately, that particular pleasure was foregone all too often for security purposes. Despite the fact that the increased speed meant he had fewer minutes to review his plans, Lex found himself falling into the past, remembering a certain young man lost to the world.

After Lex had revived on the floor of his office, his shirt torn and bloodstained, an arrow lying in a pool of blood that had expanded when he'd coughed and spat, he'd somehow known that he'd once more been saved by Clark Kent. It had possessed all the hallmarks of Clark's mysterious ability to be in the right place at the right time. Lex had also been furious at the entire situation, a rage that had abated as an excruciating headache had taken over. As he'd fallen unconscious from the pain, he couldn't help wondering if Clark would come back again.

He'd never returned.

It had taken several weeks before Lex had noticed the absence of any encounters with his former friend. Those weeks had been occupied with periods of introspection, interspersed with flurries of activity. The headache had eventually subsided after several days, leaving Lex with a flood of restored memories to process. Whatever Clark had done to save Lex's life that night had also managed to repair neural pathways that had been disrupted in the past. Head injuries, electroshock therapy, and possession had proved no match for the alien's cure.

Lex smirked as he recalled the first time that he had realized he knew Clark's secrets. He'd been pacing in his study, and had almost fallen over in shock when the implications of what Clark had been concealing had penetrated. He'd been enraged, furious at Clark's lack of trust through the years, and several antiques had been sacrificed to his fit of temper. It wasn't until days later that Lex had been able to begin to think rationally and to try to understand Clark's reasons. He'd found it especially difficult whenever he remembered the times that Clark had betrayed Lex. Lex's need for revenge had been overwhelming, and had populated his dreams for weeks until he'd been able to contain it.

By then, simply finding Clark in order to talk to him had become a race against time.

Lex had lost.

From everything that Lex had eventually been able to piece together, Clark had somehow managed to convince everyone who'd known him that he'd died over a year earlier, when a sniper had fatally wounded him. The sniper had then attempted to launch a missile, which had conveniently ended up in space, sparing Smallville and the surrounding counties from disaster. Lex suspected that Clark had been the reason behind the missile's failure, although at the time Clark was supposedly lying dead on a gurney in the Smallville Medical Center.

Lex was quite aware that he and Clark had been at odds at the time, but the thought that Clark was dead had hit him hard, nonetheless. That temporary loss hadn't been enough to keep Lex on a path back to friendship, but there had been more than one encounter between them after Clark's alleged demise. With diligence, Lex had been able to track down enough traces of evidence to be able to convince himself that he wasn't insane. However, those bits and pieces hadn't been enough to convince Chloe Sullivan or Martha Kent that Clark had been alive up until a few weeks prior to Lex's latest escape from death. Their grief was genuine, the loss of a dear friend and a beloved son still a raw wound in their hearts. The fact that the coffin in Smallville's cemetery was empty had horrified both women and they had no explanation, although Chloe's muttered "alien autopsy" had engendered weeks of nightmares for Lex.

Lex had finally decided that if the two people most concerned with Clark's welfare firmly believed that he was dead, despite the evidence Lex had produced, there was little hope of using them to find Clark. He had been right. He'd had the two women followed for months, and there had been no attempt on Clark's part to contact them. Lex had begun to believe that Clark had managed to leave Earth or had become a recluse in some remote area. He'd also wondered whether giving up everyone he had known or loved was Clark's self-imposed penance, or simply a measure to protect the people who could have been used as a weapon against him. How Clark had erased his existence from their memories was still a mystery to Lex, but not one he was willing to pursue to the extent that Clark may have feared.

Even Clark's longtime love, Lana, had been left bereft of any memory beyond a tearful goodbye to a dying boyfriend. At the time Clark had disappeared, Lana had supposedly been pregnant with Lex's child, but that had proved to be an error. Without Clark in the picture, Lex had found Lana's appeal had diminished and she had ended up returning to Paris with a substantial settlement from Lex, who had considered it well worth it to avoid another failed marriage.

The touchdown on the landing pad at the plant interrupted Lex's thoughts long enough for the transfer to the waiting sedan. Mercy and Hope traded bodyguard glances, and through some unspoken signal, determined that the blonde would be driving while Hope took the back seat with Lex. Lex didn't even attempt to get in the driver's seat. He'd lost too many of those arguments over the years, since he believed in hiring only the best and realized that ignoring their considered opinions would have been stupid. Resigning himself to a relatively sedate drive to the castle, Lex settled into the butter-soft leather and thought about the day Steel had arrived in Metropolis...and the beginning of a legend.

Steel had first flown through Metropolis' skies like a black arrow of justice approximately two years after Clark's disappearance. Dressed from head to toe in black leather, the newest superhero concealed his face behind a black half-mask, his close-cropped hair dark and his eyes an indeterminate color. When Lex had studied the candid photos beneath the screaming headlines, the silver emblem across Steel's chest had caught his attention, and he had smiled grimly in recognition. The crest may not have been quite as gaudy as the original, but it was still the same symbol that Clark hadn't seen himself wearing into battle.

His tastes had obviously matured.

One of his earliest exploits had earned the black-clad vigilante his extravagant title of The Man of Steel, which had quickly been shortened to Steel by the media outlets that flew into a frenzy at his every appearance. Lex supposed it had been inevitable, the adulation that poured from the citizenry for their hero. Physically perfect and darkly mysterious, Steel spoke little and wasted no time accepting thanks, always exiting the scene in record time whenever a reporter or photographer appeared. The public had lapped the resultant drama up, and Steel could do no wrong in their eyes. The fact that no criminal had ever lost his or her life at his leather gauntlets had made it almost impossible for anyone to speak out against Steel.

Lex had encountered that public relations nightmare when he'd dared to intimate that becoming dependent on a single unknown agent was a recipe for disaster. His first bid for mayor had failed because he'd been unwilling to offer lip service to Steel's adoring fans. He'd learned his lesson, and he was sure to succeed in the next election. In the meantime, he'd continued to clean up LuthorCorp and had removed any hint of past practices that had skirted legal and ethical boundaries.

Lionel's rapid demise, after the alien entity that had possessed him had coincidentally vanished at the same time as Clark, had been a boon to Lex's efforts, for the most part. The few people who had loudly claimed Lex had committed patricide were easily subdued after a lawsuit made it clear their libelous articles would not be tolerated in the Metropolis newspapers. Lois Lane had come close to losing her job at the Daily Planet due to her obstinate pursuit of Lex, while Chloe Sullivan had relocated to Gotham. She had left Metropolis long before Steel had appeared, her feisty temperament and zeal for investigation dimmed by Clark's loss.

Lex had found it easy to sympathize with Chloe at the time, but then Steel had changed everything.

. . .

Clark realized that he'd been in Lex's study for too long, that he needed to get up from his self-indulgent sprawl on the grimy wood and go back to being Steel, the man with no past...and no future beyond the rescues that filled his days and nights. Unfortunately, knowing what he had to do didn't seem to be enough to make it happen, and he continued to lie there in the dust, holding the letter that had made the past ten years of his life a farce.

He hadn't been able to resist the impulse that had overtaken him as he'd stood over his mother's recently filled grave with grief his only companion. Clark was fully aware that the choices he'd made had been his alone, that there had been no request for advice, just an announcement of his intentions. Still, the loss of his mother and all of his remaining friends had been a bitter pill to swallow and, since then, not a single day had passed without regret.

Chloe had been efficient in her records purge, and Clark Kent had passed into memory as that nice-enough kid who'd unfortunately run into a bullet...one of Smallville's many casualties over the years. That had been what Clark had asked her to do as his closest friend, and she'd smiled past her tears and finally agreed. She'd understood his reasons, although she'd pleaded long and hard for another solution before she'd granted his request.

The few people left alive who'd even heard of him had long since finished their mourning, and had moved on with their lives. And he'd moved on to live what was left of his.

At least, he had until he'd read the words that effectively negated the most important reason that he'd given Chloe for 'dying.'

Dressed in clothes that had brought the past to life, Clark had left the cemetery and walked aimlessly along back country roads until he'd found himself standing outside the castle gates. He'd known that Lex had closed up the place completely years earlier, not even retaining a skeleton staff. Clark had always known what Lex was doing. He'd justified his occasional surveillance as concern for an old friend, just as he'd done for Chloe and his mother. The fact that Clark had never done the same for anyone else had been explained away by...nothing. He simply hadn't bothered to try.

Entering the castle hadn't been any more difficult than it had been in those early days. Wandering through the echoing halls had brought back memories, cherished as well as dreaded. The study had drawn him like a magnet. As he'd pushed open the doors, he'd almost expected to see Lex sitting behind his desk, tapping away at his laptop until he was ready to look up and say with a smile, "Clark. How can I help you?"

The smiles had grown fewer with each encounter until they had ended up tearing at each other in words and deeds whenever they'd met. The loss of Lex's friendship, along with any possibility for more, had ripped at Clark's heart, and he'd known that he'd had no one to blame but himself. Lex's life had been spiraling out of control, and Clark's interference had only made matters worse. Oliver Queen's declaration that he'd been seeking to be 'like Clark Kent' had brought Clark's past actions under self-examination.

Clark had recognized what he'd done...and allowed to be done...to Lex, under the guise of preserving his secret. He'd finally concluded that he could never be forgiven those betrayals of someone he'd once called his best friend. He couldn't let anyone set up Clark Kent as an example of someone doing 'the right thing.' He'd known Lex would never stop looking for answers, and that Oliver would continue to press Clark to use his powers to fight alongside the green-clad archer.

Neither man was accustomed to giving up and, unfortunately, they both had the money and power to threaten Clark's remaining family and friends. Even worse, as far as Clark was concerned, Lex had died one too many times in his quest for information about Clark, other aliens, and the effects of kryptonite. Lex's latest descent into death had been too close, only the fortuitous availability of the serum saving him at the last minute. Clark couldn't face the thought of a world without the man he'd grown to love despite everything that had happened between them. He'd determined that, if Clark Kent was gone, Lex would have a chance to move past his obsession...and live.

He'd gone to Jor-El.

It had been a long negotiation, but Clark had finally exited the Fortress with a crystal, leaving behind a promise. In return for the ability to erase any memory of his existence past a certain date, Clark would complete his training. Jor-El had long considered his son's emotions a weakness that had been holding him back from his destiny. Supplying the means to break Kal-El's connections with the humans that contributed to that failure had seemed a viable solution to Jor-El.

For most of the people Clark had known, it was a simple handshake while he held the crystal. There had been a small jolt and, before their eyesight had cleared, Clark had disappeared using his speed. In less than a day, he'd left the minds of friends and neighbors clean of his presence after the day he'd died in Smallville, the day that he'd been shot and left bleeding out his life under a crystal-blue sky.

He'd succumbed to that despised weakness, hugging and kissing his mother goodbye in Washington, DC before erasing himself from her life. Chloe had already been at work doing the same with electronic records while he'd cleaned up any physical evidence he could find. Packing up the clothes he'd decided to take, along with a few precious photographs, Clark had made his final goodbyes to his life and left the yellow farmhouse behind. Clark had taken a farewell kiss from Chloe, and then torn himself away before he could see himself fade away in her eyes.

Lex had been the last.

Knowing he'd been guilty more than once in Lex's previous bouts of amnesia, Clark had been torn apart at the thought he'd be adding to them. Only his conviction that he'd be saving Lex's life kept Clark on his chosen path, accepting the burden of fresh guilt. He'd chosen to take Lex's memories in the dark, just a few short days after their last encounter, although Lex wasn't aware of it. Standing in Lex's bedroom, Clark had listened to him breathe through the darkness and absorbed his beloved presence. Minutes had passed before Clark had finally slipped forward and stolen the last kiss that he'd ever feel against his alien lips. He'd thought that he'd taken the memories with him, too.

Lex's letter made it clear that he...Kal-El...had failed, and that Lex had known everything all along.

Pain and guilt swept over him again and the world receded until footsteps intruded. Rolling to his back, Clark blinked up at the pale face that was stained with color by the late morning sun. Oddly unsurprised at the apparition, Clark closed his eyes and let his grief and acceptance escape in a sigh.

"Lex."

. . .

Watching Clark on the security videos hadn't prepared Lex for the rush of emotion he felt at the sight of Clark curled up on the study's wooden floor. Over their strenuous objections, Lex had left Hope and Mercy guarding the exits and proceeded through the castle's hall alone. His heels had clicked along the dim passageways to the room he'd spent most of his time in during his stay in Smallville. His mind had flicked through scenes of the past. Those memories paled in the face of reality, and Lex stood in the doorway...just looking...as seconds ticked by. When he finally advanced into the room to stand next to the man dressed in faded flannel and denim, Lex found himself torn between rage and relief.

Hearing his name on Clark's lips was a shock. Mesmerized by the green eyes that shimmered with pain, Lex failed to pay attention to anything else happening, so Clark's graceful rise to stand over Lex was equally startling. Looking up a few inches into Clark's face, Lex watched in disappointment as a mask descended, closing Clark's emotions behind the facade of Steel. A crackle of paper was the only other sound in the study, and Lex glanced down in time to see Clark fold the letter and tuck it in a pocket of his jeans.

When Clark stepped around Lex to leave without a word, the rage broke free. "That's it? Ten years and you have nothing to say to me?" His fingers snatched at Clark's sleeve and Lex winced at the sound of stitches ripping free in the shoulder of the worn shirt. It had been years since Lex had lost his temper so quickly, and he resented falling so easily into old habits.

The gesture had managed to halt Clark's silent exit. "I'm sorry, Lex. It was a mistake to come here." The simple words had been spoken in a voice so low that Lex had to strain to make them out. "It won't happen again."

Clark gently disengaged from Lex's grip and took another step before Lex spoke again. "I was sorry to hear about your mother." His tone was gentler, softened by his memories of the red-haired woman. "I know that she missed you...too." He watched Clark's shoulders stiffen for a moment and then relax with a visible effort. "Why now, Clark? She died three months ago...and that letter has been sitting there for almost ten years. What changed?"

The question wasn't an idle one. Lex wanted to understand why Steel had disappeared from Metropolis' skies shortly after Martha Kent's death. He needed to know what else had happened to keep the superhero away from his adopted city and limit his patrols beyond it. Clark's casual shrug and refusal to answer brought Lex's suppressed anger to the fore, once again. His hand shot out to tug on Clark's bicep in a futile attempt to force the larger man to turn and face him. Lex grunted with the effort, and then burst out in frustration, "I already know who and what you are, Clark!"

Clark nodded and admitted, "The serum. I probably should have guessed." He shook his dark head and intoned lifelessly, "Clark Kent is dead. In fact, he never really existed." Clark yanked his arm free, causing Lex to stumble. "All that's left now is Kal-El. You don't know him...me. No one does."

"So you'll just run away again like a coward, unwilling to pay for what you did?" Lex sneered.

That accusation obviously stung, since it brought Clark around to confront his tormentor. Despite the subject, Clark's voice stayed low and even. "I'm sorry it had to happen, Lex. I did what I thought was needed. People were getting hurt, and you died. Again. I'd hoped that if I was gone, if you no longer had me tempting you with my unshared secrets, then you could move on." The flat hazel of Clark's eyes lightened to green as Clark spoke from his heart. "You always had it in you to do good things, Lex." A faint smile touched Clark's lips as he offered his praise. "You have...without Clark Kent in your way."

"Why didn't you just leave Metropolis, then? Why fake your death? Why put your mother and your friends through that pain?"

"Lex, I really did die that day in Smallville. Kryptonian technology brought me back in time to stop the missile. What I did with the crystal Jor-El gave me was rewind to that day and stay dead in their memories. Just me, Lex. Nothing else. Their minds built what they needed to make sense of the missing pieces." Clark frowned and shook his head. "It was supposed to work with you, too. It was all because of you." His brow furrowed more deeply and he turned away from Lex to walk over to the empty fireplace. Leaning against the mantle, Clark crossed his arms and looked past Lex with distant eyes. After a moment, he sighed and tried to explain. "Listen, Lex. What was the first thing you did when you realized I wasn't there anymore?"

"I talked to your mother and Chloe when my investigators couldn't find you."

"And then had them followed when you didn't believe them. If I'd attempted any contact with them, you would have been after me with everything you had, right?" Clark didn't wait for Lex to answer. "Why? What gave you the right to investigate me, Lex?"

"You'd been lying to me from the first day we met, Clark. I needed to find out what you were hiding back then. I had to be careful because rich men don't have friends. At least, that's what I was raised to believe. I had to protect myself from people trying to take advantage of me."

"Lex, all you had to do back then was tell me that we couldn't be friends. I was fifteen years old...and a freak. I'd have walked away and never looked back if you'd rejected me in those early days. Instead, you pursued me and asked for my friendship. You actually had me believing that you wanted something more than my secrets." A bitter laugh escaped Clark. "Funny how even after the serum cured you, and you supposedly remembered it all, you still kept investigating me."

Lex looked away from Clark and ran a finger along the edge of the pool table, frowning at the dust. He shook his head and murmured, "Only at first. When I'd had some time to think it through, I was willing to let you go." He glanced back at Clark and offered proof. "I never went after Steel, did I?"

"No, you've never attacked me physically, but you tried to have me followed, to find out where I go whenever I'm not flying around in black leather." Clark shrugged again. "You also made it pretty clear during your campaign what you thought about 'self-appointed law enforcement.'" Dropping his arms and straightening up from his casual lean, Clark admitted to Lex, "To be honest, I never had a clue that you knew who Steel was. I always thought that I'd been successful in keeping my friends and family free of any threat of being used against me."

Lex frowned at Clark's implication. "You thought that I'd...."

"No!" Clark's shout cut Lex off. Clark took several steps forward with his hand outstretched, and then dropped it as he reluctantly conceded, "All right. Yes...at first I did. You never did like losing, Lex."

Lex dipped his head in acknowledgement. "So you think you won, then?"

All expression drained away from Clark's face and his voice lost all inflection. "Goodbye, Lex." He backed toward the door, his hazel eyes flat and lifeless. Steel had returned.

"You can't leave yet. You owe me, Clark." Lex thought quickly, using everything that he'd just learned in an attempt to keep Clark in the study.

The sharp demand brought Clark to a halt. A flicker of puzzlement passed over his face. "What?"

Lex turned enough to lean against the edge of the pool table and shoved his hands into his pockets. "You tried to take away my memory...again. You've owed me something for that action for the last ten years."

Clark's brow furrowed as he tried to understand Lex's meaning. "I'm sorry, Lex. I don't have...I don't own anything. All I have is the Fortress...and a few clothes."

As always, Lex's curiosity won out. "Your job doesn't pay much?"

The unexpected bark of laughter made Lex jerk. "Steel doesn't accept rewards. You know that." Clark's mouth twisted bitterly. "The reason you never found out where I live is because it's at the Fortress. I don't exist, Lex, except as Kal-El or Steel. It's a little hard to get a job these days without some kind of identification." Clark shrugged and turned his face away from Lex's scrutiny. "Doesn't matter. I don't need anything that the Fortress can't supply. It's not like I need to eat or anything."

"You don't eat?"

Clark shook his head. "Don't need to if I get enough sun. Usually fifteen minutes a day just outside the atmosphere is enough." A hint of color touched his cheeks. "No clothes makes it easier." Recalling the point of the conversation, he repeated, "I don't have anything to give you, Lex. I already apologized. Do you want me to say it again?"

Lex smirked as he considered Clark's offer and then drawled, "Yes, Clark, I would. I want you to bend over this pool table and apologize."

"Lex?"

"Start stripping."

. . .

"I don't understand." Finding himself drawn to Lex despite his bafflement at Lex's words, Clark moved closer to the piece of furniture in question. He felt chagrined as his voice shook a little. "How will my being naked make a difference?"

Lex appeared nonchalant as he explained his reasoning. "Clark, you tried to take away pieces of my life. You treated them as if they were worth nothing, just like my father did to me at Belle Reve. I'm supposed to forgive and forget just because you failed?" Lex reached out and slipped the top button free on Clark's flannel shirt. "You can't compensate me for pain and suffering, and I can't very well challenge you to a duel. I'll settle for an apology offered without reservation, with nothing to hide behind. I want everything out in the open...in a manner of speaking."

Feeling trapped, Clark tried to think of a reason to refuse that would not leave him feeling even more guilty about the actions he had taken. Lex had selected a highly effective method of retribution. Humiliating Clark, taking a long-cherished fantasy and changing it into harsh reality, would leave Clark with even less than he had in his circumscribed life. He dropped his head in acquiescence and took over the chore of unbuttoning that Lex had begun.

Stepping back, Lex allowed Clark enough space to remove his boots and then disrobe, taking each piece of clothing Clark handed him and folding it carefully before placing it on the pool table. It didn't take much time; Clark was only wearing the jeans and shirt. Underwear and socks had seemed unimportant when he'd gotten dressed. Eyes still averted, Clark turned to the table and bent over far enough to place his palms on the wood rail...and waited.

Clark was sure that he could feel the weight of Lex's gaze, a heat that flickered along skin that hadn't felt the touch of another person in far too many years. The feeling was so intense that he almost missed the snick as something metal was opened behind him. It wasn't long before Clark discovered what the noise had been. The pleasant sensation of warmth was replaced by searing agony. Clark hissed and arched his back, his belly pressing forward as he tried to escape the kryptonite that he knew Lex was holding. "Lex! Please...." he groaned, with no hope that Lex would take pity on him. Whatever Lex was holding never touched Clark's flesh, but his legs trembled beneath him, nonetheless. Suffering, Clark would have fallen without the support of the heavy wood, but he made no attempt to escape his punishment.

"Did you know that Clark Kent's name never left my preferred access list?" The soft question took Clark by surprise, as did the lessening of the pain. Clark suspected that Lex had pulled his weapon back from Clark's writhing skin, although he hadn't removed the meteorite completely. "I knew you were still out there, Clark, and I was waiting."

Panting lightly, Clark asked, "Waiting for what?" He could feel the sweat breaking out all over his body, despite the chill of the room, and he shuddered.

"For you to come to me and explain what you had done...maybe throw around a few more accusations about my unethical business practices or illegal experiments." Clark could hear the sneer in Lex's voice as the other man shifted behind him. The searing returned, but with a difference. It slid across his back in swathes of heat, as if Lex was caressing him with flame. The rhythmic movements helped Clark focus on Lex's words. "You took away something I valued...and I wanted it back."

"The crystal didn't work on you, Lex," Clark protested with a groan.

The heat of Lex's body replaced the stripes of pain. He never touched Clark directly, but he leaned forward far enough to place his right hand on the rail next to Clark's. Out of the corner of his eye, Clark caught the gleam of gold and acidic green. He recognized the heavy ring as the same one Lex had worn when he'd been split into two...another occasion where Lex had lost the memory of his actions. It was apparent by the presence of the ring that he'd regained those moments along with the others.

"Why did Steel leave Metropolis, Clark?"

Lex's abrupt change of subject left Clark's head spinning. He was still trying to understand what he'd stolen from Lex, and the answer to Lex's latest question eluded him. Lex repeated it, whispering, with his breath disturbing the sweat-damp curls by Clark's ear. Clark shivered in reaction and felt a long-dormant passion stirring, burning deep in his gut...and lower. Knowing he needed to answer quickly, before Lex could detect the change, Clark hastily muttered, "Hurt too much after Mom died."

Clark didn't want to reveal exactly why it had been painful for him to patrol Metropolis. The last thing he needed was to try to explain just how much he missed Lex, and that the occasional glimpse no longer was enough to keep the bone-deep ache at bay. He hoped that Lex had heard enough, but the next question began to tie it all together. "Why did you come here, Clark?"

It was too hard for Clark to answer and he shook his head, even when Lex began to slide his right hand up beside Clark's arm. The strokes resumed, never touching his skin, yet causing every nerve to scream in protest. After a few minutes, Lex's hand withdrew. There was another snick, followed by an immediate cessation of pain. "I left the letter for you before Steel ever came to Metropolis, Clark." The words were gentle, and close to Clark's ear again, the fabric of Lex's shirt tickling Clark's spine. "I was angry then, but I left it here because that's where I last saw my friend. He was someone I loved, even while I hated what he'd done to me." Clark felt Lex's head come to rest between his shoulders, his forehead pressed against Clark's spine as he continued. "You tried to steal my memories of you, Clark. Not just the pain, the anger, the betrayal. You tried to take away the times you saved me, your bravery, and your compassion."

Lex lifted his head, and Clark shivered at the sudden cold. "I wanted your secrets, Clark. I admit it. I wasn't always rational when it came to you, and it drove you away." Clark squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the heat sliding through his veins at the warm puffs of breath against his back and Lex's low, sweet tones. "I always wanted so much more from you, more than I'd had the courage to ask for."

The touch of Lex's hands seared Clark more deeply than the kryptonite ring ever could. Fingers slipped along Clark's sides, from hips to shoulder and then across his chest to meet in the center. Clark could feel Lex against his back, covering Clark as if to protect him, and Clark curled into that shelter with a moan. It turned into a deep groan when Lex's hands slid lower, and then Clark's every muscle clenched in delicious agony as he spilled before Lex could take him in his searching hand. Clark had never felt anything like it, and the world faded behind the sound of his heart, vanished inside the blinding white flash beneath his eyelids.

And then nothing.

Left alone in the study, Clark knew the pool table was the only reason he was still on his feet. Without it, he would have been driven to his knees. Instead, he clamped down on the side rail and stiffened his arms, leaving his head hanging down between his shoulders because it was too heavy to lift. His breathing was deep and fast, but not because of any physical deficit, or even due to his unexpected orgasm. It was in reaction to the words that Lex had whispered to Clark, knowledge left behind for Clark to use or discard as he saw fit, just like the folded square of soft linen placed by his hand.

"You're not the only one who has lived alone all these years, needing to be forgiven."

. . .

A banner headline in the Daily Planet announced Steel's return to the skies of Metropolis, the day after Lex returned from Smallville. The superhero granted no interviews to explain his absence; he simply picked up where he'd left off months earlier. Lex listened to newscasters speculate about Steel's life, and read the updated statistics on the number of fires extinguished, robberies interrupted and disasters averted since Steel's return. Lex chose to consider every rescue Steel made a positive result of their long-delayed confrontation, Lex's anonymous gift to his city.

He relived every moment of their meeting in the study, analyzing every nuance of Clark's expressions and body language. Remembering the sounds Clark had made, first as Lex's hand had passed over his sun-gold skin wearing the deadly green stone, and then again without the ring, left Lex aching with need and impatient with Clark's continued absence. He refused to believe that he'd made a tactical error in forcing the issue, insisting to himself that they'd both needed to put the past behind them.

Days passed.

Lex waited.

Lost in thought as he walked across the living room to the bar, Lex almost missed seeing the gleam of black leather on the balcony. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and Steel's bulk blotted out the lights of the city as he hovered outside the glass doors, irresolute in the gathering night. With an effort, Lex was able to suppress his initial impulse to run, instead strolling over to let his visitor in.

Touching down lightly, Steel ducked his head in greeting and entered. He stood there next to the door, a dark mountain shifting uneasily in the artificial light. His greeting was quietly tentative. "Hello, Lex."

Sliding the door shut, Lex moved towards the bar, determined to pour the drink he'd been heading for earlier. He didn't look at the other man as he dropped ice into a tumbler and splashed in two fingers of his favorite bourbon. "Can I offer you a drink, Steel?" Lex managed not to jump when a pair of heavy leather gauntlets slapped down next to him on the marble top. A black mask followed, crumpling on top of the gloves without a sound. Turning around slowly, Lex looked up into hazel eyes that glinted with suppressed emotion. With a slight smile, he sipped from his glass, and then tried again. "Clark. How can I help you?"

Hazel shimmered to green regret before black lashes swept down to conceal Clark's response to the opening lines of an oft-read script. The muscles in Clark's jaw worked for a moment before he blurted out, "I didn't finish...apologizing...that day, Lex." His eyes reopened, wide, hiding nothing in their depths.

Lex let his smile grow, unable to control the leap of hope that threatened his equilibrium. Silently reviewing the events in the long-abandoned Smallville study, he placed his drink on the bar before he nodded in agreement. "No, you're right. You didn't."

Clark's fingers fumbled at the openings of his costume as he stammered, "I'd...I'd like to...try again.... Get it right...this time." When Lex didn't offer any objection, Clark took it as permission. A dark whirlwind blew through the room and spun to a halt after a scant second had passed, depositing a heap of black clothing on the carpet.

Dropping to his knees, Clark sat back on his heels with his hands positioned on his thighs, palms upward. Bowing his head in Lex's direction, Clark spoke clearly despite his submissive pose. "I'm sorry, Lex. I know that I've made so many mistakes. What I did to you was wrong, even though I was convinced at the time that I was doing it to save you from further harm." His voice lowered and rasped with a simple plea. "Can you ever forgive me, Lex?"

Lex sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to repress the flare of desire that coursed through him. A quick glance was enough to make it clear that Clark didn't share his feelings...at least, not yet. Clark was too immersed in his need for absolution to succumb to passion. Stepping closer, Lex reached out to comb through the close-cropped hair, sparing a moment to mourn the loss of the dark curls that had fallen victim to Steel's grimmer facade. Feeling Clark shudder beneath his hand, Lex murmured, "Do you want me to get the ring, Clark? Do you need the pain?"

Clark jerked, and then held himself rigid as he whispered, "I just need...you. I'll do whatever it takes, Lex."

The total surrender of such a powerful being was almost disconcerting, until the pile of glossy black leather, lying a few feet away from them, acted as a stark reminder for Lex. Wearing it had been another way for Clark to punish himself...a denial of the simple comfort found in human contact. Lex's fingers clenched in response to Clark's decade-long penance, and he pulled Clark's head forward to rest against him, pressing close enough to feel the heat of Clark's breath through his shirt. His hand slid down to Clark's neck and kneaded the tense muscles he found there, until he felt Clark relaxing against him. His voice was clear and steady as he declared, "I forgive you, Clark."

Minutes passed as Lex stroked Clark's head and neck. He supported the younger man silently as broad shoulders shook with quiet sobs and a warm dampness spread across the fine cotton of Lex's shirt. Finally, Clark pulled back and looked up at Lex, his face flushed, green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Waiting for Clark's next move, Lex watched him lick his dry lips and swallow. He nodded in relief when Clark rasped, "You said...you were...?"

Lex's reply was gentle, coaxing. "Yes, I still have to apologize to you. What do you need me to do, Clark?" He watched as Clark's hands twitched where they still lay open on his thighs, fingers curling in restraint. When Clark failed to answer, Lex suggested, "Do you want me to take my clothes off, too?"

Clark never looked away as he nodded, his pupils widening at Lex's offer. He watched every move as Lex backed up a few steps to remove his shoes, socks and belt. The shirt was next, a shade of lavender darkened at the waist, and then pants and boxers. Without ceremony, everything joined Clark's costume, leaving Lex standing there ready for Clark's next request.

One trembling hand rose in supplication as Clark whispered, "Here...." Lex never hesitated, crossing the short distance between them in a few steps. Clark placed his hand on Lex's hip and shuddered at the connection. Lifting up from his heels, Clark wrapped both arms around Lex's waist and pulled him close. His head came to rest just below Lex's sternum, and Lex could feel a vibration running through his bones with Clark's hum of what seemed to be pleasure. The pitch deepened when Lex resumed his gentle stroking.

With the feeling of Clark under his hands and against him, Lex wasn't able to suppress his body's response. Even with Clark's unassisted release in the study days ago, and the reciprocal lack of clothing now, Lex wasn't willing to assume Clark wanted any more from him. He carefully brought up the question, leaving it up to Clark. "I'm waiting for you to tell me what you want, Clark. How far do you want to take this? It's up to you."

Lex felt Clark's lips moving against him as he answered diffidently, "I want...everything, Lex. I don't want to be...alone...anymore. I want what might have been if...." Clark's voice broke on the last few words, and Lex felt damp warmth spreading against him once again.

His own throat tight after Clark's confession, Lex grasped Clark's head and shifted it back far enough to let him look in Clark's eyes. "I do, too." He brushed away Clark's tears with his fingers. "I'm sorry for what I did, Clark. Please forgive me."

A shaky smile greeted Lex's words, and then Clark closed his eyes in evident relief. Freeing his head from Lex's hands, he nuzzled against Lex, his lips and tongue gently kissing and licking downward until they encountered Lex's eager cock. Lex made no effort to restrain himself in the face of Clark's desire, groaning as Clark promptly took him inside the furnace of his mouth. It was messy and untutored, and Lex had waited too long to be able to last more than a few awkward strokes before Clark was swallowing without any warning.

Lex slipped to his knees and gathered Clark close, devouring the slick mouth that tasted of Clark mingled with himself. Feeling Clark hard against him, Lex reached down to take him in his hand. Lex's mouth and hand worked in concert until Clark jerked forward, his mouth opening in a silent shout as he spilled across Lex's thighs and belly. Clark's hands fluttered over Lex's sides and back and, when his voice returned, his first words were, "I forgive you, Lex."

. . .

He has relinquished the past, and his waiting is finally over. No longer alone in the night, he's called from his dreams at times by a broken voice begging forgiveness. With patience and understanding, he grants it again with soft words, a caress, and a kiss.

He always will.

***

The Unforgiven

New blood joins this earth

And quickly he's subdued

Through constant pained disgrace

The young boy learns their rules

With time, the child draws in

This whipping boy done wrong

Deprived of all his thoughts

The young man struggles on and on, he's known

A vow unto his own

That never from this day

His will they'll take away

What I've felt

What I've known

Never shined through in what I've shown

Never be

Never see

Won't see what might have been

What I've felt

What I've known

Never shined through in what I've shown

Never free

Never me

So I dub thee “Unforgiven”

They dedicate their lives

To running all of his

He tries to please them all

This bitter man he is

Throughout his life the same

He's battled constantly

This fight he cannot win

A tired man they see no longer cares

The old man then prepares

To die regretfully

That old man here is me

What I've felt

What I've known

Never shined through in what I've shown

Never be

Never see

Won't see what might have been

What I've felt

What I've known

Never shined through in what I've shown

Never free

Never me

So I dub thee “Unforgiven”

You labeled me

I'll label you

So I dub thee “Unforgiven”

Metallica - The Black Album

Words and Music by James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich and Kirk Hammett

***

Notes: Many thanks to my wonderful beta, jakrar. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

kyanoswolf found http://pics.livejournal.com/danceswithgary/pic/0007h6w6, a DC illustration very similar to Steel.

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.

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