Title: Zero Effects

Cover by danceswithgary

Award banner by arianstarr

Title: Zero Effects

Author: danceswithgary

Email: danceswithgary@yahoo.com

Pairing: Clark/Lex

Rating: R

Warnings: None

Spoilers: Through S3 Asylum

Word Count: 12,400

Archive: Fine, just let me know

Summary: For Lex, each day is a new beginning. He has no choice.

Zero Effects

***

Prologue

***

The voice that woke him was familiar, although the face that accompanied it had changed, grown mature, hard planes replacing the smooth cheeks of boyhood. "You need to get up. Hurry."

Something wasn't right. He didn't recognize his surroundings, the blindingly white walls and ceiling a stark contrast to the dark figure bent over him, shaking him awake. "Where am I? What happened?"

"There was...something was done to you. That's why you don't remember. Listen, there's no time!"

The last thing he could recall flooded in, and he gasped, "Please, tell me what happened to the boy I hit? Is he dead? Did I kill him? Please, I need to know!"

"You didn't kill anyone. I'll explain everything later. Right now, I need to get you out of here."

He felt the constriction across his chest and wrists loosen, and heard the clang of metal. Sitting up, his head spun momentarily, and the walls danced an intricate waltz before settling down to their normal state. "Okay, I'm coming, but you better have a really good explanation as to why I'm here, instead of underneath ten feet of water."

"It's a long story. Let's go."

Standing, he looked down and then back up at the man waiting for him. "How about some shoes?"

. . .

"I want to go back. I waste too much time everyday reorienting myself in an unfamiliar city, or else I spend the day prowling around this mausoleum feeling trapped."

"It's too dangerous."

"I've been dead for years. No one is going to remember me, and besides, you've taught me a few things about hiding in plain sight, right? New name, a wig or a hat, different clothes.... I need this."

"We'll need to make sure...all right. I'll get started on your security, and find you a place to live."

"I already have one. Here's the information."

"Is this where...why?"

"There's a delicious irony in it, don't you think? After all, I start from there every morning. I'll need a new name, too. That'll work, and a first name...it could be my second. No, wait. I'll use this one."

"Why?"

"It appeals to me for some reason. It certainly doesn't hint of anything in my past, so why not?"

"Then you better make a note of it. We wouldn't want to have to go through this again tomorrow. After all, you might pick something truly awful like Granger or Stewart, and then I'd have to call this friendship off."

. . .

"It is time for you to wake up. It is time for you to wake up."

The voice was familiar, its calm tones soothing in his disorientation. He blinked his eyes slowly, and looked up at the ceiling above his head, noting a digital display that changed as he watched.

"Do not panic. You made this recording to remind you about what you've forgotten while you slept last night. Remain calm and listen."

It was his own voice ordering him to stay calm, at the same time that his mind was raging at him and demanding that he jump out of the bed. A bed that he didn't remember going to sleep in, a room he didn't recognize.

"The last thing you remember is a car accident. You crashed through a bridge railing and into a river. You think you hit a boy. You didn't. He wasn't hurt. He saved your life."

He remembered that, the surprise on the face of the boy as his car hurtled toward him. He couldn't believe the dark-haired boy hadn't been hurt, that he'd managed not to have that on his conscience, compounding the guilt he still felt over destroying Amanda's life.

"Look at the date on the ceiling. That is today's date. It is not a mistake. You have been severely injured, and you cannot remember anything that has happened after that accident. The condition you are suffering from is known as anterograde amnesia."

When he calculated the number of years since the date of the accident, he began to understand why the voice had insisted he remain calm. Years. It had been years, and he remembered nothing about them.

"You will wake up every day and listen to these instructions. You will get up, shower and get dressed and then you will go to your office down the hall to your left and read what you need to function today, and you will remember everything that happens until you sleep again."

It felt wrong to accept the information he'd recorded for himself as fact, without any of his normal skepticism, but until he could come up with an alternative, he'd follow the instructions, one step at a time.

"This is important. You must follow these instructions to stay alive. This isn't the life you would have chosen, but you are living it, one day at a time. Make today count."

He watched the numbers on the ceiling as they marked off another minute of the waiting day.

He had no other choice.

He got out of bed.

***

Chapter One

***

The building was hauntingly familiar, the slick facade now cracked, graffiti-spattered brick. He hadn't noticed where he was heading as he pursued the second of two gun-wielding thugs, the first already occupying a handy dumpster until the police arrived. The second was quickly dispatched to join the first, and it wasn't until he returned to retrieve the dropped weapon that he noticed where he'd been led during the aborted escape attempt.

Curious, he scanned the interior, expecting to see the same empty, abandoned space he'd entered years before. Instead, despite his restricted vision, due to what looked to be heavy coats of lead-based paint on the walls and ceiling, it showed clear signs of occupation, not by squatters, but by at least one person with enough money to afford a number of computers and peripherals.

Frowning, he took to the air to complete his errand and deliver the gun to the arresting officers. Nevertheless, he made a mental note to take some time and find out who now owned the building that had once housed the defunct Club Zero.

. . .

The clear, cool water hides nothing as he slices through it effortlessly, the blue of the tiles beneath a counterpoint to the bright sun overhead. Reaching the end of the pool, he stands and shakes his hair back out of his face, searching for his companion. He's nowhere in sight, until a pale, lithe body crests the surface with a laugh, a joyful dolphin cast down to human. A splash entices him into play, and they dive and slide over and under each other, touch and away. Stopping for breath, he seeks once again, but this time there is no splash, no return, and no laughter.

The water is murky and deep and he can't find what he's looking for, but he keeps trying. He knows he has to find it or he'll never be happy again. He keeps swimming downward, or at least he thinks it's down but can't be sure, the light is dimmer with each passing second. He sees a glimmer and it's there, his goal, and he reaches it and sees the face he's been seeking. Eyes stare blankly as the body drifts inside its metal shell. A blow and a yank, and his prize floats free and he surfaces with it held close. On the banks of the black river, he bestows the kiss of life, but it is too late and he weeps in despair. The bloated body turns its head and river-washed, blue eyes look into his as scarred lips assure him, "It doesn't matter, you know, you'd have only let them kill me later."

Jerking awake, he shuddered as the last vestiges of the nightmare bled away into the dark. Knowing from experience that any chance for sleep was gone, he dressed in his bright colors to patrol the night. Always alone.

. . .

Moving around the unfamiliar bedroom locating clothing, he listened to his recorded voice.

"You purchased this building so you would have somewhere familiar to start from every day. The computer on the desk in your office has a training program you will need to run through to understand how to use MIN, the memory interface network you've developed using the learning algorithms you came up with your first year at Met U. It will also fill in what memories you will need for today, as well as what identity you will be using."

Rolling his eyes at the voice, he headed for the open door where he could see a sink and bathroom fixtures, muttering, "I suppose I left all this on a computer with no security since I wouldn't be able to remember a password..."

"The password for the computer is what you saw that day."

He'd never told anyone about the scarecrow, not the doctors, not his father, not his mother.

He was impressed with himself.

. . .

"Hell, Smallville, you look like something the cat dragged in." The honey-blonde whirlwind blew into the small cubicle and plopped down on the corner of desk, leaning over to steal half of the blueberry muffin he was crumbling absent-mindedly.

Frowning up at the muffin thief, he carefully moved the remainder of his mutilated breakfast out of reach. "Gee, thanks, Lois. I can always count on you to make me feel better. And to steal my food."

"That's what partners are for, Clark. Now spill."

Turning back to his laptop, he shrugged. "I just didn't sleep well, that's all."

"Normal people take time out to have a life, date, go out to dinner, Smallville. You should try it sometime." Leaning over his shoulder, Lois attempted to see the screen. "So, what are you working on?"

"I'm just looking up some property records. An old building I'm curious about."

Stacking empty soda cans in a pyramid on his desk, Lois prodded, "Why?"

Blanking his screen, he swiveled in his seat to look up at her, green eyes wide and innocent behind the thick-rimmed glasses. "No particular reason. I just happened to run across it yesterday and I started wondering." Smiling, he changed the subject. "What's on for today?"

Flipping her hair back over her shoulders, Lois grimaced. "Mayor's holding a press conference on the plans for the new stadium. Guess who gets to cover it?" Getting up, she headed out of the cubicle toward her own, a few feet away. "I'd much rather get an interview with Superman or find some juicy dirt on Luthor any day. Who cares about a bunch of jocks and a new place for them to run around in?"

"Well, Lois, all I can say is that neither Superman nor Lionel Luthor is going anywhere, so they'll still be around when you've finished this assignment."

Busy grabbing her purse and stuffing her notepad and recorder into it, Lois' response was only mildly sarcastic. "Gee, Smallville, I don't know how I ever got along without your down home wisdom. However do they manage without you, down on the farm?"

. . .

"Correlation points 27, 34, 56." Touching three points on the screen in front of him, the man seated before the bank of monitors looked up to see the results flash across the screens. Each screen was different, one with scrolling numbers, another with a series of photographs, a third containing a reference document with relevant information highlighted. He typed in a series of commands before touching the screen and speaking again. "Correlation points 7, 19, 27."

A digitized voice interrupted the data flow.

"Incoming call. Mick Rogers. Hiring contact, information source. Confidence level 8."

Halting the displays, the man sighed. "Accept."

"Rome, it's me, Mick."

Waiting for the console in front of him to validate the voice signature, the man prompted, "Yes?"

"I've got a job for you."

Nodding to himself at the positive that flashed on the screen, the man asked, "What is it?"

"I'm sending the details, highly confidential, needed yesterday. The guy would like to meet with you."

"I don't meet with anyone. You know the rules, Mick."

"Rome, this is a big one. I wouldn't have brought it to you otherwise. He wants the best."

"My rules or nothing. Call me tomorrow, I'll have the information for you."

After the call was disconnected, he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "MIN, priority max, report to Mick Rogers on completion. Compile and rank all data on receipt, alert for analysis."

. . .

The green baize of the table mutes the sound of the colored balls as they clack together, kissing before separation. Pointing with the cue, the pale head nods, and the strike sends the final sphere to the depths. Straightening with a laugh, the cue is handed over to be returned to the waiting rack, the smile warm as hands meet.

The green poison burns through his veins as he tries to hang on. The weight on the end of his arm threatens to carry him over, the jerking struggles loosening his grip as each second passes. Straining, he heaves backwards, pulling with all of his waning strength as the weight lessens unexpectedly. A scream and a heavy thud explain the sudden ease. Metal screeches and sways before a rush of air and he is down to the concrete that runs red with spilled life. Crawling through the gore, he looks into the single, intact, blue eye that stares ahead sightlessly and the broken mouth consoles him, "It was all useless. You would have betrayed me anyway."

Another night, another visit by regret and he rose from his bed to roam his small apartment in the dark. Even now, years later, something would trigger memory: a blue glass bottle, a silver-grey Porsche, the scent of scotch or river water, and the horror would return. Restless, he took to the sky, knowing he would never find what he was seeking. His single hope had died years before.

. . .

The recorded voice floated in the air, a digital prompt for a suspended life.

"You are an information broker, a detective. You gather threads of data and knot them together into a solution. The only way for you to remain safe is to work in secrecy, in solitude. MIN will tell you whom you can trust. MIN contains every piece of information you have collected and collated since its inception."

Turning away from the monitor, the man looked out of the plate glass window over the empty expanse, a story below the office he was seated in. He rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to absorb what he'd learned so far.

"MIN is your memory now. Use it. Trust it."

***

Chapter Two

***

He'd been unable to find out the name of the real owner of the building, yet. A contact at the county offices was handling a title search and cross check on the shell company that had been listed as the purchaser. No phone number had been found either, which explained why he was standing outside of the building, getting ready to knock on the door and ask his questions in person. He knew someone was inside; he could detect a single heartbeat and an occasional cryptic word or sentence. A skeleton was just visible through the walls, but he could make out no details. Sighing, he reached out and pressed the buzzer on the intercom near the heavy, metal door. There was no response until he pressed a second time.

"Yes?"

"Hello, I'm Clark Kent, a reporter with the Daily Planet. I was wondering if I might have a few minutes of your time?"

"What's this about?"

"I'm doing a features article on restorations in the city, and someone suggested that this building might be interesting, since it used to be a club, years ago. If I could ask a few questions...?"

The buzz that signaled the unlocking of the door made him jump, and he had visions of the voice inside chuckling at the ungainly sight. Opening the door, he entered the building, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim light after the bright sunshine he'd just left behind. Walking a few steps forward, he stopped and looked around for the occupant of the building. "Hello?"

. . .

The buzz of the door intercom sliced through his concentration like a knife. It was unexpected, he never had anyone visit without prior notice, and the people allowed in his presence were strictly limited and monitored. He studied the security camera display, and didn't recognize the tall, dark-haired man with glasses who stood there fidgeting as he waited for a reply. When the scanner detected no weapons, he decided to respond to the second buzz.

When the visitor responded with his name, he activated MIN, expecting it to compare the name with any photos on file. It came back with a startling response, since he had scanned all of the high-confidence-level photos that morning, after he'd completed the training.

"Clark Kent. Confidence level 10."

It was the highest level ever assigned. There had been only one other name set at that level since he'd awakened, and this wasn't it. There was something unexpected happening. He would have to decide if the encounter was worth the risk. He had to trust MIN, or everything he'd built up to now was meaningless.

He let the man in.

. . .

Advancing slowly into the dim light, he looked around, trying to place the quick glimpses of the past within the context of now. The cavernous space had no echoes, the acoustical tiles applied years ago still in place and absorbing random sounds. The first floor was bare of any furniture, the exception a well-equipped personal gym in one corner, including a treadmill and weight stack. The second floor, a set of suspended balconies leading out from back rooms, circled the floor in shadow, the only bright lights from flickering monitors.

Turning around, he faced the section where he almost expected to see a writhing figure, bound and dangling head down, the prey in a web of deception. Instead, a dark figure lurked in the shadows, only a glimmer of pale skin revealed. Resisting temptation, he kept his vision within the normal range.

"Mr. Kent." The voice was low, smooth, and teased at the edges of his memory.

Lifting his chin, he directed his response upwards. "I'm afraid you have the advantage."

An almost imperceptible movement brought the dark shape closer to the light. "By my choice, as you must have discovered in your unsuccessful search for the owner of this building. Secrets are my business, Mr. Kent. My name and face are better left unknown to most."

Taking another step closer, he let the light overhead fall on his own face. "I can assure you, I keep my sources confidential on request. I also have a reputation to maintain."

Stepping out from the shadows, the man above walked to the railing and stood leaning forward, his pale hands gripping the metal, naked skull painted with a dull sheen above his midnight clothing. He inclined his head graciously, a sovereign in the heights. "In that case, Mr. Kent, please do come up and join me. I'm Jerome Zero. You can call me Rome."

Staggered by the rush of memories and mired in place by disbelief, he could only stand with his mouth open and try to remember how to breathe. He hadn't been prepared to meet a ghost from a decade ago. A single gasp signaled an attempt to return to a coherent state.

"Lex..."

. . .

"Clark Jerome Kent. Age, twenty-seven. Adopted. Raised in Smallville, Kansas. Item: Saved Lex Luthor from drowning. Item: Saved Lex Luthor from kidnap attempt inside LuthorCorp Plant 3. Item: Saved Lex Luthor from attempted murder by first wife, marriage annulled. No contact since Lex Luthor reported dead. Graduated Metropolis University, Major: Journalism. Occupation: Reporter Daily Planet, partner Lois Lane. Author of seventeen negative articles on LuthorCorp in last six months. Personal input from..."

"Halt output. Monitor." The stream of data from MIN fed through his wireless ear bud ended as he greeted his guest. It was apparent from the feed that Clark Kent was one of the good guys, and that he would have to consider revealing at least part of his condition in order to share information. The face turned up to him was wide open, concealing nothing, handsome behind a singularly unattractive pair of glasses. The body, tall and broad, immersed in an ill-fitting suit, seemed to convey subdued power in its every move.

Stepping out from concealment, he stood above and introduced himself, observing the other man's reactions carefully. "In that case, Mr. Kent, please do come up and join me. I'm Jerome Zero. You can call me Rome."

The gasp and the blanching of the face below revealed a much closer relationship than any of his past research of newspaper articles had identified. He watched the large body sway and wondered if he was going to be required to revive his visitor from a faint, but the man recovered and headed for the stairs, almost scrambling in his haste to mount them. He hurried forward, large hands outstretched, and only a quick step backwards prevented an uninvited contact.

The visitor's face fell, and his hands dropped to his sides as he apologized. "I'm sorry, Lex. It's just...you're alive!" A hand came back up as if he couldn't control the need to confirm his presence as real and solid. "I thought...we were told..." The tears that trailed down behind fogged glasses, dampening a grin that threatened to blind him in its intensity, told a tale of past grief and newfound joy. He hated knowing he would be adding another layer of pain to the face before him.

Holding up his hand to forestall another attempt to gather him into a hug, he quickly explained. "I'm sorry, Clark is it? Please forgive me, Clark, but I don't remember you. I suffered brain damage and my last memory is an accident at a bridge in Smallville. I'm afraid that the Lex Luthor you may have known is gone."

Seeing the devastation that crumbled the wavering smile, he offered his hand and pitched his voice low and welcoming. "My name is Jerome Zero, Rome, now. Still, I am pleased to meet someone, perhaps even a friend, from the past. Why don't you join me in my office? You look as if you could use a drink."

. . .

"According to my sources, I owe you my life several times over." Pouring a generous measure of scotch into a tumbler, Lex handed it to Clark, who still looked like he was in shock. Indicating a leather armchair, Lex retreated to his own chair behind his desk and took a sip from his drink.

Taking the offered seat, Clark held the tumbler on his knee, neglecting to take a taste. After several false starts, he was finally able to ask a simple question. "Why, Lex?"

Lex shrugged, his mouth drawing up in a crooked smile. "Why am I alive? Why use an alias? Why keep everything a secret?"

"I'll take an answer to any of those." Clark frowned in irritation at Lex's flippant reply.

"Simply put, a friend rescued me from a sanatorium in Europe where my father shipped me after electroshock therapy left me with anterograde amnesia. To be honest, I've had to rely on what he was able to discover, which was limited since the doctor who performed the procedure died shortly afterward, and all my treatment records were conveniently destroyed in a fire." Lex stared down into the amber liquid as if searching for clues to his missing past. "I've found that newspaper and magazine articles are limited when it comes to filling in the blanks, but safer than attempting to speak to anyone who knew me those few years I spent in Smallville."

"Why safer?"

"Because my friend was convinced that my father had me silenced and removed from the public eye for a reason, a reason which could have resulted in another session of electroshock if my father thought there was any chance that I could remember." Draining the last of his drink, Lex pushed the tumbler to the center of the desk. "Unfortunately, neither my friend nor I knew what it was my father was trying to hide, so faking my death was the only way to keep him from trying again and possibly destroying what was left of my brain. Asking questions when we weren't sure who may have been working for my father was too dangerous."

Setting his drink on the desk, Clark leaned forward. "Why are you telling me all this, now? Why let me in and reveal your secrets?"

"You mean if I could trust you, why didn't I get in touch with you sooner?" Lex raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Excellent question, Clark. You see, until you showed up today, I didn't know I could trust you." His mouth twisted, the scar on his upper lip blanching under pressure. "I didn't even know you were important enough to be assigned a confidence level."

"I don't understand."

"Ironically, I make my living as an information specialist. I collect data, draw conclusions based on it and send the answers to my clients. The major difficulty I've encountered in attempting to find the answers to my past is determining which questions to ask. I obviously didn't ask the right questions about my past, so I didn't know that I should try to find you, let you know I was alive, and find out more about my life in Smallville."

A look of pain flashed across Clark's face. "I'm not sure you have enough information about me now, or what happened between us. If you did, then maybe we wouldn't be having this conversation. I..."

"Incoming call. Mick Rogers. Hiring contact, information source. Confidence level 8."

Holding up his hand in a silent request to wait, Lex touched his ear to indicate he was listening. He responded, "MIN, accept incoming, speaker." At the sound of the connection being made, he began speaking first, forestalling any words from the caller. "Mick, I have the information, stand by for transmission."

"The client wasn't happy about your refusal to meet."

Noting how his visitor stilled at the name, Lex nodded with a frown. "I don't care. If he wants to engage my services, he'll follow my rules. If he persists, take him off the list."

"You're the boss, Rome."

At the sound of the disconnect, Lex raised his hand again. "MIN, speaker. Detail confidence level 10 on Clark Kent."

"Clark Jerome Kent. Age, twenty-seven. Adopted. Raised in Smallville, Kansas. Item: Saved Lex Luthor from drowning. Item: Saved Lex Luthor from kidnap attempt inside LuthorCorp Plant 3. Item: Saved Lex Luthor from murder attempt by first wife, marriage annulled. Item: No contact since Lex Luthor reported dead. Graduated Metropolis University, Major: Journalism. Occupation: Reporter Daily Planet, partner Lois Lane. Author of seventeen negative articles on LuthorCorp in last six months. Personal input from Bruce Wayne: Trust Clark Kent as you would me. Continue?"

The sound of cracking wood split the air between the two men and Clark looked down in dismay at the arm of his chair. A dry chuckle brought his head back up. "MIN, halt output. Monitor." Leaning back in his chair, Lex rubbed a finger over his scarred lip before speaking. "I have to admit I'm finding it hard to decide which piece of that information I find the most intriguing. Is it that I managed to choose your second name as my first, or that Bruce endorses you when he trusts no one?"

"You know Bruce Wayne?"

"Yes, he's the friend I spoke of earlier. He's the only other person that knows I'm still alive. I wonder why he's never spoken to either of us about knowing each other in Smallville. Knowing Bruce, I suspect he was trying to keep me as far away from there as possible, thinking I'd be safer not knowing."

Clark's bark of laughter startled Lex. "Bruce should have known better. The Lex Luthor I knew would have never given up asking questions until he found out the truth."

"That hasn't changed. I'd like to hear anything you can tell me about Smallville and us. Do you have the time?"

Pulling his cell phone out, Clark hit speed dial. "Lois, this is Clark. Look, something's come up and I won't be back to the office today. I'll talk to you tomorrow." Ending the message, Clark turned off the phone and tucked it back into his pocket. He smiled tentatively across the desk at Lex. "OK, the rest of the day is yours. Where do you want to start?"

"Why don't you tell me how we met?"

***

Chapter Three

***

"Please list all food and drink consumed."

Lex laughed at Clark's startled look when the refrigerator began to speak after he opened it to get two bottles of water. "There are voice prompts on all the cupboards and refrigerator. If I use anything, I tell MIN and it places a replacement order at the end of the day. All my laundry, including sheets and towels, is sent out using the same prompt system. I pick up any deliveries at the loading dock and put them away, telling MIN. I only have the one bathroom, one bedroom, the kitchen, and my office, so I'm capable of keeping the place clean myself. That way I don't need to worry about any security issues involved in using a cleaning service."

"Do you ever leave the building?"

Uncapping his bottle, Lex drank deeply before wandering out to the balcony overlooking the empty floor below. "Occasionally, but only at night. It requires a disguise, and I really don't like wearing a wig unless I absolutely have to. I do enjoy eating out sometimes, though. MIN makes sure I don't frequent the same restaurants too often."

Following him out, Clark leaned against the railing a few feet away. "You must get lonely."

Shrugging, Lex shook his head. "Not really, I'm too busy to think about it much." Finishing the bottle, he walked over to the wall, dropped it into a slot marked 'waste disposal' and then wandered over to the bank of monitors. "I spend most of my time here, trying to make sense of the data MIN collects for me. I have a number of search algorithms in place with filters I set. I correlate the results, and MIN stores it for later retrieval as needed."

Looking over Lex's shoulder, Clark watched as Lex used the touch screen to illustrate how he worked. "That's pretty impressive, Lex. How did you come up with all of this?"

"I guess it all started with some techniques I used to associate and weight study topics while I was at school. It took a while to translate it into a digital format, but once I began it was almost an organic growth, took on a life of its own. Now, MIN handles the majority of the work with some input from me on topics of interest." Lex waved his hand at the system. "MIN is monitoring everything we say, and storing it for later assessment." He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "I suppose I should have warned you that I have no secrets from MIN, and as long as you're with me, neither do you."

Clark ducked his head and looked down at the ground. "I..." His head came back up and his expression was earnest. "I'll answer whatever questions you ask me, Lex, and I'll always tell you the truth. If that means I'll have no secrets, then I guess I'll just have to live with that."

Nodding, Lex gestured toward his office. "In that case, let's get comfortable and you can try to explain why I decided to get married a second time after the first marriage was such a spectacular mess."

. . .

Lex was pacing back and forth across his office, his voice edged with pain. "So my father was drugging me because I had evidence that he and Morgan Edge killed my grandparents for insurance money? That's how I ended up in Belle Reve, where I had the electroshock? What happened to the evidence?"

Seated on the sofa positioned along the back wall, Clark frowned. "Lionel managed to get a hold of it, and he most likely had it destroyed. With Morgan Edge missing, Chloe and I had no way to prove anything. When Lana was injured..."

"Lana, my partner in the Talon?"

"Right, she was accidentally trampled by a horse when you got upset with her. It wasn't your fault, Lex, it was the drugs, and you weren't yourself then. Anyway, after that happened, it became impossible for us to convince anyone that you were being drugged, causing you to act as if you were having a psychotic break. There's something else that you need to know, Lex. Something about me and what happened before they took you away..."

Halting, Lex held up his hand. "I need to take a break, Clark. This is a lot to take in at once, especially hearing about what my father did to me. It's one thing to suspect it based on what Bruce was able to find out, it's another to have it confirmed by you."

Rising to his feet, Clark approached Lex with his hand outstretched. He grasped Lex's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Whatever you need, Lex. I'm here for you."

Glancing at his watch, Lex grimaced. "It's late, and we haven't eaten. Why don't we go out and get some fresh air, and talk about something unimportant at a restaurant of your choice?"

. . .

Setting his fork down, Lex grinned across the table at Clark. "Do I have sauce on my face?" Their meal had been enjoyable, Lex amusing Clark with stories of his wild days in college, while Clark shared light-hearted adventures with his intrepid partner. There had been a great deal of laughter and shared smiles.

Flushing in mild embarrassment at being caught staring, Clark shook his head. "No, it's just...you look the same as you did back then, like you never got any older." He ducked his head and murmured, "You look amazing."

Cocking his head as he thought about what Clark had said, Lex's expression reflected his puzzlement. "You know, I hadn't really noticed, but you're right...it's as if my aging stopped at the same time I lost my memories. I wonder...with all the odd effects you've mentioned from the meteors...maybe..." He shrugged. "Not my field, I'm afraid. Anyway, you're one to talk. You certainly don't look like you're twenty-seven. You could be a college freshman."

Clark chuckled. "Not an advantage when it comes to interviews, sometimes. It's a good thing I have Lois for the hard-hitting news. I generally handle the human interest side."

"Lois Lane, right? And Chloe was your partner back in Smallville. What ever happened to her? It sounded like she'd have made an amazing reporter." Noticing they were the last customers in the restaurant, Lex signaled for the check while he waited for an answer. The sadness in Clark's eyes made him sorry he'd asked.

"She...was killed in a car accident one night, right before graduation. The police thought that maybe an animal ran out in front of her car. She was by herself, and they were sure she died instantly when she hit the tree."

Reaching out, Lex covered Clark's hand with his. "I'm sorry, Clark."

"Thanks. It was a long time ago, but I still miss her. She was my only friend after you..." Clark blinked rapidly as he valiantly tried to smile. "She would have been happy that I stayed with journalism like we'd planned."

Leaving enough cash to cover the bill and tip, Lex rose from the table. "Let's go. It's a beautiful night out there. We can enjoy the stars on the way back."

Grateful for the Lex's understanding, Clark nodded and followed him out.

. . .

The darkness held them in comfortable silence as they walked along the deserted streets, each lost in his thoughts. On reaching the building, Clark followed Lex inside and up the stairs to his office, taking a seat on the sofa again, all without a single word. Taking his baseball cap off, Lex tossed it on the desk along with the glasses he'd donned before leaving for the restaurant. He kicked off his shoes before taking a corner of the sofa, pulling one leg up so he could see Clark more easily. Smiling, Clark did the same.

Lex spoke first. "I really enjoyed dinner, Clark."

"I did, too. It's been years..." Clark's smile turned bittersweet.

Lex shook his head in disbelief. "Come on, you must have the ladies lining up..." At Clark's raised brow, he chuckled. "All right, then the men must be."

Clark shrugged. "No, when I said Chloe was my only friend after I lost you, I meant it. I just never...it never seemed right. It's not like anyone wanted to make the effort to get to know me anyway."

Lex studied Clark's face and smiled gently before sliding closer. He reached out and pulled off Clark's glasses, folding them before placing them in Clark's shirt pocket. "You don't really need those, do you?" At Clark's slow headshake, he slid even closer. "I can't help wondering what you're hiding from, Clark." When Clark didn't move away, Lex raised his hand to trace the edge of Clark's jaw. "How close were we really, Clark? Were we lovers?"

Clark licked his lips, closing his eyes for just a moment before he whispered, "No."

Sliding his hand upwards to run his fingers through thick, dark curls, Lex brought his face closer, his voice a low caress. "Did you want us to be?"

After the briefest hesitation, Clark's answer was a sigh. "Yes."

"Then I think we've both waited long enough, don't you?"

The kiss started out a gentle exploration, brief touches, and a glide across, the tip of a tongue asking permission and receiving it. Breath was soon stolen, and then returned with a sigh. Heat flared, hands joined the dance, and clothing became a nuisance. Breaking away, chased by a protesting groan, Lex rose to his feet. "Come to bed with me?"

Standing, gaping shirt slipping from his shoulders to the floor, Clark simply nodded and followed Lex to the room next door. Slipping out of his clothes quickly, Lex scrambled up the bed, shoving the cover sheet and blanket to the foot of the bed. Rolling to his back, he propped himself up on his elbows to watch with heavy-lidded eyes as Clark fumbled himself out of his remaining clothing.

Naked at last, Clark peeked up at Lex through his lashes as he stood at the foot of the bed, suddenly shy. Lex smiled gently and beckoned with his index finger. "Come here." Never looking away, Clark climbed onto the bed and crawled slowly towards Lex, straddling his hips and ending up over him, still on his hands and knees. Lex grinned up at him. "You've never done this before, have you?" At Clark's slow headshake, he reached up to pull his head down, capturing his lips gently, nipping and then soothing with his tongue. He urged Clark to lower his body on to his, accepting the weight with a pleased groan as he felt Clark hard and eager against him. Thrusting upward, he began to teach Clark the movement and the rhythm, finding him an apt pupil.

Frantic, disjointed words interrupted kisses. "Lex...Lex...I've missed you...so much."

"I must have been an idiot not to have you back then," Lex groaned, his hands learning the shape and strength of the man over him.

Stilling, Clark held back, his voice rough and broken. "Wait, Lex. There's...there's something I need to tell you first, something you need to know about me and what happened."

Impatient, Lex shook his head and tried unsuccessfully to pull Clark's head back within reach. "Do you work for my father? Did you work for my father?"

Clark stiffened in outrage. "No!"

Lex searched the distressed green eyes that begged for understanding. "Do you really want this...want me?"

"Yes, yes. A million times, yes."

"Then, please, just let me have this. I've been awake since yesterday and I've dealt with nothing but bad news and trying to make sense of my life. You're the first good thing that's happened to me, Clark. Tell me later. Let me have you now."

Sighing, Clark dropped his forehead to Lex's and closed his eyes in defeat. "Anything, Lex. You can have anything and everything you want from me."

Both hands buried in Clark's hair, Lex brought their lips together in a crushing kiss, growling as he worried plush lips with his teeth, "Then move, Clark. Touch me, damn it. I need to feel you, feel something."

The heat that had cooled as they'd spoken flared up once again and the lost rhythm found. Both hard, smooth skin slid against hair-roughened, intimate friction quickening with breathless mouths seeking. Tongues battled in a war without a winner or loser, words escaped lacking any meaning save desire. Pleasure rose until it spilled over, echoed, shared, slowed, and rested, content.

Murmuring in protest as the warm weight shifted off to his side, Lex felt his world narrow and grow dim as sleep claimed him. His final thoughts scattered, a faint chiding voice ignored as it tried to remind him in vain of something important, forgotten. He never heard the soft whisper in the dark. "Please don't hate me when you find out the rest, Lex. I can't lose you again. I...I love you."

. . .

The blue bottle is cool in his hands, the liquid a sparkling taste in his mouth as the other raises his to scarred lips and drinks, long elegant throat working as he swallows. The grin, the conspiratorial blue wink leaves him tingling with want. The bottle empty, it is discarded and pale skin reflects stained glass sun as other refreshment is sought. Amber glitters as it pours out, splashes, overflows to pool on dark wood. A spark and flame rises, consumes as an open mouth screams in silence. Frozen, movement stolen from forgotten limbs, he watches helplessly until black ash crumbles to the floor. Dropping to his knees, his hands flake away char until the skull grins up and speaks without a tongue, "Too late. You're always too late. It's all gone, now."

Reluctant to leave the warmth he'd mourned for so many lost years, he knew he would receive no surcease until he revealed the complete truth. Listening, he detected another chance for the redemption he'd sought for years, and donned the symbol he'd worn to honor a fallen champion. He would return later with his hope for long-awaited forgiveness.

***

Chapter Four

***

Backlit by the rising sun, two heroic figures confronted each other, high above Gotham's morning streets.

"How could you keep Lex a secret from me all these years, Bruce?" Clark stood stiffly in front of the other man, arms folded across his emblazoned chest and his face grim. "All this wasted time..."

Expression concealed behind his dark mask, Bruce shook his head, his mouth twisted. "And I was supposed to know that Lex was important to you? How? Based on a few paragraphs in a small town newspaper?" His hand flew out in a dismissive gesture. "You've never said anything to me about him before, about your life in Smallville."

"I saved his life!"

"You've saved a lot of people's lives!"

"But he..." Clark's arms dropped to his sides and his voice softened. "There was no one else like him, Bruce." He looked away to the side, swallowing down his emotion. "He's so alone. Isn't there something more I...we can do to give him back his life?"

Dark eyes glittered from concealment as Bruce shrugged. "There weren't many options open to Lex after he was hurt, short of killing Lionel." At Clark's aborted movement, Bruce laughed grimly. "I've thought about it, but I haven't fallen that far into the darkness, yet. The best I could do was to hide Lex with a new identity, give him the tools he needed to make the best of what life he has left to him. No one else knows, except Alfred."

"And now me."

"Yes. I can understand your anger, Clark. When I saw him there, strapped down, helpless, I wanted to make someone pay. It took me too long to find him once I'd heard what had happened. We'd lost touch with each other after Excelsior, but I'd always considered him a friend." A dark gauntlet flexed. "I did the best I could, but it was too little, too late."

A muscle flexed in Clark's jaw as he nodded. "It wasn't your fault, Bruce. It was mine. I abandoned him when he needed me the most, and I failed when I tried to save him later. I was a coward."

A bitter laugh escaped the other man. "You? I find that hard to believe, Clark."

Mouth twisted in self-disgust, Clark shook his head. "It's true, Bruce, and I've regretted it every day of my life since then."

Reaching out, Bruce placed a hand on Clark's shoulder and squeezed. "There has to be more that you're not telling me, a reason that you would have left Lex behind to be hurt."

Shrugging off the forgiving gesture, Clark shook his head. "My secrets were never worth Lex's life." Straightening, he smiled grimly. "I have a second chance to get it right. I'm not going to fail this time."

"Clark, it's not that simple. Lex is..."

"Listen, I have to go. I left a note because I didn't want to wake him up, but I want to make sure he's all right. I still have some more things I need to tell him, to explain. I just hope he can forgive me. I'll catch you later." Clark sprang into the air and was gone before Bruce could finish speaking.

"Damn it, Clark. This can't be good." Activating his communicator, he made a quick call. "Alfred, I need to go to Metropolis. I think our friend is going to need me. Please have the plane ready to go when I get there."

. . .

He'd listened to the instructions that had awakened him and had ended up in this office, still trying to make sense of his truncated life. The training materials flashing by on the laptop were clear and concise, and it looked as if all he had to do was pick the right key words to retrieve any information on his missing past that he wanted. Picking up the scribbled note he'd found next to the laptop, he frowned and read it again, still lacking any enlightenment as to the identity of the author.

Sorry, emergency, have to leave. Last night was incredible. I'll call as soon as I can.

As he reached for the cell phone sitting in the center of his desk, it rang, as if thinking about the promised call had caused it to occur. Picking it up gingerly, he answered tentatively. "Yes?"

"Lex? It's Clark. I hope you don't mind, but I got your number off your cell before I left. Did you find my note?"

"Yes, I think I did."

"Are you okay? You sound a little odd."

"Do I?"

"Never mind, I probably caught you in the middle of one of your analyses. I wanted to ask you if it was okay if I stopped by tonight after work, maybe we could even have dinner together? We never finished talking yesterday and I need to..."

"Yes."

"Yes? Great! I'll be there about six. I'll see you then, Lex. Um...bye."

"Goodbye."

Lex looked at the phone in his hand and wondered exactly whom he would be meeting at six. It was probably a good time to try using the system called MIN and see if it could fill in some of the blanks.

. . .

The buzz caught him off-guard, deep in the middle of learning the ins and outs of working with MIN. Looking around, he saw the red light blinking above a door on the first floor and surmised someone was outside. He decided to try one of the command sets. "MIN, do you have any information on my visitor?"

"Bruce Wayne. Confidence level 10."

He sighed in relief. Finally, a name he recognized and could trust. He started down the stairs to greet his oldest friend. "MIN, open door."

Bruce brought his own darkness into the dimly-lit space, but Lex didn't care. He was too eager to talk to someone who might help him understand what was happening, more quickly. "Bruce, am I glad to see you!"

Standing back, Bruce nodded in greeting. "Hello, Lex, it's good to see you, too. How long have you been awake?"

Puzzled, Lex stopped his advance towards his friend. "About two, two and a half hours, why?"

"So, you're only about halfway through your orientation period, just starting to retrieve your memories using MIN. I want you to finish before I answer any questions. Any break in your routine will just make it harder for you later on. I'll wait for you in your office." Walking around Lex, Bruce walked up the stairs, carrying a case with him, and disappeared through the office door, leaving Lex standing open-mouthed in shock.

"MIN, when does the white rabbit arrive?"

"Question not on file. Please re-phrase question."

Sighing, Lex trudged back up the stairs and sat back down in front of the bank of monitors. "MIN, cancel question. Continue briefing on building systems and security."

. . .

"Bruce?"

Hitting the sleep key on his laptop, Bruce looked up at Lex, hovering uncertainly just inside the office door. "Finished?"

Nodding, Lex came in and sat behind his desk, watching as his friend put away his laptop and sat back on the sofa. "I think so. At least, I think I know what questions to ask." Frowning, he leaned forward. "The first one is: Why are you here?"

Bruce nodded, no emotion displaying on his stoic face. "Good. I'm here because Clark Kent showed up here yesterday, and now he knows that you're alive."

"Are you here to protect me from him, or to explain what significance his visit had?"

Bruce raised a sardonic brow. "I'm assuming your first choice was sarcastic since you would have already discovered he is set at confidence level 10 and would never pose a threat to you."

Lex rolled his eyes at his friend's behavior. 'Yes. So? Are you going to save me from having to listen to the fifteen hours MIN recorded in order to find out what happened?"

"I'm afraid that you'll probably still need to listen because Clark knows more about your life in Smallville than I ever did. In addition, I think something important happened between you two yesterday...and he doesn't know that you won't remember it."

"How did that happen?"

"I'm not sure. When I talked to him this morning..."

"Wait, you've spoken to him already?"

"Yes. We...work together on occasion. To continue, while we were discussing the fact that I had never told him you were alive, I got the distinct impression that you two had not finished sharing information, and that he was expecting to pick up wherever you left off last night. I thought that you needed to know, so that you could decide how you wanted to handle the situation."

Lex sat back in his chair slowly as he absorbed the information from Bruce. "Well, that should make for an interesting conversation. I wonder why I didn't tell him?"

"I don't think you're going to know until you listen to those recordings. Maybe you need to just scan them for the highlights." Rubbing his chin, Bruce frowned again. "Do you want me to be here when he arrives?"

Lex shook his head. "No, I'll handle it. Thanks for the offer, but it looks like you've cleaned up enough of my messes to last a lifetime. It's my responsibility."

Standing up, Bruce picked up his case and walked toward the desk, hand outstretched. Lex stood and shook it warmly. "I really appreciate you coming all the way from Gotham to fill me in, Bruce."

Bruce shrugged. "Any time you need me, Lex, I'm a phone call away. If I could have been sure where you were in your cycle, I would have just called myself, but your waking periods do tend to vary..."

"I understand. Thanks again."

"Take care, Lex. I'll see myself out." A rare grin flashed across Bruce's face. "You better start listening. He'll be here all too soon, I'm afraid. Good luck."

. . .

Lex was aware he was still missing large portions of the previous day's events when the buzzer announced that Clark had arrived. He'd fast-forwarded to the end of MIN's recording, and the whisper he'd heard had made it clear that he could damage something precious if he wasn't careful. There were some security photos taken by MIN that he'd studied, as well as details about Clark's life available from public records, but none of that mattered as much as actually meeting the man he'd seduced and forgotten. Hurrying to the door, he stopped to compose himself before directing MIN to open it.

"Lex!" The photos had done little to prepare Lex for the dazzling grin that greeted him as Clark walked through the door. Unfortunately, his natural reserve had him avoiding the quick kiss that Clark attempted, instantly leaving Clark thinking that he'd made a serious mistake. "I'm sorry, I guess that I..." Flushing, he ducked his head in abject apology. "Look, I didn't mean to...maybe I should..."

Catching hold of Clark's bicep before he could walk back out the door, Lex quickly reassured him. 'No, Clark, it's okay. You just startled me. That's all." Urging him forward, Lex attempted to draw Clark further into the room. "I'm really glad you're here. I've been looking forward to talking with you." He was pleased to see the smile return, although the wattage had been significantly reduced. "Why don't we go upstairs to the office?"

Knowing how the previous evening had ended left Lex feeling slightly self-conscious as he walked up the stairs first, wondering if Clark was remembering what had happened, and if he was imagining Lex without his clothes, just as Lex was about him. Reminding himself that they had to talk first, Lex desperately tried to rein in his raging libido and block out the memory of the sounds Clark had made as he came.

Taking his seat behind the desk, Lex looked up to see a puzzled look on Clark's face as he sat down slowly on the sofa. He berated himself silently for not realizing that Clark would expect Lex to be sitting next to him, not place a desk between them. He knew he needed to let Clark know what had happened as soon as possible, but hesitated over how to begin.

Clark gave him the perfect opening. "Lex, is there something wrong? Did I...make a mistake coming here?" His green eyes were wide with concern.

Lex raised a calming hand. "No, Clark, you didn't make a mistake. If anything, I think I was the one who didn't make myself clear yesterday." A choking sound of distress from Clark brought him to his feet, and moving around the desk, intent on relieving the pain he could see in his face. "Clark, please listen."

Scrambling to his feet, Clark wrung his hands as he stuttered out an apology. "I knew...I should have just left, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to take advantage of you, Lex. I could never...I..."

Placing his hand gently over Clark's trembling lips, Lex shook his head ruefully. "This is not going very well, is it? Can you please sit down, Clark and let me explain?" He took his hand away as Clark nodded slowly and resumed his seat, perching on the edge of the cushion as if ready to bolt at any second.

Lex stood directly in front of Clark, hoping to forestall any attempt at escape before he could finish. "I told you yesterday that I had amnesia, right?" He didn't wait for Clark to respond. "I do, but it's a very rare type of anterograde amnesia."

Clark nodded. "You mentioned that."

Lex's mouth twisted, his scar blanching from the pressure. "I'm guessing from the way this conversation has been going that I didn't explain exactly what that meant."

Clark shrugged, puzzled. "You said you didn't remember anything that happened after the accident at the bridge."

"That's correct, but there's more. When I go to sleep, I lose my memory again, Clark." Lex wanted to rub away the frown line that appeared between the green eyes that searched his face, trying to understand. "That's why MIN exists, because every time I wake up, I have to start all over again, at the bridge, thinking that I hit you with my car."

Lex watched the expressions chase each other across Clark's face as he looked up: bafflement, calculation, understanding and then finally, dismay. Shaking his head sadly, he confirmed Clark's unspoken question. "No, Clark, I don't remember anything about yesterday. All I have left is what was stored in MIN and whatever I just looked up about you before you arrived."

***

Chapter Five

***

"I tend to stay awake for about forty hours at a stretch to try to make up for losing about five catching up every time I wake up. Spending all that time at once with you made it difficult for me to recover what we did, what we talked about, before you got here today. I'm sorry." Lex was sitting next to Clark on the sofa as he explained how his life worked. "I'll understand if you want to leave after all this. It can't be easy knowing..."

It was Clark's turn to reassure, his large hand covering Lex's where it lay between them. "No, Lex. I want to stay, that is, if you want me to." He squeezed gently. "I came back today because there was more that I needed to tell you. That hasn't changed." He ducked his head and peered at Lex shyly through his thick lashes. "How I feel about you hasn't changed, either."

Remembering the whisper, Lex turned his hand over and clasped Clark's tightly. "Then let's finish this, shall we?"

Closing his eyes for a second in relief, Clark took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "All right. I just hope you can forgive me when you've heard everything, Lex."

"Clark, I think I already have. Whatever it is, you could have kept it a secret the rest of your life, I never would have known. That you're willing to take a chance means a lot, possibly more than what you're going to tell me."

"I hope so, Lex. First, tell MIN to record this as a priority, so you'll know it right away the next time you wake up."

Frowning, Lex did as Clark asked. "MIN, record, priority 1."

Looking directly into Lex's face, Clark began. "Your father drugged you so that it would look like you had a psychotic break. He did it because you had evidence that he and Morgan Edge killed your grandparents for the insurance money. He had you committed to Belle Reve and put you through electroshock therapy to erase your memory." Clark's voice dropped to almost a whisper and he looked away in shame. "I panicked when you found out I wasn't human and I ran and I let them take you away to Belle Reve instead of keeping you safe. I waited too long to try to get you out and...and then...I couldn't...I was too late."

Lex's hand went lax inside of Clark's, but he didn't pull away. "You were just one person. How did you expect to go against my father and all his men and win? It took Bruce months to get me out, and he's a billionaire. You were what...in high school?"

Clark's head whipped around in disbelief, his voice strident. "Didn't you hear me? I'm not human. I'm an alien that came down with the same meteors that took away your hair. I'm stronger and faster than any human...and I let them take you away because I was a coward." He dropped Lex's hand and clenching his fist, pounded his thigh in emphasis. "I could have broken you out, when I visited that one time you begged me to, and I refused. Then I couldn't get to you, they stopped me with the kryptonite, and it was too late."

Tears ran down Clark's face, unchecked. "They took you away to someplace that Chloe and I couldn't find, we tried everything we could think of, and then you were...dead and there was nothing I could do to make it right." He was mumbling into Lex's shoulder, never feeling the arms that wrapped around him, or the voice that tried to comfort him. "Don't you understand? I let the man I loved die because I was afraid."

. . .

"I've never loved anyone else. I don't think I ever will." Lex listened to the thick, rough voice and silently continued to comb through the dark curls covering the head lying heavy on his thigh. "Do you think that maybe someday you could forgive me, Lex?"

"That's a lot of guilt you've been carrying around, Clark." Lex's hand stilled, still buried deep in Clark's hair. "I guess I can sympathize because I carry some of my own from back when I was younger and destroyed someone's life." Lex's laugh was bitter. "When we were friends, did I ever tell you about this place? Club Zero?" A nod answered him. "So, maybe we both need some forgiveness in our lives."

Resuming his soothing motion, Lex sighed. "I don't think this will be the last time we'll talk about this, Clark. There are probably a lot of details I'm going to want before a final version goes into MIN. Are you willing to go through that?"

Twisting to look up into Lex's face, Clark asked in disbelief, "Are you saying that you want me here? To stay?"

"I'm saying that I believe that we had something special between us during those years in Smallville and I'd like a chance to find out what it was. How about you?" Lex waited patiently, his blue eyes steady and clear.

Clark sat up slowly and turned his body to face Lex. His head dipped in a slow nod before his grin broke free. "We'd only known each other for a few hours when you told me we had a destiny together. I still believe that, Lex. Yes!"

Lex's eyes crinkled as he responded with a grin of his own. "So, you're an alien? Really? Cool."

. . .

"It is time for you to wake up. It is time for you to wake up."

The voice was familiar, its calm tones soothing in his disorientation. He blinked his eyes slowly and looked up at the ceiling above his head, noting a digital display that changed as he watched.

"Do not panic. You made this recording to remind you about what you've forgotten while you slept last night. Remain calm and listen."

"The last thing you remember is a car accident. You crashed through a bridge railing and into a river. You think you hit a boy. You didn't. He wasn't hurt. He saved your life."

"This is important. You must follow these instructions to stay alive. This isn't the easiest way to live, but it works. The sooner you start, the sooner you'll understand."

He watched the numbers on the ceiling as they marked off another minute of the waiting day.

He had no other choice.

He got out of bed.

Walking into the bathroom, he noticed clean towels and a washcloth lying on the counter. Opening the shower, he saw shampoo and conditioner sitting on the shelf next to his favorite bath gel. Puzzled, he turned back around and the two toothbrushes next to shaving cream and a razor caught his eye. Feeling a little exposed, he quickly showered and headed back into the bedroom to get dressed. The clothing that was one to two sizes larger confirmed his suspicion that he wasn't alone.

He had a feeling his life had gotten a lot more interesting.

***

Chapter Six

***

"Lex? Are you caught up?"

"Clark?"

"Yeah. Are you ready to go?"

"I think so. Maybe."

"Take your time. I won't rush you."

"I really do know you, don't I? And you're an alien. And we're going to fly to the Arctic to see if some alien artifact can cure me."

"That's right."

"It's either that or Bruce has gone to a hell of a lot of trouble for a practical joke."

"I'm sure Bruce would be appalled that you thought he could do something that ridiculous, Lex."

"You're right. So, you're an alien."

"Yes, we already covered that once already."

"Sorry, the whole flying without a plane concept is throwing me."

"The sooner we start, the sooner you'll understand."

"That sounds familiar."

"I'm glad something does."

. . .

"I'm sorry, Kal-El, but there is nothing I can do to cure your mate." The AI's booming Kryptonian startled Lex, who was busily examining a nest of crystals. Looking around, and seeing nothing changed, he shrugged and returned to his investigation.

Clark frowned and answered in the same language. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. There is nothing to cure. There is no physical damage that I can detect."

Puzzled, Clark asked for more information. "But he loses his memory every time he sleeps. Surely there must be something causing it."

"Nothing physical. It may be psychological. Perhaps he unconsciously doesn't wish to remember."

Frustrated, Clark protested, "Can't you do something about that?"

"It is a human condition, not Kryptonian. I have nothing to suggest, Kal-El."

With a wave of his hand, Clark shut down the AI. Walking over to Lex, he touched his shoulder gently to get his attention. "Come on, Lex. It's time to go home."

Frowning, Lex abandoned the crystals to face Clark. "Did you find out anything useful?"

Disconsolate, Clark shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. It was a waste of time."

Lex grinned. "Speak for yourself. I got to fly to the Arctic and check out alien technology with a fashion-challenged superhero in primary colors."

"You are such a geek. Come on."

. . .

"The AI couldn't help. It suggested the problem is psychological, not physical."

Leaning back into the shadows so that he disappeared from view on the rooftop, Bruce asked, "So what do you want to try next? A psychiatrist?"

Pacing along the edge of the roof, Clark shrugged, his cape rippling from his shoulders. "I suppose it's a possibility, but Lex...he won't even consider placing himself back in that position. I guess I don't really blame him."

Emerging from the darkness, Bruce stood looking out over Gotham, arms crossed over his chest. "Maybe he needs a reason to remember. He'd been injured over and over again in Smallville, both of his wives tried to kill him, and then his best friend abandoned him so that his father could destroy his mind. Why would he want to remember that? The odd thing is...why the bridge? Why not some other head injury later on? From what you've told me, he was getting hit in the head every other week."

Clark sighed. "Because that was the first time I lied to him."

. . .

"You could erase all the memories of you in MIN and leave, and I'd never know what I was missing. Why don't you?"

"You know why, Lex. Because I love you."

"How can you? I don't know who you are half the time. You spend your time with me trying to help me remember, only to do it again the next day."

"How could I not love you? We were friends - the best of friends and I loved you, then I lost you for the worst of reasons. I got a second chance to be at least a friend, and that would have been enough, but I fell in love all over again with this incredible man with the courage to face living his life from the beginning over and over again. Yes, occasionally you fall into depression, but not for long - you're off and attempting something new, making it better, always striving, never giving up. How could I not love that man and do everything I can to make sure he's in my life everyday? How could I not try to make him love me, too, even if only for a few bittersweet hours?"

Clark leaned over Lex to the keyboard in front of the bank of monitors and typed in a command. A slide show began, playing across all of them. They were pictures of the two of them, taken from the security cameras scattered through the building. They were happy in them, Lex could tell by the smiles that reached into their eyes. In one, Clark was carrying a pool table inside, followed by grins across the green baize. They watched movies snuggled together on the sofa. There were pictures of them sleeping together, of kisses. There were also angry faces and tears, followed by hugs.

Clark pointed to the pictures that were flashing by, his voice intense and on the edge of yelling. "This is why I'm still here, Lex. Because I love that man in those pictures. I love you. Every time you wake up, I wait for you to catch up and then I come to you and I try to make you fall in love with me, and on the good days, it happens. Those days make it all worthwhile, Lex." He turned Lex's chair around and leaned on the arms, his face just a few inches away. "If I have to do that every damn day for the rest of my life, I will, Lex. Because you're worth it. We're worth it." His hands left the arms of the chair to cradle Lex's face and his voice gentled. "Got it?"

Lex gazed deep into the green eyes that begged him to understand and nodded slowly. "Got it."

***

Epilogue

***

One blue eye peered blearily at the blinking zeroes on the digital alarm clock by the bed and groaned. Lifting his head, Lex smiled fondly at the tuft of dark hair that peeked out beneath the blanket pulled up high in a futile attempt to shut out the morning sun. Tugging at the improvised shield, Lex chuckled at the muffled protest. "C'mon, Clark. Your backup alarm didn't go off, and you're going to be late to work."

"I know, I know. There was a fire at the power plant just as I got back from Peru and it took forever to get it under control and I...Lex!" The grumbled complaint ended in a squawk and a flurry of displaced bedclothes. Leaping out of bed, blushing from head to toe as he searched for something to wear, Clark stammered out an apology for oversleeping and not getting the alarm reset and for confusing Lex. Hopping on one foot, the frantic man attempted to pull on the pants that he'd thrown on the floor the night before, trying not to tear a hole in them, when the sound of laughter from the bed stopped him short.

"Wait, you...you called me Clark?"

"Of course I did. That's your name."

"Didn't you go to sleep last night, Lex?"

"Considering I just woke up, I think the answer to that question would be 'Yes, I did go to sleep last night,' Clark."

"But...but you remember my name."

"Yes, I remember your name, and I remember we live together, and I remember...."

"L...Lex!"

Dropping his rumpled pants to the floor, Clark stumbled toward the bed, his outstretched hand shaking. Lex reached out to take it and tugged the confused man down to lie next to him on the bed. Propping himself up on one elbow, he leaned over Clark and tenderly brushed back the dark, sleep-tangled curls. A smile teased at Lex's lips as his clear blue eyes crinkled in amusement. Pale face descending, eclipsing the morning light, Lex whispered, "And most importantly, I remember that I love you."

The kiss was one that they'd never forget.

fin

***

Challenge: CLFF22 All those treatments have made Lex a little unbalanced.

Notes: Inspired by 'Zero Effect' (1998), '50 First Dates' (2004), and 'Memento' (2000). More than a few grammatical errors corrected since original posting at CLFF site thanks to the eagle eye of jakrar.

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. "Zero Effect' is the property of Jake Kasdan and Castle Rock Entertainment and '50 First Dates' is the property of Columbia Pictures and George Wing and 'Memento' is the property of Jonathan Nolan and the Newmarket Capitol Group. Gough/Millar Inc and the WB Network TV own Smallville. Any deviations (or deviant behavior) from the originals, however, is mine.

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