CHAPTER ONE - Warm Up
 

            Shawn Kelvin shoved his numbed hands into his pockets, the temporary heat from the generator already fading. He wanted to scream at the trembles to stop. He hated this. All he wanted was to be warm. That was all. Couldn't people see that? Couldn't people tell that he wasn't violent, that he didn't necessarily want to kill anyone? It was the only way he could get warm, the only fucking way that he could stop the endless goddamn shakes and the frozen muscles, his sore eyes, and his aching nose.
            His feet, his hands, his bones… They were all so cold, and no one cared, no one was trying to help him, no one wanted to warm him up. They never would because this was Smallville where everything weird got tossed to the side. They all just wanted him dead so that there would be one less problem, one less thing to ignore in Smallville.
            He knew this because he had been there, looking at the freaky things with distaste, with a sick morbid fascination and a wish for it just go away- all of it.
            Now he was on this side, and none of them cared, including that Sullivan chick. He'd always laugh at the things she wrote about, had been into the paper's headquarters on a number of times for the articles on sports. He'd seen her "Wall of Weird". Who in school didn't know about the little freak's obsessions with the bigger freaks and mutations out there?
            He'd seen Chloe's number on his palm, remembering all of that shit she used to write and felt a sudden pang of anger and sorrow that he might, if he let himself, become another Sullivan article to hang up. To be pasted up there with the woman who gave birth to thousands of snakes, the haunted ice-cream parlor, the suspicious death of his coach, and plant that had been found eating human beings. He was certainly already material enough. Young teenage Romeo with the Janus reputation drowns then reemerges, unable to stay warm unless taking the body heat from "hot" teenaged girls. Of course he could take body heat from anyone, but the papers would make it out to be karma, would bring out the symbolism, and he'd be front-page material for the torch, just like Coach.
           That's not gonna happen.
            It had been perfect: the cold driving him a little crazy, none of his ex's even giving him the time of day, then finding Chloe's number still written in that red ink of hers, practically standing out in 3-D on the blue of his palm. That was karma.
            He'd phoned her.  Set up a little date.  Ha!  She'd sounded so pleased to get his call. And he was pleased she'd agreed to see him. Made it all the more fun. Out of disgust and rancor for her exploitation of the weird, of the bizarre, he'd enticed the young journalistic hopeful, luring her with romantic flower petals into the school pool. Playing on her emotions.  He'd then enacted upon the I-can't-help-myself-I'm-so-cold-and-in-pain-I-have-to-do-this-I-have-no-choice sympathy card, but he couldn't keep a straight face. He smiled right before that little bitch fell into the pool.  She had been so damn close to being his, killed by the very fascination that seemed to claim her identity.
            Fucking Kent.
            He shivered again and clenched his teeth to try to stop them from chattering. Stupid farmboy had to come in and fuck it all up. And what the hell was with that kid anyway? Freakishly strong, being able to send him flying across the frozen surface of the pool like that.
            However, Clark wasn't all bad. He was thankful for the boy's timing as far as showing up after the truck accident with Whitney and Lana. Definitely a great source of body heat, though Shawn could have sworn the cold was affecting his eyes.
            Kent could not have moved that fast.  No one was that quick.
            No. Not at all. He had been a blur, but it had to be the cold, the ice affecting Shawn's eyesight. No other way to explain it. Unless it was the same kind of thing as the hard-hitting punch in the poolroom. And when he broke Sullivan's foot out of the ice.
            There was always Shawn's resurrection from Crater Lake to go on record for comparison.  How would one explain that exactly?
            Also yet, another matter dealt with Kent's oddness. Shawn, if he was thinking correctly, had left his school chum alive, even if just barely. He had taken heat from Kent, considerably more than he had from anyone else, and still sensed a deep reserve within. He had been momentarily torn between wanting to stay and take the rest and wanting to give Miss Popularity a run for her money. Little Lana Lang's company- the promise of seeing just how "warm" she really was- had been too tempting and had almost instantaneously won out.
            That jump ahead might have been a mistake. Rushed. Should have taken all of the heat from Clark first. Stupid.
            Then again, Lana wasn't alone. He grinned. Maybe I'll take out Whitney as an appetizer.  He was a tad on the jealous side, had been since the eighth grade, when Fordman had started dating Lana, but then again what red-blooded Smallville male regardless of age wasn't resentful of the Crow's captain? The moron didn't deserve something that luscious, that ready to be corrupted and Shawn could tell she was, would know what was ripe for the picking and he most definitely had the reputation to prove it.
            Besides, with a name like "Whitney", shouldn't the guy be more interested in his mates on the football team than in the cheerleading squad? Fag.
            He shivered, still hidden in the shadows of the trees, slowly loosing his patience. He'd find his way in somehow, then- before he headed to Chloe's house for revenge- he'd be getting two things he wanted for a very long time: Whitney disposed of, literally, and Lana in his arms.
            He grinned. At least for a moment.

            +_+_+_+_+

            So cold, can't breathe, can't breathe, oh, god, what's wrong with me? I'm stronger than this. Get up! Breathe! Do SOMETHING!
            He gasped, the sound horrible and wretched to his ears, the air feeling like fire to his sore lungs. He looked around with his dry, stone-thick eyes stinging in the cold air and coughed, the action making his lungs feel as it they had just been crushed between two very large, very cruel hands. If he wasn't careful, if he didn't try hard enough to breathe, he might suffocate in the cold.
            Is this what it feels like to drown? Lex… Is this what Lex felt like when I brought him back?
            He closed his eyes and breathed in, chest hurting so badly.
            To almost die then to come back to this… To have to put up such a fight. He must have wanted to just roll over and give up.
            He pushed the disturbing thought of a dead Lex Luthor out of his mind and trying to stretch out his fingers. They felt rigid and anesthetized, his whole body numb to anything and everything but the cold. He was shaking.
            Lana and Whitney.
            He had to get up, had to find them before Shawn got to them. He was lucky: he could survive the worst, including this cold. But them? They were human and Lana… She seemed to be more frangible than most, even with her ultra-strong personality masking the hidden fragility.
            Lex.
            He knew the road he was on was next to a field that led to Lex's house and from his many trips here as both delivery boy and comrade, he knew that the Luthor Manor was the only place even close to the vicinity of the car accident. Lionel Luthor owned most of the surrounding acreage, encompassing the manor in pure solitude.
            It would make sense that Lana and Whitney would have gone towards that effulgent beacon searching for impenetrable refuge.
            They had to- Mom and Dad! Oh, God! They said they were heading to Lex's tonight.
            Lex, Lana, his parents. Four of the six most important people in his life were in lethal jeopardy and could possibly die. None of them knew that Shawn posed more danger than an average wacko teenager. After the accident… Did Lana? Did Whitney? Did they see what he could do?
            Whitney would want to protect Lana and Lex would try to take charge of the situation. The football player and even Clark's own parents- no longer on their own turf- would follow instructions given by the older boy. Clark was suddenly having an even harder time breathing. He knew what lay hidden beneath Lex. Something more comparable to Jonathon than any would admit, something more courageous than Clark's own heart bore considering that he only took this title of protector when he knew of his own impregnability. Sure, there was the chance that he could die, but he knew he had powers that put him on the safer side, that constantly gave him the advantage.
            This was his purpose now. He had been endowed with capabilities that he felt obligated to use to protect. But Lex… Lex didn't have any of that and yet…
            He would try to save them all.
            How long have I been out of it? Could they already be de-
            "No," he wheezed out.
            It felt like something massive with the ability to grow more cumbersome by will alone was atop his chest, weighing down with all its might. Still, the thought of his loved ones in peril had him solidifying his willpower and forcing himself to sit, his jaw clenching in pain. He found that he couldn't distinguish between the sounds of his bones creaking, his joints popping, and the ice-sheen over his body breaking.
            If Chloe ever tells me she's frozen stiff in Independent Study again, I'll have to-
            He cut himself off, remembering Chloe's own little run in with psycho-Shawn. He doubted she'd be using any word lightly that happened to refer to chilly temperatures.
            Standing up, he realized he could use his superspeed to heat his body up. He moved his arms around in pinwheels as fast as he could for a few seconds, feeling like a complete doofus. He felt the ice breaking up and stopped flailing. Worrisome stiffness remained in his biceps and forearms, but having no time to ponder the change, he just took off, running into the field, ice flying of his legs. His body warmed up as he ran, and he figured that he'd be back to normal soon, though his lungs and limbs were still sore.
            He cried out at the sudden stabbing pain in his head, stopping still so far from the mansion and grabbing the newly throbbing skull in his hands.
            Damn it!
            "Why… am I so… weak…" he whispered.
            I have to get to that house.
            He tried to walk a few steps further but the world spun before him and he instead fell to his knees on the ground. The pain was so bad it was making him sick, queasy.
            I pushed myself to soon. I pushed too hard and soon.
            Shawn and his heat-stealing maneuver had actually weakened him to the point where it was going to take time to get back up to tempo.
            I don't have time! The pressure on his chest had been reduced to nearly nothing, feeling like a cumbrous hand touching him instead of an eighteen-wheeler parked on top of him, but the truck might have well relocated to his gray matter for all the raw agony was doing to him.
            Shawn could be killing someone.
            Brownish-red hair and a sweet face filled his mind, a sweet face distorted in pain and anguish, turning a dark, unhealthy shade of blue.
            Mom!
            His mind heard Jonathan gasping for air, trying desperately to scream for his little boy, the one person alive that could help him breathe again.
            Dad!
            He saw a handsome, aristocratic, sometimes beautifully kind face, as cadaverous and ashen as one day not long ago, pink lips tinted azure.
            Lex!
            Thinking of his parents, the bald young man, Lana, even Whitney- thinking of them having their warmth absorbed, their very lives engulfed; thinking of the pain that he was experiencing, had experienced the moment Shawn tried to kill him and internally enflame himself…
            He stood, not able to bare the pictures that were spreading through his mind, and was more than a little relieved to find that his headache was evaporating some.
            Clark pushed himself to walk, but anything faster than his awkward gait had his brain pulsing like the soundtrack to Blade.
            Can't I go any faster, he screamed internally, but still could do nothing but stumble weakly towards the mansion.

            +_+_+_+_+

            "Ow!"
            Martha Kent collided with another overbearing statue and wondered what good the little flashlight in her hands was doing. She cursed herself for not letting Lex Luthor check on the generator, just as the boy had insisted. It was his house and grounds after all, and he would know better where to find the damned thing. But no, she had to get all protective, all 'I'm the adult, here' on him, even though, at 23, he did technically qualify as an adult. Still, she saw it as her job, as well as Jonathan's, to protect the group; as the grown-ups of the assemblage it was their duty to take responsibility. She could have no more let Whitney or Lana come out here.
            Especially Lana, she thought, grimacing as she remembered just how trouble-prone and utterly clueless the sweet girl was. Kind and smart, yes, but not the most observant of young ladies, especially when it came to Clark's feelings for her.
            Not perceptive at all.
            That's not nice. She sighed, too upset and fretful to think straight.
            She had hoped that looking for the generator instead of waiting in the study would calm her down. A task to help her to get refocused. She hadn't meant to be so rude to Lex when leaving, it was just that… Well, she had to get out of this- this castle. It was intimidating, to both her and, despite what he said, Jonathan.
            She rolled her eyes, more than a little peeved at her husband for being so hard on the Luther boy. Lex had been deceptive, yes, but for a good reason. What he assumed had been correct: if she or Jonathan- especially Jonathan- had known the real circumstances of the financial meeting, they would never have come. It had been hard enough convincing Jon to go when they thought a large portion of the farming community had been invited to the monetary meeting. It would have been utterly impossible had he known that it was a private meeting meant for two Kents and a Luthor.
            Their dilemma was simple- they didn't want charity, or handouts, or friendly, interest-free loans. Ever. As a young girl living in the city, she had learned a lot about arrearage, all the hard way. Her parents had been forever in debt up to their waists, and sometimes higher. To friends, family, the bank, the government… Even the neighbors. She had never wanted that for herself or her own family.
            Ever.
            Turning another corner, she reached head of the stairs and saw that the foyer and front door was just up ahead. She knew that the generator was somewhere outside to the… 'side of the building'.
            Just how many sides does this building have??
            "Real descriptive, Lex," she muttered.
            She jogged down the large staircase and through the foyer to the entrance. Struggling for a second with the heavy front door, she eventually lugged it open and stepped out, pulling it quickly shut behind her. She jumped as the door slammed loudly behind her, no doubt resounding all throughout the large and empty house, but she was too grateful to be outside to really pay much attention. She shivered and pulled her sweater and jacket closer to her.
            "Your father lived in different times. And he had his share of help."
            She walked ahead, breathing steam into the frigid night air.
            "Your father put his family's future over his own pride. Are you willing to do that?"
            She grimaced, remembering Lex's reckless words. He had been attempting to get Jonathon's attention, just trying to tell the man that accepting help was… Well, acceptable. And respectable.
            Wrong move, she thought.
            Lex's manner was so used to being molded like argil into a custom of contempt and superior dismissal, that it had become the norm to the boy, and it showed through in his average speaking voice and inflections. Only Martha's ears had picked up the genuine interest and care that had been lurking somewhere beneath the surface.
            The young man was obviously not all that adept at letting others know what he felt, at least when it came to concern, and Martha guessed that this had to do with the rather interesting lineage the boy had been spawned into. She figured that the Luthor's weren't too affectionate or emotional. Not a thought completely original to her, but some mass assumptions were based on a grain of truth.
            A "grain" of truth? More like an oak tree of it.
            To her husband, Lex's tone was no doubt filled with the egotistical disdain that was ever-present in Jonathon's dealings with many socialites and had held the infamous self-satisfied air that seemed to shadow Luthors around like a nasty, black smog. She knew that she would not be able to console her husband and in the same vein knew that Lex had lost his play the moment he mentioned her father-in-law. Jonathon adored the man with all he had and Lex had just dented the shining armor that Richard Kent had always been graced with.
            She frowned. Come to think of it, there were several things wrong with Lex's proposal.
            She thought for a moment and almost tripped on an root, peeking through the dirt. There were an awful lot of them around.
            As she steadied herself, she was hit with sudden realization as to just why Lex had been so completely unorganized. He had wanted to speak to them as Clark's parents instead of future business associates. Notwithstanding, of course, the professional terminology the young man had spoken in and the strenuous background checks he'd no doubt done on them both.
            There had been blatant and- at least to her observations- genuine concern for their welfare.
            Or, more accurately, Clark's welfare.
            The young man was most attentive to the thought of their son's future. He'd brought up college tuition several times and mentioned that, even though Clark's grades were wonderful, so-called full scholarships didn't cover everything. When Jonathan had gone into a tiff about where Lex had acquired Clark's grades, the boy calmly replied that he learned of them had while getting to know their son. Martha didn't doubt him for a moment about this; not only could they always check with Clark, but the two boys seemed to have really hit it off, despite Jon's obvious aversion to the idea of his son socializing with a human brandishing the dreaded Luthor denomination. Clark was always so quick to assume everyone had friendly intent, and surprisingly, Martha agreed with him in the case of his newest friend. Lex seemed different than the rumors insinuated, at least around the three Kents, and she was willing to give him the benefit of doubt.
            She shivered in the cold weather and followed the curve of the Scottish architecture to find yet another corner a few yards away.
            Clark.
            Argh. Lana's presence with Whitney at the manor meant that Clark had left her to find Shawn. And if Shawn had caused Whitney's automobile accident less than a mile away, she hoped- no she knew that her son, he with the hero complex, was not far behind.
            She was worried like hell about him.
            --"It's Clark, Martha."--
            Duh. Maternal instinct, Jon. Maternal instinct.
            She loved him to death, would do anything for the man, but sometimes his condescension was enough to warrant a little destructive physicality. It was just a damn shame she was too small and petite to do any real damage. Or cause anything but amused looks when trying.
            She ran the last few feet to the end of the side of the building and turned the corner, sighing in relief as she saw that the generator was indeed on this side of the building. She carefully climbed down the steep hill, her flashlight bobbing up and down in unison with her movements, and slowed, noticing the dimensions of the back-up power source.
            Well, no wonder. It must have burnt out. It's a little small for a mansion this size, isn't it? She smiled, relieved that the problem was as simple as an actual, honest-to-god burnout. Things weren't usually that uncomplicated in Smallville.
            Martha neared and the smile dissolved as she realized she been too eager to jump to a conclusion. She saw the slick coating of glossy ice and the dagger-like icicles hanging from the machine. Trailed her hand over the cold metal and ice, she stopped to linger briefly on a hand print larger than hers. The machine was frozen solid.
            "What the-"
            -snap-
            She turned, the sound of a brittle twig in the brush beyond her, catching her attention.
            She swallowed, her voice suddenly dry. "Jonathon?"

            +_+_+_+_+

            He took a deep breath an counted to twenty. For the fourth time.
            The nerve, he thought, steaming. The absolute nerve. Did Lex Luther actually think that by throwing Richard Kent's financial history in his son's face, he would achieve the man's regard? Get the man to bow down to his wishes?
            "Dumb move, kid," he muttered to himself, swinging the flashlight to his left and chasing some creature from its nighttime exploration. "Real dumb."
            The fact that Jon's father had been indebted to the bank had come as a shock to him, a painful contradiction to what he'd always thought. His father's mantra of self-reliance and financial dependence had been engrained into everything Jon did, a real comfort in hard times. Something to look up to. To find that Richard Kent had not been so true to his own convictions…
            He had revered and loved his father, and Luthor Junior had just trampled on the man's golden memory. And his wife was defending the little jerk and his duplicitous tactics.
            Just what had gotten into Martha lately? Standing up for the spoiled kid, telling Jon to give him a chance, making him allow Clark to accept that damned limo ride and tickets with that look; the look she always gave him when she thought he was being unreasonable.
            Unreasonable? Unreasonable?!, he thought angrily. It's like living with Luthor cheerleaders all of a sudden.
            ---"Give the boy a chance."---
            ---"He's my friend, Dad."---
            ---"'They' is Lex's father, not hhim. Be honest. You've never seen him be anything but generous."---
            ---"You don't know him."---
            ---"He's been a good friend to Clark."----
            Good friend. Right. For how long? The little turd.
            "Human carbuncle," he added aloud.
            It boiled his blood to know that Martha and Clark, usually his insightful and keen loved ones, had been deluded into thinking that Lex was more than just another self-proclaimed potentate ready and willing to turn on those of which had entrusted their privacy with him.
            He knew that no matter what, he couldn't explain the ways of the world to Clark, couldn't help his son by sharing his own past mistakes. He just had to let the boy go through life experiencing it via his own plights. He only hoped that "Junior" with the garage full of sports cars, infinite credit limit and the mansion on the hill didn't hurt his son too terribly.
            I'll kill the slimy, little twerp if he-
            The sight before him cleared his mind and froze him on the spot, bewilderment monopolizing his facial expressions.
            What the hell?
            He shined the flashlight on the metal bars of Luthor Manor's gate, warily and deliberately walking up to them. Two of the thick, iron gate bars were bent deeply at odd angles, touching the neighboring rods and creating a large crevice.
            For a moment he thought they could have been proof that his son had made it onto the estate, but Clark would have been more respectful of another person's property, particularly that of a friend's. Besides, it was too low to the ground, and the crevice was too small for his particularly large seventeen year old. As if someone shorter with a slighter build had made their way through.
            And they're…
            He touched the bars.
            Cold. Like pure ice.
            This was not good, not at all, and he had the sudden debilitating suspicion that Shawn was more than just some teen out for a kill or two. The ice… The bent bars…
            He suddenly felt chilled, as if the ice was like a frozen leach invading the very marrow of his bones, and spun around to make sure that he didn't suddenly have the unwanted company he feared.
            He was alone. He turned back to the gate, transfixed.
            "Damn," he panted, recognizing the thrumming of his heart in his chest. He hoped that Clark was already on his way here, fearing that he would not be able to do a damn thing to protect anyone, including-
            "Shit! Martha!"
            Abruptly, he spun a hundred and eighty degrees around and ran in the direction he hoped his wife had headed.
            She had decided to check on the generator.
            The same generator that was the infrastructure of the last sign of trouble.
            Shit, shit, shit!
            If it was even possible, he hated the Luthor boy even more. Didn't he know anything about chivalry? About the rules of life? In situations such as this, where danger and death loom, the men go down protecting the women. Period. No if's, and's, or but's.
            Of course, as a Luthor, Lex would have missed that portion of his upbringing. Women didn't register as things to be protected unless one was holding the key to his family vault or his personal deposits.
            Jonathon sighed. He could blame the kid all night, but it didn't matter. It was his own damn fault and he knew it. He should have insisted that Lex come out there with him and check the generator himself. Martha would have opposed but he could have quickly talked her out of coming.
            He rushed to the front door and looked to the crisp and frost covered grass, finding her footprints tramped into the ground. He breathed out in relief and ran forward, wanting to call out his wife's name but did not, heeding the warnings in his mind about attracting the wrong person's attentions. He could do no one any help dead, and he certainly didn't want to draw Shawn to Martha.
            Following that same vein of introspective pathos on safety, he flicked the switch of his little flashlight to the off position, and looked frantically in every direction for a sign of Martha.

            +_+_+_+_+

            ---"Where did Shawn go?"---
            ---"I don't know but I gotta get you sommewhere safe. Hold on."---
            He hadn't even cared that he was in danger as well.
            Lana Lang sat next to her boyfriend, struggling to find a way to console him, to explain the truth about the situation that she and Clark had been in, but without compromising her pride. How could he even think that she'd ever cheat on him? Yes, she had gone out with Clark on a non-date partially to get back at him for being so amnesic of their plans- plans that he insisted on- but she also liked Clark, cared for him. He was always very sweet to her, very considerate and funny. The perfect gentleman.
            She tried not to notice the obvious crush he had on her and was ecstatic that, before Lex Luthor had bothered to meddle in the deal, he had started to pull away, clearly loosing interest. Then Lex with his charm and his life-long debt to her schoolmate- did anyone in Smallville not know the heroics of Clark Kent on that fateful day by the bridge- had to interfere, had to try and help Clark get his way.
            It was clear that Lex thoroughly adhered to the adage that anything a Luthor set his mind to, he achieved.
            Anything except this, Lex. Sorry.
            At least he genuinely seemed to care for Clark and wanted his friend to be happy. She guessed she would have done no less than her all to make a good friend happy, it was just… She didn't have it in her heart for Clark. That was an artery strictly reserved for Whitney Fordman.
            She had seen the Clark and Lex talking outside the coffee shop earlier that day, and had tried not to be obvious about her watching them. Whitney had just canceled their plans to head to Metropolis, leaving her with a fairly routine, humdrum weekend to look forward to. She had been contemplating heading over to a friend's house when she noticed the camaraderie outside the window.
            It still struck her as the strangest of acquaintances: the wholesome Kent and the conniving Luthor, the virtuous farmboy and the world weary playboy. A perfect example of black and white, night and day. They even dressed categorically opposite of each other, yet they had a certain chemistry that was wholly undeniable.
            Could saving a person's life really attain you a permanent devotee? She didn't doubt what she caught from Lex's gaze when he saw Clark or even his tone when he spoke of the boy. There was fondness and sort of a safeguarding aura to the young Luthor. If anyone dared to threaten Clark in any shape or form she'd no doubt that he would be there toting sword and shield, defending his protector.
            This, of course, was why it made perfect sense that Lex despised Whitney so much. Lana internally grimaced at the thought of poor Clark hanging on that post out in the cornfield and Whitney's part in the plot. Her steady was very… territorial.
            At least he's sincerely remorseful about doing it.
            As she had watched the discussion that morning outside the coffee shop with a vague, comfortable curiosity, she had seen Lex offer the tickets and look to his watch, then had seen Clark bolt back inside. The boy sat down and talked with her, and the whole time she had internally wondered if Clark was asking her more to impress his affluent young friend than to really get a date out of her. This curious observation had been later reinstated as their short ride in the limo had seemed awkward and stilted, like they both had other people on their minds. And she had.
            Whitney.
            She loved him with everything her sixteen year old heart could give and, despite what Lex ventured to believe, Whitney loved her back.  People only got to see the jock side of him, the sometimes careless, forgetful and thoughtless side of him. She, on the other hand, got more. Every day. He was as sweet to her as anyone- even Clark- could ever be, romantic to a level she didn't believe another capable of attaining, and his eyes… His eyes turned her knees into Jello and her heart into a Stomp! concert every time he looked at her with that unique mixture of love and-
            Lust.
            She blushed at her own thoughts.
            Yeesh. Not the time and place to get all… Well, blushy.
            Lana glanced over at the boy she cherished and it pained her to see such obvious fear of rejection and betrayal. Fear of losing her. Fear of her already being gone, falling in love with another. Her anger deflated as she saw sadness in those beautiful eyes, and she cursed herself for being so damn stubborn. She wasn't perfect; no one was. Placed in a 'visa-versa' type situation, she would have been just as upset. The mere thought of Whitney with another girl… It shot darts through her heart. And the helplessness she would feel to think that Whitney was losing love for her, that she was losing her place in his heart...
            "Oh, Whitney," she sighed. Not only did her voice attract the attention of her guy, but she also became the focus of vigilant, icy gray-blue eyes that had been staring out the study's window.
            Fine. It'll do him good to see this. I love Whitney with all of my soul, and once he gets that through his thick skull, maybe he'll stop pushing Clark Kent on me.
            She brushed the bangs from Whitney's eyes and caressed his face with her hand, genuine affection seeping from her. She was hoping that she could take away the pain she had purposefully caused. She hated fighting and feeling so angry and mischievous. It wasn't in her nature.
            "I'm sorry," she whispered, and her stomach, her shoulders and her mind all felt ten pounds lighter. "I love you and I'm so sorry. I was stupid."
            He shook his head and smiled at her, a real smile, and she almost wept with joy as the pain she was erased from that face she cherished so. "You could never be stupid."
            She smiled back at him and moved to kiss him as passionately as she knew how, letting her hand move to the base of Whitney's neck, the light pressure there begging him to just, please, kiss her back. And he did, causing her skin to heat. She felt the pressure against her mouth as he sat forward to kiss her, and she parted her lips, letting him in. She was surprised at the sudden ferocity of his kiss, knowing that there was a heavy amount of relief there, all thanks to Whitney realizing that his girlfriend was his and he didn't have to worry about any other guy.
            Ever. You don't have to worry, ever, Whitney.
            "I'm going to relieve myself and find another light source," came a cold, hostile voice. Whitney and Lana parted awkwardly, and she looked to where Lex was stalking across the room.  He tossed his flashlight onto the couch for their own use. "I'm sure you two can find something to do to entertain yourselves until I return."
            He opened the door and slammed it behind him, startling both the teens. Lana knew that he wanted her to give Clark a chance, but this? He seemed to want it more than Clark. And the anger? It had to be because of the cornfield incident with Whitney and Clark. Sort of a "How can she kiss that guy?" issue. It made no sense otherwise.
            Or did it?
            "What's his problem?" asked Whitney, flabbergasted at Lex's behavior.
            Lana shook her head and cupped her hand around his face, shyly bringing his gaze back to hers. "It doesn't matter."
            She watched Whitney catch the heat that she was making more than evident in her eyes. He was clearly surprised at the sudden change in his girlfriend. In the entire two years that they had been dating, she had always been very timid when it came to things of a more libidinous nature. Realizing tonight that Whitney's happiness was more important than her own pride… Well, it made other things seem less important to her. And a few things more important. Like intimacy.
            He opened his mouth to say something but she covered it with her own. She felt his sharp intake of air and knew he was becoming more and more astonished at her actions, but quickly felt him responding to her.
            She smiled into the kiss as his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Apparently he kinda likes my advances.

            +_+_+_+_+

            Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. Stupid.
            As a Luthor, he had been trained since birth to hide his emotions, to mask his contempt, disagreement and anger. After all, he was a financier, basically a salesman, selling himself by name. You can't afford to lose your cool when negotiating, especially not when your surname carried so much god-damned weight.
            Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to be that seigneur tonight, when he needed it most, needed to hide his real motivations and reactions.
            Stupid, he thought. He couldn't believe that anyone could be so blind, so ignorant of such sincerity so close by.
            Loyalty. Devotion.
            Love.
            Anyone in the world would fight for just a little part of that, he thought. Whatever she feels for Whitney, it's nothing compared to how Clark could make her feel.
            He would know. He'd been brave enough from the beginning to open his eyes to the emotions that Clark caused. Emotions that other men would have run screaming from.  Lex fathomed life cruel enough without complicating it further by going against the grain of his own soul. It was practically impossible to find someone to hold you and accept you in this world. Why take society's word for what's right and wrong; the same society that was slowly tearing itself to shreds over acceptability. No, he wouldn't buy into that. What he felt was what he felt, whether or not it was a little difficult to come to terms with. That was life, right? Life for him had always been hard to come to terms with, so this wasn't all that new.
            Of course, it didn't escape him that what he felt was completely one-sided, but it didn't lessen any of the emotional hold that the farmboy had on him either.
            How he makes me feel without even trying is…
            He sighed.
            His eyes always show too much of his soul and so openly to any that he deems trustworthy.
            Lex had walked away from Clark the first time he realized the boy honestly trusted him. He had seen the unguarded virtue in those eyes and almost lost his composure. No one trusted Luthors. They weren't dependable. So why did Clark seem so sure that Lex was different?
            The second time Clark had given him that look, the need to kiss those beautiful lips had gotten so overwhelming that he hadn't been able to breathe, and he had turned and walked away again. He didn't want to seem rude, so he beckoned for Clark to follow, but had kept distant from the boy's ever-constant touch. Clark didn't know just what his fingertips elicited in the young Luthor, and Lex didn't ever want to end up showing him, much less so spontaneously and in the middle of 3rd and Main.
            It would be complete bliss if she'd just take a chance with him. How could anyone look at Clark and not see utter perfection?
            Lex opened the door to his bathroom and slammed it behind him, not caring if the sound carried back to his study. Maybe, if it did reach the two osculating youths, it would startle some sense into the little strumpet.
            Right. She's as much a strumpet as you are an angel. You're just mad that she could have what you can't and simply doesn't want it.
            Mad? Damn straight he was mad. He was seething. But why? Well, he hated to see his best friend hurt or want for anything, and it seemed that Lana was the only entity in Clark's life- other than Jonathon Kent- that seemed to be giving the boy any trouble at all. So, Lex had decided to show the boy that he loved him the only way his twisted, emotionally incapable mind knew how: give Clark his desire.
            Give Clark his desire and hope the entire time that he'll realize not only why you're doing it, but that you're the one for him, not Lana, Lana, Lana.
            He flushed the toilet and moved to the sink, turning the faucet on with a little more vigor than necessary.
            That's not why your seething, Alexander.
            To be candid, he was less upset with Lana and more with himself. More with the relief that had washed through him when Lang had initiated the lip-lock with the dumb jock. She probably really did love him, for whatever inane reason, which meant that once Clark realized this, he would be in need of some consoling.
            "You're so fucking disgusting." he groused, but couldn't deter the hope that Clark would come to him in his time of need. Lex was desperate for Clark's company, no matter what the subject matter at hand entailed. He would never make an inappropriate move on Clark; he respected him too much and needed that Kent presence.
            Clark had given him something only two other people in the world had given him before: life. However, the difference between the farmboy and his parents- ice-queen mother and obsessive-tycoon father- was Clark actually seemed to appreciate the life that was Lex, seemed to actually care how Lex led that life. The first person to genuinely worry about him and to show that concern without reserve.
            So you fall all the harder.
            He shook his head. "Imbecile."
            At least he had given his all to grant the boy his little brunette. Lex had been one-hundred percent sure- though certainly not at all happy- that his plan to get Lana and Clark together would work. The limo and the concert, just the two of them all night in the shimmering city that was Metropolis…
            Surely, Clark would have been brave enough to make his move, still maintaining that innocuous persona, and Lana would have fallen instantly in love with him.
            One damn kiss was all it would take.
            He had been so positive it would work because he knew that- had he been the one on the receiving end of those silky, dawn-tinted lips- he would have died at that very moment so pure, cleansed by Clark's kiss and his kiss alone, that God himself would have begged a Luthor to join him in the above and beyond.
            Lex unconsciously ran his hand over his bald plate and watched the reflection in the mirror before him do the same. He would have said no, of course, choosing to stay and become Clark's guardian angel rather than live in a heaven that, without Kent, would have surely been as tormenting as the deepest, darkest levels of Hell.
            Christ, you're so fucking melodramatic.
            That Lang would see in Clark's eyes what Lex wished would be directed towards him, he had no doubt. The two would fall in love and he could at least be happy with the fact that his Clark was finally contented, pacified with the one thing previously out of his grasp. Lex would have been gladdened with the knowledge that, in a small way, he was partially responsible for Clark's romantic and sensual bliss. But, alas, Kent had left Lang at the Beanery, and had again foiled fate's plans.
            Fate says he and she are not meant to be. That leaves he and y-
            "Shut up!" he told himself, not daring to meet the eyes of his glass counterpart. "Such a fool."
            Fool indeed. With every breath he took while near the boy, his life became calmer, clearer, and more peaceful. The only problem with this was that he was quickly falling head over Gucci's for the raven-haired youth of whom was completely oblivious to his attachment.
            Would it even matter if Clark did notice?
            No, because the kid would just go on pining for Lang, never speaking to the Luthor offspring again, and Lex could not have that.
            Stupid.
            Humph. Maybe there was someone just as stupid as Lana. Him. She didn't want what the heavens had deemed fit to offer her, and he desired that which would never be offered.
            We're both stupid, insipid morons looking for love in the wrong places.