Wine, a Constant Proof     Wine, a Constant Proof

 by LastScorpion

 Goes AU before "Asylum." A million thanks to pepperjackcandy for the
beta! 

 

  

 Wine, a Constant Proof
 By LastScorpion 

 Lex didn't drink anymore. 

 After losing most of his twenty-second and twenty-third years to an
alcoholic stupor, and in light of the cautionary tales Lionel told about
old Lachlan Luthor ("It's in the blood, son. My father was a drunkard, a
wastrel, and a petty thief. I won't watch you go the same way.") it just
didn't seem prudent. Not that he ever took anything Lionel said at face
value. Verification was his watchword. Thorough research and never-ending
vigilance enabled him to conceal his continuing memory problems. He was
spectacularly successful in the business world, but only because he was
both hard-working and a genius. 

 When Lionel was unexpectedly devoured by hyenas while on an ill-fated
business trip to Gotham City, the mantle of LuthorCorp fell to Lex. He
bore it well -- not easily, but well -- and LuthorCorp prospered with him
at the helm. 

 Lex didn't have much time for a social life. He remembered his wild
teenage years in the Metropolis drug-and-club scene vividly but without
affection, and he'd read all there was to be found about his two horrific
marriages in his early twenties. A social life seemed like something else
that it would be wiser to avoid. 

 There was no avoiding the invitation to Lana Lang's wedding, though. Lex
chose to regard it as a business affair, despite the delicately written
pink-ink-on-pink-stationery letter via which the invitation was issued.
After all, Miss Lang had been his first real business partner. The Talon
had been his first independent business venture, even before his
short-lived LexCorp. He'd doomed LexCorp with his own weaknesses, but
Lana's coffee shop had survived and done moderately well all these years. 

 Lex remembered Lana from the year he'd spent in Smallville before the
boredom got to him and he took to drink. For a while, she and Lex had vied
for the title of 'Most Rescued from Madmen and Mutants.' Lex smiled
nostalgically when he thought of Clark Kent. It was still hard to believe
that the mystery boy, Savior of Smallville, hadn't been enough of a
challenge to keep Lex away from the booze. Well, he got the girl at last. 

 Good for Clark. 

 Lex had his assistant accept the invitation for him and order a gift. He
marked down the date immediately in his private PDA, the one he carried
with him everywhere, just to make sure he didn't forget. 

 Three weeks later, Lex made it down to Smallville without incident. His
personal physician had been making noises about his blood pressure and
recommending a vacation for quite a while, so he decided to spend the week
at the mansion. He reviewed the "Smallville" file in the limo on the way
down (driving himself was another thing he knew he'd formerly done, but
that didn't seem prudent these days) just to try to refresh his memories.
The dossier was informative, as usual, but the photos unleashed a flood of
surprisingly vivid recollections. Metropolis was his hometown, not
Smallville -- Smallville had been his downfall. Still, he was overcome
with feelings of warmth, fear, comfort, gratitude, and relief.
"Emotionalism is my weakness," he muttered. Maybe this was the reason it
had all come crashing down on him in Smallville. 

 The mansion was surprising, too. He knew he'd lived there for almost
three years, but it was like a place he'd never been before. The servants
had it all ready for occupancy; at least he didn't have to contend with
sheet-covered furniture and no food or heat. He wanted to sit down and get
to business, but he was under strict medical orders not to do any business
this week. Lex had grown accustomed to complying with medical advice.
Wandering the gray, unfamiliar halls held little appeal, so he went to bed
early. 

 Lex dreamed. 

 The city of Metropolis lay spread before him, a jeweled tapestry of
bright lights and tall buildings filled with people who owed him their
lives or their livelihoods. It was a familiar view. He'd seen it from
LuthorCorp Tower every day for as long as his damaged mind could remember.
Lex thought it might be unusual to share that view with anyone, now that
Lionel was -- dead? But he sensed a man standing just at his shoulder. 

 "Is this what you had to come back to?" the man asked. 

 Lex didn't recognize the voice, but he had that familiar itching at the
back of his mind that said he should. It was a feeling he loathed. 

 "Back?" Lex asked. 

 "That's right. You don't remember, do you?" 

 Lex swallowed. He hated to say the words. He worked like a dog every
stinking day so that he wouldn't have to say the words. "I don't
remember." 

 The man laughed unpleasantly. "The first step is admitting you have a
problem," he sneered. 

 Lex found he could turn and face his tormentor. As he did, Metropolis and
LuthorCorp Tower somehow disappeared. He faced the wild-eyed man across a
sandy waste, surrounded with ominous jungle-like vegetation. The
threatening trees leaned in against the sticky air. Suddenly, as if the
volume on a radio had been turned on, Lex heard the far-off pounding of
heavy surf, and the high-pitched whine of insects. 

 "Who are you?" Lex asked. 

 The ragged stranger laughed again, and shook his head so that his dirty
blond dreadlocks danced against his shoulders. "Who are you?" he
challenged. 

 Lex woke up. 

 Lex woke up in his own bed, in the mansion, in Smallville. His PDA was
clipped to his pajama sleeve, but for once he didn't need it to tell him
where he was. He hadn't awakened so clear-headed since -- he didn't know
when. He hadn't had a dream that he remembered upon waking, either.
Strange dream. 

 Lex wondered who that guy had been, whether he was someone he used to
know or just a figment of his imagination. His hands automatically opened
up the PDA; his eyes automatically began to read -- these were habits of
long-standing. He didn't remember how they'd been drilled into him. Unlike
his regular business-hours PDA, the device he kept with him always (even
in bed), didn't utilize the latest cutting-edge technology. It was a few
years old, but his hands knew its controls without him having to remember
anything, and he'd thoroughly trained himself (or been trained) to record
every single thing he needed to remember. 

 Today, though, everything seemed strangely familiar. Smallville,
vacation, party tonight, Lana's wedding tomorrow. Lex snapped his memory
shut, got up, and dressed. 

 Yesterday the mansion had felt like a place he'd never been before, but
today it was different. Not only did he vaguely remember arriving the
previous night, but he also found that his feet knew their way to the
kitchen. Even more surprising, his hands knew where the coffee was kept,
and how to operate the coffee-maker. 

 When he ran over the day's agenda to fix it in his mind, all he kept
getting was, "I'm on vacation," so he was still staring at the coffee when
a stout, gray-haired woman bustled into the kitchen. She stopped, startled
for a moment, then smiled broadly and greeted him. 

 "Mr. Lex! It's good to see you so well, sir!" 

 Lex looked her in the face for a long moment, then closed his eyes. "Mrs.
Digman?" he ventured. 

 When he opened his eyes again, the woman's smile was even broader. "Yes,
sir," she grinned. 

 Lex returned her grin and let her hustle him out of her kitchen so she
could get started on his breakfast. He took his cup through to the dining
room, where he found a vase of tulips on the table and the morning's Daily
Planet. 

 He'd finished that first cup of coffee and half the Metro section when
Mrs. Digman brought his food. "This is wonderful," he told her after the
first taste of the scrambled eggs. She pinked up and bobbed her head, then
vanished back into the kitchen. There was some sort of spiced cooked apple
concoction as well. It tasted heavenly, but the almost-familiarity of it
was maddening -- like a sleeping foot coming back to life. 

 As he ate, Lex ran through his PDA again. "Vacation," he mused. He linked
to the name of Dr. Paulson, who had prescribed the vacation time.
"Exercise and Fresh Air" was another of the doctor's recommendations. 

 Thumbing idly through the device's functions, Lex found his attention
caught by the Global Positioning System, and then by the beautiful day
outside the dining room's broad windows. He double-checked the time for
tonight's party. It would start at 7 p.m. 

 The housekeeper came in to refill his coffee again. "Mrs. Digman," he
said, feeling somehow very daring, "I'm going to take a walk. If I don't
call in," he checked that his tiny cell phone was in its customary pocket,
and then pulled it out and checked that the number for the mansion was
programmed in and clearly labeled, "or return by 4:30, please call me on
my cell, and I'll give you my location so you can send the limo for me." 

 "Yes, sir. Very good, sir. May I?" She held out her hand for his
telephone, and he knew she was also checking that he had the correct
numbers programmed in and labeled. He appreciated the way she made it look
like she was noting down his number instead, and he liked the
non-condescending smile she gave him when she returned the phone. Lex
decided he liked Mrs. Digman a lot more than his Metropolis housekeeper,
whatever her name was, and wondered why he couldn't swap them. Probably
Mrs. Digman was happier here in Smallville than she would be in
Metropolis. He knew he had been. 

 And where did that come from? Lex wondered. 

 He shook his head, checked again that he had his phone, wallet, and PDA,
got his coat and hat (so much easier to tolerate than sunscreen) from Mrs.
Digman, and left the house. 

 From the front door, Lex's feet automatically took him to the garage. It
was full of cars. None were the latest models, but they were shiny and
beautiful, and they tugged at his tattered memory most uncomfortably. He
didn't have a valid driver's license anymore anyway, so he didn't go more
than a couple of steps into the garage before turning around and fleeing
back into the open air. 

 Lex let himself walk at random, not researching the route or trying to
figure out which roads were most traveled, and in a couple of hours he
found himself in downtown Smallville. Walking without thinking (which was
hard for him to do, but often brought good results -- he had that listed
as a truism in his PDA) brought him directly to the Talon, a small movie
theater that had been converted into a coffeehouse. The marquee read "Best
Wishes Lana" and underneath that, in smaller letters "Best Capuchinos in
Town." Lex noted the misspelling, double-checked it in his PDA's
spellchecker, then went in. 

 The scent of the place hit him like something important, and he stood at
the entryway and just breathed for a little while, looking around himself
without recognizing anything. There were people and tables and a weird
Egyptian-Assyrian decorating scheme that he was pretty sure he never would
have chosen. Lex moved toward the counter to order a coffee -- he thought
he'd rather take it outside and drink in the sunshine. 

 An older woman with graying red hair came out the door from the coffee
shop's kitchen, bidding goodbye to someone over her shoulder as she
walked. Lex froze, breathing hard. His heart was crying "Mom!" but he knew
that was wrong -- he knew his mother was dead, he remembered her dying a
long time ago, when he was a kid. The woman turned and saw him. 

 "Lex!" she said. She hurried to him and hugged him tight. Lex couldn't
hug back, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. It was absolutely all he could
do to stand there, frozen stiff, instead of falling -- to keep mute
instead of calling out "Mom?" (He knew his mother was dead!) 

 The woman smelled like cinnamon and fresh air. She stepped back from the
embrace and gripped him by his upper arms and said, "Lord, Lex! It's been
years! Let me look at you!" She smiled at him, a happy, worried, sly sort
of a smile, and the world slid a little in his mind. 

 "M - Mrs. Kent." He managed to make it not a question. 

 Her smile broadened, became something soft and luminous. "Martha,
please," she told him. 

 Damn! He wanted that hug back! He'd spoiled it with his stiff stupid
insane surprise, and he might never get another! But then he did. Martha
gathered him into her arms again, and this time Lex hugged back, closed
his eyes and held her carefully, like a precious, precious thing. 

 "Oh, Lex, sweetie," Martha said. "It's so good to see you again." 

 "You, too," he managed, without choking or crying or falling over dead.
God. "You, too." 

 After the pleasantest half-hour that Lex could remember ever having spent
in his life, drinking good coffee, eating pie, and listening to Martha
Kent's affectionate chatter, he continued his walk. Martha had to get back
to her day's work -- she was making Lana's wedding cake. That almost
struck a chord in Lex's so-called brain; had she perhaps made the cake for
one of his two long-forgotten weddings? Lex insisted on paying for her
coffee and pie, gleaned another blessed hug, saw her on her way, and set
off on foot again. 

 He hadn't gone far before a warm rain began to fall. Fortunately, the
coat and hat that Mrs. D -- what was her name? The housekeeper, anyway --
had given him were just as well-suited for rain as for sun. The
townspeople mainly went inside, and Lex found himself alone in the quiet
streets. 

 Presently he left the shops and houses behind. The rain wasn't so heavy
that it turned the roadside path to muck, nor so cold that he felt
compelled to call his servants to fetch him back to the mansion. He walked
past crops and pastures and wooded areas until he found himself at a small
river. 

 He remembered it. 

 The first day he'd spent in Smallville as a young man, the first since
the meteorite shower, he'd nearly killed a local boy and nearly died
himself. He tsked his younger self's recklessness. He felt a strong desire
to see the river ("The place where I drowned," he thought with a shiver)
from closer up. 

 Lex carefully began to work his way down the embankment to the edge of
the water. His foot slipped on the wet grass; he fell, missing his grip on
the slippery metal guardrail and striking his head on a rock. 

 Lex opened his eyes to find Clark Kent looking worriedly down at him. The
boy --young man, now, Lex corrected himself -- was sopping wet. Lex was
soaked, too. 

 "We've got to stop meeting like this," Lex said with a smile. Clark
grinned at him, and he immediately felt at least five degrees warmer. 

 "Are you okay?" Clark asked, looking him over intently. 

 "Just had the wind knocked out of me," Lex claimed. He didn't know why,
but he felt strangely reluctant to admit to a head injury. 

 "No bones broken?" Clark said. 

 Lex looked at him searchingly. There was something off about the
intonation of that question? Statement? He let Clark help him up. Once he
was on his feet again he found that Clark was a lot bigger than he
expected, both taller and broader. 

 "My, Mr. Kent, how you've grown," Lex muttered, searching himself
automatically to make sure he still had his wallet, phone and PDA. 

 The grin that Clark gave him along with his mud-speckled hat was just the
same as Lex remembered, though. "I picked up three inches freshman year at
Met. U." Clark admitted. He took a pair of glasses out of his shirt pocket
and put them on. "Had to get all new clothes. Let's get you home and dried
off. Where's your car?" 

 "I walked." Lex saw Clark's surprise at the simple statement, re-doubled
when Clark noticed his sensible walking shoes. 

 "Me, too. Well, let's take you back home to the folk's place. Mom'll be
glad to see you." 

 "I saw her." Lex put his hat back on and let Clark help him up the bank.
He was suddenly chilled, and his head hurt. "I saw her. Um...." 

 Clark finished for him without seeming to really notice that Lex had been
purely unable to finish the damn sentence. "At the Talon. Here, let me
hold this barb-wire for you. We'll just cut along through here -- Merrit
won't mind. Dad'll be glad to see you, too." 

 Lex didn't remember Mr. Kent ever having been glad to see him. It didn't
seem likely that that had changed, either, but he didn't argue with Clark.
He just followed him. 

 By the time they got to the Kent farmhouse, still painted the cheerful
yellow he remembered from years before, Lex was leaning on Clark more
often than not. The rain had not lessened. The cropland and pastureland
were wet and treacherous. His head hurt, and he was soaked to the skin. 

 The Kent Organic Vegetables delivery truck wasn't visible; Lex hoped (in
a way that was disturbingly familiar) that he and Clark would be alone in
the house. Or that Mrs. Kent -- Martha -- would be there; she was sweet
and motherly; her very presence soothed abraded places he usually didn't
know he had. But Mr. Kent hated him, and he didn't need any more paternal
hating -- Lionel had been gone for -- well, for quite some time, anyhow,
and he was just finally starting to relax. 

 Clark hauled him up onto the Kents' back porch, opened the door and
called out, "Hey, Dad! Look who I found!" 

 Shoot. 

 Mr. Kent started up from the kitchen table with a shocked look on his
face. "Lex!" he exclaimed. 

 If there was one thing Lex was sure he knew, it was how to convey the
desired impression. He put some distance between himself and Clark, stood
square on his own two feet, composed his face into a strong business-like
expression, and extended a perfectly-judged hand for Mr. Kent to shake.
Despite his wet muddy clothes, his unquenchable shivering, and his raging
headache, Lex was exquisitely prepared to meet an old enemy or rival. 

 This left him completely unprepared for Mr. Kent's enthusiastic bear-hug.


 "Lex, it's good to see you! How've ya been?" Mr. Kent let Lex go and
beamed at him. 

 Lex was undeniably flustered. "F-fine, Mr. Kent. I'm fine." 

 "Jonathan, please. See, Clark? I told ya he was all right! Down for the
wedding, I suppose -- Gosh, you're wet through. Son, how 'bout you take
Lex upstairs and get him some dry clothes on -- there's plenty of stuff
won't fit you anymore! -- and I'll put some coffee on." 

 "Sure thing, Dad!" Clark replied, and escorted Lex up the stairs. 

 "He likes me," Lex said in a small voice. 

 "Well, yeah, Lex, he does." 

 "When did that happen?" Lex wondered silently. 

 Once Lex was dressed in some of Clark's outgrown clothes (they were still
too big for Lex, of course) and his own practical garments were running
through the washing machine, the three men sat at the Kents' kitchen table
drinking coffee and talking. Lex knew how to engage in social chitchat
without giving away the deplorable state of his memory. He got a lot of
practice. He was a master at drawing people out, getting them to open up
and talk, leaving him free to use his still-viable analytical faculties to
size up their plans and personalities. Sometimes he'd surreptitiously tape
casual conversations with business rivals or allies (there was a function
for it on his PDA), and he always took notes. Today he was on vacation,
though; he didn't need to keep a record. 

 Mr. Kent -- Jonathan -- really was glad to see him. What could Lex
possibly have done to ingratiate himself to the irascible farmer? He had
no idea -- especially since it would have to be something that had
happened during his alcoholic blackout years. Lex's Smallville dossier had
told him that he'd paid off the Kents' mortgage, but he was sure that
wasn't it. Mr. Kent's personality would have had to have changed
drastically, and Lex, sitting across the kitchen table from him today,
didn't think it had. He was the same old Jonathan Kent, platitudes,
touchiness, stiff-neck and all. The differences were: he clearly seemed to
like Lex; he was worried about Lex, in some way that seemed connected with
Clark; and he obviously felt guilty about something. 

 The coffee wasn't as good as the Talon's, but the pie was fresh and warm.
(Did people in Smallville ever eat anything else?) Clark looked a little
worried and guilty towards Lex, too, but (if Lex recalled correctly) he
always looked worried and guilty, especially when he'd been rescuing
people. He kept asking if Lex was sure he was all right, and Jonathan kept
reassuring him that Lex had said he was fine. There was something else in
the way Clark looked at Lex -- something Lex didn't quite understand but
felt very strongly that he wanted to. 

 Lex's PDA alarm went off, and he checked it. Ah, yes, time to call for
the car to take him back to the mansion. He had to get ready for the party
tonight. "Excuse me," he said to the Kents, and pressed the
clearly-labeled speed dial button for the mansion. 

 "Luthor Residence," the housekeeper answered. It sounded like she was
using the speakerphone in the kitchen. 

 "Ah. Mrs...." Lex blanked on the name. It just wouldn't come. He
swallowed and went on. "This is Lex Luthor. I'm ready for the car to come
for me now. I'm at the Kent farmhouse." 

 Someone in the background on the other end of the line said, "I told you
so! Pay up!" The housekeeper didn't seem to be a betting woman. She just
said, "Yes, sir. I'll send Charles right away." 

 "Thank you," he replied, and hung up. 

 "You can't go yet -- your clothes aren't dry!" Clark protested. 

 "I'll see you tonight at the party, right? You can give them to me then,
and I'll send them home with the chauffeur." 

 "How long will you be in town?" Jonathan asked. 

 "I'm taking a week's vacation," Lex replied, grateful that the answer was
straightforward and easily recalled. 

 "See, Clark? No rush. Lex could even come back day after tomorrow and
pick up his things." 

 "Thanks. I...." Lex looked at Clark and his father, and his voice just
dwindled away. This seemed so odd. Mr. Kent was a little uncomfortable
with his presence there, but it was more than that. As always, there was
some maddening something here he didn't know. Kents, lies, secrets -- what
had happened? And as baffling as it was, as they were, this still felt
like a place he belonged. 

 The awkwardness was cut short by the sound of Lex's limousine outside.
Clark walked Lex out to the car. The sky had cleared, and the late
afternoon sun struck brilliant spangles from Martha's rain-jeweled
sunflowers. 

 Lex felt as if he were outside of time. The huge young man carefully
handing him into the limo seemed simultaneously like a complete stranger
and yet like someone he'd known all his life -- someone he knew better
than he knew himself. He didn't know what to say to Clark, and his head
still hurt where he'd struck it against the stone earlier. Fortunately,
Clark didn't appear to expect him to say anything. Clark's smile reached
long-untouched places deep inside of Lex. "See you later tonight, then." 

 "Yeah," Lex breathed. 

 Back at the castle, he was greeted at the door by Mrs. Digman -- the name
came right back to him as soon as he saw her face again. She made as if to
take his hat and coat, but for some reason he didn't want anyone to see
the bruise on his head. Quickly he said, "Mrs. Digman, I got pretty wet
out there. I'm just going to hurry on upstairs and take a bath. Could you
bring me a warm drink, please? Not coffee." He laughed. "I've drunk plenty
of coffee for one day." 

 The woman looked pleased to be able to do something for him. "Right
away," she promised, and let him get out of reach with his outer garments
intact. 

 Lex hurried upstairs, and didn't take off his hat until he was locked in
his own bathroom. The mirrors there let him get a good look at the back of
his head, and the bruise was already pretty impressive -- the greens and
purples were just coming into play. Several clean white terry-cloth robes
hung next to the towel cupboard. Lex searched until he found one with a
hood, transferred his PDA to its pocket, then took his bath. 

 The warm water and the scent of lavender made him feel heavy and relaxed.
Maybe there was a slight concussion helping out with that, too. He got out
of the water before he could fall asleep and drown, put on the robe with
his PDA in the pocket, and checked that the hood concealed his bruised
head in case someone might be in his bedroom. The servants had been and
gone, apparently. His suit was laid out for the party, and there was a
steaming cup of something white on a silver tray on his bedside table. 

 Lex sat heavily on the edge of the bed and took a sip. It was warm and
sweet and the flavor had just a hint of rum. Some sort of eggnog, he
thought. It couldn't really be rum, of course; all the Luthor family
servants knew perfectly well that no wines or spirits of any kind were to
be used in the cooking. Now that Lex had finally made it through rehab, it
was important that there never be another chance for him to get hooked on
alcohol. It must just be that rum flavoring that people sometimes used. 

 Whatever it was, the drink was delicious. Lex checked the time, and
double-checked his PDA for the time of the party. He'd have time for a
little nap. After all, he was on vacation. He set his alarm for an hour
and slid under the covers. 

 There was that wild-eyed, wild-haired man, on a blazing beach, sitting
cross-legged in the sand and popping grubs into his mouth with one hand in
the intervals of honing a big machete with a rock. 

 "You're back again," Lex whispered. 

 The man looked up at him, squinting in the brilliant daylight. "You're
back again," he replied. The man returned his attention to his grubs and
his blade. 

 The most unnerving thing, Lex thought, was that he knew exactly how those
bugs would taste. 

 "Who are you?" Lex asked. 

 The man didn't look up again. Lex was almost ready to shake him when he
finally replied. "You know me. You know me as well as you do yourself."
Then those red-rimmed eyes looked slyly up at Lex through the screen of
his matted, filthy hair. "Course, you don't know yourself too well
either." The man snickered and returned to his work. 

 Lex kneeled across from him. "What is this place?" he tried. 

 "Ah, that's a different story. You spent your better honeymoon on this
island. A little lacking in the finer things, but at least nobody set you
on fire...." Apparently Lex looked confused; the man sighed and
elaborated. "The summer of 2003? After you married Helen? When... You
don't remember any of this either. They sure did a number on you." 

 "Who?" Lex urged. 

 "You know Helen was working for your dad. You know that you heal like a
sumbitch, from any injury at all, courtesy of those damn space rocks. You
know a lot of stuff you think you don't, and let me tell you, boy...." 

 The ragged madman sprang up, swinging his razor-sharp machete. 

 Startled and wide-eyed, Lex scrambled backwards, only to end up,
breathing hard, cornered against a palm tree, with the blade's wicked edge
at his neck. 

 The stranger's smile was crazed. "Walls come tumbling down," he
whispered. 

 Lex woke up. 

 That dream had been considerably more unsettling than the first one. Lex
was still breathing hard. He reached for his PDA, as he always did when he
woke up disoriented. He tabbed through the information, reassuring himself
of his place in the world, and of the things he knew that he knew, even if
he had to admit he couldn't always remember them. 

 Strangely, he recognized the room; he didn't need to look at the schedule
for today or for tomorrow; he remembered all of that without having to
look it up. He paged to the truisms; those always calmed him. One that
seemed applicable was "A man of any consequence always wears a tie." 

 He could remember when Lionel had told him that. They'd been getting
ready for a charity gala of some sort; Lionel had fixed Lex's tie for him.
The look on his face had been disturbingly similar to the look on
Jonathan's face today. Why had his dad felt worried and guilty towards
him, however long ago that scene had taken place? 

 And why could he picture it so clearly now? 

 Lex didn't really feel calmer, but he knew he had to get up and dress for
Lana's party. He hesitated over the clothes the servants had laid out for
him, then finally went to a drawer he was sure he hadn't opened since he'd
lived in Smallville before, years ago. He found a soft gray sweater, and
replaced the starched white shirt and classic necktie with that. It was a
little too big for him now. He seemed to remember that he used to work out
when he felt angry, and he used to feel angry a lot. How long had it been
since he'd been really mad? 

 The house phone by the bed rang. Lex picked it up. 

 "Mr. Lex?" Mrs. Digman asked. "Charles is waiting with the limo for you,
sir." 

 "Tell him I'll be right there." Lex went into the bathroom to recover his
wallet and phone. The PDA was already safely stowed in his jacket. He
glanced in the mirror and froze in shock. 

 The bruise on his head was completely gone. 

 The party was at the Talon, of course. Clark was waiting for him outside
the front door, carrying a neatly folded pile of his clothes from earlier
in the day. 

 The limo driver -- Charles -- stopped at the curb. Clark opened Lex's
door before the driver could get out and do it for him. Lex didn't mind. 

 "Hey, Lex," Clark greeted him with an enthusiastic grin. He was wearing a
baggy brown suit (maybe he'd been afraid he'd grow another three inches
and have to buy another complete wardrobe, Lex thought) and an ugly tie.
He had those thick black-rimmed glasses on again, too. 

 "Hey, Clark." Seeing Clark again calmed Lex down like nothing else had
since he'd awakened from that disturbing dream. "We can just toss that in
here. When's the party going to be over, so I can tell Charles when to
come back for me?" 

 "Oh, midnight or so, I guess. Smallville, you know? We don't go that
late. Or, wait, why don't I just give you a ride home when it's over?" 

 "That would be great. Charles, you have the rest of the night off. Thank
you." 

 Clark closed the car door for him, and they walked into the Talon. 

 The spicy scent of the coffee-shop hit Lex just the same way that it had
before, but this time the place was full of people. He recognized quite a
few of them, which was an odd and different experience. There was Henry
Small, surprisingly well-dressed for such a scruffy little guy -- wait.
Was he the father of the bride? Lex remembered Lana's researches, and a
red-haired woman? Not Martha, not Mom, with an axe? -- and a guy with
Dad's cheekbones, and a gun at Lex's head.... 

 "Lex? Lex! Are you okay?" Clark's big green-blue eyes looked even bigger
through the glasses. 

 Lex ran his hand over his head, then got control of himself. He put on
his affable-businessman face and smiled reassuringly at his old friend.
"Sure, Clark, I'm fine. Is it a little hot in here?" 

 Clark still looked worried, but Lex had successfully distracted him by
giving him something concrete to do. "I don't know, but I'll go check the
thermostat," Clark said. 

 Lex smiled warmly at him. "Thanks, Clark, I'd appreciate that." 

 Clark hurried off. Lex looked around the room some more. The ability to
accurately assess other people is as important as the ability to read a
spreadsheet. The Kents were here, of course, talking to several tall,
dark, handsome people who looked like they must be related to Pete Ross.
Yes, there was Judge Ross -- he hadn't seen her since he was twenty-three,
but he recognized her instantly. He remembered her, and then he remembered
a kid, about twelve or thirteen -- Ryan? Yes, Ryan. He'd been genuinely
psychic, and terribly abused, and he'd loved "Warrior Angel" (what the
hell ever happened to my comic books? Lex wondered). Lex gasped with the
sudden grief of remembering; Ryan had died. Jeeze, he'd been so scared and
brave and alone, and remembering him hurt like thinking about Julian.... 

 "Lex! Oh! You look so well! I'm so glad you could make it!" Thin little
arms twined around him; moist brown eyes blinked up at him earnestly. 

 "Lana!" Lex hugged her back and smiled at her. "I couldn't miss the
wedding of my prettiest business partner!" 

 Lana smiled happily at him. She was wearing a short, lightweight,
fluttery sort of a dress in blue and yellow. Lex thought he remembered her
wearing a lot of pink before; this suited her better. Lana looped her arm
through his and led him to the buffet, talking all the while. 

 "I'm so happy, Lex! I can't even begin to tell you! You remember Henry
Small, my biological father -- well, after Mrs. Small left him and moved
to Metropolis, he took up his law practice again! He's the biggest lawyer
in Smallville now! Now, you may say, biggest lawyer in Smallville? That's
not much, but Lex he's so happy! He's making a good living again, and he's
helping people, and that's the most important thing, isn't it? And after
the divorce, his kids come to stay with him every summer! Lex, I have
brothers and sisters now! I get to baby-sit, and his oldest girl -- well,
second-oldest girl after me, I guess -- she's been working at the Talon
all summer, and we really really get along -- just like sisters should!"
Lana nodded emphatically. 

 As Lana kept babbling, Lex was remembering things about her, about the
two of them together, things from years he'd been sure had been lost to
debauchery. He remembered teasing her about some love poems, and showing
her how to use a punching bag, and teaching her how to do the
small-business taxes for the Talon. She really had been just like the
little sister he'd never had, whining and all. He chuckled a little at her
as she busily began to fill a plate for him. She didn't notice. 

 "She asked her mom if she could stay here over the winter, and go to
Smallville High, and work at the Talon after school like I did. I hope she
says yes! But, you know, even if she doesn't they're still only as far
away as Metropolis. Oh! And Nell had a baby, too! Well, she's six now, but
I'm a cousin! She's so cute! I'm finally going to end up with a big
family! Just what I always wanted! And after the wedding, you know, when I
have kids of my own, they'll have aunts and uncles by the handful!" 

 Lana handed him the food and turned to the cups and carafes at the end of
the long table. "Now, do you want coffee or tea? There'll be champagne
later, but I wanted everybody to get a good dinner first. Or I could make
you a cappuccino?" 

 Lex had been wondering why none of these memories coming back at him
today had included him hurting anyone in a drunken rage. He'd believed for
years that he had done so -- "A drunkard hurts himself and everyone around
him" was one of the earliest truisms he had listed in his PDA. Now as Lana
said, "tea" he remembered her saying "chamomile tea" to him, years before,
in just that tone of voice. He remembered flying out at her, enraged and
disoriented, sure she was planning to poison him. He remembered throwing
her away from him. There had been a horse? He remembered running, and the
sound of the horse behind him, going crazy. There had been screams. Had he
heard the distinctive sound of bone breaking? He hadn't gone back to help
her. He had just run, insane with drink or whatever; he had run and left
her behind to be hurt. Not very brotherly, was it? 

 Lana was looking at him expectantly, wondering still what he'd like to
drink. He smiled confidently at her, careful not to display any of the
turmoil he felt. How bad could it have been, anyhow? Here she was, happy
with her life and glad to see him, perfectly fine. She couldn't have been
that badly -- she had a limp. As she'd guided him across the room this
evening, she'd been limping, just a little. Lana never used to have a
limp. It had been, it must have been several years, and she still.... 

 You're never any weaker than they think you are, Lex. You have to put on
a good show. 

 "Thanks, Lana. This looks great! It's quite a spread. Maybe some water?" 

 She smiled at him and bobbed her head. See? She's fine. "Of course! I
even have some of that Ty Nant water you like in the kitchen. I'll be
right back!" 

 Lana bustled away. 

 Lex set his plate down on a nearby table and started planning how to get
out of the room. Something was happening to him; he couldn't seem to get
the sound of bones cracking out of his head. He didn't think he wanted to
try talking with anyone else tonight. Lex was afraid he was out of
control, and it was important to him that nobody know it. 

 He'd only made it a couple of steps away from the buffet before he was
accosted by Pete Ross. 

 "Lex! My boy! Good to see you!" The shorter man clapped Lex heartily on
the shoulder. "How you been?" 

 Lex summoned up a hearty smile and countered Pete's backslapping with a
strong handclasp of his own. "Very well, Mr. Ross. And yourself?" 

 "Awesome!" Pete declared, beaming. Despite Lana's earlier statement about
making sure everybody had a good dinner before any wine was opened, Lex
was sure that Pete had been drinking. At least he was cheerful when
inebriated. 

 Lex gestured casually towards the group of obvious Rosses clustered near
the judge. "I don't believe I've ever seen your entire family at once," he
offered conversationally. 

 "You still haven't," Pete replied. "My oldest brother is on a
pipeline-laying project in the Ukraine. Everybody else made it back to
town, though. Let's hear it for Smallville!" Pete shouted, and a cheer
went up from a few people in widely-scattered parts of the room. Others
laughed. 

 Lex couldn't help joining in the laughter. Nothing awful had sprung out
at him from his subconscious for a few minutes, and Pete's good mood was
infectious. 

 "Once a Smallville guy, always a Smallville guy, that's what I say!" Pete
declared enthusiastically. "And y'know what, Lex? That even goes for you,
ya freak." Pete jovially punched Lex on the shoulder. 

 Lex felt his eyes widen slightly at the gratuitous insult. Then he
remembered the vanishing head injury from earlier and wondered uneasily
what exactly Pete meant. 

 Pete didn't notice any of Lex's consternation at his remarks. "Hey!
There's Mrs. Fordman! I gotta go say 'hi.' Hey! Chloe's here! Chloe's my
girl. Chloe'll take care of you. Good to see you again, man. Really." And
with one final thump to Lex's back, Pete was gone. 

 "Lex!" Chloe said. "What are you doing here?" She looked shocked for a
second, then blinked the expression away like a pro. 

 "I'm down for the wedding," Lex answered blandly. "Lana invited me." 

 "Lana," Chloe muttered. She looked tired, and worried, and a little
bitter under it all. Lex remembered, with a lack of effort which surprised
him, that his Smallville reminder dossier had said she worked at the
Smallville Ledger now, and had for many years. Clark Kent, the ultimate
farmboy and her journalistic underling in high school, had gone on to a
moderately successful career as a reporter at the prestigious Daily
Planet, but Chloe, a Metropolis girl originally, had contented herself
with the cattle-auctions-and-county-fairs beat. Although, looking at the
tight lines on her face, Lex thought 'contented' was not really the word
to use for Chloe Sullivan. 

 Suddenly that care-worn face eased into the toothy smile he remembered
from his first few months in Smallville. "Well, what does it matter now?"
she laughed cryptically, and grasped his hand in both her heavily-ringed
ones. "It's good to see you, Lex! You look great! How's business?" 

 It was a good thing she asked about business. Lex could convincingly talk
business under any circumstances whatsoever; at the touch of Chloe's hand,
Lex's mind was flooded with a series of terrible images -- recollections?
He didn't want to believe they were real. Chloe's pale, drawn face --
years younger-looking -- green eyes brimming with tears. Her hand was warm
and sweaty where she touched his arm. She silently mouthed, "I'm sorry."
He was -- he could remember the exact feel of the gag in his mouth, the
restraints at his throat, waist, wrists and ankles -- he'd been secured to
a metal gurney, helplessly listening as his father, some time, years ago,
had comprehensively chewed out Chloe Sullivan for failing him. 

 Chloe, before his eyes today, was saying something civil about Plant
Number Three's new pollution-control system. Chloe, in his mind's eye,
however many years ago that had been, was struggling through her tears to
say, "Yes, Mr. Luthor, I understand. I won't fail you again. No one in
Smallville will get in touch with Lex again. I swear!" Her voice dropped
to a whisper. "Please don't hurt my Dad." 

 From the sound of it, Lionel was stalking around the room. Lex couldn't
see him from his awkward position. "Before you stupidly allowed the
Kents," Lionel spat scornfully, "to invite Lex to your high school
graduation, your father's safety, and yours, and Lex's, were all in your
hands. Fortunately for all of you, your incompetence, Miss Sullivan, may
be able to be remedied. You'll just have to hope that Dr. Foster can
ameliorate this deplorable situation." A short Black woman with a beaten
expression on her face approached the gurney. He could remember his
desperate panic as he watched her slowly prepare a syringe. Finally then,
in the memory, Lionel came into Lex's view. This was Lionel in his prime,
stronger, straighter, and even more sure of himself than he'd been the
last time Lex saw him -- Oh, God! He hadn't ever remembered until now his
father's last farewell to him, the morning he left for Gotham! 

 Lex smiled shakily at Chloe. "Excuse me," he interrupted her, without the
slightest idea of what she was saying. "I have to, uh...." 

 "Well, you know where it is!" Chloe joked coarsely. "You own the
building!" 

 Lex fled. He made the best show he could of walking like a successful
businessman in full control of himself, but he still fled -- up the stairs
to the Talon's little business office. Thankfully, no one was there, and
the door wasn't locked. He closed it behind him, then sank to the floor
with his head in his hands. 

 Presently there came a knock at the door. Lex raised his head, unsure how
long he'd been sitting on the floor. He found his face was wet, and wiped
it with his pocket handkerchief. 

 A man is always at his best when he is seated at his own desk. In this
case, his partner's desk would have to do. Lex quickly got up,
straightened his clothes, and sat himself down at Lana's desk. He opened a
catalog of some sort, from one of the piles she had stacked there, and
tried to look like he'd been perusing it. 

 "Come in," he said, proud that his voice wasn't shaking. 

 It was Clark, of course. Lex relaxed infinitesimally. 

 "Hey, Lex," the big man said gently. "Whatcha doin' up here?" 

 Lex smiled in a way he hoped wouldn't give anything away. "Well, you know
me and parties. No cloakroom, so I thought I'd come check out the
paperwork a little. I am still a partner." 

 "Thought you were on vacation," Clark chided him, with a warm smile. He
came and sat in the office's other chair, across the desk from Lex. "Are
you sure you're all right, Lex?" 

 The look on Clark's face and the sound of his voice, combined with the
unprecedented things his mind had been doing to him today, conspired to
undermine Lex's hard-earned composure. He felt tears pricking at his eyes
again, but blinked them back resolutely and said, "I'm fine, Clark. I keep
telling you...." Clark kept looking at him -- warm, and worried, and Clark
behind those thick alien lenses, and Lex had to close his eyes and stop
talking. 

 They sat there in silence for a minute. When Lex opened his eyes, Clark
was still looking at him. 

 "No," Lex whispered. "I'm not. I haven't been for -- what year is this? A
long time." 

 Clark's face threatened to crumple for a second; he swallowed hard and
blinked himself a couple of times. Lex wished desperately that he'd say
something, but he was afraid to hear what it would be. 

 "I knew it," Clark said at length. His voice was soft and scratchy and
deeper than Lex thought it should be. "I should never have let myself be
-- I knew you weren't really okay when you turned up in Metropolis again
like nothing had happened, and then when you came back here for
graduation, too. I let people talk me into thinking that you were all
right, but I knew better. I'm so sorry, Lex." There was no mistaking the
repentance in Clark's voice. "I'm so sorry I ran away and left you alone
with them." 

 "You... ran?" Lex said, and then suddenly he remembered Morgan Edge, and
the beads, and the gun, and the car, and the look on Clark's face. "You
aren't even human," he whispered, shocked anew, and there was that look
again, on Clark's face. Lex was afraid it was probably echoed on his own.
Interspersed with the images, from some of the earliest broken places in
his mind, were fragments of sound, from later. His father, cursing and
railing against some "alien menace" that couldn't leave well enough alone
-- arrogant, interfering, woolly-minded, extraterrestrial.... 

 Lex rose from the chair and approached his old friend with his hand
outstretched. Clark stayed frozen in his seat. Lex thought he looked like
he might want to run again, but he only leaned back a little. 

 Lex removed the thick ugly glasses from Clark's face. Then he reached a
finger into Clark's hair and pulled free one shiny black curl. It fell
perfectly over Clark's forehead. 

 Without the glasses, and now that Clark's face had lost its panicky
intention to flee, his eyes were a startling blue. Lex remembered them
being greener, but he knew his memory wasn't to be trusted. Clark didn't
look surprised, shocked, or scared anymore, just accepting. 

 "You're Superman," Lex said. He hadn't been so sure of anything for a
long, long time. 

 The man seated before him was impassive, strong, powerful -- he didn't
really even look like Clark, incredible as that might seem. Lex felt his
tenuous grip on reality slipping. Clark was an alien. He himself was a
mutant. A prestigious, well-respected, world-renowned psychiatrist had
given him serious brain damage. By his father's will had this been done --
Dad had broken his mind, because... Jeeze. 

 "My father was a serial killer," Lex realized out loud. 

 Superman's expression changed. His eyes widened, surprised, bled to green
-- it was Clark's face again. "Wow," he said. "Really? I mean, everybody
always thought he was bad, but...." 

 "Yeah," Lex breathed. He sagged back and sat on the edge of Lana's desk.
"That's why.... That's why he kept poisoning me, having me drugged. I --
Over the years, again and again, I've found out, I've had in my hands,
evidence of -- proof that he's committed murder, at least three --four! At
least four murders himself! He -- oh, God! And he paid for others to do
his killing for him more than -- and that's just what I remember now!"
Agitated, Lex got up and started roaming the tiny room. Clark stood as
well, watching Lex intently. 

 "I -- every time I woke up a little, got my bearings, it was like I was
driven to always find out -- Jeeze! I never even got him on the same
murder twice!" Lex stood still, ran his hands over his head, stared about
him wildly. Clark loomed a little closer and looked like he was getting
ready to catch Lex if he bolted. Lex wasn't going to run, though; he
wasn't sure he could even walk anymore just that very second. He knew he
was getting wild, losing control in front of someone, but it was far too
late to care. "He, he, he kept making her up the dosage. Every time I came
around, I pinned another murder on him, and he got Foster to wipe it out
again, and every time she had to take a little bit more of me! I don't
even know how long -- when did Dad die?" 

 "Sixteen months ago," Clark told him. 

 "More than a year and I'm just remembering now!" Lex exclaimed,
unaccustomed anger warming his veins. He jumped up and violently pulled
his PDA out of its pocket and flicked it on. Checking the earliest entries
he yelled, "And almost two years before that! It's been three goddam years
since I've been able to string together two days in a row, and...." 

 Lex suddenly ran out of steam. He wanted to smash the damn PDA against
the wall, but his mind was still more holes than memories, and he might
need it yet. He didn't dare. He stood there, exhausted, breathing hard.
More of the partial memories kept swarming into his weary brain, in fits
and starts. Most of them were horrible -- injections, and his father's
reproaches, and his father's tears? He didn't think he wanted to remember
these things. "What am I going to do?" he whispered. 

 Clark was suddenly right there, big warm hands on his shoulders, holding
him upright against the sudden tiredness and despair. Lex wanted to lean
his head on Clark's chest, but, even now, he was unwilling to show that
much weakness. 

 Clark squeezed his shoulders gently, reassuringly, then let his hands
drop. "What triggered your memory getting better?" he asked. 

 Lex took a deep calming breath, and thought. It was novel and pleasant to
be able to recall things just by trying, and he concentrated on how much
he enjoyed it. "I think it must have been hitting my head, down by the
river. Did you see the bruise? It was completely gone in a few hours." Lex
dimly remembered a guy with a gun -- there had been quite a few, but this
one had a grudge against meteor freaks, and didn't Chloe have something to
do with? Mutants? Even Clark had said, some time, something... Lex
struggled, and came up with, "You remember that kid? With the meteor rocks
and the gun -- the mutant-hunter? Looks like he was right about me." Clark
was nodding but didn't speak. Lex concentrated again. "The first time it
happened was -- My father had brought me back to Metropolis, to
LuthorCorp, about six months before. I got mugged! Hit in the head, of
course...." Clark was smiling at him. He couldn't help smiling back, and
immediately felt a little better. "A day or two after, I started feeling
more like myself, and then I started remembering things -- Dad murdered
his own parents." 

 "Your grandfather was a murderer, too, actually," Clark added softly. 

 Lex didn't let himself reel. Actually, it wasn't that surprising. He
hoped he hadn't murdered anybody, but it wouldn't be any kind of shock. 

 "The second time was just after your high school graduation. There was
that huge earthquake...." 

 "Rick Everett." When Lex blinked at Clark a few times, he added, "Rick
found out he wouldn't get his diploma on the morning of graduation. He was
here when the meteorites hit, and he'd never been so mad, and by the time
'Pomp and Circumstance' started playing he was pretty drunk, and.... Well,
he never did it again. He works at the Conoco station now." 

 "And I got hit in the head again, and came back to my senses, and
eventually I found out about another one of my dad's crimes. And he
strong-armed Chloe Sullivan into making sure that I never set foot in
Smallville again, since I always pick up head injuries in Smallville, and
Dr. Foster doped me up even more, and I was lost again." 

 "What happened then?" 

 "It was a long time before I came back up again. I think I must've been
higher-functioning during that interim than I have been, um, recently.
Anyway, I never went out without a bodyguard after that, and I wasn't
allowed to drive, and there was no way on Earth that anybody was going to
get close enough to hit me on the head at all. I was enough myself then,
though, to feel trapped and get depressed and I drank. A lot." 

 "Huh. It was the Scotch that they started drugging you in, you know." 

 "I didn't know that. Anyway, getting really blasted seems to be about as
good as getting hit in the head when it comes to knocking my brain into
psychotropic-drug-clearing mode. Dad didn't notice right away, either, and
I gathered a lot of real evidence, and -- I had an appointment with the
Metropolis DA! I was actually going to hand him over to the law!" Lex was
amazed at his own audacity. "Of course I didn't get away with it. He got
me just in time, and he made Foster double the dosage over what she said
it should be. I didn't have a chance." 

 "Wow. To think that even Lionel Luthor would do that, to his own son.
Just wow." 

 "I think it hurt him, towards the end. Every day I had to start all over
again, from scratch, and...." Lex was suddenly confronted with a perfect
mental image of Lionel's face, the last time he ever saw him. He'd looked
old, and worried, and regretful. "I think by the end even he thought he'd
gone too far." 

 "So he had some human feeling after all." 

 "Says the alien," Lex snorted. He still felt shaky and upset, but it was
an unexpectedly great comfort not to be alone. 

 "That's right," Clark smiled. He smoothed his hair back up from his brow,
and put his glasses back on. "Well, it sounds like we have the means at
hand to help you get all your memories back right here. Lana opened the
champagne just before I came looking for you. You feel up to re-joining
the party?" 

 Lex thought for a moment. "On the one hand, a man is made up of his
memories. I really should try to get them back. On the other hand...." 

 "It's kind of hard and painful, and a lot of them suck," Clark finished
for him. 

 Lex smiled at him. "In a nutshell." 

 "Well, I am a professional journalist. I'll be right there with you. If
it gets to be too much for you at all, I'll take you home." 

 Lex took a deep breath. "Besides, I've always enjoyed being drunk. I
think. Lead on, Clark." 

 Clark beamed at him and squeezed his shoulder again. "Attaboy." 

 The room downstairs wasn't nearly as crowded as it had been. Martha and
Jonathan Kent had left, and so had most of the people around their age.
Lex must have been freaking out on the office floor longer than he'd
realized. 

 At the sound of Clark's gigantic feet (he flies with those? Lex wondered)
galumphing down the stairs, Lana twirled around from bidding a sympathetic
goodnight to Mrs. Fordman. 

 "Found him," Clark said, smiling at the girl. 

 "Oh, good!" Lana declared. "Pete's setting up the movie already!" 

 Pete came in from the adjoining theater part of the building. "Man, whose
whack idea was it to have 'Attack of the Killer Tomatoes' as a bachelor
party movie?" 

 Clark guffawed and Lana giggled. Chloe, nibbling a piece of lemon
meringue pie at a nearby little round table, said, "The same person who
thought it would be good to have the bachelor party and the bachelorette
party at the same place and time." 

 "You could have objected!" Lana protested. "You're the maid of honor!" 

 Chloe made a dismissive gesture with her fork. "What the hell. It's all
about the same. Although I wouldn't have said no to some nice
Chippendales." 

 Lana squealed, "Chloe!" and giggled some more. 

 "How much champagne has she had?" Lex asked. He was sticking very close
to Clark's side, or Clark was sticking very close to his, but the
semi-familiar banter was drawing him in. More importantly, it seemed to be
supplanting the upwelling memories of his imprisonment, and replacing them
with (hopefully less disturbing) ones from his years in Smallville. 

 "She's working on her first glass," Chloe said in an exasperated tone. 

 Lex noticed that Chloe's glass was filled with apple juice. She saw him
looking and said, "I'm working on my two-year pin, and will be one of the
many responsible designated drivers tonight. You don't drink either
nowadays, do you Lex?" 

 Lex resented her tone. He resented the fact that she had seen him bound,
no matter how long ago it must have been, and that she had served his
father's scheme to keep him subdued. The look he turned on her must have
shown his resentment and fury pretty plainly, for Chloe turned pale, but
then she raised her chin defiantly, and Lex was assaulted by another
memory. His anger vanished, and with it much of his strength. "I said I'd
protect you," he faltered, brow furrowed. 

 Fortunately, Lana had gone into the kitchen to bring out another tray of
champagne. Pete was announcing to the remaining guests that the movie was
going to start in ten minutes, and since the best possible way to watch
this lame-ass film was drunk, they all better hurry the hell up. Only
Clark and Chloe noticed Lex, and they both already knew at least some of
what was going on. 

 "I'm sure you would've if you could, Lex," Chloe told him. She swallowed
one last forkful of pie. "The last time I saw you, though, you couldn't
even protect yourself." She got up. "Excuse me." 

 "Chloe!" Lex said. She stopped. "I'm sorry you got mixed up in it all. I
know you did what you did to try to protect Gabe, and it's... It's...." 

 Chloe shook her head at him and let out a deep breath. "Water under the
bridge. For what it's worth, I'm sorry, too." She raised her apple juice
as if in a toast. "Let's hear it for Harley Quinn's hyenas, huh?" She
knocked back the remains of the juice and headed over to the buffet for a
refill. 

 The movie was even dumber than Lex had expected. All the guests brought
their little plastic glasses of wine (Lex could remember champagne from
his teenage years; this stuff was not champagne) into the theater with
them. People kept going in and out. Lex was seated on the side aisle about
halfway up; Clark was next to him, then Lana, Pete, and Chloe. At the
second repetition of "Puberty Love" Clark got up (to many raucous calls of
"Down in Front!") and edged past. 

 "I'll be right back," he reassured Lex, and in a minute he returned with
a bottle. The "cork" was plastic; Clark popped it effortlessly and
refilled Lex's glass. 

 "What is this stuff?" Lex whispered as Clark poured. "It tastes like
alcoholic fizzy lemonade." 

 Clark laughed at him and showed him the label. "It says champagne." 

 "I don't believe it," Lex huffed. 

 Pete was shouting dialogue back at the screen, and so were most of his
brothers, scattered around the auditorium. Lana was giggling almost
non-stop, and spilling more champagne than she swallowed. Chloe was
valiantly sticking with juice, but she seemed to be having a good time.
Tammy Small and her summer boyfriend, Chet Meritt, were sitting just
beyond Chloe -- being high-schoolers with drivers' licenses, they had been
volunteered for designated driver duty, too, and the three were making up
their own snarks to counteract the scripted dialogue the rambunctious
Rosses were engaged in. 

 It was warm in the theater. The fizzy stuff (definitely not champagne)
was cold and sweet. His chair rocked a little -- the squeaking was really
funny, and soon Lex realized he was as giggly as Lana. Quieter, though, he
consoled himself. About that time he realized he'd seen the movie before,
as an undergrad, and he'd been wasted then, too. That made him giggle some
more, and he realized his little plastic glass was empty. He tapped Clark
with it to ask for another refill, and Clark emptied the bottle into his
glass. 

 "Did I drink all that?" Lex didn't think he had. 

 "No, I've been topping off Lana's and Pete's glasses, too." 

 "Good. Aren't you having any?" 

 Clark put his mouth up to Lex's ear and whispered, "Aliens don't get
drunk." It was warm and tickly and the funniest thing Lex had ever heard.
He finished his glass of not-champagne, giggling quietly all the while.
The room was noisy, but it was a cheerful, good-natured noise that had
nothing really to do with him. Not a person there wanted to take anything
from him or do him harm. How long had it been since he could say that? 

 Lex was getting tired. Clark didn't object when he leaned on his arm a
little. 

 Lex fell asleep. 

 There was Lewis, at the edge of the water. It must be low tide; he was
picking snails off the rocks and sucking them out of their shells. 

 "Lewis," Lex said wonderingly. It felt very odd to say that name without
the taste of anger behind it. 

 Lewis glanced sideways up at him, then went back to the day-to-day work
of survival. "Find what you were looking for?" he asked. 

 "I think so. I'm not sure yet." Lex squatted in the sand and watched for
a while. He remembered gathering snails and little crabs like that. "This
is -- I fetched up on an island like this after Helen...." Lex remembered
Helen now, clearly. "She said she loved me too much to shoot me, " he
added sadly. 

 Lewis laughed -- a short, ugly sound. "Not too much to drug you and crash
a plane with you in it." 

 "I guess," Lex agreed. He ran his fingers through the illusory sand.
Disconnected memories of Helen ran through he mind. 

 "She betrayed you!" Lewis declared, violently throwing a snail shell far
out to sea. 

 Lex thought for a moment, staring at that horribly familiar empty blue
horizon. "I did stuff to her, too," he decided. "Even though I thought I
loved her." 

 "You never even knew her." 

 "You're right." 

 Lex played quietly with a shell. Lewis came out of the water and lay down
on the warm sand to dry off. 

 "You were never real, were you?" Lex asked. 

 "You made me up," Lewis confirmed, "but I was as real as the Helen Bryce
you fell in love with, and you needed me just as much." 

 "What happens now?" 

 Lewis sat up cross-legged and looked him in the eyes. "What do you need
to happen now?" 

 Lex woke up. 

 "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes" was over. They were well into "Plan Nine
from Outer Space." The audience had diminished considerably. Clark was
still next to him, with Lana (still giggling) leaning against his other
side, but the rest of their row was empty. 

 "What happened?" Lex asked. 

 Lana leaned around Clark and smiled at him. "That squeaky song destroyed
the tomatoes, and they all lived happily ever after! Oh! Bang!" she cried,
going back to the bad-movie-participation part of her evening. 

 Clark laughed. Lex had to smile. 

 "People are starting to leave," Clark told him. "Chloe and her brigade
are ferrying people home. Pete's out front saying
goodbye-thanks-for-coming-see-you-at-the-wedding. How are you doing?" 

 "I remember Helen now." Clark didn't say anything. Lex didn't know what
to say. Lana and the remaining half-dozen Rosses kept up a roar of
merriment directed at the screen, so it wasn't exactly a moment of
silence. "I think I need another drink," Lex finally added. 

 "We can do that." Clark turned to Lana. "Will you be okay here alone?" 

 "I'm not alone!" she exclaimed. "I've got a whole lotta people with me!" 

 A chorus of "She's okay," and "We're all right here," and "Let the girl
stay have some fun!" went up from the adjoining rows, Lana nodding
emphatically to it all and giggling. 

 Clark smiled and held up his hands in surrender. "Okay," he announced to
the nearby people, "but don't let any crazed stalkers or mutants get her
before the wedding!" 

 That led to heavy laughter mixed with cries of "We won't!" and Clark and
Lex went back to the brightly-lit cafe. 

 "Thanks so much for coming. I'm glad you had a good time. See you
tomorrow!" came Pete's voice from the door. As soon as Clark came near, he
reached out and tapped him on the shoulder. "Dude!" Pete said, "you're it!
I have done the polite thing by like four million people, and I'm goin'
back in to see the rest of the movie." 

 "The movie is cheesy, Pete. They used paper plates for space craft." 

 "Pie tins, and I love that part! Your turn, man!" 

 "Got it," Clark laughed. "Go enjoy your film." 

 "Whoo hoo!" Pete yelled, and headed back into the theater. 

 Clark got and opened another bottle of fizzy-glug, and Lex took it to a
table in the corner. He remembered sitting at this very table with his
laptop computer, working on LexCorp business, long before. He realized
LexCorp hadn't died the way he'd thought it had, and pursued those sad
memories for a while. 

 Dad sure had been determined not to let him succeed on his own. Bugging
the castle, blackmailing the sheriff, pretending to be blind, and what had
it gotten him in the end? His father's face kept appearing in his mind's
eye, that last day before he left for Gotham. Lex had been eating oatmeal.
(The Metropolis housekeeper, Ms. Brown was her name, made him oatmeal for
breakfast every day. She never spoke to him, either, even now that Lionel
was gone. She just kept doing things, in Lex's own penthouse, the exact
way Lionel had liked them. He never challenged her on it, either, because
he'd never realized it until now.) 

 Lionel had come in and taken a seat. He had a cup of coffee with him --
Lex wasn't given coffee with his breakfast. Lex remembered the scent of
it. 

 "Well, son, I'm off to Gotham City," Lionel had said. "I leave things in
your capable hands." 

 "Of course, Dad," Lex had replied, just as though he'd already known
Lionel was going out of town today. He'd always done his best to conceal
his weaknesses from his dad, even more than he had tried to conceal them
from the public at large. Looking back, Lex didn't imagine he'd really
succeeded in hiding much from Lionel. 

 Lex's PDA had been on the table, next to the morning paper. He'd fiddled
unobtrusively with it, then said, "I'm sure that Wayne Industries' Kansas
City holdings will be ours before the week is out." 

 Lionel had smiled tiredly at him. He'd finished his coffee and stood up
abruptly. "Hold the fort, son. I have every confidence that you will
manage LuthorCorp's interests flawlessly in my absence." 

 Lex stood, too. It was polite to stand when your elders rose from the
table. "I'll do my best, Dad. Have a good trip." 

 "I know you will." Lionel had looked at him strangely for a moment, then
suddenly hugged him and kissed him on the forehead. "Good luck, son," he'd
said, and then he was gone. 

 Lex had completely forgotten that unexpected whiskery embrace until now.
When his secretary had come into his office, upset and near tears (the
woman's name had been Caroline; she was a redhead -- Lex wondered now if
she'd been one of his father's mistresses) to report that the radio said
Lionel Luthor was dead, Lex had barely remembered the morning's
conversation with his father at all. 

 His PDA said "Hold the fort" and "Manage LuthorCorp's interests
flawlessly." In the months since he'd been on his own, he'd moved those
last instructions of Lionel's into the truisms. He'd obeyed his father's
final words. The thought made him twist inside somehow, but he'd just
taken care of LuthorCorp; he'd been more ethical and law-abiding than
Lionel ever had, too. He didn't know why he should feel so uncomfortable
about the business. It was fine. Lex took another drink. 

 The day Lionel died had been the last time he'd seen Dr. Foster, as well.
Caroline had been weeping in the outer office, listening to the radio
coverage, and Lex had been going over some reports at his desk. Dr. Foster
had swept in, ignoring the secretary entirely. Lex had never seen her so
energetic. 

 "Give me all your meds, Lex," she'd instructed. 

 "Certainly, Doctor," he'd replied. His briefcase had gone with him
everywhere in those days, Lex recalled. He'd taken the three little brown
bottles out of it and handed them to her. 

 "Is this all you have?" she'd asked. 

 "No. There are some more in the penthouse." 

 "Take me there," she'd said, and he had. He'd turned over all his
medications, from his bedroom and bathroom, and Dr. Foster had dumped all
the pills into the toilet and flushed them. Then he'd followed her out to
the living room and watched as she'd built a big fire in the fireplace and
burnt the bottles and a big sheaf of papers she'd taken from her
briefcase. The burning plastic had made a terrible smell; Lex had to
disable the fire alarms. 

 Once everything was burning, she'd gone into his father's den and asked
Lex for the combination to his safe. 

 "You know I can't give you that," Lex had chided her. 

 Dr. Foster had looked at him with her face in a tight frown, momentarily
balked. "Can you open it?" she'd finally asked. 

 "All right," Lex agreed. 

 There were a lot of papers inside. Lex had inspected them carefully, and
only let Dr. Foster burn the ones that had nothing to do with the running
of LuthorCorp. Apparently his father had mostly kept blackmail material in
that safe; Lex had forgotten all about it within a couple of hours, but
even at the time he hadn't been surprised. The housekeeper had stuck her
head in once to see what they were doing, but she hadn't said a word. 

 Once all the papers were destroyed, and the safe had been re-locked, and
the medicine bottles and documentation were nothing but slag and char, Lex
had re-armed the fire alarm system. 

 Dr. Foster had looked at him speculatively for a long moment. Then she'd
handed him a card. "Your new doctor will be Dr. Paulson. I've talked to
him about you a little. When he asks you what I was treating you for, and
what meds you were taking, just say you're not sure. He doesn't believe in
medicating anything if there's an alternative, and he's a good man. Good
luck, Lex," she'd said. As she left, he thought he'd heard her mutter,
"God have mercy on my soul." 

 There was some commotion in the room; people were pouring out of the
theater, laughing and talking. The movie must be over. Some got coffees,
or "one for the road"; quite a few said "Hi" to him, but no one came over.
It reminded him of how it used to be, in Smallville. People knew him to
say hello to, but only a few were more closely acquainted than that. 

 Lana and Pete joined Clark at the door, saying goodnight to their
friends. Chloe came in and spotted Tammy standing around drinking coffee.
She went over to the high-school girl and said something that sounded
pretty sharp. Tammy rolled her eyes, finished her drink, and collected a
handful of partygoers. Chloe rounded up a few herself and left as well.
Lex watched and laughed a little. He sure hadn't been that obedient at
that age. 

 That age -- it reminded him of when they were all in high school, Chloe
and Lana and Pete and Clark, and then that touched off his memories of
Desiree. They didn't come to him clearly like all the other recollections
he'd developed; he could remember the feel of her, and the intoxicating
scent of her far better than he could any of the things they'd ever said
to each other or done together. Martha Kent had scolded him about her in
this very room, hadn't she? Or had that been at home, or in the Kents'
home? 

 Desiree had sparked the ironclad business agreement that had been the
reason his Dad had never been able to take over the Talon. Lex had been
kept away from it for years, but it was still here. Smallville was still
here; there were still people to whom he belonged, at least a little bit. 

 Lex finished the bottle musing on the differences between Desiree and
Helen, then between the two of them and women like his Mom and Martha. Dad
treated Mom badly, but she never tried to kill him. Jonathan wasn't
exactly a prize; Lex had been almost sure, when Martha had become
pregnant, that she'd fallen victim to Lionel's blandishments, but it
turned out the baby wasn't -- he'd stolen her medical records? Jeeze! That
memory led into other bad ones: Phelan, Nixon, the vial of Clark's blood,
that whole creepy room he used to have -- Hell! Did his father get hold of
all that evidence after Lex started to lose his mind? He'd shown it to
Helen, like an idiot. She'd been working for Lionel, and they'd had all
that summer.... That led to worse images still; Lionel had really hated
Superman. 

 "Lex? Hey, Lex, are you okay?" 

 Lex looked up into Clark's friendly, questioning face. Remembering what
he remembered now, he couldn't meet the alien's eyes. 

 "Oh, aren't you feeling well, Lex?" Lana asked, nose wrinkling cutely in
concern. 

 "I'm fine," Lex said. Even to him, it didn't sound that convincing.
Apparently Lana didn't buy it either. 

 "Oh! Poor Lex!" she declared. Suddenly Lex had a lap full of drunken
Lana. She weighed hardly anything. "I want everybody to be happy, 'cause
I'm getting married tomorrow!" She squiggled around in his lap and put her
head down on his shoulder. It seemed as if she might be getting ready to
fall asleep. 

 Lex looked helplessly up at the others. All the guests had gone; only the
members of the wedding party and himself were left. The three of them were
no use; they were all smiling. 

 Lana started singing. "I'm getting married in the morning...." 

 "Two p.m." Chloe commented. 

 "Ding dong the bells are gonna chime...." 

 "Smallville First Presbyterian hasn't had a bell since the tornado in
1978," Chloe added. 

 "Some one who's able, lift up the table, and get me to the church on
time!" 

 "That's it, princess," Chloe said. "If we're gonna have to start moving
furniture, it's time to get you home." 

 Lana untwined her arms from around Lex's neck and let the others get her
to her feet. "Tomorrow's my last day ever as the fairy princess!" she
declared. "After that I'll be a wife, and a mom, and a cousin, and an
aunt...." 

 "See you guys tomorrow," Chloe interrupted, leading Lana away. "Clark,
can you lock up?" 

 "Sure," Clark said. "I've got the spare key right here." 

 "Great. Goodnight." 

 "Goodnight!" Lana added, waving enthusiastically. She was singing again
as the two women left. 

 "Leaving us with the clean-up," Pete commented, sitting down heavily in
the chair across from Lex. He seemed to have sobered up quite a bit; he
was sipping from a cup of coffee that he set on the little table. 

 "I'll do it," Clark volunteered. Lex had never seen such a thing; all his
long-ago intelligence-gathering had barely hinted at the reality. Clark
literally moved too fast to be seen; there was a brownish-colored blur in
the air of the room, and things seemed to tidy themselves away. 

 "Clark!" Pete yelled, looking anxiously at Lex. 

 "I told him. Well, actually, he figured it out." Clark wasn't even
breathing hard. 

 "Man!" Pete was still upset. "Some warning would be nice! You could give
a guy a heart attack!" 

 Clark, laughing, smoothed the unruly curl of hair back from his forehead
and put his glasses back on. Lex wished he wouldn't look at him like that,
like everything was going to be okay. Now that Lex had most of his
memories back, he could say with a disturbing degree of confidence that
everything was never okay. 

 Pete seemed to get over his indignation. "First time you seen it, am I
right? Pretty damn impressive, ain't it?" 

 Lex nodded numbly. "I built a kryptonite-powered death-ray!" he blurted
out. 

 Pete's eyebrows climbed up into his hairline. Clark didn't look
surprised. He put down the cup of coffee he'd gotten from somewhere during
the cleaning spree (didn't spill a drop! Lex marveled silently) and took a
seat. 

 "I thought it looked like your work, although I told myself it could have
been almost anyone." Clark was being entirely too calm about this. 

 "Sh -- That was you?" Pete yelped. He was back to being outraged. "Clark
could have died!" 

 Lex hung his head. 

 "Lex. May I tell him what happened?" Clark's voice was very gentle. 

 Lex was of two minds. On the one hand, he hated for anyone to know how
bad off he had been. On the other, Pete had kept Clark's secret with great
success for some time, and Lex was suddenly tired of all the misdirection
and covering-up. He nodded. 

 "Lionel wiped out Lex's memory. He was controlling him with drugs for the
last five or six years of his life. Lex is just coming back to himself
now." 

 "Harsh," Pete said, calming down again. He certainly was a volatile young
man. He took a sip of coffee. "Wait. That can't be right. You control the
eighth-biggest company in the country! I've seen you on TV! There's no way
you've been amnesia-boy for the past six years!" 

 Lex was obscurely comforted that he'd done such a good job of appearing
fine. "I worked hard to cover it up," he said steadily. 

 "Man." Pete sounded impressed. Lex looked up; Pete looked impressed, too,
and Lex felt proud of himself. It was a good feeling, one he didn't
experience often. In light of the past that was coming back to haunt him,
he wasn't surprised. 

 "I did other stuff, too," he forced himself to say. "Illegal, immoral,
unethical... even before Dad did what he did. He would never have found
out enough to want you hurt or know how to hurt you if it hadn't been for
my...." 

 "Not true, Lex. There were a lot of places he could have found stuff out.
It wasn't your fault, any of it." 

 "Yes, it was," Lex whispered. 

 "Call it temporary insanity." Pete waved a dismissive hand. "I could get
you off." 

 Lex blinked hard at the offer, and Clark laughed. "Pete's a lawyer now,"
he explained. "Unless you're really making the improper suggestion that
sounded like, Pete?" 

 "What?" Pete spluttered. Coffee flew across the table, and Clark cleaned
it up almost before all the drops fell. 

 "Looks like time to take you home," Clark grinned. He locked the doors
and herded them out to his old Dodge. Pete called shotgun, so Lex had to
sit in the back. It was dark and surprisingly quiet on the way to Pete's
apartment; Lex filled the silence up by talking softly about Julian, a
painful memory he'd never lost. He wasn't sure whether the men up front
were listening or not; it was enough to say the words. He must have
reached the maudlin stage of drunkenness. 

 "The morning we were supposed to get my brother christened, I was
awakened by the nanny screaming. I came, everyone came running to see what
was wrong. Mom made it as far as the doorway from her bedroom -- Pam ran
to her, ran from the baby's room. She saw me, touched my shoulder, said,
'Don't go in there,' and went to my Mom. They were both crying. I went in.
Julian was lying there. I thought he was asleep, but I knew he wasn't
asleep. I picked him up. He was so still, and heavy, and cold. I wanted
him to just be asleep. Dad came in -- he took him from me and told me to
go to my room. He'd handle everything, he said. Probably he thought I'd
killed him." Lex stopped talking and swallowed hard. Then he started up
again. "Babies are noisy and messy. Being pregnant made Mom so tired, all
the time. I never wanted -- I never knew how much I wanted him until he
was gone." 

 There was silence in the car for a moment. Then Pete said, "Hell. Nobody
ever wants a new baby in the house. That's just sibling rivalry. It don't
mean nothin'. He was your brother, and you loved him. Period." 

 "Yeah," Lex said softly. 

 "Here we are," Pete said. Clark pulled over, and Pete got out. "You want
to move up to the front seat, Lex?" Pete asked. 

 "No. I'm fine here." The slamming door sounded loud. They took off again.


 Lex didn't know why he couldn't shut the hell up. "You know I wasn't just
talking about Julian. You're marrying Lana tomorrow, and I just...." Lex's
quiet voice trailed off into nothing. 

 Clark cleared his throat. Lex leaned his head against the cheap cloth
upholstery and wished the world were different. 

 "Um, Lex, you've had a really hard day, and a lot to drink, and I think
you're a little confused...." 

 "I'm not confused," Lex said, trying for levity, "I'm just well mixed." 

 "I'm not marrying Lana. Pete is." Clark turned around in the driver's
seat and grinned at him. 

 Huh. The world was different. 

 CODA 

 "Rise and shine!" 

 "Oog," Lex moaned. Despite the excesses of his misspent youth, he'd only
suffered a handful of hangovers. This one was worse than any of them, as
far as he could recall. 

 "How do you feel?" 

 Was that Clark? Lex pried his eyes open and rolled over. 

 That was Clark, all right, sprawled in an armchair next to the bed --
messy hair, loosened collar, jacket and glasses gone, blinding smile. 

 Lex shaded his eyes with his hand. It was very heavy. "Were you here all
night?" 

 "Didn't want you to swallow your tongue or anything," Clark said warmly.
"You were really wasted last night. Fell asleep in the car. I had to carry
you upstairs and tuck you in." 

 "I'm sorry I missed that. You know, you didn't have to sit there. Plenty
of room in the bed." 

 "Oh, I don't need much sleep in the summertime." 

 "Who said anything about sleeping?" Lex hoped the accompanying leer
wasn't as unconvincing as it felt. 

 "Lex! Superman would never do such a thing!" 

 Lex was pretty sure Clark was faking that tone of shock, but he cracked
an eyelid (when had he closed his eyes again?) to make sure. Clark's smile
left no doubt. Lex smiled back and let his eyes drift shut. 

 "Yeah, well, Superman sucks," he said. 

 Clark chuckled, a deep suggestive laugh that Lex felt all the way down to
the base of his spine. "Not yet." 

 Lex's smile broadened. His head already felt noticeably better, and he
mentally gave thanks for the meteorites, which -- hey! -- had brought
Clark to Earth, as well as granting Lex the ability to heal hangovers in a
couple of hours and irreparable brain damage in, apparently, about a year
and a half. 

 "I gotta go wake up Pete, pour him into his monkey suit, make sure he
doesn't run away -- you know, Best Man stuff." 

 "Uh huh. You're the best Best Man." 

 "Wedding's at two. You won't forget." 

 "Wouldn't miss it." 

 There was a sudden rush of air, and then, just for a second, the
unmistakable feel of Clark's lips on his. Lex's eyes flew open, but Clark
was already gone. 

 Lex knew he'd be back, though. 

 We hear of the conversion of water into wine at the marriage in Cana as
of a miracle. But this conversion is, through the goodness of God, made
every day before our eyes. Behold the rain which descends from heaven upon
our vineyards, and which incorporates itself with the grapes, to be
changed into wine; a constant proof that God loves us, and loves to see us
happy. ~Benjamin Franklin 

 Disclaimer: Smallville and the characters from Smallville do not belong
to me; they belong to the WB and/or DC Comics and/or Millar & Gough and/or
Tollin & Robbins. Superman was invented by Shuster & Siegel. I'm just
fooling around. 

 This story was written for Signe's Blood and Wine Intoxication Challenge
(located at http://www.oxoniensis.popullus.net/intoxication/main.htm), and
it goes AU around the middle of season three, before "Asylum." (I was
surprised to see that Belle Reeve was apparently the Kansas State
Snakepit; I would have expected Lionel Luthor to employ a discreet private
sanatorium.) 

 Thank you so much to pepperjackcandy for beta-reading this!   
 If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to LastScorpion

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