"Lex?" Lana appeared in the doorway of the penthouse office.

He smiled. "You came home."

"Of course I did. Just because I needed time to acknowledge what you said, it doesn't mean I was planning to leave you."

He dropped his eyes to his hands for a moment before looking back up at her. "Come here?"

She moved towards him at a steady pace, finally stopping just in front of the chair where he sat. He reached up to take her hands. "I shouldn't have said what I did."

"You were honest with me, Lex."

"There's a difference between being honest and being hurtful."

"It would have hurt me more if you'd lied to me. Especially when I've known the truth for a long time. I'm not a fool, Lex. I'm not an innocent. Not the way you seem to think I am. I can take care of myself; you don't need to protect me from you."

"I feel like I'm supposed to tell you I'll never leave you."

"But we both know that would be a lie."

"I do love you, Lana."

"I know, Lex. Even on the days when you love him more, I know you love me." She smiled at his questioning look. "There are days where I know you aren't all with me. Those are the days I know you're thinking about him. You might not admit to yourself that he's what you're thinking about, but I see it. I understand it. I accept it."

"Why?"

She leaned up and whispered in his ear. "Because I've loved him, too."

o o o o o

When Bruce opened his eyes, it was to see Alfred's familiar face leaning over him. His mouth was moving, and Bruce struggled to gain enough of a grasp on awareness to hear what he was saying.

"Master Bruce? How do you feel?"

Bruce's mouth quirked up at the corners as the words finally filtered through. "Sore."

"I should expect so. Your back is a mass of bruises, and don't get me started on the mess you've made of your hand."

A full-fledged smile broke through. "I'm sure I've been worse, Alfred."

"That's the pain killers talking. You'll be singing a different tune when they wear off."

"Where am I?"

"Master Queen's apartment in Metropolis. He and I agreed you wouldn't want to stay in hospital any longer than was necessary to have your hand seen to. It will heal, and I know you well enough to have no doubts that you'll recover fully."

The mention of a hospital brought thoughts of Cadmus Labs flooding into his mind. Of Clark lying still in death on bland, white sheets, looking so pale against them. "Clark," he whispered, a wave of agony rushing through him.

"Master Clark is just fine."

Bruce took a moment to register the words. "What?"

"He's a little slow, a little sluggish, but he will also make a full recovery."

"He was dead."

"He came back to life."

Bruce stared. "He's really alive?"

Alfred nodded solemnly. He'd never heard Bruce sound this broken, this scared to believe something before. It frightened him that this man could be so dependent on another person. At the same time it warmed his heart.

Bruce seemed to read his mind and shook his head. "You think too much, Alfred. Where is he? I want to see him." He tried to get out of bed, but fell back as the muscles in his back and a wave of dizziness protested the move vehemently.

"You can see him soon enough. You won't be doing him any good if you fall over and smash your head open trying to get to him." Bruce growled in response, but Alfred just stared back grimly.

"Fine," he sighed, sinking back onto the bed. "At least let me call him."

"He's resting. Which is what you need to do. You can call him later."

"You're aware that you are the only person who can get away with talking to me like this, right?"

"Except for Master Clark."

Bruce rolled his eyes and then closed them. He wanted to sleep almost as much as he wanted to go to Clark. Sleep, however, seemed to be winning the battle of desires.

o o o o o

Lionel Luthor disappeared from the public eye shortly after finding out that his son had killed Morgan Edge. He wasn't afraid. He was being careful. He had no doubts that Lex would never find out about his involvement in this matter, but it never hurt to err on the side of caution. Lex was a force to be reckoned with when threatened.

He'd been in London under the pretense of business for almost five days before the door to his hotel suite was flung open and a rather large and definitely imposing man strode in. Lionel could see two other men of equal stature in the hallway, and his security team was nowhere to be seen.

"Mr. Luthor. I hope I'm not interrupting anything." He spoke with a crisp, clean British accent.

"I get the impression you wouldn't actually care if I said yes." Lionel did not rise from the leather recliner where he was seated.

"You're rather astute." The door shut behind him as he moved to stand in front of Lionel.

"Did my son send you?"

"What do you think?"

"I think he no longer possesses the balls to defy me."

"You'd think wrong, Mr. Luthor."

"Please, call me Lionel. After all, if you're here to kill me, we should at least be on a first name basis."

"I don't plan to kill you, Mr. Luthor."

Lionel quirked an eyebrow and watched as the man bent to the black, leather briefcase he'd set by the door. He didn't flinch at the sight of the instruments as they were pulled out and laid carefully on the coffee table, but he did speak.

"I find it hard to believe that my son, in his newly reformed way of life, would condone torture."

"I was given instruction to teach you the value of life, Mr. Luthor. I have carte blanche to do that by any means I see fit." He picked up a syringe and advanced.

Lionel was up and out of the chair, pulling a gun from beneath his suit jacket and pointing it at the intruder.

"You don't want to do that, Mr. Luthor. Trust me. It would be a very big mistake."

"I don't think so."

A shot popped off from gun of the man standing in the still-open door to the suite before Lionel could even turn. He reached a hand up to his neck and felt the tiny dart embedded in the skin there. Just like in the movies, he thought before falling to his knees, his head swimming.

He heard the man's voice as if it were coming from a great distance. "When you wake up, Mr. Luthor, we are going to have a little bit of fun."

o o o o o

The longer it took for Bruce to put in an appearance, the more agitated Clark became. His friends seemed to pass it off as frustration about the pace at which he was recovering. Lex knew the truth and tried to reassure Clark whenever they were alone, but it seemed to only make him more anxious.

Clark was lost in his own thoughts, only half listening to the chatter of his mother, Lois, Oliver, Jimmy, and Chloe around him when his door opened. Bruce stood framed in the entrance just watching him and waiting for Clark to look up and see him there.

When he finally did, Bruce strode wordlessly across the room, ignoring his body's protest at moving so quickly. He didn't stop at Clark's side. He climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips, wrapping his uninjured hand in Clark's hair and pulling him up into a kiss that seemed to last forever.

Neither was aware of the silence in the room, or the stunned looks of its other occupants. They were only aware of each other, of the feel of the other mans lips, tongue, roaming hands, and strong body pressed close.

Bruce finally pulled back, sucking in a deep breath and grinning. "I think I just outed us."

"Don't think I care," Clark laughed in response. He pulled Bruce back down to his mouth, the kiss softer this time, less urgent. "You're okay?"

"I will be. You?"

"Promised I wouldn't leave."

"Hey, Smallville," Lois broke in from the other bed. "Any other big secrets you're hiding?"

Clark didn't look away from Bruce's eyes as he answered. "Nope, this is it."

o o o o o

Several hours later, only Bruce, Clark, and Lois remained. Bruce raised his water glass, tapping it against the side of Clark's. "A toast," he said.

"To what?"

"To us, as pretentious as it sounds."

Clark laughed. "I think we've earned the right to toast ourselves."

Leaning in, Bruce set their glasses on the nearby table and shifted so that his injured hand was out of the way as he pressed his mouth against Clark's.

"Just because there's a curtain between us, doesn't mean I can't hear you over there."

Clark rolled his eyes. "You know, Lois, you could let them move you to a different room."

"And miss out on the chance to see two of the most powerful men in the world making out like high school seniors in the back of mommy and daddy's Volvo? I don't think so. That image is way too hot to pass up."

"Can't someone sedate you?"

"Admit it, Smallville. You like knowing I'm over here. You've been hiding in the shadows for years, and now it's time to come out and play."

"Lois, play nice or I won't take you home." Oliver entered the room.

"Home? They're springing me? Fantastic, let's go."

"Is she always this easily distracted?" Bruce asked.

"Only when it comes to her boyfriend."

"I heard that, Kent."

"Go home, Lois."

She poked her head around the curtain. "I'm glad you're alive, Clark." And then she was gone, the sound of her voice issuing demands for coffee carrying down the hall and fading away.

"Finally alone then," Clark said.

"Finally."

There was a knock at the door. Bruce moved off the bed and looked around the curtain. If Perry White was surprised to see one of Gotham City's wealthiest residents paying a bedside visit to Clark Kent, he hid it well.

"Can I help you?"

"I came by to see Clark. Chloe told me where to find him." Bruce quirked an eyebrow in interest, but he gestured for Perry to enter and stood nearby while the man took the seat next to Clark.

"Perry, you're just about the last person I expected to see here."

"That maniac tried to take out two of my best reporters, of course I'd come see them. Although I hear I just missed Lois."

"Guess it's your lucky day," Clark grinned.

"Don't let her hear you say that. Anyway, I wanted to stop in and let you know it's fine to take your time coming back to work. You've got plenty of sick days, and we can get by without you for a while."

"Trying to get rid of me, Perry?"

"Trying to look out for you, make sure you're 100 when you come back. Clark, it's alright to take a break." He paused and drew in a deep breath. "The world will get by just fine without you for a little while, I promise."

Clark tilted his head and looked at his boss inquisitively, noticing his use of the words 'the world' instead of the Planet. "Sure," he finally said. "I'll take my time."

"Good." Perry stood and clapped a hand to Clark's shoulder. "Take care." He moved past Bruce and out of the room. Clark stared after him.

"That was weird. It's like..."

"Like what?"

Clark shook his head. "Nothing." He smiled. "Can we go home?"

"Home sounds really good right now."

o o o o o

Lionel woke to freezing, bound limbs and a heavy iron device strapped around his head. He opened his eyes to find himself up to his neck in icy water in the suite's bathtub. He tried to speak, but a cutting pain across his tongue silenced him almost immediately.

"It's called a Scold's Bridle. The Scottish used them to silence a woman who talked too much. The iron plate in your mouth is covered with spikes, so I suggest you keep quiet." He moved into Lionel's line of sight. "How's the water, Mr. Luthor?"

Lionel didn't respond. He tried to test his bonds and failed; he could feel his body, but he couldn't move it of his own accord. He was shivering in the water and trying to keep his teeth from chattering, every movement pressing the spikes subtly against his tongue.

"You see, by placing the mask on you I've taken away your freedom of speech. By removing your clothing, I've removed your ability to cover your body from prying eyes. The drugs in your system coupled with the bonds have disallowed you the use of your limbs and as such the ability to move. And I've run you a nice cold bath so that you can feel what it's like to be truly cold with no means to get warm."

Lionel glared in response.

"I wonder if you've noticed the tinge of pink in your bath water yet." He paused, watching Lionel's eyes flick down and back up to meet his own swiftly. "You see, I've also taken something else away from you."

Lionel was slowly becoming aware of a searing throb down low on his body.

The man leaned forward and dropped his voice, speaking directly into Lionel's ear. "You see, Mr. Luthor, I've taken away your ability to procreate." Standing, he moved towards the bathroom door and opened it. "Your security guards should wake up sometime in the next hour. I'm sure they'll find you then. In the mean time, I suspect you might walk away from this experience with a greater understanding of a person's right to life. Good day, Mr. Luthor."

He closed the door behind him, ignoring the sound of Lionel's muted raging on the other side. Gathering up his instruments and packing them back into his briefcase, he let himself out of the suite. The two men stationed at the door fell into step beside him as they headed towards the elevators at the end of the hall. Flipping his cell phone open, he dialed a number and said only two words.

"School's out."

"Excellent," Lex Luthor's voice came back across the line. "Payment has been wired to your account."

o o o o o

Clark woke the next morning in a tangle of warm, naked limbs. Bruce was curled around him, his good hand tucked up under his head, his injured one resting on Clark's chest. He breathed a soft sigh and watched him sleep.

The silence in the room was broken a few minutes later. "I thought I was going to die, Clark."

"You were being over dramatic."

Bruce continued his eyes still closed. "I thought I'd lost you. Holding on didn't seem to matter as much anymore. I wouldn't have thought like that two years ago, Clark. It scared me. Two years ago I would have gotten up and kept fighting." He opened his eyes and looked up at Clark. "How did I get so addicted to you?"

"I don't think you're addicted. I think you've finally let yourself feel something other than anger for the first time in a long time." He reached up to brush the hair back from Bruce's forehead. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to want, to love, to have hope. You don't need to shut yourself off from that."

"Old habits die hard." He leaned up, pressed a chaste kiss to Clark's mouth, and shifted over top of him to deepen it. Propping himself up on his left elbow, Bruce reached with his good hand to stroke across Clark's bare stomach. "Sure you're alright?"

Clark pushed into the touch. "Back to normal, according to the doctors."

"Good, because I'm going to fuck you now."

He moved his body in behind Clark's, prompting him to lift his head so he could slide his left arm underneath him, letting him rest his hand against his chest. With his right, he reached for the tube of lubricant that Clark hadn't even noticed him pull from the nearby drawer.

There was none of their usual banter this time. None of the teasing laughter that usually marked the intimacy of this act. Bruce thrust in hard and fast, biting into the soft skin of Clark's neck and gripping his hip, pulling him in to meet his movements. Gasping breaths and the sound of skin meeting skin was the only noise in the room.

He slid his hand from Clark's hip to grasp his cock; Clark shuddered and began to thrust back onto Bruce and forward into his hand, letting himself drown in the sensations pelting his body.

When it was done, when they lay bathed in sweat and wrapped in each others arms, they didn't speak. Clark was nearly asleep when Bruce broke the silence.

"I did things I should never have done, Clark. When I thought you were gone."

Clark turned to face him. "What kind of things?"

He dropped his eyes, finding the centre of Clark's chest and staring fixedly at it. "Harley refused to tell us anything. The entire time you were missing I stayed away from her because I knew I would do something drastic. When we found you, and you were-" He stopped, cursing raggedly under his breath.

"Take your time," Clark whispered, stroking the hair back from Bruce's forehead.

"You were dead, and I was desperate to make him pay. But Harley wouldn't give up the location, and I was so afraid he would get away with what he'd done. I-I tortured her. I started breaking fingers until she told me what I wanted to know. A.C. stopped me, but... I overstepped a boundary, Clark; I did something I promised myself I would never do."

"Desperate times, desperate measures, Bruce, along with a long list of other cliches."

"Cliches won't take back my actions."

"No, but they will let you know you aren't the only person to cross a line and regret it. I've done a lot of things I regret, Bruce. Things that if I had the chance to go back and change, I wouldn't change. They've shaped me into who I am now."

"I don't know if I can be this person," Bruce whispered.

"You'll figure this out, this new dynamic, this new version of you."

Bruce finally looked into Clark's eyes. "You seem pretty confident."

"Been there, done that, bought the commemorative program."

"Could you be any cornier?"

"I could try."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Please, don't."

"Everything happens for a reason."

"Stop."

"The grass is always greener on the other side."

"I'm warning you."

"There's no use crying over spilled milk!"

"That's it, Kent!" Bruce was on him, kissing, and pinning him down against the bed.

Clark laughed against his mouth. "You can't change the past, Bruce. You're only human. I love you just as you are."

Bruce paused, turned serious for a moment. "You know," he said, looking down at Clark. "You're so full of shit, it's a wonder your eyes aren't brown."

Eyebrows raised, Clark just stared at him for a few seconds. Bruce stared back, waiting. The resulting grin was wide and bright, full of warmth.

"Now who's being corny?"

"Guess you've rubbed off on me."

"I'd like to rub off on you right now."

Bruce laughed. "Alright, Kent, you're going down now!" Clark opened his mouth to respond, but Bruce clapped his hand over it. "Don't even go there." He could feel Clark's lips form a smile under his hand and the puff of breath against his palm as the other man started laughing.

Clark was right. He'd figure it out. They both would.

-end-