title: Might Have Been

fandom: Smallville

pairing: Clark/Lex

rating: R

author: nancy

spoilers: none

archive: sure, just let me know!

summary: What would have happened if Lex had never gone to Smallville and Lionel did a little too much snooping?

warnings: just bad language and angst...so far! ;o)

disclaimers: we all know this, not mine, never will be, sure as hell not making any money off this.

Might Have Been

by Nancy

Lionel gazed on the young man lounging so carelessly in the leather chair opposite him. His office was designed specifically to intimidate and influence, like any bastion of power, but on this specific young man, there was no noticeable effect. Of course, there never was. The blue-gray eyes looked back at him without any discernable emotion whatsoever, let alone fear or intimidation.

The lazy sprawl, the lack of posture, the faint uplifting of the upper lip, scarred by his own hand, all of it was designed to infuriate and, Lionel was sad to admit, it was working. Lex Luthor. Alexander. His son and heir. Pain in the ass was what he was, for he lived to plague Lionel with trouble in any form possible.

The only things that Lionel could honestly compliment about his son with something nearing pride, was his sheer perseverance and intelligence. Lionel knew that his window of opportunity with Lex had passed with the death of his wife. His son had turned to him for comfort with the death of his mother, and Lionel had backhanded that scar into him to try and put some spine into the boy.

Well, he'd gotten what he wanted, albeit not in the fashion that he'd anticipated. From his pained position on the marble floor that day, Lex had touched his lip in shock and then seemed to come to some kind of decision. Drawing himself up, Lex had spat the blood onto the pristine floor, sneered at his father, and then turned his back and walked away.

Since then, Lionel had tried everything he knew to recover his son, but Lex was equally as cunning, and had received just as good an education. He knew all the manipulation tricks in the book and had written a few himself.

"So Dad. Are we just going to stare at each other, or was there a purpose to this meeting?" Lex finally asked.

Lionel hated that faintly mocking tone of voice, but ignored it. "As a matter of fact, yes. I've decided that it's time to stop the fencing, Lex. To put us both on the even ground of respect, if not filial loyalty."

There was a brief pause as Lex assessed the statement, then he drawled, "Don't tell me that my little company has you worried, Dad. I won't believe it."

Chuckling softly, Lionel agreed, "No, LexCorp doesn't bother me, son. It's at least more respectable than your previous diversions."

"So why bother?"

"Because you're my son. I'm tired of everything being a war with you."

"You threw down the gauntlet, Dad," Lex reminded, fingering his scar.

Jaw tightening, Lionel replied, "I'm well aware of that, Alexander. And I will be the first to call a truce as well. Playtime is over, son, it's time to step up."

Though there was no visible change in Lex's posture or expression, the air suddenly seemed different to Lionel. It seemed to vibrate with something akin to excitement or, no, anticipation.

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"What did you have in mind?"

Lionel smiled to himself, but was careful to keep his triumph to himself. It wouldn't do to anticipate victory yet, it was far, far too early. Leaning forward, Lionel answered, "Since you began LexCorp, it occurred to me that you were in need of a challenge. That you were looking for some direction in your life."

"I have one now. Taking down LuthorCorp."

"And it's an admirable goal, if an impossible one," Lionel said, smirking slightly. He almost grinned outright at the trace of irritation that ran across Lex's face, but didn't. No need to become deliberately antagonizing, after all. Not yet. "No, I had something more in line with your scientific talents, Lex. Something that will fascinate and delight you, for years to come."

"And that would be...?"

Standing, Lionel picked up the remote beside his computer and walked a short distance away, making sure that Lex was watching him. He aimed it at the wall and touched a button.

* * * *

Curious as to what his father was up to, Lex leaned forward a bit, the only concession to his curiosity that he would make. A portion of the wall slid away to reveal a large, hidden screen. It showed a room filled only with a small bed, a desk with books and chair, and a television. Stretched out on the bed was a young man with dark hair, but that was all Lex could make out from this distance. The bed was on the other side of the room from the camera and it wasn't zoomed on him.

Getting to his feet, Lex walked to the television monitor with a frown. "Becoming a voyeur in your old age, Dad?"

Lionel snorted and replied, "No, Lex. Although he is pretty enough just to watch for that alone, isn't he?"

"Why are you watching him?" Lex asked, ignoring the insult. He glanced more carefully at the boy's surroundings and something suddenly struck him. "And why does that look suspiciously like a clean room?"

"Because it is."

Lex froze, taking in the information before asking tightly, "And the reason you've kidnapped this kid would be...?"

"Kidnapped is such a strong term," Lionel chided. "Besides, you can't technically kidnap someone who doesn't exist."

Feeling another migraine coming on, Lex somehow managed to keep the roiling emotions from getting any free expression on his face. His attention was drawn back to the screen when the boy shifted sleepily and curled onto his side, facing them. The remote aimed at the screen again, and the camera suddenly zoomed forward, locking onto the face.

The incredibly young and innocent face that sent a shock through Lex the moment he saw it. "I know him."

"Of course you do," Lionel confirmed. "It's the Kent boy."

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Lex snapped, not caring about anything except the fact that his father was behind the taking of Smallville's favored son.

It had been on the news for months, when it had happened two years ago. All around American kid just vanishing into nowhere. The entire town had mobilized, no, actually, most of the township had done so. Clark Kent's picture had been on the television almost every night for six months, until the police finally marked the case as unsolved. Shaking his head, Lex continued, "Jesus Christ, Dad. Do you know what this will do to you if it ever gets out?"

A crocodile smile flashed briefly and Lionel replied, "Who's going to tell? Not the employees who have been experimenting on him since his...extraction. No, Lex, the only one who can throw a wrench into the works here, is you."

And there it was. Power. It was unexpected and sharp, slamming into Lex and slowing everything down in a strange way. His father looked at him with knowing eyes. The boy on the screen shifted restlessly, flipping onto his back again as though sensing the scrutiny. What was he thinking? Of course Kent knew that he was being watched. Had most certainly been watched, endlessly, since his kidnapping.

Lex canted his head towards his father, his gaze narrowing as he asked, "What is so special about this boy that you would risk jail to take him and lock him away in a lab somewhere?"

"He's an alien."

* * * *

Lionel watched as his words sank in. Saw the sharp gaze move back to the monitor almost instantly, the even sharper mind behind it rotating the statement in all directions.

"An alien," Lex murmured finally, stepping close enough to the screen to trace Clark's outline.

Nodding, Lionel replied, "Yes. An alien that we can't, apparently, kill."

Obviously startled, Lex glanced at him momentarily before looking back at the screen and saying, "Everything can be killed."

"Not this one. We've done everything, which includes setting off bombs, and every time, he escapes without a scratch," Lionel refuted. "There is only one thing that keeps him at bay. We expect that enough exposure would eventually kill it, but it's such an incredible specimen that I don't really want to risk it just yet."

"So what do you have in mind?"

Ah yes. The undeniable and implacable curiosity of the scientist. It was exactly what Lionel had been counting on. "I want you to take charge of the project."

Lex blinked. "Excuse me?"

Smiling faintly, Lionel repeated, "I want you to take charge of the project. This is what I was talking about, Lex. I want to bury the hatchet. You take over this project, keep clean for a few years, and we'll discuss a vice presidency of LuthorCorp."

There was a sharp inhalation, but otherwise no reaction. "Would this be a real position, or one designed solely to keep me out of trouble?"

"Project Leader or the Vice Presidency?"

"Both."

"Depending on your own actions, they are legitimate positions with everything that entails," Lionel answered firmly.

This was the carrot. The need for legitimacy that had driven Lex to start his own company. And, though LexCorp was nothing to worry about at the moment, Lionel knew his son and that drive to succeed; he had, after all, fostered it himself. In the future, if Lex wasn't brought to heel, he could very well become a threat to the empire that Lionel had built.

Lex again looked at the monitor, his finger absently stroking the scarred lip as he thought. After a few minutes, still gazing on the boy before them, he said, "I accept."

* * * *

Clark moved restlessly on the bed and gazed with disinterest out of the wall, using the x-ray vision that he hadn't told anyone about. He hadn't volunteered anything about his powers at all. They knew about his speed and invulnerability and that was quite enough, thank you very much. Oh, and the whole alien thing that he'd only just found out about the week or so before he'd been kidnapped. Fucking Lionel Luthor. If he ever got his hands on the man he'd...shit...probably just hold him over a ledge and threaten to drop him, but not actually do it.

It was official. Clark Kent was a pansy and a wuss.

Sighing deeply, he looked at the scientists who'd been studying him for almost two years now and vaguely toyed with the notion of telling Dr. Jameson that his liver was in bad shape from all the drinking he did. And Dr. Nelson's lungs were really nasty. Having seen them many times, with a kind of morbid fascination that he just couldn't turn off, Clark knew that he would never smoke, not even if his lungs were invulnerable. It was completely gross.

Someone new entered the outside lab and the scientists were suddenly in a flurry, almost a panic. Mildly interested, Clark shifted a little to get a better look. Young and lean, that's all Clark could tell from the x-ray. Concentrating, he shifted his vision so that he could see through the wall but not go to bone. His jaw dropped slightly as he realized that it was Lex Luthor. Not someone he'd expected, that was for sure. Far as he knew, the younger Luthor didn't have anything to do with his father in any way, shape, or fashion.

Looked like that had changed. Sighing, Clark turned onto his back and waited. Luthor would be there to see him, probably do the scientist thing, since he vaguely remembered the man had been into that kind of thing in college. Though where he picked up that kind of trivia, Clark wished he knew. Probably Chloe. She was always spouting off random factlets and Clark had no choice but to remember them with his memory.

"Clark. You've got a visitor."

Clark looked at the camera in the opposite wall and replied evenly, "Fuck off."

There was a low laugh, and a new voice said, "That's not a nice way to greet someone."

Sitting up, Clark stared at the camera and answered, "Kidnapping someone and holding them against their will isn't a nice thing to do. I don't really think good manners matters on my part. Let me go, then we'll talk about me being polite."

Another laugh echoed over the speaker and Luthor said, "Good point. Do you mind if I come in? So we can talk face to face?"

Clark's eyebrows rose. "Why? Need a sample of some kind?"

"Hostile, much, Clark?"

Snorting, Clark retorted, "Fuck off, Luthor."

After a brief pause, the young man asked, "How do you know who I am?"

Trying to keep his expression neutral, Clark answered, "Who else would you be? Your voice is too young to be any egghead of importance. Besides, you sound like your father."

Which was true, though the voice was richer and warmer than the elder Luthor's.

"Another good point, but it doesn't answer the question. May I come in?"

"Like I've got a choice?" Clark snapped, getting to his feet.

"In this? Yes, you do. Clark, I've take over as project leader and there are going to be changes in how this is run starting now. I wanted to tell you face to face, but this will do, I suppose. The cameras will be turned off, you will have your privacy again except from 10am to 2 pm. Those hours can change if you wish it. I want your cooperation in future testing and am willing to do quite a lot to secure it."

Bitter, Clark stated, "Except free me."

"Except free you," Luthor confirmed. "I'm sorry, but this...you are too great a find to just let go."

Suddenly tired, Clark said softly, knowing the mikes would pick up his words, "And the fact that you're keeping me captive, just because I'm different, makes no difference."

The pause was longer this time, then Luthor repeated, "I'm sorry, Clark."

Clark returned to his bed and curled up in a ball, hugging his pillow and desperately missing his parents. He could almost hear his mother's light, happy voice calling his name for dinner. He could almost feel his father's strong, steady hand on his shoulder, drawing him in for a hug, teenaged masculine pride be damned.

Tears actually stung his eyes, which hadn't happened in a long time, and he said in a shaky voice, "Do whatever you want. You will anyhow."

* * * *

Lex swallowed heavily as he watched Clark curl into a ball on the cot and heard the hopeless words. He hadn't thought that he would be quite so affected by the young man, despite the strangely protective feelings that had surfaced watching footage of him over the last week. There was something just so earnest and innocent about Clark, despite his surroundings and what had been done to him.

"It's incredible, isn't it? The way he seems so human," Jameson started, with obvious fascination, but no real emotion.

When Clark's broad shoulders started shaking, even though no sobs were audible, Lex snapped, "Turn it off."

Startled, the older man asked, "What?"

"I said, turn off the fucking camera. Now," Lex ordered, coldly.

Still confused, Jameson did so. The monitor in front of Lex went dark and he almost told the man to turn it back on, but restrained himself. Clark had been comforting himself for a couple of years now and besides, Lex wouldn't have any idea what to say even if the young man would accept it, which he wouldn't, Lex knew.

Looking around the lab at the personnel present, Lex said clearly, "Listen up, people, because these changes are to be immediately implemented."

That got everyone's attention and all business in the lab stopped.

"As of this moment, Clark Kent is to be afforded every possible consideration. He is a living, breathing and sentient being who happens to not be human. The cameras and audio equipment are to be off except during the hours of 10am to 2pm, unless you've got something specific that you need to ask him. When you have him out here for testing, whatever that testing may be, you will use the minimum amount of meteor to keep him subdued, instead of the maximum.

"The days of running rampant are over and I can't believe that my father let it go on for so long. There will be no more operations. There will be no more intrusive exams. There will be no more endurance tests. There will be no more fucking explosions. Prurient interests and morbid fascination will be checked at the door, or you will be fired. End of story. This is a scientific endeavor and Clark Kent is not your personal guinea pig, or toy. Also end of story. Am I understood?"

Though phrased as a question, it was clearly an order and there were uncomfortable nods all around.

"Good. Any questions?"

A young woman in the back raised her hand and Lex almost grinned. He had them scared, which was excellent. Instead, he nodded at her gravely. "Go ahead."

"Where do you want to focus the research?"

He'd give her marks for intelligence and practicality and made a mental note to find out her name later. "DNA. Find out what makes him the way he is and how we can exploit that towards medical research. Look for correlations of current human diseases and possible cures. This means that all you need from him are blood and tissue samples from here on out. Any other questions?"

"What about psychological testing?"

Lex focused his gaze on the thin, almost gaunt man to the side. Dr. Kroener. A man Lex had taken an instant dislike to, when they'd met a few weeks earlier. Arching a cool eyebrow at the older man, Lex drawled, "Well, doctor, I'm sure that so far you've found him to be a normal teenager, isn't that so?"

"Yes."

"That would be because he was raised by God fearing, mid-western Americans in the middle of farm country. Of course he's going to be like any other teenaged boy in that respect," Lex replied dismissively. "Intelligence testing only, from here on out."

"But..."

"Yes, Doctor?" Lex asked, his voice arctic.

Kroener thought better of whatever he'd been going to say, and merely smiled thinly.

Nodding, Lex informed them, "I expect your revised testing situations and schedules on my desk by tomorrow morning."

He could practically feel the groans of dismay they were barely keeping hidden and grinned to himself. Passive-aggressive revenge on all the principals and unfair teachers he'd ever had, perhaps, but fun nonetheless. He watched them leave, then looked back at the black monitor, before turning off the audio and heading out himself.

There was still a lot to do if he was going to get Clark to trust him enough to willingly share his secrets.

* * * *

Clark listened in disbelief as Lex tore into the scientists, but couldn't really believe that it was happening. No more operations? No more pain, other than the prick of a needle? Being able to go to the bathroom without someone watching? No. It was a trick, had to be.

Rolling to his side, Clark wiped at his eyes, wiping away the embarrassing tears and looking at the camera. It was definitely off. Focusing his vision, Clark looked out into the empty lab and wondered what the real agenda was.

Lex had to be up to something, but what?

* * * *

Tara looked around the outer office in LexCorp nervously, wondering what the hell had caused her to open her stupid mouth that day two weeks ago. She didn't think she was fired, since it wouldn't take a visit to Lex Luthor himself to accomplish that.

"You can go in now, Dr. Marks," the secretary informed her.

Smoothing her shirt nervously, Tara walked through the massive doors and looked around the exquisite office with something akin to awe. Money didn't impress her, never had, but she'd always been a big fan of architecture.

"Dr. Marks! Thank you for coming!"

Tara looked over at the smiling young man at the wet bar across the room and managed a smile. "Hello, Mr. Luthor."

Waving a hand, he said, "Please don't call me that. It's Lex. Mr. Luthor, as the cliche goes, is my father."

This was a far cry from the stern, intimidating man of two weeks earlier and she automatically took the glass of red wine from him. "Of, of course, Lex."

Still smiling, his hand lighted on the small of her back, guiding her towards the leather sofa a short distance away. Once seated, he said, "It's come to my attention that some of the scientists working on the Project haven't been following my instructions. It has also come to my attention that you have most vociferously been hounding them to comply. Actually, you've been Clark's defender since the moment you arrived six months ago, isn't that right?"

Not sure what to say, Tara took a chance and told the truth. "Yes, sir."

"And who are the worst of the offenders?"

Uncomfortable, Tara replied, "I don't really feel right talking behind their backs, sir."

"And I applaud your loyalty, but it is misplaced," he stated firmly. "Clark is the one to whom you owe your allegiance, not those stuffed shirts who are more greedy, than they are competent. Aside from that, I'm your boss and you should be honest with me."

Tara thought about it for a few seconds then realized that he was right. Clark was what was important and if they couldn't see that, then they didn't deserve to be protected. And hadn't she warned them that Lex would find out? He was a Luthor, after all; they always found out. Nodding abruptly, she said, "Dr. Jameson and Dr. Corwin."

"Not Dr. Kroener?"

"No, sir. He's been sticking to the intelligence testing, as you ordered," she replied.

He snorted and said, "Damn. I was hoping I could find a reason to fire him. He's a creepy son of a bitch, isn't he?"

The observation startled a laugh out of her and Tara grinned. "Yes, sir."

His smile broadened as he corrected, "It's Lex. And do you mind if I call you Tara?"

* * * *

Clark groaned, struggling to contain the nausea that was threatening to overwhelm him as he curled into a ball on the floor. He didn't even have the strength to make it to his bed and so lay where he'd fallen. The last two weeks had been worse than ever and he should have known that a Luthor wouldn't keep his word. Well, a promise hadn't really been given, but still. The effects of the meteorite were slowly dissipating and he was relieved to find that he'd be able to keep his lunch down, this time.

It was an interesting study in human psychology, though. Or, Clark was pretty sure it would be if he knew anything about the subject. It seemed like once they'd gotten over the fear that Luthor had temporarily inspired in them, the scientists had decided to go for broke. He'd had four operations exploring his anatomy in depth by cutting him open each time. Apparently he was mostly similar to humans, but not quite. The worst thing was that he didn't even have a single scar to prove anything to Luthor if he tried to complain.

That was if the younger Luthor ever showed up again, which didn't seem too likely.

Feeling a little of his strength return, Clark crawled along the floor until he could at least lean against the narrow bed. His stomach was killing him and he knew there was no way that he could drag himself onto the bed, even as low to the ground as it was.

"Clark? Can I help you?"

Tara. The one voice of reason that no one wanted to listen to, where he was concerned. She was pretty, in a bookish way, short dark hair and dark eyes that seemed too big for her face. Maybe that was because she always looked at him with worry. Just once, he'd like to see her smile. Glancing towards the camera, he half-smiled and said, "I don't think you can lift me."

"I can give it a shot."

Grinning through the pain at her determinedly cheerful voice, Clark nodded and agreed, "Sure. Why not? It's your back."

The thick door in the wall slid open and she walked in, striding quickly to him. Leaning down, she wrapped her arms around his waist and said, "Push up as much as you can on three. One, two, three!"

Clark lurched up at three and the added push got him sprawled on the bed, but that was all he could manage. Panting, feeling the sharp pain even more as it twitched through his intestines, or that's what he thought they'd been exploring anyhow, Clark gasped, "Thanks. The floor's pretty cold."

She sat on the edge of the bed and brushed his bangs out of his face. "It'll get better, Clark. I promise."

He caught her hand, smiling at her sadly. "It won't, but thank you."

Gently squeezing his hand, Tara got to her feet and left the room, the door sliding shut behind her with finality.

And this was his life.

Depressed, Clark tried to work up a good rage, or at least a healthy anger, but couldn't summon either. He'd been angry the first year of his captivity and bitter the six months after that. All he could do now, was be tired.

He couldn't escape, thanks to the meteorite spray that went off at the least bit of structural damage to his cell. He'd tried it twice before and the agony he'd gone through had been more than enough to cure him of future attempts. And when they let him out, there was always too much of the same in rock form for him to be anything other than weak as a newborn kitten. It was that which allowed them to cut into his skin and look at his insides, Clark knew. Without the meteors, the knifes and scalpels just broke against him.

"Good afternoon everyone. I see that my instructions are being followed to the letter."

Lex Luthor's voice was colder than an arctic wind and Clark's head jerked towards it, even though he couldn't technically see anything. Struggling with his weakness, he forced his vision to go through the wall so he could see what was going on. Standing easily at the door into the lab, along with a compliment of security guards, Lex pointed to individual scientists who were then grabbed by two security guards each.

When eleven of them were restrained, Lex looked around at them and stated quietly, "I warned all of you. I gave explicit instructions which were ignored. You will be escorted from the building, and if any of you are entertaining ideas of exposing this operation, well, I suggest you rethink them. I am not my father, I have my own ways of dealing with betrayal. Consider yourselves lucky to leave this facility with your lives."

And the thing was, Clark could see the utter and complete belief coming from all of the terrified employees being dragged away. From there, Lex walked to the door to Clark's room and opened it, stepping inside so that they met, face-to-face, for the first time. Clark had to blink a few times to get his vision back to normal, but even when he did, he wasn't sure that what he saw on the young man's face was real; angry protectiveness.

The expression smoothed over almost immediately, and Lex went further into the room, stopping by the bed and crouching down so that they were at eye-level. Gripping his shoulder briefly, Lex apologized, "I'm very, very sorry Clark. I wish this hadn't had to happen, but I had to know who I could trust. I didn't want you put through any additional pain or discomfort, but there was no help for it."

A test, Clark thought in shocked disbelief. It was all a stupid test!

"I'm sorry, Clark."

Looking at the wide, earnest eyes, Clark knew that Lex was sorry. Of course, it hadn't stopped him from doing it anyhow. Wordless, Clark turned away, curling up in a ball on the cot and facing the wall again.

There was a soft sigh behind him and Lex said, "I'll leave you alone now. Maybe later you can call me and we can talk. I'm having a phone line installed that goes directly to my office and my cell phone. I, I want to be your friend, Clark, as much as I can be."

The door opened and closed and Clark knew that Lex had gone. He twisted over and used his vision to look through the wall. Lex and Tara were talking quietly, probably about him. Doubt began to worm its way in as Clark wondered, Maybe he meant that. Maybe, maybe he needs a friend just as badly as I do.

Then again, weren't kidnapped victims supposed to like their captors at some point?

* * * *

It was thirteen days later that Lex got his first phone call from Clark. He had a different ring used so he would know the difference. He lunged for the phone when it first rang, interrupting an important meeting with a few shareholders who were nervous about a new venture.

Keeping his voice calm as he strode away from them so that the conversation wouldn't be overheard, he greeted, "Hello, Clark. What can I do for you?"

"Um, nothing. Just…I wanted to say thanks. You know, for firing all those jerks," Clark answered.

Though he felt a wave of triumph at the hesitant, but genuinely grateful tone, Lex kept himself to a small smile as he replied, "It was my pleasure, believe me Clark. And I hope you believe me that I was sorry about before, as well."

"Yeah, I do. Thanks." There was a brief silence, then Clark continued, "Are you busy? Cause I'm bored."

Lex's smile grew and he said, "Give me about twenty minutes and I'll be down, all right? How does a game of pool sound?"

"Pool? As in, sticks and balls and a table covered in felt?"

"Yes."

"Cool. See you then!" Clark exclaimed.

"Bye, Clark."

"Bye, Lex!"

After Clark hung up, Lex savored the moment, then turned to the shareholders. "I'm terribly sorry, gentlemen, but something urgent has come up that needs my immediate attention. I hope you'll forgive me if I hurry things along."

* * * *

That actually set up the routine for the next few weeks. Lex made sure to keep his late afternoon hours open in case Clark called. When he did, which certainly wasn't every day, or even every other day, Lex would close up whatever he was working on and go down to the lab.

He had a pool table, a smallish one, set up in Clark's room. They would play pool and talk about what was going on in the world, always neutral things like politics or cheesy television shows or local news. Nothing personal ever crossed Clark's lips, but Lex was a patient man. He knew that eventually, Clark would want to talk about his parents and his friends. Everyone did. Everyone wanted to talk about home and the things they missed when they were away, voluntarily or not.

His patience was rewarded the following month when Clark let slip that it was his mother's birthday that day.

"It is?"

Nodding, Clark sighed and answered, "Yeah."

Gambling, Lex asked softly, "Would you like to call her?"

Clark froze, then looked up from where he'd been about to make a shot on the pool table. "Y-you'd let me?"

"I've never agreed with how this was done, Clark, I hope you believe that," Lex replied firmly. "That my father would do something like this, well, it's beyond me. And if I could, I would let you go in a heartbeat. But the security measures..."

"I know," Clark grumbled, glaring at the camera.

"However, I think a call to your mother on her birthday is within the rules as long as you don't try to tell her where you are or who took you," Lex said thoughtfully.

Straightening abruptly, thumping the pool cue onto the table, Clark exclaimed, "Yes! Please, Lex, I promise I won't tell her anything. I swear! I just want to talk to her, he-hear her voice again! Let her know that I'm alive."

Lex crossed over to the young man and asked, "Are you sure? It might be better for you not to, bring back emotions about things you don't have anymore."

"No, I can't let them go on, not knowing that I'm alive," Clark stated. "They have to know, one way or another."

"All right then. I'll set it up and be back in five minutes," Lex assured him.

Blinking rapidly, as though trying not to cry, Clark smiled at him. For a moment, Lex felt as though he were the devil incarnate for the manipulation, but firmly told himself that it was to everyone's benefit if Clark trusted him. Not to mention that it was cruel to let the Kents stay in the dark, fearing the worst but not knowing.

Leaving the room, he picked up the nearest phone and dialed the head of security.

* * * *

"Kent residence."

Clark's mouth was open, but no words were coming out. He wanted to speak, but was so overwhelmed that he couldn't. His mother's voice sounded tired, but so good that he could picture her in the kitchen.

"Hello? Pete, if this is you, I'm going to tell your mother that you're tying up the lines again."

A broken smile crossed Clark's face and he forced a whispered, "M-mom?"

A gasp of shock, then, "Clark? Oh God, Clark is that you?"

Clearing his throat, Clark answered, "Mom, yeah, it's me, Mom. It's, it's really great to hear your voice."

"Oh Clark, baby, are you all right? Where are you? Are you hurt?" she exclaimed tearfully.

"I'm fine. Um, I can't tell you where I am, but, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday and um, he, I was told I could this year. So, happy birthday."

She was crying openly now and Clark's own eyes were blurred with them.

"Clark? Son? Is that really you?"

Heart lurching in his chest upon hearing his father's voice, Clark swallowed heavily, barely holding back the sobs as he answered, "It's me, Dad. How are you? How's the farm? No more tractor accidents, right?"

There was a loud throat clearing, then, "No, Clark, no more accidents. I'm extra careful without, well, you know. Are you okay? Are they, are they treating you well, son?"

Meeting Lex's concerned gaze, Clark almost smiled and replied, "They are now, Dad. I'm, I'm going to be okay now. Someone else is in charge and, and he's going to take care of me, so you and Mom don't have to worry anymore, okay? Just, concentrate on the farm and take care of each other. And remember I love you both, so much."

"We love you too, Clark. More than anything. We're never going to stop looking for..."

"No! Dad," Clark interrupted. "You have to stop looking for me. Please. I don't want to think that you two could be in danger. Please. Promise me."

"Clark," his father protested brokenly. "You're my boy, I can't just leave you there, wherever you are."

"You have to. Please, Dad. Just take care of Mom, okay? Please?"

There was a long pause where Clark could here his mother crying and the harsh breathing of his dad. Finally, his father agreed, "All right son, if that's how you want it."

Lex got his attention and pointed at his wrist.

Nodding, Clark looked away as he said, "I have to go, Dad."

"No, Son, not this soon!"

"I have to, I'm sorry."

His mother came back on the phone with, "Clark?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"We love you, Clark, you will always be our son. Forever."

Choking back the tears, Clark whispered, "Me too, Mom. Love you. And Dad. I have to go."

"Clark, no, wait..."

Clark hung up and threw the phone across the room so hard it shattered against the wall. Overwhelmed, Clark collapsed to the ground and curled up in a ball. Lex had been right, it had made things worse, made the homesickness so much worse as to be unbearable. Just reinforced how alone he was.

Then strong hands held him and pulled him up into a warm, soothing embrace. Shaking with the force of his emotions, Clark cried his heart out in Lex's arms.

END