A Helping Hand

Clark woke up to pain-filled screams. His eyes wide open, he shot out of bed, speeding down to the origin of the anguished screams.

And he saw Oliver, open-mouthed and gasping, standing over Lex, who lay writhing on the ground, two green-tipped arrows lodged in his chest.

"Lex!" Clark fell to his knees beside the man, gathering his head carefully in his lap. His furious face whirled up to Oliver's bloodless face. "Why? What were you thinking?"

Oliver stumbled as he stepped back, his body unsteady as he met Clark's accusing gaze. "I didn't...Clark, I never-"

Both sets of eyes turned to look down at Lex, who had fallen still. Clark frantically scanned him, and breathed a deep, relieved sigh when he saw the heart still beating. Working his way to his feet, he gathered Lex's unconscious body in his arms and moved towards the door.

"Clark-"

Green eyes blazed as they met anguished brown. "Get out. Don't come back."

A swirl of air filled the room as Clark sped out with Lex in his arms, and Oliver fell onto his knees.

"What just happened?" He cried.

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The hospital was chaos. Raised voices and sharp orders filled the hallways, along with the squeaks and metallic bangs of rushed workers hurrying to their destination with various equipment.

Clark was seated next to Lex's narrow bed, waiting anxiously with him as they prepped the OR for the surgery.

Pale eyelids fluttered over glazed eyes, and Clark leaned forward, grasping Lex's hand. "Lex?"

"Clark."

A large, shaking hand slid across Lex's scalp. Amazing gentle in its journey. Clark brushed his lips against a smooth temple, and sighed against the skin. "It's going to be okay, Lex. Nothing vital was hit. One of the arrows lodged in your collar, messed up some muscle, and they need to get it out carefully. You're going to be fine. I promise."

Lex's smile was soft. He closed his eyes and languished in the feeling of Clark watching over him. Loving him.

It had been worth it.

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Oliver paced his office, hands reaching up to rip through his short, blonde spikes. His movements were quick and jerky, and his eyes were wild, looking everywhere at once.

He didn't know how Lex had done it. One moment...they'd been standing there...talking. Furious words, back and forth. And then, out of nowhere, in fast succession, two arrows had come out nothingness and lodged themselves in Lex's body.

Two arrows. HIS arrows.

And, he'd watched as Lex had sunk down on the floor, his face contorted in pain.

He'd watched as he'd smiled. And, his shocked ears only now realized the words that had floated out from the viciously smiling lips.

"I win."

Oliver moved towards the wall that hid his gear and opened it quickly, stepped inside. He catalogued everything, looking for missing arrows, anything out of place.

Nothing! Damn it. Nothing was gone! They couldn't have been his. Could they? His mind spun as he considered all the facts.

He knew Lex could have commissioned the creation of arrows to look like his, but they would never be EXACTLY like his. His arrows held a tiny mark, unseen by the human eye. His family crest.

Lex wouldn't get away this. His face set, eyes glinting sharply, he stripped methodically and reached for deep, green leather.

His hand shook a little as he reached for his bow and quiver of arrows, and he swallowed hard. Took a calming breath, and steadied himself.

He was precise in all of his preparations, and closed the doorway to his secret identity, sealing and locking it with quick, efficient motions.

Stepping towards the door, he was brought up short by the tall, trembling man walking out of the elevator cage.

"Clark."

Clark nodded, and opened his mouth, his jaw clenching with the effort to speak. "I know I tend to jump to conclusions. It's a fault of mine, and I'm working on it. So, I'm going to try..." He broke off, hard breaths ripping out of his chest in gasps. "Did you do this?" His eyes looked into Oliver's, and the green was bleeding into a dark, stunning blue.

Oliver stepped forward, and shook his head slowly. He reached a hand up and pulled the hood down from his head. "I didn't, Clark. I know what it looked like, but I went there to talk. I went there to try to see you. I wouldn't attack an unarmed man."

Dark hair shone in the lights as Clark's head leaned forward. Wide shoulders shook with the effort to stay calm. To not break. "I believe you."

Oliver felt his chest break free from a tightness he hadn't even noticed. "Clark-"

The eyes that met his were green once again, but wet and full of confusion. "I don't understand what's happening."

Setting down his bow, his arrows, slowly, Oliver stepped closer. Closer, still. And lifted his arms. So slowly. Wrapped them around Clark's shaking body, and pulled him in.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Clark allowed the touch, and heard his own cry as Clark's arms came up to hold him close.

Holding each other for minutes, hours...neither knew how long they stood that way.

Oliver started, surprised, when Clark's hoarse voice spoke up cautiously. "You think it was Lex, don't you?"

Brown eyes slid closed against the pain in the man's voice. He lifted a hand and slid it through silky, black curls in an attempt to comfort. "I do." He leaned back to look into Clark's beautiful face. Held it with a gentle hand. "What made you come to that conclusion?"

Clark's face, stunning in joy, was equally amazing in its pain. Oliver nearly wept at it. He watched as Clark's mouth worked several times, trying to speak. He stroked his jaw carefully, and smiled softly. Encouragingly.

And lay his head against Clark's chest in pride and gratitude, and yes...love, at Clark's words.

"If it had been you...he'd be dead."