The Sound of Love

Martha Kent watched her husband sand down the wood with a careful hand. "How close are you?"

Jonathan Kent shrugged absentmindedly. "Close enough. Just a few more minutes." His rough, work-worn hands were gentle as they pulled the coarse horse hairs taut in the new length of the bow. "How long do you reckon this one will last?"

A soft sigh permeated the air as Martha paced the space of the barn. "He's getting better, Jonathan."

"I know that, sweetheart," Jonathan said, his voice quiet. "And, you were right. This is a good thing for him. I just worry about him."

"Well, I do too," Martha murmured. "But, he needs something just for him. He needs something that will help him work on his touch, and it has to be something that he can use to feel a sense of accomplishment. It has to be..." Her voice trailed off. Strong, slender arms lifted up to cross across her body. "It has to be something that he can create wonderful things with. Clark needs to see that he can make something beautiful. He needs to see in himself-"

"What we see," Jonathan finished, a fond smile lighting up his face as he looked at his wife. He walked over to her, lifting dusty hands to clasp her shoulders gently. "He will, Martha."

Martha looked into her husband's face. Her eyes were full of love as she took in the creased, darkly tanned skin and the bright blue eyes. Nodding, she leaned into his arms, and let herself feel comforted.

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The loft was filled with the sounds of the viola. The low, aching notes were met with the sounds of animals lowing contentedly in the barn stalls below. The horses were at ease with the music.

He played every day. The music was the one thing he'd been given in his life that he had complete control over.

His parents were wonderful. He knew they loved him, more than anything. They'd wanted to protect him, and they'd worked hard to keep him out from under the scrutiny of curious eyes. Clark had known from an early age that there were people who would want to take him away from his home. There were those who would want to study him and keep him locked away.

So, he and his parents had worked hard to make sure there was no reason to raise suspicion. Clark kept away from anything physical. No sports or playing tag. No jumping rope or playing backyard basketball. Clark was constantly holding back.

When he was about 9, his control over his body faltered in a big way. It was unknown whether it had more to do with the frustration from being so isolated from the rest of the world, or from having to think...every moment of every day about how much pressure to use to touch. How hard he could pull on something...how relaxed he needed to force the muscles and skin of his body to be to accept a hug from his mother. Everything was an act of sheer control, and it had started to break.

Until one day, his mother came home from a day of shopping at a flea market with a bag full of old, broken-down violas. Bigger than a violin, and lower in tone, it was the perfect size for him, his mother told him. They just needed some work, and Jonathan was so good with his hands.

His mother's excitement was nearly a tangible thing, and he'd smiled with her, even as he doubted.

His father had worked for a week, fixing up the first viola. It had looked beautiful, the wood sanded down and coated with a sheer varnish. He had taken a hold of the long, smooth neck of the instrument and lifted it to his chin. Pressing his chin against the rest, he'd crushed the wood instantly.

Sobbing, he'd thrown down the shattered wood, and ran to the loft, his face hidden in his hands. His father had come up to see him, his steps slow and worried.

"Clark? It's okay, son. We figured this might happen. That's why we got more than one. It all right."

"No! It's not," Clark screamed, his breaths hitching out in gasps. "I break everything! I'm never going to be anything but a monster, Dad!"

"Clark," Jonathan said gently, moving forward, "that's not true-"

"Don't touch me!" Clark yelled, stumbling away. "I don't want to hurt you."

Moving even closer, Jonathan pulled his shaking son into his arms. "It's just going to take some time, son. That's all...it's just going to take a little more time."

It had taken three more violas before Clark had been able to play a single note. But upon pulling the bow across the tightly wrapped strings and hearing the note that he had made...he'd been hooked.

Totally devoted to controlling himself enough to play, he'd worked constantly on leashing the strength that flowed through him as effortlessly as the blood in his veins.

He'd been playing for, perhaps, a month when he'd cracked the bow beneath his fingertips. Frustrated, he'd gone out into the woods and sought out one of the strange, glowing green stones that seemed to weaken him so easily. For a moment, it had just seemed so much easier to let the green stone sap the strength from him that it took every moment of concentration for him to control.

He didn't know how he managed to make his way back to the barn, but the anguished look in his mother's eyes had shamed him. He doubled his efforts after that, and within two years, he was playing Bach.

The years of training had paid off in more ways than one, and now he could do more than light the air with the sounds of his music. He was going to go to school.

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Clark felt exhausted. He leaned against the metal railing, looking out over the water, and sighed. Each moment had been like returning to that time in his youth where every touch and motion had been a potential disaster.

Everyone at the school had watched him with curiosity etched on their faces, wondering why exactly the young man had been home-schooled for so much of his life. And there had been one girl, pretty and very sweet, who had made him sick...literally. She wore one of the green stones around her neck. Even looking at it tore a shiver from his body. He lost himself in his thoughts, watching the sun sparkle off the edges of the little waves.

A sudden noise ripped him out of his relaxed state, and he turned around just in time to see a silver car slam against his body, pushing him through the railing and into the water below.

The water was dark, and thick with murky clouds of dirt. He pushed his way through the water to the bottom of the creek. He saw the mangled car at the bottom, tiny air bubbles floating upwards towards the surface. He followed the bubbles and saw a man latched in the car, and he tore his hands into the metal roof of the car. Pulling back the rent metal, he snapped the belt trapping the man inside the ruined frame, and tugged him out. He held the man against his body, even then, being careful not to hold too hard.

He reached the surface, and took a breath. Laying the man down softly, he winced as he rested the man's bare head against a rock. He leaned down, waiting for any sign of breath or life from the man, and upon receiving none, he pushed against the man's chest with steady downwards motions. Leaning down, he tilted the man's head back with a shaky hand and closed his fingers over the nose. Closing his mouth over the pale lips, he pushed air into the still lungs...carefully. So carefully.

"Come on. Don't die on me!" He begged, pushing down again against the man's chest.

Water gushed out of the man's lips as he coughed violently, jerking up against Clark's hands. Clark smiled, relief rushing through him, and he helped the man lay himself back down.

Glazed, blue-gray eyes opened wide against the brightness of the day, focusing on Clark's face immediately.

"I could have sworn I hit you." He whispered, his eyes moving over Clark in something like disbelief.

The sound of the man's voice rolled through Clark's mind, unsettling him. He felt winded and excited, and nervous. "If you had, I'd be...well." He took a deep breath and jerked in surprise as a cold, wet hand closed over his. "That's not important right now. We need to get you some help." He tried to stand up, and looked down at the hand in surprise as it tightened around his fingers.

"Who are you?" The man sounded breathless. His eyes were open wide and shining with something Clark didn't understand.

"I'm Clark. Clark Kent."

Clark felt warmth spread from the hand, up his arm and through his chest as the man sat up, a smile spreading across his lips and lighting up his pale face. "It's a pleasure, Clark." The hand holding his was joined by another, as the man raised his other hand to clasp it over the back of their joined hands. "I'm Lex."

The stare was unnerving him, and Clark felt himself blush. Cold drops of water were sliding down the back of his face, and his neck, and he could feel his clothes tight and close around him. "Despite the circumstances, I'm glad to meet you, Lex." He smiled, and watched Lex's eyes flare.

The sound of a car screeching to a stop on the road overhead caught their attention, and they released each other's hands. Clark found himself rubbing his thumb across his palm, and thought it strange that he missed the feel of Lex's hand gripping his.

His father showed up, predictably upset, and dragged Clark away. He managed to look back at Lex, and caught the man staring after him with a small, confused smile on his lips.

"Bye, Lex," he called softly.

Lex held up a hand and followed him and his father as they moved up the incline towards their truck. "I'll see you soon, Clark."

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Lex walked towards the barn; he could feel Martha Kent's eyes burning into his back. She'd told him, albeit reluctantly, where to find her son. He thought she must be feeling a normal motherly protectiveness, especially considering he'd hit-nearly hit...her son. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the shiny, red truck he'd sent over the day before. Which had, subsequently, been returned with a sweet smile and a shrug from the beguiling young hero.

Lex found himself intrigued.

Moving into the barn, the sounds of Handel captured his attention, and he found his eyes drawn up towards the loft. His feet moved carefully, quietly, as he inched his way up the stairs.

The view became clear near the top, and he felt the breath slam out of his chest. Clark stood, framed, by the window. His sculpted arms were lifted gracefully, holding the wooden instrument against his face. His green eyes were concealed behind long, black lashes, and there was a serene, contented smile on his full lips.

The music was beautiful. Far from flawless in it's application, but the emotion...the strength in the song itself was breathtaking.

Clark's right arm lifted slightly as the last note hung in the air, drifting softly away.

"I didn't know you played."

Clark swung around, his face open and shocked. "Lex?"

Grinning, Lex moved up the last few stepped and eased over to where Clark was standing. "You're really good, you know. Where did you learn?"

"The library." Clark frowned. "What do you mean you didn't know? Of course you didn't know. We barely know each other."

A slender eyebrow arched over an appraising gray eye. "I asked around." Lex bit down on his lips and cocked his head to the side. "It's funny. No one really knows anything about you. And, trying to even find out where you were from your mother was like pulling teeth. Are you really that elusive, or is it me?"

Confused, Clark moved over to the couch, where his case lay open, and placed his viola carefully inside, draping a velvet cloth over the face before closing the top. He laid his bow on the closed case, and turned back around to face Lex. "I just don't get out much, I guess."

Lex made a soft 'hmm' noise, and wound his way around the loft until he was in front of Clark again. "You know, I still want to thank you for saving my life."

Clark laughed nervously and attempted to move back, finding himself quickly against the wall. He swallowed hard and smiled. "You already did that, Lex."

Nodding, Lex stepped closer. "I know. And, I understand why you didn't keep the truck. But, perhaps, there's another way I can show my appreciation." A slow, easy smirk crossed his lips, and Lex watched Clark's eyes follow the movement before darting away. The flush that came over Clark's creamy, gold skin was lovely.

"A 'thank you' was plenty, Lex, really," Clark whispered. "Besides, we're friends now, right? And, I mean, that's 'thanks' enough, because I don't exactly have friends lined up around the block."

"Clark," Lex said quietly, leaning in. "How would you feel about some music lessons?"

The play of emotion on Clark's face was enthralling. Quick, delighted joy, followed by desolation and sadness. "Wow. That's really cool of you, Lex, but I can't accept that."

Something flashed across Lex's face. "What is it with Kents and gifts? You saved my life, Clark."

"I didn't do it for a reward, Lex," Clark said softly.

"I know that," Lex replied. "It's not even really about that. I just...we're friends now, right?"

Clark nodded. "Right."

"Well, like you, I haven't had a great deal of experience with friends. What I understand about it, however, is that friends like to help each other." Lex saw Clark start to shake his head again, and moved in even closer. "You're amazing, Clark. But, you're not going to learn anything more here in your loft. There comes a point where you either seek out something that will help you grow, or you allow yourself to plateau and try to feel satisfaction in that."

"Lex, it's really cool that you want to help me. I appreciate it. I just don't think-"

"How about this?" Lex asked, his face a mere breath away from Clark's. "How about I take some lessons and you can come watch?"

Clark rolled his eyes and smiled. "That's pathetic."

Lex grinned and nodded. "Maybe. Did it work?"

Blowing out a vanilla scented breath onto Lex's face, Clark turned his face away, blushing brightly. "Maybe."

Lex fought the urge to brush his mouth across the rosy gold skin, and moved back, smiling widely. He threw his hands out at his sides, and quirked his eyebrows, pleased. "Okay. Well, should you decide you'd like to...watch me...come by the Malwishek building in Metropolis tomorrow about 5."

He turned around, walking towards the stairs and started down them. Just before his head disappeared below the floor of the loft, he looked up at Clark.

"Bring your instrument. I might need to use it." He said, his voice a tease.

"You do that on purpose, don't you?" Clark's voice was shaky and soft.

"Do what?" Lex asked, smirking. He continued down the stairs, and called out, "Tomorrow."

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Lex watched Clark's fingers move over the strings of the viola. He wasn't using a bow; instead he was plucking at the strings just over the bridge with his fingertips. He expected it to sound stilted and was pleasantly surprised when the sound reverberated, creating a lovely hum.

He was surprised to discover that Clark didn't hold the viola up with his arm, at all. The chin rest his face was lovingly cradled against, and the shoulder rest, attached to the back of the viola and nestled into his inner shoulder created a pressure that kept the instrument anchored against his body. His hands, those big, strong hands, were so surprisingly delicate. Clark's left hand was lifted, curled around the neck, the fingertips pressing into the strings, and moving back and forth to bring forth a rich sound. His right hand, when not plucking softly, was wrapped around a bow, his thumb curled in; his other fingers draped across the top and sides, with his pinky flared out over the turner.

Lex watched Clark drink up every bit of knowledge the music instructor offered, over the span of several months. Her name was Michelle, and she was very strong-willed, stubborn, and serious. Lex found her unappealing company, personally, but Clark seemed to be thrilled every time he saw her. He could see that it was a shared love for the instrument and for the music that allowed them to form a 'friendship' of sorts, and yet he felt a pang when he watched them. He didn't share the joy of playing that Clark did, although just listening to Clark create music sent a thrill through his body he wasn't even sure he was ready to fully acknowledge.

Thinking back over the months he had known Clark, he realized how much fuller his life felt. The lessons usually ended with Clark joining Lex for coffee, or a sandwich. They'd seem a movie together, and laughed for hours over the absurd plot.

His days felt empty when he didn't see him, and there wasn't an hour that went by that he didn't think about him.

He knew Clark had secrets, and the thirst for knowledge was inside him...wanting to know, to discover every little thing about the man. But, he knew, just by knowing Clark that with time and faith Clark would eventually trust him. He knew that Clark was a good man, a kind and sweet man, who instinctively wanted to help and please everyone. Lex refused to take advantage of any of the resources he might have used at an earlier time in his life.

He wanted Clark, on the right terms. He wanted Clark to want to share himself, and his secrets, with him.

He wanted Clark to love him, the way he had most certainly fallen in love with Clark. Smiling, he ran his eyes over the man's tall, beautiful figure, and quietly slipped out of the room where Clark was having his lesson.

Knowing that the lesson would surely run over, he left Clark a note with the receptionist, and left for Smallville.

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He stepped out of the building, a smile on his lips, and the note from Lex secure in his pocket. His viola bounced lightly across his hip as it swayed from the strap lying over his shoulder.

The gong of a bell from a nearby church caught his attention, and he looked up at the clock tower. 3:17.

"Shoot," he muttered under his breath. The lesson had gone over; he'd been lost in Brandenburg, and now he was late meeting Lex. He clasped his case closely to his body, and shifted into gear, his body cutting through the air as he ran.

He was almost to Smallville, when he saw a large, chemical truck jack-knife in the road, falling onto it's side and skidding to a halt in a field of dried corn-stalks. A small, weak cry caught his ear and he ran over to the cab of the truck, yanking open the door.

"Are you okay?" He looked over the barely conscious man and began the slow work of pulling him out. Carefully, he lifted him into his arms and moved away from the wreckage. "Was anyone else hurt?" When he received no response, he moved back towards the scene. The explosion was instant, and he felt the effect of the liquid meteor rock as it burst free from the chemical tank.

He was knocked off his feet, into the grass on the other side of the road. Writhing in pain, he gasped as he felt his blood roil in his veins. He managed to crawl to the ditch, where rainwater had pooled, and dropped his body down into the warm water, rolling and scrubbing at his skin. He kept crawling, flinging his way down the ditch for more pools of clean water.

When he finally felt strong enough to pull himself out, he noticed the pulsing pain screaming at him from inside his ears. Wincing, he reached down and got handfuls of water, slapping them against his tilted head and rinsing out his ears.

The pain eased at last, and he sighed in relief.

And felt panic fall into his chest. Bands tightened around his body, and he could barely draw breath. His eyes darted around frantically.

When the emergency vehicles pulled up, he pointed his shaking finger towards the injured man he'd pulled free from the truck. Faces moved into front of him, their lips moving quickly.

He shook his head, his eyes wide and terrified.

And then, he was there. A sea of faces screaming silently around him, and then Lex was in front of him. Calm, steady gray eyes were looking into his, and he felt himself breathe.

Smooth, pale hands reached up and grasped the sides of his face, looking carefully into his eyes.

"Lex, I can't hear anything."

He felt arms wrap themselves around him, and he leaned into the warmth of them. The shaking eased, and he felt himself being moved. Looking up at the ambulance Lex was leading him towards, he shook his head violently.

"Lex, no. I just want to go home." He had a feeling he was shouting, but he just couldn't tell.

Lex's face was right in front of his. He watched the scarred lips form his name, and he sucked in a ragged breath.

"Please, Lex."

Gray eyes looked into his before Lex nodded warily. He allowed himself to be pulled to Lex's car and he climbed inside carefully. He looked out the windows as the fields flew by, and he didn't even notice they were home until a cool finger moved over his face, sliding through the wet trails of tears he hadn't noticed were there.

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After Clark's parents convinced Lex to go back home, Clark shook off his mother's comforting hands and moved out to the loft. He sat on the broken, worn couch, staring at the wide, black folder that contained his sheet music.

It was over. The music, his first real friend, was right there and he couldn't touch it. It was lost, and he felt so alone. He felt his throat move, and wondered what noise had sprung from his lips.

He felt like screaming. He felt like slamming his hands through the wall...throwing things until the pain was better. And, he couldn't even do that.

He couldn't ever feel normal. Making music was the only time he felt truly normal. It was something that needed his soul. His powers couldn't be used to make a song more beautiful or full of feeling. Nothing he received from the sun or his home planet could have created the emotion he put into each and every note. When he'd picked up his viola, he'd felt more than normal. He'd felt comfortable with himself...happy, and he'd felt a connection with everyone around him. Music was universal. People understood music, and they connected with other people because of it.

And, now...that was gone.

He fell down to his knees, and crawled over to a corner of the room, his folder clutched between his fingers. Drawing into himself, he pulled the folder onto his knees and opened it. He pulled out the first page, and held it between two trembling fingertips.

Dropping it, he moved to the back of the folder and pulled out three connected pages. The song he'd written for Lex.

As a lone, scalding tear began sliding down his face, his fingers worked, ripping the pages to shreds.

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"Let me help you."

Clark looked at the white, rectangular dry-erase board that had jolted to a stop in front of him. He looked up into frustrated, gray eyes and shook his head. Wiping away the words with the frayed sleeve of his flannel shirt, he held out his hand for the marker, and uncapped it.

"I don't need help." He held out the marker to Lex.

Lex threw up his hands and whirled around, his face darkening with anger. He stormed back over to the board and ripped it away from Clark. Wiping away the words with a small eraser he'd pulled from a surreptitious pocket, he grasped the marker with trembling fingers and wrote a furious reply.

"Stop being so damned proud. Why are you so scared?"

Clark stood up and walked over to face the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He felt an arm pulling roughly on his shoulder, and he turned with the vicious yanking.

He glared into Lex's glittering eyes, and read the new words on the board.

"Don't you know by now how much I care?"

His eyes felt full, and he tried to walk away. Felt panic settle into his chest as Lex stepped in front of him. Watched the lips move slowly. "Clark, please."

Clark's eyes slid closed as he fought the urges fighting inside of him. He wanted to run away...he wanted to lean in and feel the comfort he knew Lex would give him.

He started to move again, and saw Lex shake his head. Hands slid around his waist, pulling him in. Lex's body was against his, warm and solid, and then damp, soft lips were against his, pulling back just as quickly as they'd pushed in.

His eyes flew open, and he looked down at Lex's mouth. He saw the words form, and felt a broken cry in his throat. He moaned softly, and leaned down, sealing his lips to Lex's.

'I love you, too,' he thought.

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"What the hell?"

Lex pushed away, feeling his heart tear at the sad noise that Clark made. "Mr. Kent," he managed.

He watched Clark's eyes fly open, and saw them move over to where Jonathan Kent was standing, his mouth open in shock.

"Dad." Clark's voice was raspy and too-soft.

Jonathan shook his head and aimed a fierce glare at Lex. Raising his fisted hand, he worked out a shaking finger and pointed it accusingly at Lex's chest. "He doesn't know what's going on. He's a good kid, and you're coming in here and confusing him. I want you off of my farm. Now."

"Mr. Kent," Lex said quietly, "I realize what this may seem like to you, but I genuinely care about Clark. Very much. I'm not interested in hurting him, or using him. I want him to be happy. I want to help him."

Jonathan huffed out an angry breath and shook his head. "I knew there was going to be trouble when you came here. First with that damned truck, and then with all those fancy 'lessons'. You think I didn't know what you were doing?" He barked out a jerky laugh. "I knew. I knew the first time I saw you looking at Clark...I knew exactly what you wanted. Now, Martha...she thought I should give you the benefit of the doubt. She thought maybe you just wanted to be friends with him, but I can see what's going on."

"Mr. Kent-"

"He's young, Lex, and he's been hurt, and there are things you will never understand about him. You're not what he needs."

Lex felt his breath shorten and become heavy. He looked over at Clark, who was watching them both with a frustrated, confused look on his face. Clark's eyes met his, and he could see the younger man pleading for him to explain what was being said.

Sadly, he shook his head, and walked away.

"I would never hurt him, Mr. Kent." He whispered.

As he climbed into his car, he heard a wild sob, and he looked back at the doorway of the barn to see Clark standing there with his father behind him. He watched for a moment, and then looked away.

He started the car and was surprised when the passenger door flew open. He watched as Clark climbed into the car, and pressed the automatic lock button. Clark looked at him, his eyes afraid, and Lex couldn't resist the plea he saw there.

Nodding, he started the car and pulled away. As Clark's hand slipped into his, he felt his breaths even out, and finally, he felt right.


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Clark watched Lex pace around the library, occasionally throwing a look back his way. Clark sighed, and leaned back against the couch.

Lex stalked over to his desk and pulled a pad of paper and a pen over to the side of the desk. He wrote for a few minutes and held the paper out to Clark.

Standing up, Clark moved over to take the paper from Lex and read.

Clark, I never meant to bring turmoil into your family. That was NEVER my intention. I want to be with you, Clark, but not at the expense of your happiness. I know how much your family means to you, and I don't want to jeopardize that.

Holding out a hand for the pen, Clark smiled softly, and wrote a quick reply.

I know that. I guess that's a big part of why I love you so much.

Clark watched the muscles in Lex's throat work as he read Clark's words. Gray eyes darkened, as Lex looked into Clark's face. Lex bent over the pad of paper, writing swiftly.

What do you want to do?

I want to kiss you. And, I want to keep kissing you for the rest of my life. Is that okay?

Clark watched Lex fight for control. He reached up and brushed a hand across the back of Lex's smooth scalp. He pulled him in, and brushed his mouth over Lex's. He breathed out, relieved, into Lex's mouth as the man opened beneath him and accepted him in.

He felt himself drowning inside of Lex, and he knew he must be whimpering when he felt sure hands close around his back, working their way under his shirt to close against his skin.

And, just as suddenly as before, Lex pushed away. He opened his eyes, looking around, and saw his father. Jonathan looked like he was screaming, his face red and angry, and Clark felt his heart clench.

"No," he whispered. He moved over to them, trying to separate them, and felt himself being pushed back. He slammed against something, his eyes vaguely noticing the rain of colored glass falling down over him as he tipped out and over the side of the window.

His head slammed against the hard grounds, and everything went blank.

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"CLARK!" Lex screamed, running towards the window, his hands grasping uselessly after the man. He looked out and down, and saw Clark, lying on the ground. Pushing Jonathan out of his way, he sprinted out of the library, nearly falling down the stairs in his haste.

He couldn't think...could barely see. Everything was a frightening slow blur, and all he could do was try to hurry.

Bursting out of the doors, he ran to Clark's still body, brushing his violently shaking hands over Clark's beautiful face.

"Clark, love, you have to wake up. Come on, open your eyes." Lex's voice sounded shredded, even to him, and he took a deep breath.

He watched, anxiously, as Clark's eyelashes fluttered, before Clark opened his eyes fully. "Lex?"

Lex felt the wetness sliding down his face, over his lips, and he smiled. Tasted the salt of the tears. "Yes."

Clark jerked up, his hands going to his ears. He shook his head, and looked confused. Lex watched Clark wince, and reach up with a corner of his shirt to wipe at the shell of his ear. There was dark blood staining the shirt when Clark pulled it away, and Lex watched as Clark flinched and turned his eyes to him.

"Say something," Clark begged.

Lex felt his heart constrict in his chest. "I love you."

Clark's smile was brilliant, out-shining the sun. "I can hear you."

Lex reached up and plucked a broken piece of glass out of Clark's hair before moving in and brushing a tear-drenched kiss across Clark's smiling lips. Pulling away, he leaned his forehead against Clark's. "So, all I needed to do was throw you out a window, huh?"

The laugh that came from Clark was freeing and wonderful, and for a moment, Lex felt purely happy.

As Clark's father came tearing out of the mansion, out of breath, Lex moved aside to allow Clark's father to gather his son to him. He watched with a bittersweet smile, and thought that perhaps, Clark had everything he needed now.

He had his family, and his music, his hearing... And, the declaration of love was more than likely a desperate need to feel something he'd been missing when he'd lost his hearing. Lex's thoughts collapsed in over him, and he pushed himself out the door, running for his car. In moments, he was headed back to Metropolis.

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The meeting was lasting forever. Lex sighed as he looked across the boardroom table at his father's knowing gaze. He rolled his eyes and looked away.

It had been two days since he'd left Smallville, and he'd never felt more empty and miserable. He knew he must be simply awful to be around, and he found himself not really caring.

Frowning, he looked down at his cell phone, and saw the empty voicemail box.

Attempting to pay attention, he focused on his father's latest lackey and listened intently.

"What is that racket?"

Lex's eyes snapped over to his father's irritated face. "What are you talking about?"

"Can't you hear it?"

Listening carefully, Lex listened, and heard the most beautiful sound in the world. He heard the sweet, low notes of a viola, and he felt himself rising in his chair, a smile spreading across his face.

"Lex!" His father hissed. "Sit down; I'll get security to deal with that."

Shaking his head, Lex laughed and felt free. "I'm going home, Dad."

Ignoring the angry demands shouted at him, he ran out of the room, tearing down the hall until he reached the small space in front of the elevators...where Clark stood, playing a song.

"What are you doing here?"

Clark lowered his viola to his side and grinned. "I'm throwing out a romantic gesture. How am I doing?"

Lex chuckled. "Not bad." Moving over to Clark, he lifted his right hand, pointing the bow away from him, and placing a soft kiss on the inside of Clark's wrist. "What do I have to do to get an encore?"

Smiling gently, Clark sighed. "Love me."

"I do." Lex whispered, leaning forward and brushing his lips across Clark's jaw. "I thought...you didn't call, and I thought I must be right. I thought maybe you realized that you didn't need me to be happy."

Clark nodded, and reached into his back pocket. "I figured. It ws dumb, mind you, but I get it." He pulled out a piece of paper. It was horrible looking. Worn, and covered with tape. It looked like it had been ripped to pieces. "It took me a while. I wrote this, before I lost my hearing. I wrote it for you, Lex. And...I wanted you to know. I've loved you for a long time now, and I'm going to love you...for the rest of my life."

Lex nodded, and moved into Clark's arms. "I love you so much." He prodded the arm holding the viola. "Was that the song?"

He felt Clark's face move against his, and knew the man was smiling. "Yeah. Did you like it?"

Lex laughed softly, and breathed in the scent of the man surrounding him. "I heard it, and I knew I was going home."

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"I still can't believe you came here," Lex murmured. His hands wrapped themselves in Clark's thick black hair, feeling the silken length of it run between his fingers like warm water.

"I had to," Clark said, leaning down to nuzzle his nose in Lex's throat. He breathed in the scents there that were intrinsically Lex. Brandy, spicy cologne, sandalwood soap, and the leather from the interior of Lex's cars. "Nothing feels right without you. Everything is less than it should be."

Lex sighed and pulled Clark's face up to taste his lips. Their mouths came together, joined in a comfortable melody.

Clark pulled back, his eyes rolling back in his head as Lex's lips slipped across his jaw line. The world was white and gold all around him. The only colors allowed in were the bluish-gray of Lex's eyes, the pale peachy cream of Lex's skin, and the sweet coral pink of his shining lips.

Lex's moans, his very breaths, were a symphony of sounds in Clark's ears. They were crashing against one another and soaring into the only thing that could ever make sense.

Everything felt so alive and so different, and so normal.

His hand closed over Lex's wrist, brining it to his mouth. Warm lips pressed against pulsing skin, suckling tenderly.

"Clark." Lex's voice held an ache. Clark slipped his fingers up to Lex's mouth. He moved inside to touch the trembling tongue within. Soft, scarred lips closed over his fingers and Clark felt his skin warm as his lover bathed his fingers.

"Every note I play is for you. Each song, the wonder I bring out of it...it's because you filled my heart with you. I saved your life, Lex, but you...you saved my soul."

He felt wetness slip down over his wrist and watched gray eyes fill and release, the happiness behind the tears filling every corner of Lex with light that knew no darkness.

The fell to their knees there on the floor, hands finding each other and clasping together. And, as they held each other, Clark whispered in Lex's ear, and found acceptance and love, and peace.

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100 YEARS LATER


He played into the night, long after the sun had fallen to rest.

The song was pure and sad, a call to a lost love.

Every day he greeted eagerly, for it was a day closer to finding his way home. He knew the day was coming where he would find him again...the day was coming when he would close his eyes and open them just in time to see gray eyes looking back in welcome and love.

Until then, he played to his love...grateful for the man that had given him the joy to make the melody stay alive within him.

Until then, he waited...and imagined gray eyes watching fondly, shining in the back of his dreams, as he listened to the music. The wood was soft and lovely against the youthful, smooth skin of his face. As the man finished his song with a flourish, he lifted his chin from the wood, tears streaming happily down his face. He lowered the instrument, the tiny, glowing gold stone slipping from where it had been nestled in the chin rest.

"I'll be with you soon, Lex," he whispered into the wind. And, for the first time in a long time, he smiled.