Title: First Lost, Now Found

Author: SC182 (supercaptain182)

Summary: Lex can finally have the one thing he always wanted, but first he has to find it.

Beta: Twinsarein!

Quote: “When they ask me what I liked best, I'll say it was you." - City of Angels

A/N: This is a future fic and AU from about early Season 3. Let’s say the events of the fic took place before Shattered/Asylum. Lionel’s machinations don’t go as far in this fic.

The white rose kissed the cherry wood finish on the casket, like a lover imparting one final embrace after years of separation. He didn’t have to look around or stretch his hearing to see the feeding frenzy among the journalist and photographers, there to witness the final interment of the late, great Lionel Luthor. Those gathered around the open gravesite were kings and queens of industry, as well as socialites, tycoons, engineers turned multinational corporation owners, and politicians—there were all the makings of a sendoff worthy of his father.

The white marble statue of the archangel Michael, with eerie white sword pointed down towards the masses languishing in perdition, brought many up short. Lex dared not snicker at the murmured questions he heard throughout the crowd, about the unknown depths of Lionel Luthor’s religious leanings.

Even in death the old man was still the center of attention.

The affair was half spectacle and half an offering of reassurance to those who knew Lionel Luthor, or were indebted to him, that the man was actually dead and buried. Though, Lex was sure a few skeptics were in the crowd as well.

His rose was the only white among a sea of red.

When it was over, Lex stayed above the gravesite, taking his final look at the only family he’d had left. Sorrow didn’t fill his heart then, but rather scorn for being denied the opportunity to have had a family, or real love, that didn’t have recriminations and dark plots and conditions hooked into it like rusted fishing lures.

The crowds eased off, no doubt making their way to the Metropolis Biltmore Hotel for the final repast. It would be like any other catered event, save for the masks of mourning and stoicism that guests would try to wear in his presence. It was more than good taste and breeding to leave Lex alone now. Most looked back now and then and felt an honest sentiment of grief for him at having lost his mother as a child and his father as a young man.

Lex took in the white rose sitting like a conqueror over his subjugated masses. For years, he had been a part of that group, subjugated, controlled, and abused by his father. When he turned away from the grave, just as the grey skies above Metropolis unleashed sprinkles of rain, a small smile grew across his lips.

He was free.

His father’s messes would need to be cleaned up, but he could handle those problems as they arose.

The rain fell over his face and slipped between the seam of his lips. It was cold and fresh, like a baptism. His grin grew larger with each step he took away from the gravesite and his father.

Free.

The future was about correcting his mistakes, and those of his father, and fixing everything he’d left undone.

There was no big task at hand. It felt like Lex had been burying his father for years. He was more than thankful when it finally happened. The day Lionel Luthor died, Lex Luthor was reborn.

He had one mission above all others, and that was to find that which his father had stolen from him.

The love of Clark Kent.

Lex had died twice. Only one of which was official.

On the bank of a murky river, his heart stopped beating long enough to allow him to soar over fields, and see every ray of sunshine as they were suspended between the heavens and earth. There were no angels that he could see in the sky.

The closest equivalent on Earth, brought him back with a kiss of life as magnificent and startling as the act of creation itself, and as quiet and determined as a seed sprouting through hardened soil.

Yes, time had made him more sentimental.

Smallville had been this oasis in his mind. A place of hope and dreams on the horizon of his psyche, close enough for him to dream and close enough for Lionel to touch.

In Smallville, Lex found Clark and Clark found Lex. They saved each other from countless moments of physical and moral peril, and Clark never once pushed him away.

Driving through the town was like rehashing an old series of memories and reliving a life that he’d rehearsed and replayed a million times already without this physical stage. The Talon and florist shop were still open as evening approached, and the main drag was busy. The lives in the town were closely connected and Lex found that after living there, after finding Clark, Smallville now fit like a well worn sweater, comfortable and right.

Then, Lionel came to choke up on his leash, and Lex had rebelled, and then his father had smiled his weaponized cruel grin, and whispered all the things that Lex had ever feared for on behalf of Clark. Lex lost himself again and left Smallville, with the hope that he’d find Clark once more and find himself too.

Loeb Bridge was approaching straight ahead. The sun lay a quarter sunk below the edge of the earth and the steel supporting the road was painted in shades of orange and red. It was beautiful.

He couldn’t stop on Loeb Bridge, so he stopped a short distance away from it and walked back to its center. Despite the years and the repairs, he still found the marker for their meeting, not that he needed one in the first place. Lex imagined Clark standing in that same place, idyllic thoughts, so unsuspecting of his own strength and worth.

The day Lex met Clark he became an addict.

A car was making its way towards the bridge. He’d rather not take his chances again without Clark standing guard. He was sentimental, thinking of the bridge as the place he and Clark first met, first kissed.

“Almost there,” he whispered to himself.

Lex had dreamed about his reunion with Clark for years. Starting with the day his father made him sever all contact, Lex kept a mental tally and promised to make the reunion that much sweeter when his father was finally dead.

He dreamed about himself and Clark, always framed in a romantic bent. He wanted to keep their separation pure by providing his father with no ammunition against him or Clark, but it was the years themselves that sharpened themselves into weapons.

His imagination had given him the satisfying self-fulfilling prophecies where Clark waited for him. Saw him arrive on the dusty Kent Farm drive and leap towards him with a smile undimmed or changed by time and distance. Then, there were the conjectures formed by his mind—forged from hopelessness. Clark and Lana living out their idyllic life in Smallville as storybooks would have written. Or Clark and Chloe trailblazing across the world and setting wrongs right with the stroke of a pen. The one that scared him so terribly was the one where Clark, intrepid and young, found himself and someone else in another city. It pained Lex to think of someone else recognizing Clark for the braveheart knight that he was and saw themselves as his missing prince.

There were others out there who could take the heat off of Clark. Superman. Batman. Wonder Woman. A whole host of other costume-clad heroes that seemed to have sprang up overnight.

Lex had been saved by Superman a time or two. Found himself ensconced safely in those rippling arms, and soaring over the city. For such a larger than life presence, Lex found Superman very shy. His eyes, though of a most unforgettable blue, spoke volumes and always seemed to have more to say than the man did, especially to Lex.

If the man ever wanted to talk, Lex would listen. His days were too busy for him to wonder about the unspoken issues of alien demigods. Though, something about the alien unnerved him.

Clark was his mission. His golden fleece.

He wanted to find Clark without cheating. No private eyes. No cops. No electronic tracking. Nixon was a hard learned lesson. One that Lex would never forget. The one that brought him back under the thumb and heel of his father. He wouldn’t endanger Clark like that ever again.

The fields surrounding the Kent Farm were just as tall and lush as years ago. The corn was in season and high as an elephant’s eye, Lex had learned. No cows in the pasture though, but the house seemed to be even sunnier—cosmic yellow, and the fence was the quintessential white pattern that made for perfect homes and gardens.

Lex climbed the porch steps, his feet falling in a very familiar cadence. All the floorboards remained silent or spoke when appropriate, saying that times had changed, but essentially remained the same. Assaulted by the smell of fresh baking, he paused before knocking, already seeing Martha in his mind’s eye, with a pragmatic swipe of flour on her cheek and bits of dough over her hands, with Clark hovering close by for the first taste.

He knocked and waited.

Martha Kent’s hair was redder than he remembered, and he fought the instinctual urge to call her “Mom” when her eyes widened and sparkled in surprise and her smile was dedicated to him alone. The air behind her was warm and smelled like apples and cinnamon.

“Lex.” She hugged him and he returned the pressure in kind, but the house behind her was quiet.

“Mrs. Kent.” In his arms, she stiffened and he could tell she was a second away from reproaching him and demanding he not be so formal. This was home after all. “Martha.”

She gripped his biceps hard and held him out for a view. Still too skinny was written across her face. “Come inside, there’s pie.”

Lionel’s machinations had always been to mold Lex into the perfect heir; Martha Kent’s in turn revolved around a never-ending quest to see Lex with an additional fifteen pounds or so on his wiry frame. She was accustomed to the hearty and seemingly bottomless appetites of a farm husband and a large teenage farm boy with endless energy.

There was an awkward span of minutes when they sat around the kitchen table exchanging mutual condolences for their respective losses. Though, the loss of Jonathan Kent was the real tragedy. Lex still remembered the day when Lionel swept into his office to deliver the news. His faux surprise and alacrity to share the news of Jonathan’s sudden death sickened Lex, made him even more desirous of Lionel’s own demise. His father baited him, daring him to contact Clark, knowing that even the slightest contact would drive Lex to want to stay.

Clark was his drug.

His constant addiction.

Smiles and hugs and the unwavering belief that Lex was good, could be great, had converted Lex too into a believer.

Martha had neither mentioned Clark, nor had any traces of him been visible. It was obviously the pink elephant in the room, and Lex’s primary reason for returning to Smallville immediately after putting his father into the ground.

He putted away his half eaten second helping of pie. “And Clark, you haven’t mentioned him, and I’m starting to think that’s intentional.” The farm looked good, if not smaller, probably due to parceling off land that she and Clark could no longer tend to, and eliminating the debt that had accumulated with Jonathan’s unerring habit of keeping the farm in the red.

“I made a deal with the devil, Martha. I stayed away from Clark in order to insure his protection. My father--” Was too curious for his own good, an outright bastard, and wanted to take away anything or anyone I care about. “—had too many eyes and ears and would have made things difficult for me. For Clark.”

Having worked for Lionel, Martha knew firsthand of the games his father could play and he’d never aired his own suspicion that the child she’d conceived during Clark’s sophomore year had not been Jonathan Kent’s. He didn’t blame her. Couldn’t have, because Lionel was more wily than a sidewinder.

“Clark missed you like crazy.” She said, resting her chin on her folded hands. Her eyes darted over the graduation picture hanging on the wall, where Clark, dressed in his crimson robe, was flanked by a Martha and Jonathan. “We didn’t have the money for college, but luckily a scholarship came through at Granville Community.”

Lex quirked a brow, thinking how fortuitous Clark’s luck always seemed in times that mattered. “I didn’t do it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Martha nodded solemnly. “I suspected as much. You did such a thorough job of severing ties that I was sure you wouldn’t risk your father’s wrath, but I’d hoped you would for Clark’s sake.”

How much did she know about him and Clark? They had friendship first and were just beginning to verge beyond the borders of simple kisses when Lionel issued Lex his, now infamous, edict.

Sighing, Martha said wistfully, “My boy’s a hopeless romantic. He’s carried a torch everywhere he’s gone. I love how strong he is, how his hope never wavers.”

His heart did beat faster, the diligence –the years under Lionel’s thumb hadn’t been wasted. “Just tell me, Martha. Where is Clark?”

Shaking her head, she looked at him balefully. “He’s not here, Lex. Hasn’t been for some time. I see him, not as much as I’d like to, but he’s dedicated himself to something.”

“Where?” He immediately regretted the forceful tone.

Her blues shone playfully. “Right under your nose, Lex. Right.Under.Your.Nose.”

Martha could do enigmatic with the best of them, and Lex returned to Metropolis after a semi-fruitless expedition.

Lex would play this straight, find Clark by doing his own detective work, and finally have what was always meant to be. Metropolis hummed around him. Her streets full of citizens, smiling and enjoying the sights in this fair city. Lovers embraced, kissed, whispered soft nothings, declarations of love as old as time in the sidewalk cafes, near the harbor, in the perches elevated high above the city.

All of these activities were meant for him and Clark to share. They had shared them a thousand times in his dreams, which was the one place Lionel hadn’t been able to reach.

He tried to train himself in those long nights, immediately following the end of his exile, to not think of Clark. Failing miserably, he lay awake every night with Clark in his mind, with Clark haunting his dreams.

His dreams were vivid, like 1950s Technicolor. His heart supplied Clark, his memory provided Clark’s features and expressions, his head created the scenes and played them out for Lex’s pleasure. He’d never been all that fond of the loft or the corn fields, for good reason, but Clark looked good in the contrasting moonlight light and sunbeams of each setting.

Clark in the Castle, before the fireplace or being studious in one of the mansions many beds, waiting so diligently for Lex to return.

Leaning against the balcony rail, he stared down at his kingdom, as his father had always proclaimed. She was aflutter with life and silent from this far up. LuthorCorp, soon to be LexCorp Towers, stood at the center of the city, the point, like the heart, that pulsed life into the city, but not the spirit.

In his mind’s eye, Clark was there with him, sandwiched between him and the railing, the gentle wind blowing through his hair and his lips floating just out of reach above Lex’s own. Clark’s fingers, warm and blunt, preternaturally smooth, would rest on his cheeks, burning him with their gentleness. His eyes were trained on Lex, smiling, crinkling in the corners.

“Missed you,” he’d say.

They’d Eskimo kiss, noses sliding gently together, breathing the same breath. With Clark, he could tease and not find himself trapped in a spider’s web. “Really?”

Clark’s smile would be open, not hiding anything. His secrets were Lex’s too and they were happy. Plain and simple. He liked it when Clark was shy, even more when he was aggressive and the initiator of their kisses. Clark would rubb his lips over Lex’s and draw back silently, knowing how his teasing worked Lex up. “I miss you every day, plus you make great coffee.”

He’d dart in and steal a kiss before Clark could pull back again, smiling. “I knew you only wanted me for my coffee making skills and material wealth.” Lex joked.

Clark cheeks would becherry in the glow of the balcony lamps.“Obviously, though, you could be dirt poor and I’d still want you.” Lex would cock a brow, enticing him to say more. Clark would roll his eyes. “The cars help, but---It’s you. Lex, all you.”

Their lips would meet for a soft kiss, the type used in hallmark commercials, because it was imbued with love, devotion, and absolute desire. Lex would kiss with his eyes open, wanting to memorize every change and emotion that flitted across Clark’s face, as Lex made him breathless. No secrets. No lies. Just them.

“Where are you?” He’d whisper against Clark’s cheek.

Clark turned his mouth towards Lex’s ear. He opened his mouth to say….

“Good evening, Lex.” Lex’s eyes flew open and immediately landed on Superman, who hovered a few feet out from the balcony.

Suddenly, he was angry. Furious that he’d been interrupted by the flying boy scout. Lex looked at the alien’s too perfect face that was offset by the adorable little spit curl that sat precisely in the center of his forehead. He didn’t like being the focus of those unnaturally blue eyes.

Restraining himself, he bit off a tense, “Good evening, Superman.” He didn’t like being addressed as Lex, because he and Superman certainly weren’t old friends.

“Taking in the sights?” The alien in primary colors asked.

Lex wished he had a couple of fingers of Scotch, that way he’d have a reason to hesitate in answering. “Yes, it’s a good night to do so.”

Superman’s eyes didn’t stray from Lex’s face. “I love the view from up here.” I’m sure you do, Lex thought. The gods enjoyed watching men from their aerie on Mount Olympus.

Lex nodded once. “I was enjoying some private time—clearing my head really, and this is an easy way to do so.” He hoped that Superman would catch his hint for privacy.

Superman issued him that perfect grin, the one seen at charity visits and on the cover of the Daily Planet. “I do the same thing. Sometimes, the sounds get too be too much and it feels almost like my head is going to explode.” Superman was definitely falling into Lex’s assumption that he was more brawn than brain, because he didn’t recognize Lex’s cold shoulder.

“Well, good luck with that.” Lex backed away from the balcony and turned to enter the penthouse.

Superman was super persistent. “We should talk sometime,” he said in an enthusiastic tone, which only served to annoy Lex more. “I’m sorry about your father.” His condolences were sincere, but Lex was done thinking of Lionel Luthor and was up to his ears with sympathy for a man that truly didn’t deserve any. “Oh, and happy Valentine’s Day.”

Lex had easily blocked the day from his memory, but leave it to Superman to knock down Lex’s walls of intentional ignorance with the same amount of effort that it took to scatter a stack of children’s blocks. Lex couldn’t get away from the alien fast enough.

“I have a busy day tomorrow, as do you I assume.” Lex tossed over his shoulder. “Goodnight,” Lex walked through the penthouse glass doors and shut them with a quiet snick, knowing that it wouldn’t keep a determined Superman out, but that his desire for privacy would be firmly conveyed.

Though he missed Superman’s crestfallen expression.

Chloe began her career working as an upstart intern at the Daily Planet. Her work, unlike Smallville, did’t go unnoticed. She quickly ascended the ranks and became their best cub reporter. Lex had even read some of her work. Gabe undoubtedly was very proud.

Her big expose on the spread of Intergang into the city and her previous interviews with Superman made her a hot commodity. That was why she was one of the leading feature writers at the Gotham Gazette and a special correspondent for Gotham City TV, the northeast version of CNN.

Rumor had it that she was also pretty cushy with Bruce Wayne, who must have undergone a lobotomy since the days Lex knew him. His exploits that made the papers, made him wonder why Bruce was acting out. Bruce, even as a kid, never acted without a motive.

He caught her just before she headed to the gym. She looked great. Fashionable as ever in her matching gym pants, tank, and jacket set. She’d matured into a very beautiful woman. Bruce better realize the treasure he had, because few men could actually be her equal.

“Chloe.” Lex greeted, pushing off the wall outside her apartment.

She didn’t look startled in the least. It must have been her matured skills as an unflappable journalist. “Lex.”

“Congratulations on everything, even if I’m sure Ms. Manners would scold me for being several years too late.”

Chloe folded her arms over her chest and shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. “Thanks, Lex. Ms. Manners would underline the fact that it’s the sentiments that count, especially considering the circumstances.” She turned towards her door, but he stopped her.

“No, I’ll keep this brief. You’re a busy woman, I know how much unexpected visits can throw off your day.” Superman’s day visit still rubbed him strangely.

“Understood, Lex.” She smiled beatifically. “Clark’s in Metropolis, doing what he does best.” Lex’s face must have shown that he wasn’t satisfied with the evasive answer. He’d thought he’d left head games behind with Lionel.

First Martha. Now Chloe. “Why all the secrecy?”

“Clark always assumed you’d find him when you were ready and not a minute sooner.” Lex didn’t look appeased. “Here’s a clue, he’s in Metropolis. Has been for a few years.”

Maybe this was Clark’s way of saying that Lex had made the decision to end them, therefore it was his decision when they’d meet again.“I’ll try to narrow it down.”

Her arms locked around his neck, and Lex prided himself in barely flinching at the gesture. “The chase makes it sweeter, Lex.” She kissed his cheek and her grin grew cheekier. “When you find him, I expect a phone call so that we can all have dinner.”

“Sure, Chloe.” Lex watched her near the elevator at the end of the hall. He found her smile contagious. Finding Clark was most certainly a matter of when and not if.

“And Lex,” she said, half in and half out of the elevator, “if you two ever break up again, I’ll have to hurt both of you. Years, Lex…years of pining will not happen again.” Smart and spunky, Bruce better treat her like a goddess.

In Metropolis, in the days following the official purge and reorientation of the company, Lex found himself stooping to a new low and opening the phonebook. He had his finger over the only entry for Clark J. Kent in Metropolis, when the doors of his office flew open and one of Lionel’s burned cronies stormed into his office with guns blazing. It wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, that something like this happened.

The last thing Lexsaw was the overcoat of Matrix-Revenge of the Nerds wannabe and the last thing he felt was the sudden voice of air in his chest.

The last word on his lips, “Clark.”

Then, blackness.

When his eyes opened beneath the white light of the sun, he was sure he was dead. An angel stood over him. Black curls framing a familiar face, pink plush lips moved in the configurations of soothing words, even if their meaning was lost on Lex at the moment.

His chest felt like it was the home of a tiny black hole. Negative pressure made it feel heavy, and his breath was labored. The sun sank lower in the sky outside his window and Lex could see the even whiteness of ceiling tiles.

A warm hand slide over his and encircled his wrist. “Are you comfortable, Lex?”

The voice of his angel, so similar to his beloved’s. He’d give anything to have Clark here. His mind was coated in cotton and his words weren’t his own. If he could say one thing to Clark, he would say, “When they ask me what I liked best, I'll say it was you."

Nothing in his life, except for his mother loving him, could compare to what he had with Clark.

“I’ll say it was you too.” The angel—his nurse replied. Lex turned his head, slowly, as the room continued to shake before his eyes. The green scrubs his nurse wore were eerily reminiscent of Clark’s eyes.

The picture focused. His eyes traveled from the scrubs, over the broad shoulders, and up to the unforgettable face of Clark Kent. This had to be heaven.

“Angel,” Lex said without hesitation and Clark smiled, truly grinned at him for the first time in years.

Clark’s hands are just as soft, if not bigger, than he remembered. They stroked over his face lightly. “I knew you’d find me.”

By hook or by crook, or the help of one of Lionel’s enemies, he’d found Clark. “Always.”

“I knew you couldn’t resist concussions, or the wrath of your father’s ex-employees.” He made the incident seem less horrible than it was, or maybe that was Lex’s wishful thinking. Clark leaned close to his ear and Lex had his suspicion confirmed, Clark’s scrubs did match his eyes. “Get some rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Lex held Clark’s hand, refusing to release him. “No more hiding. Not ever.”

“Okay,” Clark whispered, and Lex fell into a peaceful sleep.

The next time Lex woke, the room had lost its antiseptic smell and had the distinct odor of flowers, exotic and fresh, but there were a few arrangements of daisies to be found as well. Clark was writing something in Lex’s chart and smiled as soon as he felt Lex’s eyes on him. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” Lex croaked. His chest felt like there was an elephant sitting on it. He tried to touch it, but Clark interceded, moving faster than his eyes could catch. “Still special.”

Clark held his hand and blushed. “Always.”

“What happened?”

“The usual, I guess,” Clark began, his face a mask of worry.

Lex recited his own conclusions about what happened and really wished his healing factor would kick in. “Ex-Luthor employee seeks revenge against the only remaining Luthor…”A canella slipped under his nose, making his breathing only slightly less burdensome. “How’d I get here?”

Worry was still etched across Clark’s face, but relief washed over him as Lex slowly relaxed. “Superman happened to be flying by…” he said cautiously, as if he knew that Lex didn’t really trust the alien. “He knocked out the bad guy and brought you here.”

Here was a hospital where Clark apparently worked. “Where is here?”

“Met General.” Home of the Lillian Luthor Cardiovascular Ward.

He wanted Clark closer, and found himself pulling Clark down, even though he was as weak as a kitten. Clark came though, sitting down gently beside Lex. “How’d you get here?”

Clark’s hands closed over Lex’s, and there was a story to be waiting to be told. “You were in Metropolis. I was in Smallville and in high school, so I waited. I got into Granville Community, then Dad died during my freshman year and I took some time off until Chloe, Lois, and Mom threatened to kick my butt. I finished at GCC and went to nursing school, and I’ve been waiting here for you to either find me, or show here as my patient.”

“Sneaky.” He loved Clark’s dedication and he was right under Lex’s nose.

“Couldn’t risk Lionel finding out that I was so close…though we’ve had other encounters.”

Wait, Clark didn’t make any sense. “I don’t understand.”

Clark looked around for listening ears, then turned back to Lex. He ran his fingers through his hair and twisted one finger about the front, took a deep breath then schooled his features. He turned to Lex, and Lex found himself breathless again.

“It’s you.”

“I almost thought you knew, but you’ve been so cold to Superman. To me,” he whispered and Lex felt angry and embarrassed. “Maybe I should have said something.”

Lex didn’t know what to say. Sure, he would’ve liked to have known that Clark was literally so close, but then again, if his father were still alive, he wouldn’t have wanted the man any closer to Clark or Superman.

It was strange to think of his sweet innocent farmboy as this intergalactic force, a being actually worshipped as a god in some places. It was a hard image to reconcile with the one in his head. His face must have revealed his feelings. Clark recomposed himself to look like Clark again andLex breathed just a bit easier. “Maybe that was for the best,” he finally said, hoping not to offend Clark.

“It’s hard to put two and two together with me sometimes.”

“I think I can keep up. I only need time to heal.”

Clark drew away from him, and closed the horizontal blinds over his windows, and locked the door. “This is wrong on so many levels, but maybe this will help you heal.”

“I’ve always had some belief in alternative medicine.” The bed tilted up and Lex and Clark were finally face to face, just as Lex had dreamed. “I’m sure this will be more than a relief.”

“I know it will.”

“Thanks for waiting.”

Clark whispered against Lex’s mouth. “That was the easy part.”

They finally had their kiss, after years of separation, and neither would ever be without the other again. Lex found Clark like he promised he would, and Lex found the destiny that was rightfully theirs. Neither remarked that it was Valentine’s Day when they were finally reunited. They’d just say it was destiny and it was.

The End