Some Kind of Truth

This *wonderful* cover was made by Digitalwave. Thank you sooo much! *hugs*

Some Kind of Truth
by Suz suzvoy@tesco.net

Disclaimer - DC and WB own them, etc etc.

So, imagine this. I have a fic idea. "Yay!" I think. I check my friends list. acampbell has written something with the same idea. "Curses!" I yell. acampbell tells me to write it anyway. Yay! *smooch*

A 'Scare' episode addition. Clex, of course. Suitable for all.

Many thanks to fromward, who had to cope with me whining, "I can't wriiiiiiiite! Waaaaaaaaah!". *cuddles*

Feedback would be lovely :)

The irony is this - he's dreamt of this moment, or one very much like it so many times that for a while he's absolutely positive it's not real.

But then Clark speaks, and Dream Clark never speaks like Real Clark. Lex gave up on expecting one of them to sound like the other a long time ago.

"You hurt me," Clark says, a shadow at the end of his bed.

For the first time in almost as long as Lex can remember, it isn't an accusation. Clark isn't angry, or bitter. He just seems...sad.

Lex doesn't speak. He has a feeling that, for the moment, it's not necessary.

Moving further along the bed, Clark slowly lowers himself until he's sitting on the edge, his back towards Lex. His head is bent down towards his hands. "I know we were drifting apart, and I know it was just as much my fault as yours. But you were still..." he sighs. "My best friend. I felt closer to you than anyone, Lex. And then I found the room."

All right. Admittedly, in retrospect Lex knew the room had been a bad idea. He'd been telling the truth when he'd told Clark the room was about himself, but it was also undeniably about Clark, too. When he'd ordered the contents destroyed and watched them being taken away, he realised the larger than life pictures of Clark had been something of a giveaway. There was no way to rationalise those away, no excuse he could give. Somehow, trying to understand himself had transformed into trying to understand himself with Clark, and it should have been less of a surprise than it was. He'd always been so sure they'd have a destiny together.

Something he'd begun to doubt, lately.

But Clark was here, now. Unexpected.

"Do you have any idea what that feels that? To find out that my best friend, the person I care about the most, was investigating me? *Studying* me?"

It's dark and Lex is grateful; even now, months after he's had the room taken apart, he can feel the shame burning on his face. It's the only thing he's ever really been sorry for.

"But you apologised," Clark continues, "and you got rid of everything. I thought...things would be okay. We could start over. But I just couldn't stop looking for the worst in you, Lex. To be honest I don't think I really wanted to." When he speaks again his voice is barely a whisper. "I don't think I was strong enough to forgive you."

Swallowing, Lex finally shifts until he's sitting up in his bed. "Then why are you here?"

"In the lab," Clark continues, voice stronger, "the other day. You had the opportunity right there. You could have taken so many samples from me - I was practically begging you to, and you didn't. You could have ignored that guy, told me it would help, and taken what you wanted. You probably would have gotten all the answers you've been looking for."

It's the closest Clark has ever come to an admission. Never mind stating exactly what he is or why he is; Clark doesn't even like admitting that he's different at all.

Until now. "Clark..."

"I don't want to hate you anymore, Lex, but I don't think I can stop. Do you understand that?"

And suddenly Clark is looking at him. Clark has turned and is looking at him, and even in the darkness of his bedroom Lex can feel the power and the *knowledge* behind those eyes and then Lex *does* understand it.

Clark never has been any good at sharing his feelings with someone.

"We'll think of something, Clark," Lex says firmly because really, there's no other choice. It's them, and they do have destiny, and he refuses to believe it's as enemies. "Come on," he says, pulling the covers back.

Clark should be hesitating but he isn't, shucking his sneakers off and getting rid of his jacket, and then he's sliding in next to Lex. They've hugged a sum total of four times, and all of those have been standing up. Clark's arms go around him easily, warm against his bare chest, and when Lex closes his eyes he thinks he's never been so glad that he screwed up.

"I don't want to hate you," Clark murmurs again, almost like he's trying to convince someone, hands rubbing over pale skin.

It probably says a lot about him that this is the most interesting he's found being in bed with someone for a long time.

Moving under the covers, Clark whispers something into his ear. It's not the truth he's wanted all this time but it's one he's hoped for almost as long; and as Lex pulls Clark closer he finds himself smiling so wide that his face muscles hurt from it.

Lex doesn't mind.

Love is supposed to hurt, anyway.

~FINIS