Time: after Lineage
Rating: PG-13 for some mild language and violence
Disclaimer: all characters property of DC Comics, the WB, etc. Please don't sue the starving grad student.

Art Sandoval carefully looked around the spacious lobby of the building in downtown Metropolis. At midday it was empty except for a bored-looking security guard sitting behind his desk, so Sandoval went ahead and rang for the elevator. Once inside, he pushed the button for the thirty-second floor, the very top of the expensive and exclusive Armory Building.

It was only the third time he'd been here, but every time he was awed anew at the kind of money it took to live in a building like this. The carpets were so thick you couldn't hear your own footsteps. The elevators glided soundlessly past floors of luxury apartments. In twenty years on the force he'd earned barely enough money to pay off his small house on the east side and keep food on the table. Now that he was retired, the private detective gig helped supplement his meager pension, but things were still tight. He doubted anyone in this building had ever had to choose between paying the mortgage and sending their kids to college. Hell, these people probably had other people to handle their bills (and their kids) for them.

The elevator doors slid open on the top floor. There was only one apartment up here, the penthouse. Art crossed the small private lobby to the double doors. A security camera followed his every move. Rich people were always hyper-conscious about security, but he didn't mind-if they weren't he'd be out of a job.

He knocked on the mahogany doors and after a moment they opened. "Sandoval. You're late."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor. Traffic was a bear." He followed his client into the gigantic apartment. The glass walls on two sides on the living room showed a panoramic view of the city of Metropolis, bright and shiny in the sun. Amazing how clean everything looked from up here, Art mused. You'd almost think Metropolis was as nice as it looked on those picture postcards. But as a retired cop, he knew different.

"Don't let it happen again. I'm a busy man." Sandoval knew the importance of humoring his clients, so he just smiled at the younger man. "It won't."

Lex Luthor crossed the room and gestured to Sandoval to follow him into the study. The wood-paneled room looked like it had been lifted right out of an English manor house and installed in this modern skyscraper. Which, knowing the kind of money the Luthors had to throw around, it probably had been.

"Bourbon, right?" The younger Luthor was pouring out drinks from a set of crystal decanters.

Art licked his lips. Everything around here was top of the line, even the alcohol. He happily accepted the glass and the chair Luthor offered him. Luthor himself sat down behind the heavy desk and smiled.

"I take it you have something to report?"

"I do. You'll remember that the last time we spoke I told you that I'd put out some feelers but that it might take some time for anything to develop. In cases like this it's often a matter of the right person stumbling across the right bit of information at just the right time."

Lex shrugged. "You're the expert on locating people, not me."

Sandoval nodded-he'd worked Missing Persons for almost ten years. "I started with the possibility that Lucas Luthor did indeed die in early childhood."

Leaning back in his chair, Luthor put his feet up on the desk. "But there's no death certificate. Right?"

"Right. No child with that name has died in Metropolis, or any other city, in the last twenty years."

"So my father lied. Hardly surprising."

Art didn't respond. Whatever problems Luthor had with his old man were none of his business. Still, seeing the young man's grim expression, Art was glad he'd only had daughters.

"It's possible the child may have died after being adopted, and is buried under a different name," Sandoval suggested. "But that would still be traceable in the public records, if you know how to look. And I do. So now I'm operating under the assumption that Lucas Luthor is alive but living under the name of his adoptive parents. And with the funds you so generously provided I was able to make some inquiries."

"And?"

"And last week one of my sources forwarded this." Sandoval reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. He slid it across the desk to his client.

Luthor unfolded it and read it over carefully. "What's 'Helping Hands, Inc.'?"

Sandoval took another swig of his bourbon. "It's kind of a clearing house for adoptees and biological parents trying to find each other. You send in your information on an application like this one, and they see if they can make a match with someone else."

Lex frowned. "I thought information on adoptions were sealed by the courts."

Art nodded. He knew the other man had made some inquiries on his own, but had gotten nowhere, even with all his money and influence. But he knew a few tricks Luthor didn't.

"They are. That is, you just can't walk in and find out who your birth parents are, and birth parents just can't walk in and find out what happened to their kid. However, if both parent and child agree to search for each other services like this can help them contact each other. Rachel Dunlevy wrote to nearly every one in the country, and posted all over the Internet, looking for her son."

"But she never got this?" Lex held up the single sheet of paper. "Look at the date--this only came in about two months ago. After Ms. Dunlevy had been committed."

Lex re-read the paper, frowning. "And you think this might be him?"

"The date of birth he gives matches the one Ms. Dunlevy posted in her searches. And he claims to have been born in Metropolis. I suppose his adoptive parents could have told him that much."

Luthor was silent for a long moment, rubbing the paper between forefinger and thumb. Sandoval couldn't tell what he was thinking, so he continued. "If this is your half-brother, he was adopted by a family name Carter up in Central City. They named him Andrew Jacob, and he's going on seventeen years old. Old enough to start wondering about his birth parents, I guess."

"I suppose." Lex still looked thoughtful. "I want you to find out everything else you can about him. What sort of people adopted him, when, what he looks like." He reached into the top drawer and withdrew his checkbook. Luthor wrote out a check and handed it across to Art. The ex-policeman took one look at all the zeros and nearly fell out of his chair.

Lex smiled. "See that part of it gets back to your source; we might need his or her help again if this lead doesn't pan out. Use the rest of it for your trip to Central City."

Sandoval sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile. "I don't have to go to Central City."

Luthor regarded him with raised eyebrows. Art could tell he was mildly surprised. And more than a little annoyed.

"Oh, really? Enlighten me."

Art grinned. It was nice to have the upper hand with a Luthor, even if just for a moment. It wasn't something he ever expected to have again and he wanted to savor the moment.

"I don't have to go to Central City because the boy's living here in Metropolis."

"Clark? Did you get the pie on the counter?"

"Yeah, Mom." Clark let the screen door close behind him with a thump. He carefully balanced one of his mom's apple pies as he went down the porch steps.

His parents were already in the truck, and Clark squeezed into the front seat with them.

Jonathan Kent sniffed appreciatively. "Wow, that smell good," he said hopefully.

Between her husband and son Martha Kent laughed. "Don't worry-I made an extra one for us. I just hid it until dinner so you two wouldn't demolish it.

Clark grinned. Now that she had a job his mom hadn't had much time for baking, and he and his father both sorely missed her muffins and pies. So did the Talon: Lana Lang had told him food sales were down now that they no longer featured organic apple pie on the menu. But his mom seemed happy, and Clark didn't want to ruin things by making her feel guilty.

"I'm sure the Winters will really appreciate it," he offered as they pulled out of the driveway and onto the country road. Instead of heading east toward town they turned west and passed through acres of cornfields. Finally they came to a dirt road and pulled into a newly cleared lot.

Standing on the porch of his half-built house, Jim Winters waved at them. "Martha, Jonathan, glad you could come! And you brought Clark, too!"

"Place looks good, Jim," Clark's father nodded as his jumped out of the truck. The two men shook hands.

Mr. Winters glanced over his shoulder at the long, low structure. "I got the roof on before the snow flies, that's what counts," he chucked. "I figure I can work on the interior once the weather gets bad."

"I brought some dessert for you and Molly," Martha held out the pie with a smile.

"I'd say you shouldn't have, but I love your baking too much. Come inside and we'll have it with some coffee."

The Kents followed Mr. Winters into the house. Half unpacked boxes shared space with stacks of wood and rolls of insulation.

Molly Winters rose from her chair and smiled. "Welcome, welcome! Come into the kitchen-I made Jim finish that room first so we could at least have someplace to cook dinner."

The new kitchen was spacious and sunny, with an east-facing window. Clark's parents oohed and ahhed appropriately over everything. Mr. Winters drew water from an urn on the countertop, explaining the house hadn't yet been hooked up to the city's water supply and they were still drinking well water. That wasn't unusual this far out of town; Clark's house had a well in the backyard. Jonathan had carefully boarded it up when Clark was little so he and Pete could play outside safely. Mr. Winters set the coffee brewing as Mrs. Winters served the pie. The five of them sat down around the table.

"Well, Jim, you said you'd build the house of your dreams and by god if you didn't do it," Jonathan laughed around a forkful of apples.

"And it only took me twenty years," the other man grinned. "But I figured if we waited any longer there wouldn't be any point in building. We got a fair deal on our old place, and we got the lot for a song because with the down slope it's too hard to farm."

"I helped put in the windows," Molly said proudly. "And my dad's out here nearly every weekend, too."

Martha patted her friend's hand. "I hope you're not overdoing it, Molly."

"I feel fit as anything, Martha, really I do. The dialysis is only once a week now, and Dr. Sims says I'm doing just fine."

"Her pop and I are looking out for her health, don't you worry," Jim grinned. "Diabetes hasn't slowed my Molly down one bit."

"Good thing, too, what with the extra hours Jim's putting in at Luthor-I mean, LexCorp." Molly laughed. "Can't get used to that new name."

"The young Luthor's got big plans," Jim explained. "Wants to expand, and I figure if I put in a little overtime now the bills won't stack up quite as high this year."

"Amen to that," Jonathan nodded. Clark knew his dad was thinking of his own stack of bills at home. His mom's salary was only now starting to make a dent in them, but it would be years before they were in the black again.

"Has Brody seen the new house yet?" Clark asked politely. Brody Winters had been a few years ahead of him in school, and was now down at Kansas State.

"Not yet, but he's excited about it, too. Wanted to come and help for a few weeks but I told him to focus on his studies," Molly smiled. "He still needs to keep his grades high so he won't loose his scholarship."

Like most local families, Jim Winters' job as a forklift driver and mechanic out at the plant didn't leave the family with a lot of extra income. Fortunately his only child had been smart enough to earn a scholarship to college. Clark crossed his fingers that when the time came he'd be able to do the same. He couldn't bear it if he made things more difficult for his folks then they already were. He owed them so much already--he'd only recently begun to realize how much.

His mother must have sensed his thoughts, because she patted his arm. "If there's anything we can do to help, let us know, Molly. Clark and Jonathan and I would be glad to help."

"Oh, no, Martha, you must have your hands full working for Mr. Luthor. How's that going, by the way?"

"Just fine."

Jonathan frowned a bit as the Winters smiled politely. No one in town liked Lionel Luthor, and a lot of people were surprised Jonathan Kent had let his wife work for him. Of course, those people really didn't know Martha very well. Once she made up her mind about something she was unmovable.

Having recently learned why his father disliked Lionel Luthor so much, Clark knew why Martha's job bothered Jonathan so much. It had nothing to do with a lack of apple pies or even what other people thought. His dad didn't trust Lionel Luthor, for good reason. Clark was relieved that so far things were going smoothly enough. He couldn't stand it when his parents fought.

"Clark, would you like another piece? I forgot how you young men eat!" At Molly's laughing exclamation Clark looked down at his now empty plate. He smiled, his face turning a little red as the adults around him laughed. He hadn't even realized he'd finished eating. But he was never one to look a gift horse (or extra dessert) in the mouth, so he held out his plate.

"Yes, please," he smiled.

"A.J.! Get up-we're late!"

Catherine Carter pounded on the door to her younger brother's room until he stuck his head out the door. The kid blinked at her.

"Wha?"

"You must have hit the snooze button again-it's 7:45. And you've got a serious case of bed head."

"Oh, man!" A.J. groaned and disappeared back into his room; she could hear him frantically tossing clothes around in the search for something to wear. She hoped he at least found something clean.

In the kitchen she hastily filled two tall travel mugs with hot coffee. When her brother emerged, in rumpled clothes and with his backpack slug over one shoulder, she gave him one.

"Breakfast of champions. I'll drop you at school before I go to the hospital. You should just make homeroom."

Taking a long draw from the mug, A.J. nodded. "Thanks." He grimaced. "Mornings like this I sure miss Annie."

His sister laughed at the mention of their parents' housekeeper and cook. "Yeah, well, I'm sure she doesn't miss kicking us both out of bed every morning. Maybe she can finally sleep in." She grabbed her keys from the bowl on the table and her own bags and followed A.J. out into the hall and down the stairs. She unlocked her car at the curb and tossed her things in the backseat.

A.J. was still waxing rhapsodic. "Remember when Annie would make waffles? Or those little crescent roll things with all the melted butter?"

"Yeah, cholesterol is not in that woman's vocabulary."

"Spoken like a newly-minted doctor, Cate. Hey, can I drive?"

"No way." Catherine went around to the driver's side while her brother reluctantly climbed in the passenger seat.

"You never let me drive," he grumbled.

"Because I don't want to die."

A.J. opened his blue eyes widely. "Excuse me, who was it who taught me how to drive?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up about that already. You sure you got everything?" The boy patted his backpack. "Packed last night, right after Mom called. She made me promise to make things easier for you now you're a, and I quote, 'single mother.'"

"Did Amber really call me that?" Catherine laughed. "Just think-I got the responsibility of a kid without any of the fun part first."

"Gross." A.J. made a face. "Anyway, I probably saved us, like, a whole five minutes."

"I'm impressed," his sister grinned, turning the key in the ignition.

"Now let's see if I can live up to my temporary parental responsibilities and get you to school."

As the car engine roared to life in the cold air they pulled away from the curb. In the morning rush neither of them had noticed the car parked across the street, or the telephoto lens that had captured their every move.

"Normally the hospital doesn't encourage our staff to have visitors, Mr. Luthor. But of course for you we're happy to make an exception." Mr. Caruthers, Head of Administration for Metropolis General Hospital, glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "How did you say you knew Dr. Carter?"

"Our families are acquainted," Lex offered. In more ways than one, he thought to himself as he followed the other man down one of the gleaming halls of the hospital.

"She's the most promising of our first year residents," the administrator continued. "Came with glowing recommendations. Of course, as you know Metropolis General hires only the best."

Lex smiled cynically at the sales pitch. Of course Caruthers was more than happy to accommodate his request to meet with Catherine Carter. After all, the hospital featured the state-of-the-art Lillian Luthor Pediatric Ward. LuthorCorp had donated more money to the hospital over the years than Lex could remember. Just another one of his father's charitable projects, with a hefty tax break on the side. Lionel never did anything just for show-there was always a hidden agenda. Always.

Lex thought again of the pictures Art Sandoval had produced at their last meeting. He had been struck by the young man's smile, the way he seemed to interact with his sister in the photographs, as if the two of them were close. But most of all he'd been struck by the fact that Andrew Carter looked like Lionel Luthor. Same pointed chin, same unruly head of brown hair, same wide, smooth brow.

With the information Sandoval provided it hadn't been too hard for Lex to fit the pieces together. In their one conversation about Lucas Lionel had said he'd placed the boy with a "suitable family." He'd laughed at Lex's suggestion that his son would ever have been given to the Kents. No, Lionel might not have wanted the child. But his ego hadn't allowed him to surrender Lucas to any family he considered beneath him in social standing.

Henry Carter had been educated at Princeton, graduating the same year as Lionel Luthor. The scion of an old, wealthy banking family, Carter had returned to a quiet, private life in Central City while Lionel had built LuthorCorp into one of the richest multinational corporations in the world. The Luthor fortune now outstripped the Carter's many times over. But when Lionel had needed to find a place for his illegitimate son, he'd turned to his old acquaintance. Henry Carter's reputation was impeccable; no one would have dared suggest the adoption of his son wasn't on the up and up. Lionel would have been able to reassure himself the child would be raised in surroundings almost--almost-befitting a Luthor. And Lionel had made sure that the paper trail would lead, not to the Carters, but to the Kents.

It had all been quite smoothly done, really. If Lex wasn't so angry he would have complimented the old man on his ingenuity.

Of course Lex didn't have hard proof of any of it. Yet.

"This is the staff lounge for our doctors, Mr. Luthor. The nursing staff has their own the next floor down."

The administrator looked pitifully hopeful for some feedback from his patron, so Lex nodded approvingly.

Beaming, Caruthers opened the door. The lounge was spacious, with windows that let in some of the day's fading sunlight. But clearly the doctors weren't big on housekeeping. Newspapers and magazines lay strewn around the room on chairs and tables, and a large ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts. The only people on the room were two male doctors, who hurried out of the room as soon as they saw their boss, and a young woman who was putting things away in a battered metal locker. She spared them only a glance, nodding politely.

Caruthers gestured in her direction and cleared his throat. "Well, I guess I'll leave you now. Please let me know if there's anything else I can do for you, Mr. Luthor."

"Of course. Thank you for your time."

When the door closed behind the administrator, Lex turned his attention to the other person in the room. "Dr. Carter?"

The young woman glanced up with a frown. Dressed in street clothes, she was trying to fold her scrubs and white coat.

"Yes?"

"Catherine Carter?"

The frown deepened."Yes. Did you need something? I'm off duty as of ten minutes ago."

"No, I wanted to speak to you, if you have a moment. My name is Lex Luthor."

The woman's dark blue eyes widened a bit, and she stopped struggling with the ugly green fabric. She looked at him skeptically.

"As in...?" She trailed off, but pointed at the ceiling in the general direction of the pediatric ward.

"That's right."

"Oh." She still seemed puzzled, but obviously didn't want to offend a potential donor. "What can I do for you?"

"I believe you and my father are acquainted."

She shrugged. "Not really, no. But I believe he knew my stepfather, Henry Carter. I may have met him once or twice."

The doctor went back to sorting through her locker until she produced a backpack and a set of keys.

"I was very sorry to hear Mr. Carter had passed away."

"Thank you, I guess." She regarded him steadily for a moment, but when he didn't continue she sighed.

"Look, Mr. Luthor, I don't want to be rude but I've been on my feet for the last eighteen hours and I'd really like to go home. So if you have a point, I'd appreciate it if you'd get to it."

Lex smiled. "I wanted to talk to you about your brother."

"A.J.?" Clearly alarmed, she slammed the locker shut. "What is it? What's wrong?"

A.J., huh? It was as good a name as any, he guessed.

"I'm sure he's just fine," he soothed. "I didn't mean to upset you. But this is rather important, and it does concern him."

She set down her backpack on the table.

"I'm sorry. Please, go on."

"It's rather complicated, I'm afraid, and there's no really easy way to explain. Andrew-A.J.-is adopted, correct?"

"He is."

"You might not be aware of this, but a few months ago he sent an application to an organization that helps adoptees locate their birth parents."

Catherine pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. "Of course I'm aware of it-he's still a minor, so I had to sign it." She rested her chin in her hand. "How did you know about that?"

Lex took the chair opposite her.

"For some months now I've been trying to locate a child given up for adoption. Lucas Luthor."

She raised her eyebrows. "A relative?"

"My half-brother."

Frowning again, the doctor shook her head. "Wait, you think A.J. might be this...Lucas?"

"Lucas Luthor was born on August 4, 1986, here in Metropolis." Lex could tell by the way she blanched slightly that she recognized the date.

"Unfortunately, I don't know any more about him than that, but your brother is the closest I've come so far."

"There are dozens of boys-maybe hundreds-- born in a city this size every day." She smiled ruefully. "I've helped deliver some of them. The odds that A.J. is who you're looking for..."

"But not dozens of boys adopted into families connected to my own," Lex corrected. He leaned forward a bit.

"Did your parents ever say anything to either of you about A.J.'s birth parents?"

Catherine was thoughtful for a long moment.

"Only that he was born here. Of course, A.J. was only ten when Henry died, but still..." She frowned at his expression. "And believe me, if my mother knew anything about A.J.'s biological parents she would have told him by now. Amber doesn't keep secrets very well."

Lex sat back in his chair. Henry Carter was no longer alive to ask about his son's adoption. Even if he had been, the odds that he would have been honest with Lex were slim. Lionel refused to admit Lucas was even alive. That left him with only one other recourse.

"There's one way we can be sure. I want A.J. to have a DNA test."

Dr. Carter stood up. "Look, maybe my brother is the kid you're looking for, but it's far more likely that he isn't. Either way I can't make a decision like this for him."

Lex thought again of the photographs. She had seemed genuinely fond of Andrew, and he had to admit that if their roles were reversed he would be just as concerned about possibly turning the young man's life upside down.

"I didn't expect that you would. But I want you to talk to him. Tell him what I've told you, and see if he's willing to take the test. If so, we'll both take it, and then we'll be certain." Lex stood, too, and gave her his card.

"This is very important to me," he explained in a softer tone. "I don't want to disrupt A.J.'s life any more than I have to. But I may have a brother out there, and I won't rest until I've found out what happened to him."

She studied the card for a long moment.

"And if he is your brother? What then?"

Lex shook his head. "Let's see what the test results say first. Then he and I can decide where to go from there."

Catherine put the card in her pocket.

"Look, I won't make any promises. But I will talk to him."

He nodded. "I'd appreciate it. Please let me know as soon as he's reached a decision." He walked to the door, then turned and smiled. "It was nice meeting you, Dr. Carter. I hope we'll meet again sometime soon."

"Clark, hand me the bucket of water, would you?" Pete Ross barely glanced up from where he was scrubbing his car's white wall tires.

With a grin, Clark handed the bucket to his friend, deliberately sloshing a lot of the water over the rim.

The other boy stood up, pulling his sopping wet t-shirt away from his body. "Oh, man. You're dead now, Kent. This is war." Pete picked up the soapy sponge and hurled it at him, but Clark sidestepped it easily. "Hey, no super speed stuff, Clark. That's cheating."

"Yeah? I didn't hear you call the rules."

"My driveway, my rules," Pete grinned.

"When I gave up part of my Saturday to help you wash your car? That's gratitude."

"You're helping me because this is the closest you've got to your own set of wheels, and you know it," Pete teased. Both boys knew perfectly well Pete had gotten his car only out of sheer luck: his oldest brother Jim had bought the car in high school, lovingly restoring it to its 1960s glory in auto shop. But now Jim was the proud father of two, and the car was too small for his growing family. So he had entrusted it to the care of his youngest brother. With threats of dire consequences if Pete didn't take good care of it. Hence the weekly washing.

"Hit a man when he's down, why don't you. I'm still mad about that truck Dad wouldn't let me have."

Pete rolled his eyes. "Let it go, man. That was, like, a year ago. And nothing but bad mojo could come from something a Luthor gave you. Trust me on this one."

Clark bit his lip before he jumped to Lex's defense. His continuing friendship with Lex remained a big sore spot with Pete, one that he tried not to push.

"Maybe now that my mom's working we can save up for another truck," he suggested instead.

"And speaking of working moms, here comes the esteemed Judge Ross." Both young men stepped aside as Pete's mother swung her Ford sedan into the driveway.

Kate Ross, an attractive woman Martha Kent's age, smiled at both of them as she got out of the car with a stack of papers in her arms. "Will you two ever get through a car wash without throwing water at each other? Honestly, you'd think you were both still eight years old."

"Hey, Mom." Pete blushed slightly when his mother kissed him on the cheek.

"Working on a Saturday, Mrs. Ross? Is that legal?" Clark teased.

She kissed him, too. "Oh, as usual the county's running a backlog of cases. Just doing my duty by my constituents."

"C'mon, Mom, you get elected by a landslide every time. I don't think your constituents would care if you took the weekend off."

"I'm a constituent, and I don't mind," Clark offered.

Pete grinned. "See?"

"Yes, yes, you're both very amusing, but I need to get dinner started."

Retrieving the bucket, Pete shook his head. "Dad's got it covered, Mom. Since he actually took the day off and all."

Judge Ross' relief was visible. "Oh, good. I've been wracking my brain all the way home trying to come up with something to feed you two."

"Us three," her son corrected. "Dad invited Clark, too."

"That's nice," she said absently. "Well, maybe I can set the table or something. Go easy with the water, boys; we don't need another drought." The two friends watched the Judge disappear into the house.

"Has your mom come home looking that tired yet, Clark?" Pete said absently.

Clark shook his head. "Not yet. But her job's not as tough. She only has to put up with Lionel Luthor. Yours has to fight for truth and justice and all that. Man, I'd hate having to make those kinds of decisions."

"Then never go into law, Clark. Stick with Chloe and be a newspaperman. Or marry Lana and run the Talon. But stay far away from the courtroom. Believe me, with two lawyers for parents I hear more about what's just and what isn't than any guy should have to put up with."

The taller boy grinned. "C'mon, Pete, don't be so negative. I thought law was kind of a tradition in your family."

"Yeah, maybe, but you won't catch me doing it. No way do I want that kind of pressure."

Clark nodded. "Uh huh."

"I'm totally serious. If you ever catch me in law or politics I give you my permission now to crush my skull. You'd be doing me a favor."

Shaking his head, Clark refilled the bucket with water from the hose. Pete had always had a tendency to play down how smart he was, probably because he was the youngest of five very accomplished, very smart kids. Pete had opted to become the funny one instead. Clark knew he'd be great at whatever he chose to do in life. Even if what he chose to do was to become yet another Ross lawyer. Or even another Judge Ross. He couldn't quite picture his friend doing something that dignified. But then, you never knew.

A.J. stared at his reflection in the mirrored elevator doors. The same reflection he'd seen every morning stared back at him. Like most adopted kids he's always wondered idly where his nose had come from, what side of the family had passed down their eye and hair colors to him. But now that he had a shot at finding out, he wanted nothing more than to run screaming in the other direction.

"Are you ok?" His sister asked, glancing over at him. "You look a little queasy."

"I feel a little queasy," he retorted as the elevator slid to a stop. "How would you feel if Jack Thibodaux suddenly reappeared in your life?"

At the mention of her biological father, Catherine frowned. "Surprised. Shocked." Then she smiled a bit. "And maybe a little nauseated."

"See? Now you have an idea how I feel."

They both stepped out into the small lobby. "Plush, isn't it?" Catherine offered in a hushed tone.

He wished he was in a better mood to appreciate being in the landmark Armory Building. It was in his art history textbook at school, for god's sake. He should have brought his sketchpad to pick up some of the interior details. But, then, he hadn't been thinking too clearly ever since his sister had sat him down and told her about her meeting with Lex Luthor.

A.J. had never really expected anything to come of his first, tentative search for information about his adoption. Searching, even with the approval of his mother and sister, still felt vaguely disloyal, and the last thing he wanted was to find out that his birth parents didn't want to hear from him. That was why he'd only written to a few places. Just to see. It had never occurred to him that he might turn out to have another sibling-a brother-out there.

Be careful what you wish for; you might get it, his mother liked to say. He had never appreciated the wisdom of that saying until now.

"Let's get it over with," his sister suggested. "Then you'll feel better."

He wasn't sure he agreed, but he allowed himself to be towed to the double doors. No sooner did she knock than the doors swung open and a man in a suit greeted them.

"Dr. Carter, Mr. Carter. Please come in." Catherine glanced over at her brother and shrugged, following the man into the apartment.

Both of them took in the enormous living room, with its expensive leather furniture and sweeping views. Carefully lit paintings decorated the two interior walls, and A.J. was pretty sure those were in his art history textbook, too. Unfortunately he couldn't think straight enough to remember the artists' names.

"Dr. Carter, I'm pleased to see you again." A younger man detached himself from the two other people in the room and approached them. He and Catherine shook hands, and then he turned with a smile to A.J.

Catherine smoothed over the brief silence. "A.J., this is Lex Luthor. Mr. Luthor, this is my brother, A.J." He wasn't sure, but he thought he detected a slight edge in Cate's voice at the word 'brother.' A.J. nodded politely, unable to think of anything to say.

"I'm pleased to meet you, A.J. I've heard a great deal about you."

"Hey," was all he could come up with in response.

Since his brain seemed to be failing him, A.J. opted to study Lex. Catherine had given him a pretty accurate description of the Luthor heir. Tall, but not much taller than him or Cate. Lean, with expensive-looking dark clothes. His bald head would certainly make him stand out in a crowd, although in a weird way it seemed to suit him. What really struck A.J. about him, however, were his eyes: a pale shade of blue, one that could look green or gray depending on the light. Sort of the shade of blue you'd get when a lake iced over in winter. A.J. had spent a lot of time thinking up an analogy for that color, because his eyes were the same shade.

"This is my personal physician, Dr. Means," Lex gestured to a dark haired man, "and Mr. White is one of my lawyers." The man who had opened the door nodded.

"Why do we need a lawyer?" Catherine asked.

"Oh, just in case, Dr. Carter," White smiled.

His sister was never one to be put off with a pat answer to a question. "Just in case what?" she frowned.

A.J. squeezed his sister's arm. "Don't worry about it, Cate. Let's just get it over with, ok?"

She gave him a long look from under her lashes, but finally let the matter drop.

"I'm sure that as a physician herself your sister has explained the procedure to you," Dr. Means spoke up. "Yes."

"Of course, these tests are usually easier with a sample from a parent, but since that isn't possible in this case I've already taken a sample from Mr. Luthor. That will be compared to yours for any genetic similarities."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why that wasn't possible-last he'd heard Lionel Luthor wasn't dead-but A.J. held back. Odds were they weren't related anyway, so what difference would it make?

"Got it." He sat in the chair next to where the doctor had laid out a series of long cotton swabs and other paraphernalia. In retrospect the whole thing seemed anti-climactic--just a few sweeps with a swab against the inside of his mouth and it was over.

"That's it?"

"That's it." Dr. Means carefully placed the sample into a glass tube.

"Results might take several days, so if I were you I'd go home and relax."

A.J. could have slugged him. How was he supposed to relax when he was this close to finding out who his birth parents were? Was this guy his brother? Or would he have to go back to wondering where he'd come from? He must have been scowling, because his sister spoke up.

"I'm sure you'll let us know as soon as you can. I guess we can go, then."

A.J. stood up, and Luthor looked at him seriously.

"Thank you for agreeing to do this, A.J. I appreciate it."

"No problem. I guess it's the only way to know for sure, right?"

"I guess so," the other man nodded. A.J. had never felt so uncomfortable in his life, and he knew everyone else in the room felt the same way. The whole thing was so ridiculously awkward he almost laughed. Almost.

He politely shook hands with Lex, and then the lawyer, White, escorted them out again. It wasn't until they were back in the gleaming elevator that Cate spoke up again.

"Well?"

"He has my eyes. Or I have his. Or something like that."

His sister laid a gentle hand on his arm. "I know. I saw it, too.

"Clark, are you up there?"

At the sound of the voice calling up the stairs, Clark sat up on the old couch. "Yeah, Lex. What's up?"

Still dressed for work, his friend appeared at the top of the loft stairs. "Hi, Clark. How's it going?"

The younger man pointed to the stack of books on the old trunk he used as a coffee table. When his dad had built the new barn a few years ago, Clark had taken over the old one as his private space: part hangout, part study hall, and part refuge. "English lit test. George Eliot though Charles Dickens."

"The greatest hits of the nineteenth century." Lex picked up a copy of Silas Marner and idly thumbed through it. "Not one of my personal favorites, although art does imitate life."

As he often did with Lex's more cryptic comments, Clark let that one go. "Long time no see. I hear you're pretty busy out at the plant."

"We're cleaning out Level 3 so we can use the space. Since my father has refused to tell me what was going on down there we're not sure what exactly we might run into in terms of contamination. It's been taking a lot more time and effort than it otherwise would." Lex tossed the book back on the trunk. "But in business expansion's the name of the game."

"Rome wasn't built in a day, Lex," Clark counseled.

"No, but the Visigoths managed to destroy it almost that fast," his friend countered. He sat down in a ratty old chair opposite the couch. "There's a lesson in there, somewhere."

Clark raised his eyebrows. "Never invite barbarians over for a house party?"

The lame comment got the reaction he was looking for-Lex laughed. "Maybe. Listen, Clark, I actually didn't drop by to discuss world history or your English exam."

At his friend's serious expression Clark dropped the levity. "Sure-what's up?"

Lex looked at him steadily. "I need some advice." "You need advice? From me?"

Up until this point, Lex had always been the one giving the advice-about girls, about parents. About life. Lex had crammed a lot of living into his twenty-three years. Clark shrugged.

"I can't promise I'll come up with anything brilliant, but I'll do my best."

"Clark, what would you do if your biological parents suddenly showed up? Not like the Rachel Dunlevy thing-your real parents. What would you say to them? What would you want to know?"

Taking a long breath, the younger man thought for a moment. "It's kind of hard to say, Lex. I mean, I've thought about what I would do, and say, but until it actually happened...I guess I'd want to know who they were. What kind of people, I mean. And why they gave me up."

Lex nodded. "And if they weren't what you expected?"

For a moment Clark's heart nearly stopped. Of course his parents wouldn't be like other parents. They couldn't be. But he knew that wasn't what Lex meant. "I guess I'd still want to know."

He watched as Lex stood and paced the length of the loft, and waited. He didn't have to wait long.

"I think I may have located Lucas," Lex said shortly.

"So he isn't dead?" Clark frowned.

"I never believed he was. That was just a diversionary tactic. Classic Lionel."

"Wow." If he lived to be a hundred Clark didn't think he'd ever understand the complicated dynamic of the Luthor father and son. He couldn't believe a parent would ever lie about something so important. He couldn't believe Lionel would have turned his back on his own son. But apparently he'd already done both.

Lex laughed at the expression on Clark's face. "Don't let my father's behavior shock you, Clark. This lie is a little more epic in scale than most of them, but otherwise it's not out of character."

"I guess not. Have you met him? Your, uh, brother?"

"Yes. I'll be going into Metropolis tomorrow morning to get the results of the DNA tests. I'm having two independent labs run them, so the answer should be conclusive."

Lex kept picking up things and then setting them down again as he spoke. Clark couldn't remember ever seeing his friend so uncomfortable. "You already sound certain," he suggested.

"I am." Lex examined some of the photos Clark had tacked to the wall. "For one thing all the facts line up. And he looks too much like my father for it to be a coincidence."

"So where has he been all this time? Does your father know you've found him?" Clark had a million questions, but those seemed like pretty good ones to start with.

"Apparently he has been living quite happily with an adoptive family in Central City. A family hand-picked by my father, might I add. It even seems the old man may have periodically dropped in on him to see how he was getting along."

Clark frowned. "That's pretty creepy."

"Tell me about it. I'm not sure if the adoptive parents knew who A.J.-that's what they named him-really was. And, no, I haven't yet had the pleasure of telling my father about it. I wanted to have the test results in hand first." Lex smiled grimly. "He thinks he hid him pretty well, but obviously not well enough."

Clark held up a hand. "Wait a minute, Lex. Is this about your brother, or your father?"

Lex's smiled faded. "Sorry. Guess I was gloating there for a minute. But it's A.J.'s feelings I'm concerned about, not my father's."

"About how to tell him? I guess just be direct. You're good at that."

"I can tell him we're brothers." Lex sat back down. "As you know I kind of like the idea of having a brother. And he seems like a pretty cool kid."

Grinning, Clark recalled how pleased Lex had been when he'd thought the two of them might be siblings. "I remember."

"But I don't like the idea of dragging him into the Luthor family, not when my father has refused to even acknowledge his existence. And I don't even know where to begin explaining who is mother is, or the circumstances surrounding his birth."

Clark shook his head. "He might not even want to know all that-not yet, anyway. He'll have enough to deal with as it is. I know I would, if I were in his shoes. I'm sure, when the time comes, you'll think of something to say." He smiled. "And maybe your dad will change his mind about Lucas and be happy you've met him."

"Maybe." Lex's expression belied the optimistic word. "Clark, Lionel's done everything he could to keep my brother a secret, and I'm not even sure why. My mother's dead, Rachel Dunlevy's institutionalized. But he still won't admit he knows anything about what happened to Lucas. It's a pretty sordid story to have to tell." He shook his head. "I don't have your eloquence when it come to dealing with people, Clark. And my father sure as hell doesn't."

"Hey, you found Lucas on your own. It's good news, remember?" Clark leaned back on his sofa with a grin. Lex Luthor as big bother. That should be really interesting.

Catherine tossed aside the copy of the Daily Planet she'd been trying to read all day and glanced at the clock. She hadn't yet gotten used to having a full day off in the middle of the week. As a medical student she had adapted to working long hours, but the down time...

Glancing around the apartment it was obvious she should devote some of that time to cleaning: the sink was full of dishes and the laundry hamper was overflowing. But she couldn't focus long enough to read a newspaper, and she wasn't in a mood to even attempt housekeeping.

Thank god A.J. was at school. That would keep his mind off things, for a little while, anyway. The last two days he'd been edgy and out of sorts, but when she'd tried to get him to talk about it he'd just shrugged her off. But she knew he kept wondering what the results of the DNA test would show.

She had warned her brother that searching for his birth family might prove futile. After all, she had searched for her birth father on and off for years, with no success. It hadn't occurred to her to warn him about turning up unpleasant secrets that might be better off left alone. But the very fact that it was Lex, and not Lionel, Luthor who had approached her told her a great deal about where the two members of Luthor family stood on the issue.

Her parents had brought A.J. home when he was only a toddler. Like all siblings they had their differences, but Cate would do anything to protect him. So far she felt she'd done a pretty good job, right down to letting him move in when he'd been accepted to Metropolis' elite Dallek School. But she had to admit she now felt completely at sea.

When she had first told him about Lex Luthor's visit to the hospital, and his suggestion that A.J. might be his half-brother, A.J. had seemed to understand the possible implications.

"After all," he had told her, "happily married couples don't usually give their kids up for adoption."

Sadly, A.J. was right-for the Lionel Luthors of the world, the regular rules of morality and fidelity didn't apply. Growing up on the fringes of that world, Catherine had seen the consequences of such behavior first hand in bitter divorces and ugly paternity battles. Fortunately, her mother and Henry had been the rare exception. Amber's second marriage had been blissful as her first had been disastrous, and Henry had been a devoted husband and father. Even now, six years later, Cate could still feel the hole his death in a car accident had left in their family. She had tried to stand in his place, and give the advice she felt he would have, but at moments like this she realized how little her presence could compensate for his absence.

Seeing Lex Luthor and her brother side by side had been an extremely disorienting experience. There was no strong resemblance, accept in eye color, and that could be pure coincidence. But it had been strange to think this other person might be connected to her brother in a way she, for all their years growing up together, was not.

And ever stranger to think A.J.'s birth father might have been right there in the shadows, and at times even in their house, all along. Catherine left her mug of cold coffee by the sink and went down the short hallway to her room. She had had to move to a bigger apartment so A.J. could have his own room, but at least her trust fund kept her from being a slave to Metropolis' astronomical rents.

Digging around in the closet she found what she was looking for-her childhood photo album and a shoebox full of unorganized prints. She had optimistically brought the prints with her when she'd moved from Central City, thinking she would find the time to put them all into an album. The reality of working as a first-year resident at a public hospital had soon knocked that idea out of her head.

Now, however, she carried the album and overstuffed box back into the living room. Curling up on the red sofa she began paging through the album, studying the pictures. She paid careful attention to the photographs taken at parties, or on vacations. As she had told Lex, Catherine could vaguely remember meeting Lionel Luthor a few times, but she hadn't paid him any more attention than any of her stepfather's other business associates. Henry had preferred the informality of conducting business out of his office at home instead of at the main offices of the Bank of Central City downtown. A southerner born and bred, Amber was a famous hostess, and it hadn't been at all unusual for Henry's friends and associates to stay with them in their big and tastefully decorated home. But since the album contained mostly photos she'd taken herself, it wasn't very enlightening. She had to laugh at the evolution of her photographic abilities-many of the older shots were out of focus or had cut the heads off their subjects.

Catherine thought briefly about asking Annie, who was still looking after the house in Central City, to mail her the rest of the family albums, but quickly abandoned the idea. Annie and her husband, Greer, had been part of A.J.'s life from the beginning as well, and there was no way Cate make her request without alarming them and having to do some very awkward explaining.

Instead she set the one album she had aside and dumped out the shoebox. Pictures and negatives fluttered all around her, since she hadn't bothered to put them in any particular order. Shots of her graduating high school were right next to baby pictures of A.J. She examined them all carefully anyway. Sorting them into chronological piles as best she could, she was halfway though the stack before she found what she was looking for.

A group of photos appeared to be from one of her mother's summer garden parties, because everyone was in casual dress and drinking what looked like iced tea. She obviously hadn't taken the photos, because she was in several of them, looking extremely uncomfortable in a white sundress. Henry was shaking hands with the mayor and his wife. Other shots showed her parents, and their other guests, and the elaborate buffet tables set up on what appeared to be their back lawn.

And one shot showed A.J., aged about five, next to a smiling man with long brown hair and a pointed chin.

Lionel Luthor.

She heard keys in the lock, and without thinking she hastily stuffed the photo under a sofa cushion.

A.J. came in, tossing his backpack on the floor, and immediately kicked off his shoes. She didn't bother to scold him, and instead cleared her throat.

"Hey, I didn't realize it was so late. How was school?"

A.J. shrugged. "O.k., I guess." He leaned on the back of the sofa and glanced over her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Cate shrugged. "Just...looking, I guess. Maybe I was feeling a little nostalgic. Under the circumstances."

Instead of getting angry at the oblique reference, A.J. smiled sadly. "Yeah, I guess I've been feeling kinda the same way. I've been trying to remember anything I can about my early childhood. It seems weird that I could have had this whole other life and not remember any of it."

His sister looked at him closely. "And?"

A.J. sat down next to her and propped his long legs on the coffee table. "And my first memories are the same as always: Dad carrying me piggyback; you playing with me in the yard. I can't think of anything that suggests I might have been this kid, Lucas." He frowned. "Lucas. Ugh. I don't even like that name."

"Even if you are-were-him, you would have been too young to remember anything," his sister consoled. She thought guiltily of the hidden picture. It was the kind of thing she'd been looking for, and yet strangely she felt no urge to reveal it. In fact, she wished with all her heart she hadn't found it.

Her brother pushed his hair out of his eyes. She'd been bugging him about getting a haircut, but he hadn't done it yet. He'd had the prettiest blond hair as a baby, almost as fair as her own, but it had rapidly darkened to brown. Brown like the man in the photograph. She shifted uncomfortably.

"I wish we could get a hold of Mom," A.J. continued. "She might know something we don't."

Relieved at the change of subject, Catherine shook her head. "Amber has always encouraged you to look for your birth parents some day. Just like she did with me and my father. If she had a bombshell like this she wouldn't have kept it a secret." Cate grinned. "But if it would make you feel better you can grill her again the next time she calls from Rangoon or Bangkok or wherever she's trying to 'find herself' at the moment."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," A.J. sighed. "I'm going to have to wait awhile for my answers, huh?"

"Maybe." Then and there she made a quick vow not to show A.J. the photograph until they knew for sure. Until he-and she-knew what they were up against.

She forced a smile. "But look at it this way--at least Lex Luthor has given you a shot at getting those answers."

Catherine could only hope that those answers didn't end up breaking her brother's heart. Or worse.

Lex stopped his Porsche at the curb and glanced up at the brick building where A.J. and his sister lived. It was a far cry from his penthouse, but pots of flowers on the front steps made it look cheerful. The quiet, tree-lined neighborhood of houses and apartment buildings struck him as the sort of place that would be big on lawn care. PTA meetings. That sort of thing.

He grabbed an envelope off the passenger seat and got out of the car. Double-checking the address the hospital had given him, he entered the building and went up the stairs to the second floor. He wondered idly why Catherine Carter hadn't chosen a more glamorous address. She was heir to a considerable fortune, both through the Carter family and from her birth father's family, and A.J. had a substantial trust fund of his own. Lionel had made certain that Lucas would never hurt for money.

At his knock the door swung open, and Catherine's face appeared."Oh, Mr. Luthor, hello."

He smiled. "It's Lex, please. I would have called, but, well..." He held up the envelope.

She instantly recognized what he meant. "Of course. Come in."

The apartment was spacious. It had been decorated with a mix of old and new furniture, photographs, and pieces of art. The effect should have been cluttered, but he found it rather charming. Of course, every place he'd ever lived had been carefully coordinated by expensive decorators. But he'd learned living in Smallville that real homes seldom looked like the pictures in magazines.

In the tiny dinning alcove, A.J. looked up from the piles of towels he was folding and frowned. "Saturday's laundry day around here," Cate explained with a wry smile.

"A.J., leave that for a moment, and come here, ok?"

Brother and sister stood together by the sofa, and Catherine nodded for Lex to proceed.

"A.J., I have the test results here." Lex offered the boy the envelope.

"You got them on a Saturday?" Catherine raised her eyebrows. "Money really does talk, I guess." Then she glanced at Lex's expression, and winced. "Sorry-that was uncalled for."

"It's all right."

The younger Carter shifted uncomfortably, eying the envelope as if it contained a live snake. "Do you know what it says?"

"No. I thought we should find out at the same time."

The boy brushed his hair out of his face. "That's fair, I guess." He took the envelope and broke the seal, removing a single folded sheet of paper. Lex and Catherine watched while he read it over. A.J.'s expression didn't change, except for a slight tightening of the skin around his eyes.

"What does it say?" His sister demanded.

The boy cleared his throat, and then neatly folded the paper back up. "Congratulations-it's a boy."

Lex hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until that moment. He did his best to smile as he processed the information. "Well, now we know, don't we?"

A.J. looked at his shoes. "Yeah, we do."

It was the moment Lex had hoped for, but now that it had arrived...What should he say to A.J.? His only experience with having a sibling had been his baby brother, Julian. But Julian had been only three months old when he'd died, not really a person in the true sense of the word. A.J. was already a teenager, a teenager with his own family, his own friends, his own mind. Where would they even start?

Catherine seemed to read his mind, because she smiled gently. "You know, I think that other load of laundry should be done about now-I'd better get down to the basement before someone swipes it."

A.J. looked at her rather desperately, but she grabbed the laundry basket and her keys and closed the front door firmly behind her.

"She's subtle, isn't she?" Lex asked.

The broke the ice a little-A.J. smiled.

"Look, A.J., I don't really know what do here," Lex admitted.

"I don't either," the younger man smiled sheepishly. "So, um, do you want some coffee? It's the one thing I know how to make."

Lex smiled. "Coffee would be fine."

A.J. would never have considered accepting Lex's invitation to Smallville if Lionel was there. But now, as he looked out the window as acres after acre of cornfields zipped by, he had to admit he was looking forward to it. Over the phone Lex had assured him Lionel had left for Metropolis that morning, and from there was heading to London to meet with doctors. He hadn't been in a limousine in years, and he'd forgotten how nice they were. Especially on a long trip. He leaned back on the plush seat and took a swig of the soda he'd found in the mini-fridge. Obviously the Luthors had had a little bit of customizing done, because there was also a television and a phone built into the console.

Well, when his brother did things, they were never halfway-he'd been learning that. The handful of times they'd gone to lunch, Lex had always arrived in one or another of his expensive cars and they'd always gotten the best table. It made A.J. wonder if maybe he wasn't wasting his money, letting it sit in a trust fund until he was twenty-one. But then, that had been his parents decision, not his own.

His parents. A.J. sighed. He still hadn't worked up enough courage to ask Lex for more details on his birth mother, and his mom hadn't had much more to tell him than Catherine had. Over a crackly long-distance phone line she'd only insisted she'd had no idea who either of them were, and expressed incredulity that he was related to the Luthors. He got the feeling Amber didn't have a very high opinion of Lionel Luthor, and wasn't too pleased with the results of her son's DNA test. She'd offered to come home, and it had taken the combined assurances of A.J. and Catherine to convince her that wasn't necessary.

Then there was the problem with the Luthors themselves. Lex had explained that finding his brother had been his own idea, not his father's. In fact, Lex had seemed to take a peculiar sort of pride that he hadn't yet shared the news with Lionel.

A.J. wondered what would happen when Lex's father did find out what his son had been up to, but truth be told he didn't really care. The more he thought about Lionel, the more determined he was not to have anything to do with him. It wasn't just because A.J. had been close to Henry Carter. It was also because he didn't think much of a man who'd pass off his illegitimate child for his friend to raise, and then lie to his son about where that child was. He was a little ashamed to admit it, but he couldn't even muster any sympathy for Lionel for going blind.

Of course Lionel probably wishes I was dead, he thought grimly to himself, so maybe what he told Lex wasn't entirely a lie.

The limo turned off the road and paused before a high gate. A security guard waved them through and they drove up a shady, tree-lined avenue. As they slowed to turn in to a circular drive, A.J. peered up at his brother's home. It made the huge house he'd grown up in look like a studio apartment. It also looked cold and gloomy, even against the blue Kansas sky.

Fortunately Lex was waiting for him in the stone entryway, and smiled as the car stopped and the driver opened A.J.s door.

"Glad you could make it." He glanced at his watch. "Two hours, forty minutes-record time from Metropolis. For the limo, anyway."

"But you've done it faster, right?" A.J. grinned.

"Maybe. Where are your bags?"

The younger man pointed at the overstuffed backpack slung on his shoulder. "This is it. I only have a week's break from school," he offered at Lex's skeptical look. "How many times will I need to change clothes? You didn't say you dress for dinner or anything."

"I don't," his brother laughed. "But if worse to comes to worse I can loan you a tux."

"There's nothing I love more than wearing a tux," A.J. retorted. "Hey, nice house, by the way."

He followed Lex through the heavy oak doors and into a cavernous hallway. He'd been right-it was cold. Oil portraits of depressing looking people starred down from the walls, and a suit of armor stood guard at the bottom of a massive staircase. "So where's Quasimoto?"

"He's in the dungeon with Frankenstein's monster," Lex grinned. "C'mon, I'll show you upstairs. And stick close so you don't get lost."

"Don't worry," he assured his brother. "I've got a great sense of direction. And I really hope you were kidding about the dungeon." Lex only smiled.

"I told the housekeeper to put you in the east wing; that's pretty much the only part of the upstairs I use. Of course, my father keeps a suite of rooms in the north wing."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, huh?"

"Not in our case, I'm afraid." Lex paused in front of a paneled door and opened it, stepping into a spacious room decorated in red. "How's this?"

A.J. gingerly set his backpack down on the oriental carpet. "Fine, I guess. Uh, where are you?"

Lex laughed. "Fourth door down, on the left. Why don't you leave your things here; the servants will unpack for you. We'll go down to the library and shot some pool."

"You don't have to work?" A.J. knew Lex was trying to establish his own business. His brother talked about LexCorp the way other people might talk about a new baby, even though so far it only consisted of one fertilizer factory. Lex hadn't admitted it, but A.J. had a feeling this, too, was tied up in his relationship with Lionel.

"No, I'm taking some time off," Lex assured him.

"Look, don't let me disrupt your routine or anything," A.J. said as he followed Lex back down the stairs. "Catherine's only condition for this visit is that I don't make a nuisance of myself."

"Don't worry about it. I promised her I'd take good care of you."

"'Take care of me'? That makes it sound like I'm six years old."

The library turned out to be a large space, open to a second floor gallery and dominated by stained glass windows. In the center of one window, he couldn't help but notice, someone had embedded the letter "L." "Nice touch. Very...medieval." A.J. offered.

"This is the oldest part of the house--seventeenth century, supposedly. Of course Lionel had a lot of it modified when he moved it here," Lex explained when he noticed A.J.'s frown. "If you believe him, this is my-our-ancestral home."

His brother sighed. "Lex, I won't lie to you, I'm still a little weirded out by this whole thing. And being here..."

"Doesn't help. I know." Lex took two pool cues down from the custom-made wall rack. "Just think of it as staying in an expensive, drafty hotel. That's what I do."

He held out a cue to his younger brother with a smile. "Now, do you want stripes or solids?"

"We need to come up with something sharp for next week's headline, guys," Chloe said as she leaned back in her chair. "'Lunch menu follows new nutritional guidelines'" just isn't going to cut it."

Clark rolled his eyes and took a sip of his latte. Chloe had decided to hold their twice-weekly staff meeting in the Talon so they could all refuel on caffeine before heading back to the office. But the news was the same.

"Nothing's shaking in town, Chloe," Pete answered. "For once we get five minutes of peace and quiet around here and you're complaining?"

"I'm only thinking of the good of the paper," Chloe retorted. "We have a reputation to uphold."

Clark didn't bother adding that the reputation was based largely around Chloe's meteor theories and the strange things that happened in town. It wasn't exactly Daily Planet material, although Chloe always had lots of facts to back up her stories. Stories that, unfortunately, sometimes got a little too close for comfort, like her digging into his adoption. He'd forgiven her for that, knowing she'd only wanted to help. But it still served as a useful reminder about being careful.

"Maybe Principal Reynolds is right and we should tone things down a little," Clark offered. "Most other high school papers don't feature investigative journalism as part of the regular routine."

"Clark, just because Reynolds has been on your case doesn't mean I'm going to turn the Torch into one of those bland teen rags that only report on the new cheerleaders' uniforms. The Torch is the one source of honest news in this burg, and it's our duty as the fourth estate to keep providing it."

"We could maybe do a follow-up," Pete suggested. "Revisit one of our past stories as a sort of 'where-are-they-now.'"

"I wouldn't want to be redundant." Chloe chewed on the tip of her pencil. "But that might work." She tried to flag down Lana, who was serving customers behind the bar.

"How about covering the tornado? You know, what's been rebuilt, what hasn't?" Clark offered.

"Snooze fest, man," Pete shook his head. "We need something flashier than that."

"Hey, I'm open to suggestions," Clark shrugged.

Chloe made another attempt to attract Lana's attention, and finally gave up and stood. "I'm in serious need of a refill. You guys want anything?" When they shook their heads she grabbed her mug and whirled around to head for the counter. As usual, however, she wasn't paying attention to where she was going and promptly collided with another patron. A tidal wave of coffee sloshed out of his cup and over his hand.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Chloe grabbed some napkins from their table and frantically dabbed at the young man's hand. "Did you get burned?" The boy smiled. Clark hadn't seen him around before, but something about that smile seemed vaguely familiar. "No. Fortunately for you it was iced coffee. Or else I'd have to sue," he laughed.

Chloe turned a becoming shade of pink. "I really am sorry. Let me buy you another one." She waved at Lana again, and this time the other girl saw her and hurried over.

"Is something wrong?"

"No..." the boy started, but Chloe quickly interrupted him.

"Lana, would you get him another iced coffee? I just spilled it all over him."

Lana eyed the black liquid splashed on the table and floor. "Sure. I'll get some more napkins, too. That was black with sugar, right?"

"Yeah, but you don't have to..." But Lana had already left.

"You've got to be quicker than that around here," Pete counseled. "Or these women will run right over you."

Chloe smiled at the newcomer. "Don't listen to him; Pete's always joking. I'm Chloe, and that's Clark over there."

"I'm A.J."

Clark instantly recognized the name, but fortunately Chloe knew nothing about the story. She only made a face.

"A.J. like the Backstreet Boy?"

"No, A.J. like my grandfather. Andrew, actually, but nobody calls me that."

"Hey, why don't you sit down?" Clark pulled out the chair next to him. "Unless you need to be somewhere."

"No, just killing some time 'til my ride shows up." A.J. accepted the chair, and Clark took a moment to examine him surreptitiously. He didn't look much like Lex, except around the eyes, but his smile had reminded Clark of his friend. As Lex had said, the boy did look like Lionel Luthor. Enough so that seeing them side-by-side would probably be enough for anyone to figure out their connection.

Clark hastily cleared his throat as Lana reappeared with fresh coffee. "Hey, Lana, how are things?"

She gave him that radiant smile that always turned his stomach upside down. "Good, Clark. Business is up again, as you can see."

"Don't let them run you off your feet, Lana," Pete counseled. "Happiness before profit, right?"

"Tell that to Lex," Lana laughed. "I'd better get back to the counter; I'll talk to you guys later."

"Keeping the Talon going means a lot to Lana," Chloe explained for A.J.'s benefit. "It was kind of her idea and she's worked really hard to keep it going."

"But Lex Luthor put up the money." Pete got the same expression he always had when speaking of the Luthors-as if he smelled something unpleasant. "You know who he is, right?"

Clark looked fearfully at the newcomer, but A.J. only smiled and sipped his drink.

"I do, actually. That's who I'm staying with here."

Chloe looked at him curiously. "Yeah? How do you know each other?" Clark seriously considered speeding across the room and pulling the fire alarm to put an end to Chloe's line of questioning, but A.J. answered calmly.

"Our fathers know each other."

"Oh." Chloe smiled. Pete looked like he wished he could slide his chair further away from A.J. out of sheer principle.

"So you're from Metropolis, then?" Chloe took a sip of her drink. "I'm from there, too."

"Yes and no. I've only lived in Metropolis a few months; I grew up in Central City."

"Ah, the Great White North," she joked.

A.J. grinned at her. "It isn't really that cold. At least, most of the time it isn't. Being on the lake can make it seem colder than it is."

"Where do you go to school?"

"Are we playing twenty questions?"

"I'm a journalist. I like to know things."

"Yeah? Where do you work?"

"The Smallville Torch, best high school paper in town."

"Only one, too," Pete interjected. He was still radiating hostility, and the longer A.J. talked to Chloe the more irritated he seemed to get.

"I go to a place called the Dallek School," the other boy offered. "Ever heard of it?"

Chloe whistled. "Sure. One of the kids on my old block used to go there. But you have to be, like, a genius to get in. Did you have to take an IQ test?"

A.J. ducked his head a little, clearly embarrassed by the line of questioning.

"Of course not. Those are totally unreliable. But I had to go through a couple of rounds of interviews, and even then I only got in this year."

"But you got in," Clark said. "That's pretty cool. So, um, where is Lex?" Clark knew so far the two had limited their contact to phone calls and a few lunches. He was more than a little surprised that Lex had taken the risk of bringing A.J. to Smallville. But then his mom always said Lex had the soul of a gambler.

"At the plant," the boy explained. "He lasted about a day and a half without checking in, so I told him to just drop me downtown and come and get me later. I didn't expect to find such a nice way to kill time, though."

He smiled, and Chloe blushed again. Pete stood abruptly and grabbed his jacket. "I forgot-I promised my mom I'd swing by the courthouse and help her out for awhile."

"Now? Pete, you haven't even finished your coffee," Clark frowned.

"Suddenly I'm not very thirsty anymore. I'll catch up with you guys later at the Torch." Pete grabbed his backpack and turned on his heel, leaving Chloe gapping after him.

"Wow, wonder what got into him all of a sudden?" She quickly turned her attention back to A.J. "So tell me more about your school. It must be awesome."

As the other two talked about school and about Metropolis, Clark finished his own drink gloomily. He had a pretty good feeling what had made Pete so angry. Pete had grown up hating the Luthors, and by proxy people who associated with them. And to see Chloe hanging on A.J.s every word the way she was must have been more than he could take. The Ross family had good reason for feeling the way they did, but Clark still hated to see his oldest friend get so upset.

He was just glad Pete didn't know who A.J. really was. Then things might have really gotten ugly.

In the reflection of the aquarium Catherine Carter smoothed her lapel. The invitation had been unexpected, to see the least, but at least she'd had a proper suit jacket in her locker to throw on.

The LuthorCorp offices were about what she would have expected: all polished granite and glass, just like the tower that housed them. The aquarium she couldn't quite account for, unless the decorator had thought it would make people more relaxed as they waited to be summoned into the inner sanctum. She couldn't really say it was working for her. And, surely, sharks would have been more appropriate than the multi-colored tropical fish now swimming mindlessly in their floor-to-ceiling enclosure.

"Dr. Carter? Mr. Luthor will see you now." A thin man in an expensive looking suit stood holding the door open for her, and she reluctantly followed his summons.

The spacious office was done in tasteful shades of blue and gray, with a breathtaking vista of downtown Metropolis outside the glass windows. A desk sat on one side, with chairs in front of it, but the room also boasted an expensive antique settee and two matching chairs, carefully coordinated into the room's color scheme. Lionel Luthor sat in one of the two chairs, and she was shown to the other one.

Luthor himself rose, leaning only slightly on his cane. "Dr. Carter, so glad you could come on such short notice." He held out a hand, and Catherine shook it politely. She took a moment to study him. He didn't look very different from what she remembered, although there was now gray in his beard and in his long hair. Dark glasses covered his wounded eyes. She knew the lack of eye movement that could follow total or partial blindness often distracted and upset sighted people; this was probably why Lionel had opted for the glasses. To at once cover his injury and enhance his competitive edge.

"Please, sit down. Charles, would you bring in the tea, please?"

"Yes, Mr. Luthor." The cadaverous looking servant hurried away.

"I hope Darjeeling will be all right," Luthor said with a smile as he resumed his seat. But he didn't give her a chance to answer. "It's been a very long time, hasn't it? The last time we met must have been at your stepfather's funeral."

Catherine sat down as well. "That's right."

"I'm told you look a great deal like your mother. She was a very beautiful woman."

"She still is," Cate corrected.

The servant reappeared with a bone china tea set on a tray. He laid out the teapot and all the accoutrements on a spindly-legged Louis XIV table next to the settee.

"And do you ever hear from your father?" Her host asked as he was given a cup of steaming brew.

"Milk or lemon, miss?" The cadaver asked.

"Neither, thank you." She reluctantly accepted a dainty cup. "And, no, I don't." She knew Luthor was needling her on purpose, but to what end she wasn't quite sure. But, as they said, the best defense was a good offense.

"Since you don't seem to have any qualms about asking me very personal questions, Mr. Luthor, let me ask you one. Did Henry know A.J. was your son?"

Luthor only smiled, and waved away the servant with his free hand. The other man promptly disappeared through a door at the far end of the room. "You're direct, aren't you? Something else you got from your mother. I must confess I always found Amber rather lacking in tact."

Catherine sipped her tea. "You didn't answer my question." She'd known men like Lionel Luthor her whole life, and she wasn't about to be intimidated by him.

Lionel smiled again. "What do you think?"

She was thoughtful for a long moment. "I don't think he did. He might have suspected it, but if he'd known for sure he would have told Amber. And sooner or later Amber would have told me."

Luthor drank his tea in enigmatic silence.

"I suppose you asked me here to discuss the situation with A.J."

"In a manner of speaking." Lionel set his cup down on the side table, carefully feeling for the edge so the cup wouldn't fall on the Aubusson carpet. "I understand you've been permitting your brother to spend time with my son."

Cate leaned back in the uncomfortable chair as best she could. "I have. They want to get to know each other. I don't see any harm in it."

"Ah, but there may be a great deal of harm in it, Dr. Carter. I'm afraid Alexander is, well, shall we say, unlikely to be a good influence on him." He rose and moved with confidence across what must be, to him, a familiar room, and stood facing the warm sun from the windows.

Catherine shook her head. "Mr. Luthor, I had to leave work to be here. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't be so cryptic."

Lionel folded his hands behind his back. "You may not believe this, but I considered your stepfather my friend. I know he thought very highly of you, and I'm sure you and your mother have done your best to raise Andrew as Henry would have wanted. I would hate to see Lex's irresponsible behavior undermine that." He moved back across the room to where she sat. "Dr. Carter, my son has spent most of his life getting into trouble. Only my considerable influence has kept him from the consequences of his actions."

Cate set down her cup and took a deep breath. "What kind of trouble?"

Smiling, Luthor gestured to the teapot. "Pour us both another cup, my dear, and I'll tell you."

Gabe Sullivan tucked his clipboard under his arm and stepped out into the gloomy sunshine. Around him, Lex Corp Plant No. 3, housed in its complex of buildings, hummed. He hadn't quite gotten used to the new name and logo, but he reckoned it would grow on him. The important thing was, he still had a job. And so did the several hundred other people who either worked in the plant or were directly dependant on it.

He checked to make sure the latest shipment of nitrates was on the loading dock. A dozen or so men were transferring the bags onto wooden pallets. It would take a small army of forklifts to move the bags down to the manufacturing part of the complex.

Gabe grinned. Most people thought fertilizer was just glorified animal offal. Maybe thirty years ago it had been, but now it was more high-tech chemicals than organic material. After all, that was why Lionel Luthor, the so-called "Pesticide King," had gotten into the business in the first place-it had been a convenient and profitable outlet for chemicals his other subsidiaries already produced. But handling those chemicals took a skilled and aware workforce, if accidents were to be avoided.

"Take it easy there," he advised one man as he heaved a bag onto the pallet. "Watch your back-we don't need any workman's comp claims around here."

"Ain't that the truth," another worker, Casey, smiled.

Gabe glanced around him and frowned. "Where's Jim Winters? He's transportation foreman; he should be supervising the move."

"Jim's in the bathroom, boss. Thinks it was something he ate," one of the other employees said with a grin.

A moment later, however, Winters himself appeared, looking pale and a little shaky.

"Jim, how are you feeling? I gotta say, you don't look too good."

"I'm fine, Gabe. Just a touch of something. It'll pass in a minute. Probably overdoing it on the new house, is all."

His supervisor frowned. "Well, if you get to feeling worse, go to the dispensary. Moving these bags isn't as important as your health." He thumbed through the papers on the clipboard. "I'd better get these rec forms up to Mr. Luthor."

"Is he here? Thought the dude was finally taking some time off," Casey complained.

"He's only in for an hour or two, just to check on things," Gabe explained cheerfully. Any other man would probably resent a boss who was around so much, but it wasn't in Gabe's nature to complain. And Lex Luthor actually listened to his suggestions, which was more than Lionel Luthor had ever done.

Gabe headed back to the main building that housed the offices, as far away from the chemical storage as was possible. The loading crew went back to work, but in minutes it became clear Jim wasn't fit to work. He leaned against the edge of the loading dock, breathing hard.

One of his men reached out to touch his clammy hand. "Jim, you're ice cold. Man, we'd better get you inside."

The other man shook his head, as if to clear it."No, I was fine this morning," he gasped. "I...I..."

While the other men looked on in horror, he slumped to the ground. Casey rushed to his side, waving frantically at the others. "Someone call 911-it must be a heart attack."

Casey rolled his friend onto his back, and recoiled in horror. Jim's face had turned a pale white, but the skin around his lips was blue. His eyes were open, and he looked up at him with stark terror written across his face.

"Hang on, buddy," one of the other men counseled as he kneeled next to his prone friend. "Eddie's calling the ambulance."

It seemed an eternity before the emergency crew arrived. Casey briefed the paramedics and helped load his friend into the back. They had to push through a crowd of curious LexCorp employees that had gathered around them.

"Call...Molly..." Jim whispered to his friend.

"I'll have her meet you at the hospital," Casey promised. He stood back as the ambulance doors were slammed shut.

Gabe Sullivan, who had hurried out from his office at the sound of the sirens, clapped him on the back. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

Casey shook his head. He wasn't usually a fanciful kind of person, but something about the metallic clang of those doors closing had seemed horribly final.

It was a weekday, and with lights flashing and siren blaring they were able to make it to Smallville General in record time. Jim was rushed into the small emergency room.

"Male...forty-six years old...collapsed at work...possible heart attack..." the paramedic reported as the attending physician and the nurses quickly went to work, attaching monitors and checking his responses.

A doctor leaned over him to try and attach an IV, and Jim's hand twisted in the fabric of her white coat.

"Help...me...can't...breathe..."

Jim's eyes moved to from her face to the ceiling and back again frantically.

Suddenly his back arched as his body went rigid, and then he was still. "He's stopped breathing," someone said.

As the monitors shrieked, the doctor felt for a pulse, but found nothing. She laid a hand on the man's jaw to open his mouth, and as she did so greenish black fluid poured out. What seemed to be gallons of the foul-smelling stuff ran out of Jim's mouth to pool on around his body and onto the floor as she instinctively stepped away.

"What in the...?" She looked helplessly at the other hospital staff.

One of the nurses shook his head. "I've never seen anything like that, man."

"What if it's contagious?" someone else whispered.

"We have to keep working on him."

The doctor shouted out orders, but her staff was too afraid to move. Finally someone grabbed the paddles and they attempted to shock his heart back into motion. The effort proved futile; none of their attempts budged the flat green line on the monitor.

The doctor stepped back with a sigh, thankful her latex gloves had been between her and the viscous black fluid.

"Whatever it was, it sure wasn't a heart attack," she announced to no one in particular.

The staff looked silently at each other.

"Where did you bring him in from?" One of the nurses asked the paramedic. The young man tore his eyes away from the body.

"The LuthorCorp plant. Or whatever it's called now."

The attending physician nodded grimly. "All right, let's get Dr. Evans down here ASAP. Tell him we've got a situation on our hands."

"Gabe. Thank you for coming on such short notice." Lex rose for his desk and shook hands with his plant manager. "I'm sorry I dragged you away from dinner."

"That's all right, Mr. Luthor-I had just picked up Chloe from the Torch when you called. I hope you don't mind that I brought her with me, but we were on our way home."

"It's fine, Gabe-A.J. will look after her. Have you heard anything?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Luthor," the older man sighed. "I still can't believe he's gone. He was a fine man, a hard worker."

Lex rubbed his eyes.

"I spent most of the day on the phone with both Smallville General and my lawyers in Metropolis. Neither one would tell me much. But a source told me that the hospital's calling in the Environmental Protection Agency." Gabe sat down heavily. "The EPA? Why?"

"Apparently something about Winters' death raised the suspicions of the medical staff. Gabe, what was Winters working on at the time of his death?"

"Off loading that new shipment of phosphates from Star City. Something he'd done a million times before."

"And before that?"

"Well, I'd have to check the assignment sheets, but I think he was working on cleaning out Level 3. Removing those empty drums left behind." Gabe raised his eyebrows. "But a half a dozen or so men have been working down there, when we could spare them."

Sullivan was still a little humiliated that LuthorCorp had been able to conduct experiments on Level 3 without his finding out about. If it hadn't been for Earl Jenkins seizing control of the plant and taking hostages, those experiments would never have come to light.

His employer seemed to read his mind. "We still don't know exactly what LuthorCorp was working on down there."

"But could it have been something dangerous?"

Lex smiled mirthlessly. "Remember what it did to Earl Jenkins."

Gabe leaned his head in his hands. "So what do we do?"

Lex walked over to the window, looking out into the night.

"Right now all we can do is wait. Until either the hospital or the EPA tells us what happened. The important thing is to keep the plant going." "Folks really liked Jim. He was part of LuthorCorp for thirteen years. And dying the way he did..."Gabe shook his head. "It's going to be hard for folks not to worry."

"But that's exactly what we've got to prevent," Lex said firmly. "No speculation. We have no reason to believe anyone else is at any risk. First thing tomorrow morning I'm going to call a meeting and explain the situation as best we understand it."

"I think that's a good idea, Mr. Luthor. It will sound better coming from you than from me, anyway."

"And make sure the Winters' family knows LexCorp's health insurance will pay any bills from the hospital."

Gabe nodded. "I haven't had a chance to pay my respects to Molly Winters. I know the Kent's and Dr. MacIntrye's widow have been looking after her." "She's in good hands, then."

Lex stared out the window for a long moment.

"Don't worry, Mr. Luthor. I'm sure the EPA will clear us of any wrongdoing," Gabe said with a bravado he didn't quite feel.

His employer regarded him seriously.

"I certainly hope you're right, Gabe. For all our sakes."

Outside the closed library door, Chloe frowned. It was pretty tough to hear through the thick oak, but what she had made out wasn't good news. "Chloe?"

She jumped, and turned around with a sheepish smile.

"Oh, hey, A.J."

"I thought you were still in the TV room." He held out a glass mug topped with whipped cream. "Here's your hot chocolate."

"Thanks. I was just, um..."

A.J. grinned. "You were eavesdropping on Lex and your dad. You know, you could have just said that's what you wanted to do and saved me a trip to the kitchen. It's quite a hike, you know."

"No, really, I wanted the drink." To prove it she took the cup and drank deeply from it. "Actually, I'm starved; my dad and I were arguing over what to have for dinner when Lex called him."

"Yeah, my sister and I do the same thing. We'd take turns cooking, but neither of us are very good at it."

A.J. nodded his head at the door."Hear anything interesting?"

"Just that LexCorp might be in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" A.J. frowned as the two of them walked back down the hall to the television room. The wide screen was still flickering a re-run of an old TV show, but A.J. turned the sound off.

"Mysterious deaths always attract attention," Chloe explained. "Especially around here."

"Because you get a lot of them."

Chloe smiled. "Lex has filled you in, I see."

"Only a little. I checked out your website, too."

"My professional life is an open book I see. What did you think of my meteor theory?"

A.J. took a swig of his own drink. "Truthfully? I think it's a little far fetched." He held up his empty hand before she could protest. "But, remember, I'm not from here. Lex seems to think you have something, though, so who am I to doubt you?"

"I appreciate that, I guess," the girl smiled. "Believe me, if you spend much more time in Smallville you'll start looking for a theory, too."

A.J. frowned again. "Do you really think Lex's business could be blamed for what's happened? LexCorp is all he ever talks about-I can't believe he'd let an employee get hurt if there was any way he could prevent it."

"I hope it isn't," Chloe sighed. "But it's too early to know." She was thoughtful for a moment. "Hey, you said your sister's a doctor, right?"

"A resident, yes." A.J. flopped back down on the leather sofa.

"Why would a doctor call in the EPA over a death?"

"Well, it's hard to say. I know hospitals are required by law to report any suspicious deaths or injuries. Catherine's had to call in Social Services, and sometimes the police, and she's been called to testify in court, too. I guess if a death seemed like it might be connected to some kind of contamination, you'd call the EPA."

Chloe sat down, too. "Wow. Poor Mr. Winters."

"Did you know him?"

"No, but his son graduated from Smallville High two years ago. Brody Winters was a football star, class president-everyone knew him."

A.J. 's eyes grew distant. "It'll be hard for him, losing his dad like that."

Recognizing the emotion in his voice, Chloe bit her lip. "Geez, I'm sorry. I thought when you said your dad knew Lex's dad..."

"Don't worry about," he said hastily. "My dad died when I was ten. In an accident, too, strangely enough."

"I really am sorry." Chloe regarded him steadily. "Sometimes my reporter's instincts don't work very well and I end up sticking my foot in my mouth."

A.J. laughed. "Hey, at least you're focused on something, you know? I think what you're doing is really cool."

Chloe ducked her head a little. "You do?"

"I do." A.J. nodded. "I really do. Even if it means you listen at doors," he smiled.

Later that evening, after Mr. Sullivan and Chloe had gone home, A.J. went back into the library.

"I hope Chloe didn't bother you," Lex told him. He had his feet up on his desk and was idly sipping from a glass of amber liquor. "I like Chloe, I really do, but I had to speak to Gabe Sullivan privately."

A.J. picked up a letter opener, weighing it in the palm of his hand. "Not a problem. I like her, too."

At his brother's raised eyebrows, A.J. shook his head. "That's not what I mean."

Lex only smiled.

A.J. tossed the opener back on the desk and grabbed a chair. "Lex, listen. Maybe it would be easier for you right now if I wasn't around."

"Are you unhappy here?"

A.J. leaned back and sighed. "Don't be deliberately obtuse. Surprisingly, I'm actually kind of enjoying myself. Between the big-screen TV. and not having to make my bed in the morning it's pretty sweet. But if LexCorp is in trouble..."

"LexCorp isn't in trouble, A.J." Lex interrupted. "It's just a minor setback, that's all."

Staring into the fire, A.J. wondered why Lex was so determined not to show any concern. He looked absolutely blasé, sitting there as if he hadn't a care in the world, when in actuality he might very soon be embroiled in some very ugly legal troubles. In the Carter family, honesty always prevailed; sometimes a little too much of it, actually. His mother and father had insisted upon it, however, and A.J. had never really learned to conceal his own feelings and worries. He'd never had to. The Luthors, however, obviously valued a show of strength over acknowledging their troubles.

"Look, I just want you to know that if you'd feel you'd rather concentrate on...other things right now I'd understand," A.J. said quietly. "We could visit another time."

Lex stood abruptly. "No, you're staying until your sister comes and gets you on Sunday. I insist."

"Fine." A.J. slouched back in his chair. It still seemed strange to him that the man in front of him was his brother. For all his personality quirks, A.J. liked Lex. He liked his confidence, his sharp intellect, his black sense of humor. Those things A.J. felt the two of them had in common. But the rest of the time A.J. was sharply reminded that Lex's upbringing had been very different from his own. He didn't know if he'd ever truly understand how Lex's mind worked, what went on behind his older brother's blue eyes.

And maybe it wasn't his place to know that, really. If Lex didn't care to show his emotions, that was his business. But A.J. felt he still had a right to worry for him. He sincerely hoped his brother wasn't in as much trouble as Chloe Sullivan seemed to think he might be.

"It was the hospital that called in the Environmental Protection Agency. Apparently they tried the Centers for Disease Control first but they had no idea what it might be. So they're thinking it was some kind of environmental contamination," Chloe explained as she and Clark walked into the Talon.

"This is according to your source?"

"According to my source," she grinned. "There's Pete sitting with Lana. Let's go."

"Hi, guys," Lana greeted them. "We were just talking about what happened. Have you heard anything new?"

"She's Chloe-of course she's heard something new," Pete scoffed.

Never one to need prompting, Chloe quickly filled them in on what she had learned.

"So it sounds like whatever killed Mr. Winters might be linked to LuthorCorp. Or LexCorp, as it is now."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Pete said thoughtfully. "Lionel Luthor's paid out a lot of money in fines for environmental contamination over the years."

"If that's the case, why hasn't he been put out of business?" Clark asked.

"Because no one's been able to make any serious charged stick," Chloe explained.

"Only now Lex owns the plant, and he might have to take the blame for whatever happened," Lana said grimly.

"My dad says everyone over there is completely freaked out. They're afraid whatever killed Mr. Winters might be contagious." Chloe frowned, clearly thinking of her father. "God, I hope not."

"So, the EPA will come in and find out what happened and clear LexCorp of any wrong doing." Clark looked hopefully around the table. "Right?"

"If you believe that you're really naïve," Pete shook his head. "If the EPA wasn't already in the Luthor's pockets, do you think they would have gotten away with so much already?"

"Look, Pete, we don't know anything for sure yet," Clark retorted. "Let's not start throwing accusations around."

Pete rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to go down to the County Board of Health this week and see what I can find out about other health problems that might be linked to LuthorCorp," Chloe reported. "Until we have a copy of the autopsy report that's the best place to start."

"What a second, you guys are actually going to investigate this?" Lana looked incredulous. "Couldn't that be kind of...dangerous?"

"We're just going to follow some paper trails," Chloe said hastily. It was her standard line. "No harm in that."

"A man's dead, Chloe, and no one seems to know how or why. Sounds to me like there's already some harm in it." Lana shook her dark head.

"Don't listen to her, Chloe," Pete counseled. "I say we have a better chance of getting to the bottom of this than anyone else in this town."

Since this was a complete reversal of Pete's usual attitude, Clark sighed. "I know how you feel about the Luthors, Pete, but Lana might be right. Maybe we should stay out of it."

"And if LexCorp is charged with any wrongdoing, they might be shut down. Think what that would do to the town," Lana added.

As in most farming communities, economic survival in Smallville was always a tenuous thing. Without the plant they'd all be sunk. Right back where they were when Lionel Luthor had tried shut it down in the previous spring.

Lionel Luthor. Clark frowned. Why was it every conversation he seemed to have lately kept coming back to him? Until recently he'd been inclined to think his dad was exaggerating a bit about how Lionel and LuthorCorp could manipulate any situation to their benefit . But between the plant and A.J. it was looking more and more like Jonathan Kent had been right. Pete waved his fingers in front of his friend's eyes. v "Clark, hello? Where did you go?"

"Uh, sorry, what?"

"Do you want to go with me out to see Mrs. Winters?" Pete repeated. "Brody Winters and my brother Sam were pretty tight. Since Sam's in Metropolis, I feel like I should stop by, see if there's anything I can do."

"Sure," Clark nodded. "My mom's out there right now anyway."

"I'd go with you guys," Chloe explained hastily, "But I told A.J. I'd stop by today and give him some back issues of the Torch to read."

"Well, hey, if the new kid is more important..." Clearly annoyed, Pete trailed off with a shrug.

Lana, however, smiled."That's very nice of you, Chloe," she said knowingly. Apparently the attention Chloe had paid A.J. hadn't been lost on her, either.

Clark wasn't sure what to make of Chloe's odd behavior. She certainly seemed to have welcomed A.J. into her circle fast. He couldn't help but wonder if she would have done so if she'd known how closely A.J. was connected to the Luthors. But, then, Clark had promised not to reveal that secret.

Man, this must be a tiny bit like how Pete feels about my secret, he groaned inwardly.

Explaining his car was parked in the lot across the street, Pete and Clark arranged to meet outside in a few minutes. Pete gave Chloe a disapproving look as he left.

Great. So now not only was Pete angry over Clark's friendship with Lex, but he resented A.J. as well. What a mess.

Lana watched him leave with a frown."You know, sometimes I forget how much Pete dislikes Lex. Then he does or says something and I'm suddenly reminded of it."

Clark nodded. "I know. It's the only part of his personality I've never really understood."

One of the waitresses tapped Lana on the shoulder. "Lana, I'm sorry, but we're out of change. What should I do?"

"I'll take care of it, Jackie. Thanks for letting me know." When the other girl was out of earshot, however, she sighed. "I'll be glad when we've got a new day manager," she confided to her friends. "I can't keep this place running and keep on top of my school work, too."

Lana hurried off to solve her latest business crises, and Chloe smiled. "Lana Lang, off to save the day again."

Clark cleared his throat. "Ah, um, Chloe. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But what's up with you and A.J. Carter?"

Chloe smiled enigmatically. "Why, nothing, Clark. Nothing at all."

Clark though about that strange smiled as he hopped into Pete's car. Strangely enough that was the topic on the other boy's mind as well.

"I don't think Chloe should be hanging around with that kid," Pete explained as he drove them east out of downtown. "Seriously, what does she know about him?"

Clark and Chloe had reached a more or less mutual agreement some months before that they made better friends than lovers, so Clark felt a little guilty that part of him agreed with Pete. A.J. did seem like a nice kid, but it was true-Chloe didn't know much about him.

"I think it's more that he's just somebody knew she can inculcate with her meteor theories," Clark said lightly. "I don't think it's going anywhere. Besides, he lives three hours away."

"Yeah, well, it better not go anywhere," Pete said grimly.

Clark shot him a surprised look. He'd forgotten Pete also had feelings for Chloe that were, at times, more than friendship.

Pete seemed to read his mind. "I know what you're thinking, and I'm not madly in love with her, Clark. I just don't want her to get hurt, ok?"

"I don't either."

Clark decided he'd better drop the subject, and they drove in silence the rest of the way out to the Winters.

The unfinished Winters house looked forlorn as Pete stopped his car in the dirt driveway. Clark wondered idly if it would ever be finished now. "You don't think we should have brought flowers or anything, do you?" Pete asked apprehensively as they got out.

"I'm not sure what the etiquette is, Pete," Clark shook his head. "No one in my family's ever died."

They knocked on the door, and after a moment Clark's mother answered it. "Pete, Clark, how nice of you to drop by." Clark noticed his mother kept her voice low. "Come on in."

They stepped it to the living room. The drapes were drawn even though it was the middle of the day, but Clark could see Brody and his maternal grandfather sitting at the kitchen table. An untouched cake sat between them. Other dishes lined the counters, no doubt gifts of food from friends and neighbors. It happened every time there was a disaster or death in the community--the Smallville casserole brigade came out in force to supply upside down cake and tuna noodle casserole to those in need.

"Hey, Brody, man." Pete approached the young man and clapped him gently on the shoulder.

The older boy didn't respond. Instead it was Mr. Jasper, Mrs. Winters father, who answered. "We appreciate you two boys stopping by."

"We kinda just wanted to say hello, see if there's anything we can do," Pete offered sheepishly.

"How's Mrs. Winters?" Clark asked.

"She's resting. Mrs. MacIntyre is sitting with her," Martha Kent explained. "The doctors are worried about the shock making her condition worse, so she needs to stay in bed for a few days."

"I'm sorry to hear it," Clark said sincerely. Molly Winters had always been a nice lady. When he was little she had always kept a supply of cookies on hand for the neighborhood boys, even though, as a diabetic, she herself couldn't eat them. Her husband had always done everything he could for his wife. How would the family get along without him?

Mr. Winters could only have been Jonathan Kent's age. Clark vowed to start working a harder around the farm. He'd been slacking off a little on his chores to devote more time to the Torch. Jonathan hardly ever got sick, but Clark wasn't about to take any chances. He just couldn't imagine a world without his dad in it.

"Any news from the hospital about what happened?" he asked.

"Nothing yet." Mr. Jasper shook his head.

"It was LuthorCorp." For the first time Brody Winters lifted his head and stared directly at the Kents. "LuthorCorp killed my father."

Mr. Jasper covered one of his grandson's hands with his own. "Son, we don't know that..."

"Of course we know that! You heard how he died!" Brody stood abruptly, shoving back his chair. "He died in agony and it's all their fault!"

Martha Kent spoke again in her soft voice. "Brody, what's happened is a terrible tragedy, but until we know for certain what happened we can't just go around accusing people."

The younger man's glare was glacial. "Of course you'd say that, wouldn't you?"

Martha was visibly taken aback by Brody's venom, and Clark laid a protective hand on his mother's arm.

Arthur Japer rubbed his eyes. "That's enough, Brody. Don't you take this out on Mrs. Kent. It's not her fault."

"Maybe there's a rational explanation," Pete offered to no one in particular.

"C'mon, Pete, you know better than anyone what the Luthors are capable of!" Brody shook his head. "Well, they're not going to get away with it this time."

"You can't be sure of anything yet," Clark said softly. Brody has always been a polite, soft-spoken young man; Clark had to admit he found this new side of him a little frightening. "Jumping to conclusions is just going to make thing's worse."

Brody didn't even look at him. He stared out the kitchen window at the muddy yard instead. "How would you feel if it was your dad lying on that slab in the morgue, Clark?" The older boy said bitterly. "Wouldn't you want someone to pay?"

Clark took an involuntary step forward. "Only if I knew for sure who was responsible."

"Oh, I know who's responsible all right," Brody hissed.

Martha shook her head."Clark, Pete, I think maybe the three of us should go. Brody and his grandfather clearly have a lot on their minds."

Mr. Jasper rose. "I'm sorry," he offered apologetically as he followed them back into the living room. "The boy's just so angry I don't know what to do."

"It's understandable under the circumstances, Arthur," Martha soothed. "We're not offended. Tell Molly Jonathan and I will stop by tomorrow morning."

"I will, and thank you, Martha." The old man turned to face the two boys. "Clark, Pete, it looks like we'll be having the funeral on Sunday. It may not seem like it now, but I know Brody would like to have his friends there."

"Of course," Clark nodded.

"We'll spread the word," Pete promised.

As they stepped out on to the incomplete front porch Pete shook his head. "Well, that was heavy."

"He shouldn't have said that to you, Mom," Clark said to his mother. "That was way out of line."

"When people are hurting they say some terrible things," Martha explained. "He didn't mean it."

"He seemed pretty convinced to me. Mrs. Kent, you've been working there for a while-do you think there's any chance Brody's right and LuthorCorp did have something to do with Mr. Winters death?" Pete regarded his friend's mother with a frank expression.

"I don't know, Pete. In any event, the plant belongs to LexCorp now." Martha frowned. "I wish Lionel Luthor was still here; Lex could be in a lot of trouble."

"I doubt his father would cut his trip short just to help Lex, anyway," Clark scoffed. "Lex can handle this."

"Don't put too much faith in the guy, Clark," Pete corrected. "He might know what killed Brody's dad, and why, and that makes him partially responsible."

Clark knew Pete and Lex didn't get along, and normally he would dismiss this kind of language, but this time he couldn't. He thought of Molly Winters, now a widow after more than twenty years of marriage, and Brody, now without a dad. He shivered.

There was no doubt in his own mind Lex hadn't been involved in what had happened. But there was a good chance his father was. Either way, the community would hold them both responsible. Clark didn't like to be pessimistic, but he couldn't help but think Lex's empire was crumbling before it had even been built.

Lana stepped through the back door of the Talon, only to find her staff waiting anxiously for her just inside. "Uh, hey, guys. Why aren't you waiting tables?"

"Because we have no customers," Brian offered.

Lana kept her smile in place, but inwardly she sighed. Things had been so much easier when her Aunt Nell had been manager. Nell's shop had been right next door, and when minor crises arose someone could just pop over there and get her. Now, however, Nell was settling into an apartment in Metropolis, and planning a wedding. Lana was on her own.

I can handle this, she told herself. Really, I can. "Things are usually slow this time of day," Lana advised. "School's only been out a hour. It'll pick up."

"Actually, I don't think people can get in the front door," Nancy explained.

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't see them?" Nancy grabbed her manager's wrist and towed her across the empty lobby of the converted movie house. She pointed to the glass double doors. "See?"

"What the...?" Lana could see a dozen or so young men and women marching back and forth in front of the Talon. They were carrying signs.

"Looks like picketers to me," Brian supplied.

"Yes, I can see that, Brian, thank you," Lana said a trifle more sharply than she intended. "But what are they protesting, and why are they in front of our shop?"

Still in her coat, Lana pushed her way through the doors. A young woman with a nose ring immediately shoved a bright yellow flyer into her hand. "Boycott the Luthor industrial complex," the young woman said loudly. Lana stared at the paper in her hand. It read, in part, "The Luthor industrial complex had poisoned its last Smallville resident. Take a stand and fight for your family's health. Boycott the Luthors." Under this startling pronouncement was a list of LuthorCorp subsidiaries. To her consternation, she also saw a separate, shorter list. Only two names were on this one, "LexCorp" and "The Talon."

"Wait a minute," Lana said aloud. Now that she could read the signs, she saw they held slogans like, "Save Smallville" and "A Voice for the Voiceless."

"Who's in charge here?" She asked a young man in a Metropolis U sweatshirt. He pointed to a tall, thin young man handing out flyers to pedestrians.

"That's Rich. He's our organizer. Talk to him."

Lana approached him. "Excuse me. You're Rich?"

"Yes?" The man didn't even look her in the eye, focusing instead on his handouts.

"I'm Lana Lang, and I'm the manager here." She held up the flyer. "I want to know what all this is about."

"What 'all this' is about is stopping LuthorCorp and LexCorp from poisoning any more innocent people," he said frostily. "We're just educating the public, and this is a public sidewalk. Call the cops if you want; they'll tell you the same thing."

Lana shook her head in disbelief. "Look, I believe in freedom of speech, but people can't get into my business."

"Of course they can. If they've chosen not to out of solidarity with the Winters family that's not my problem."

"The Winters family? Is that what this about? Are you the EPA?"

Rich laughed out loud. "Those bureaucratic wimps? No way. We're the Environmental Defense Action League. We believe in direct action, not waiting around for the government to rescue us. And we've got a few surprises up our sleeve for the Luthors, wait and see."

"You don't even know the Winters, do you?" Lana frowned.

"I don't have to know a victim to sympathize with him," the young man said sharply. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do if we're going to get this town organized. Go back to peddling your lattes, although I don't think you'll have many customers today."

"Why, you..." Lana couldn't remember the last time she was so angry. The guy was completely unreasonable.

She went back inside and made a hasty phone call to Lex, only to get a busy signal. As her two waiters looked on anxiously she hung up and dialed Henry Small's number.

She explained the situation as best she could, and Henry whistled. "Yeah, I've heard to the Environmental Defense Action League. Rich Erickson is their leader, at least of the Metropolis branch. But they're not like the Sierra Club or even Greenpeace. These guys are radicals, and they've been known to employ some pretty underhanded tactics. The kind of tactics that send people to prison."

"Well, Rich is a real piece of work, I can tell you that. I didn't even bother trying to explain Lex is only a silent partner," Lana fumed.

"It wouldn't matter if you had-people like Erickson won't see the difference. Luthor money is Luthor money."

"Yeah, but you said the same thing when we first met," Lana reminded him.

"But I would never have tried to shut you down, Lana," he reminded her. "I believe people need to make their own choices about right and wrong, not have them rammed down their throats."

"So what do I do?"

Henry sighed. "I'm afraid there's nothing you can do, Lana. He's right-it's a public sidewalk. And believe me, the less you deal with him the better. You should probably stay closed until the EPA files its report."

"We can't do that-we'll hemorrhage money," Lana fretted.

"I know that, but what he said about "surprises" sounds pretty ominous to me. I don't want you to get hurt."

Lana was genuinely touched. She hadn't known her biological father very long, but it was nice to know he cared.

"I'll keep trying to reach Lex, and see what he thinks."

"Whatever you do, be careful. I don't like knowing the EDAL is in town. Things could get very ugly very fast."

"I'll be careful, I promise," Lana vowed. "But the Talon is my responsibility; I talked Lex into funding it. I'm not going to surrender without a fight."

"Good girl. Just keep reminding yourself of that."

"I will. And, um, Dad?" She said shyly.

There was a long pause on the other end. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

Dale Ross watched as his youngest son idly dragged his fork through his mashed potatoes for the sixth time. "I know I'm not as good a cook as your mother, but you usually eat more than three bites of my cooking," he laughed.

Pete glanced down at his still full plate. "Sorry, Dad. I've got a lot on my mind."

The spacious Ross dining room seemed empty with only Pete and his father in it; with his mom working late and his older brothers and sisters out of the house the whole place often seemed a little cavernous.

Dale smiled encouragingly. "Want to talk about it?"

"It's just...I told you and Mom about seeing Brody the day before yesterday, right?"

"You did."

"Well, I can't get over how angry he is. He and Sam were so tight, and he's always been a good guy."

"He has. It's a terrible things to lose a parent, son, especially the way Brody did."

"I know. But the thing is, part of me wants the Luthors to be responsible, like he says. And then part of me feels bad for thinking that way. I mean, that's not going to bring Mr. Winters back."

Dale sighed and set aside his napkin. "No it isn't, son. And I know how you feel."

Pete studied his father for a long moment. "You do?"

The older man nodded. "Lord knows I don't think kindly of the Luthors, not after all that's happened. I still think the day they came here was the darkest day in the town's history. But," he held up his fork, "I'm also a trained lawyer. I believe in the due process of law. Brody can't just jump over that and say the Luthors are guilty based on his hunch."

Pete leaned forward in his chair. "Yeah, but Dad, you gotta admit you'd like to see the Luthors run out of town on a rail."

Dale sighed. "Maybe, for a few seconds. And then I remember that believing in right and wrong is what makes me different from people like the Luthors." He fixed his youngest son with a stern glance. "And that's what I've tried to teach you kids, as well."

Pete grinned. "I know you have, Dad." He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a key in the backdoor. "There's Mom."

Dale stood up. "Put the meatloaf back in the microwave, would you? The least we can do is give you mother a hot meal," he winked.

But before Pete made it to the kitchen his mother walked in and held up a hand. "If that's for me, Petey, leave it here. I couldn't eat a thing." Mrs. Ross collapsed onto one of the dining room chairs with a sigh.

"Tough day, honey?" Her husband asked conciliatorily.

"You have no idea." When her son produced a cup of tea she smiled tiredly. "Thank you, baby."

"What kept you at work so long?" Pete asked.

"Some environmental group has petitioned the court for an injunction against LexCorp."

Dale whistled, and Pete frowned.

"What exactly would an injunction do, Mom?"

Kate drank her tea. "It would shut them down, sweetheart, at least for a while. As a danger to human health."

"The EPA?" Her husband asked.

"No, some fringe group out of Metropolis. I can't think of the name right off hand. But Mayor Tate and most of the city council signed off on it as well." The judge rolled her eyes. "And guess who gets to make the call?"

"You're a great judge, Mom," Pete reassured her.

"I'm afraid this isn't about you mom's abilities, son," Dale told him.

"It sounds to me like the town's already taking sides. And if that's the case..."

"If that's the case," his wife continued, "no decision I make will be the right one. Either way I'll anger someone."

Dale went to his wife's side and threw an arm around her. "Don't worry, Katie. You just do what you believe is right, and damn what anyone else thinks." He glanced back at his son. "As I was just telling Pete, here, sometimes that's the best we can do."

Clark sat on his front porch, idly rereading the coverage of Mr. Winters' death in the local paper. It wasn't anything he hadn't already heard from Chloe: the autopsy had ruled the cause of Mr. Winters' death to be "unknown."

Great. Like people weren't freaked out enough before.

At least the hospital had finally released the body, and the family could hold the funeral Sunday, as they had planned. People always talked about funerals bringing closure, but Clark had to admit he didn't think this one would make anyone feel better. But, still, his parents had dutifully gone off to help make the final arrangements.

He leaned back against the top step. Maybe Chloe was right, he thought, and this was related to the meteors. But in the past the green rocks had always produced mutations; they'd never killed anyone outright. At least he didn't think they had. And where had Mr. Winters been exposed to them? The whole town had already decided that whatever fatal substance Winters' had encountered must have been at Plant 3. And, as much as Clark hated to admit it, they were probably right. He could still remember how sick just the residue on Level 3 had made him as he'd tried to save Lex from Earl Jenkins. Of course those experiments, whatever they were, had occurred long before Lex's buyout. But no one-not the protestors, not the papers-was making that distinction. Once again, all Luthors were being painted with the same brush.

As he sat there musing on the perfidy of Lionel and the trouble he seemed to almost deliberately make for Lex, Clark was surprised to see A.J. turn in to the driveway. "Hey, I didn't expect to see you around here," Clark offered as he met him halfway.

The other boy shrugged. "I just was out for a walk and thought I'd drop by. Lex said you lived out here." He glanced around him at the yellow farmhouse and the barn. "Nice place."

"You walked all the way from the mansion? That's a couple of miles."

"Yeah, well, I had some thinking to do." A.J. looked at him knowingly.

"Look, Lex told me you knew about me. I wanted to thank you for not blowing my cover at the Talon that first day. I didn't mean to put you in a position of having to lie to your friends."

"Not a problem." Clark smiled ruefully. "I'm pretty good at keeping secrets. Hey, since you're here, you want to shoot some hoops? I mean, if you're not too tired?"

"Sure."

Clark showed A.J. the side of the barn where his father had hung a basketball net. He grabbed a ball from the converted granary bin that held his sports equipment and tossed it to his guest.

"You know, I'm sure Lex would loan you a car if you asked."

A.J. shook his head. "I didn't want to bother him. He's got a lot on his mind. One of his employees died earlier this week."

"Yeah, I've heard."

Bouncing the ball in the hard-packed dirt, A.J. glanced up at him. "Judging from this morning's paper so has everyone else. Did you know him?"

"I did. My parents are over there now." He watched while A.J. lined up his shot. "Does Lex know what happened?"

A.J. made a basket. "The EPA and the hospital are telling him the same thing they're telling everyone else. The autopsy was 'inconclusive.' But it sounds like it definitely wasn't a natural death."

Clark accepted the ball back for his shot. "That's been known to happen around here."

"So I hear."

When Clark shot him a puzzled look, A.J. grinned bashfully. "Your friend Chloe kinda filled me in on Smallville when her dad brought her by the other night. Or at least she filled me in on the version you aren't going to get from the Chamber of Commerce."

"Yeah, Chloe is our resident expert on weird stuff." Clark shot, careful not to use any extra strength that might propel the ball too far or too high. As a result it only bounced off the rim.

"That's what Lex said."

"So, um, how's that whole thing going?"

A.J. just shrugged.

"Look, it isn't really any of my business, but I know Lex is really happy he found you." Clark made the basket this time. "I think Lex regrets not having more family around. His dad doesn't really count."

"So I hear. Your mom works for Lionel, right?"

"Yeah. I guess you'd say she's his personal assistant. But she doesn't travel with him, so she's home now."

A.J. tossed the ball in the air idly. "What do you think of Lionel?"

"I don't really think about him much one way or another." Clark chewed his lip for a moment. "A lot of people around here don't like him. But my mom really likes her job, so there must be something there, you know? He and Lex are...well, I don't even know how to explain that." He studied the other boy for a minute. "You haven't met him yet?"

A.J. took a shot and missed. "No, and I don't plan to."

"He is your father."

A.J. looked at him seriously. "No, Clark. I had a father, and he died." Clark nodded in understanding. As much as he'd love to find his birth parents, he couldn't imagine calling anyone else "Mom" and "Dad."

"When I first met Lex," A.J. mused, "I thought I'd be able to get answers to all my questions. But the more I learn the more confused I get." He shook his head. "If I thought Lionel would give me some straight answers, believe me, I'd meet with him in a second. But if he hasn't been honest with Lex I don't see why he'd be honest with me."

"You're probably right there," Clark commiserated. "With Lionel, not being honest with people comes with the territory."

As much as he sympathized with A.J., he couldn't help but grin at the irony of having to conceal someone else's secret for a change. And seeing how tentative the other boy still felt about the situation, Clark could certainly understand Lex's reluctance to drag A.J. into his complicated relationship with his father.

"Clark, you and my brother are pretty good friends, right? I mean, he told me how you saved his life."

Clark rolled his eyes. "Man, I wish he'd quit bringing that up. But, yeah, I guess we are."

A.J. took another shot, making a basket this time. "My sister's coming to pick me up tomorrow. I'm not sure how to explain this, but I have a really bad feeling about things, about this guy..."

"Mr. Winters."

"Yeah, this Mr. Winters dying. Lex won't admit it, but I know he feels terrible about it. He's going to the funeral tomorrow." The young man bit his lip. "If it really was a suspicious death..." A.J. trailed off.

Tucking the ball under his arm, Clark regarded him seriously. "A.J., believe me, Lex won't ever say anything to you about what he feels. He likes to take care of things his own way. But he's a pretty capable guy."

"I realize that. But I just, I don't know, want to know that if there's trouble someone out there is watching his back."

"I'm sure there'll be a logical explanation for what happened." Clark shook his head. "But Lex is my friend. Of course I'll watch out for him." A.J. grinned.

"Good. And don't tell him I asked you, ok? He's very into being the older brother who takes care of things. I don't think he'd appreciate me trying to subvert our birth order."

"You got it." Clark had to admit he really liked A.J., would have liked him even if he wasn't Lex's brother. A.J. seemed to genuinely care about what happened to his brother. Clark just hoped nothing would happen to ruin things between the two.

"C'mon inside and we'll grab a soda. Then I'll give you a tour of the farm. It's not much compared to the mansion, but we like it."

"Hey, if your house doesn't have a draft and creaky floors it's already ahead in my book," A.J. laughed as he followed Clark into the house.

The day of Mr. Winters' funeral dawned muggy and overcast. By the time the Kent family left for the cemetery faint rumbles of thunder could be heard in the distance.

"That's all we need now," Jonathan Kent sighed as he helped his wife into the truck. He was dressed in his best suit, one Clark hadn't seen in years. The boy tugged unhappily at his own tie.

"Clark, stop that," his mother scolded as she made room for him on the seat. "That was your Grandfather Hyrum's tie."

"Great," Clark muttered to himself. The only funeral he'd ever been to was for Whitney Fordman's father. He wasn't exactly anxious to attend another one, but he knew it was the right thing to do. And, after all, Mr. Jasper had asked him to be there. To support Brody.

There was already a long line of cars ahead of them as they approached the cemetery; since it was a rural area most people just parked along the side of the road and walked. Clark had spent more time in this cemetery than he cared to think about. Lana's parents were buried here, as well as his grandparents and great-grandparents.

The few rows of chairs provided for the graveside service were already full. Brody, his mother, and his grandfather sat in the front, next to the flower-laden coffin.

Martha went to Molly and took her hand, speaking softly. Both Molly and her father looked pale and exhausted.

While Clark waited uncomfortably for the service to begin, he spotted Pete arriving with his parents. His best friend looked as hot and uncomfortable as he felt.

"Mr. Ross, Judge Ross, nice to see you," Clark said quietly. He started when a hand touched his shoulder; looking around he saw his dad had joined the Ross' as well.

"Your mother's going to sit with Molly, in case she needs anything," Jonathan explained.

"How is she, Jonathan?" Judge Ross asked.

"As well as can be expected, I think," Jonathan frowned. "At least she's got her father and son looking after her now."

"Amen to that," Mr. Ross nodded.

"Have you spoken to Brody lately?" Pete half-whispered to Clark.

"No. You?"

"No."

The two friends glanced at where the other boy sat. Brody was expressionless, but his lips were set in a grim, determined line. "He doesn't look so good." Pete shook his head.

"Would you under the circumstances?" Clark stepped back so some more arrivals could squeeze past them. "Who are all these people? The whole town must be here."

"Yeah, but for the wrong reasons," Pete sighed. "You heard about the petition? And that there'll be a hearing?"

"Yes."

"I think some of these people are just here so they can tell their friends," Pete said angrily. "Vultures."

Clark only nodded sadly as the Reverend Whittig stepped up to stand at the head of the grave. He opened his Bible and began the service, but it took a while for the large crowd to quiet down enough for Clark to hear anything.

There was no music, no singing. Only the distant rolls of thunder accompanied the Reverend's sermon. He spoke about Heaven, and about God's love, none of which seemed particularly appropriate to the violent way Mr. Winter's had met his end.

Several people then spoke about Mr. Winters: about his friendliness, his devotion to his family. Even Mayor Tate, who probably had never laid eyes on the man, said a few words. Clark wondered if maybe Pete was right about the community turnout having more to do with the legal troubles surrounding Jim Winters' death than with any urge to celebrate his life. Clark found himself feeling more and more depressed, and the lower