Lex Luthor

When Lex woke up that morning, sprawled out in a bed in the compound, he was at first disoriented. What was he doing here, instead of back in his bed in his hut with Anatoly?

He sat up and looked for his clothes, when all of his memories of the past month crashed down on him. His head fell into his hands as he remembered every insult he'd said and arrogant thing he'd done. What's more, it chilled him to remember that how he'd acted before he'd met Clark. Before he'd a role model on how to act like a normal human being, much less a good one.

The ones the especially hurt were the things he'd said and done to Anatoly. He knew he'd hurt him, every word meant as a weapon. Even not being able to remember, how could he do such a thing? As he sat there on the bed, he contemplated what to do. He wondered if he should even bother going back, as it seemed like no matter what he did, he was destined to hurt the man he loved.

But he remembered a promise he'd made two years ago, about never trying to leave again. So, no matter if he might be thrown out as a result, he steeled him, got dressed, had a cup of a coffee and then made the walk back to the hut he, hopefully, still shared with Anatoly.

When Lex had been out walking Aeneas earlier, he saw someone moving into one of the nearby beach front huts. He'd waved politely, called Aeneas off when he scampered up to say hello to the man and walked on, putting it completely out of his mind except as something he might mention to Anatoly over dinner.

Now he was at home waiting for Anatoly to return, reading a book he thought he might introduce to his humanities class later on in the semester. He realized he could keep the same curriculum semester after semester but that just made it boring for himself. Might as well make the class interesting for both the teacher and the students.

The party for Anatoly's birthday had been planned for that night, as if he'd been expected home. The island had to be behind this, the timing was too perfect and not surprisingly, this thought didn't comfort Lex one bit. There were dignitaries and other important people, anyone who needed to be seen at the celebration for the current country hero, much like the parties he'd had to attend back home so people could be seen with the Luthor heir. It was nothing like the quiet, humble birthday he'd had planned for Anatoly on the island. And at least then, he would have been able to be near the man he loved. Here...he was regulated to watching from a distance.

At least this was better then the small family gathering he'd had to endure before hand. Watching Anatoly with his family and not being allowed to leave the room by the Russian's request had been worse then any torture Lionel had ever devised. Anatoly may not have been the best father or husband but the happiness that radiated off of all of them during that moment of togetherness had just about broken Lex's heart.

So that's what he did, keeping to the walls and watching over Anatoly like the handler he was pretending to be. It was easier to think like a handler then think of anything else, as he was barely keeping it together as it was.

He wondered if Anatoly would even notice if he slipped back to the hotel for the night?

Totally forgetting what he'd been heading to the Compound for, Lex could only think to return to the hut after assuring Kon that he was fine. Or at least, outwardly he made it look like he was fine so the teenager would leave him alone so he could fall apart in peace. Even knowing it was an island trick, he couldn't get the thought of Clark dead in his grieving mother's arms with his blood on Lex's own hands.

He walked into the hut and didn't even look to see if Anatoly was there or not before sending everything on the dresser and center table to the floor with a sweep of his arms and a frustrated cry. He leaned against the now clear dresser, breathing heavily as he started to shake with fear and frustration from being unable to shake said fear.

Before going into the hut to break the horrible news to Anatoly, Lex paused to lean against the outer wall of the hut to collect himself. This week had been trying enough hiding the headaches and insomnia from Anatoly. And now, the worst possible thing had happened in that the last person he ever wanted to see again had just arrived on the island. Of all the times he needed his wits, why were they suddenly failing him?

He'd spent a good hour getting his father settled in the Compound. He knew his father didn't believe him and was treating him like he was going to break. The one time Lionel had caught him rubbing a particularly bad ache in his neck, Lex swore his father almost looked concerned. That would have been first, at least as far as Lex could remember. And was enough to seriously creep him out.

Finally Lex took a deep breath and went inside, straight to the scotch bottle. There was at least one upside to the this week, as if the island had anticipated his need. He poured a large cup of scotch, drained it, winced slightly at the burn and then began refilling it again as he said, "My father is here."

This was the most miserable and humiliated Lex had ever felt in his life.

A few days ago, he'd come down with horrible headaches, sore throat and slight fever. Without his mutation, he thought he'd just caught a cold from someone, nothing too serious. But when the first welt had appeared on his neck, he'd finally given in to Anatoly's insistence that he go to the clinic to get checked out. That was where he'd found out that he'd contracted chicken pox, a children's disease, and he couldn't have been more embarrassed.

No one in Lex's social circle growing up got the chicken pox. Children of the elite were sequestered together in fancy private and boarding schools, so there was just no exposure. And if someone did happen to contract it, many parents pulled their kids out of school until the disease had passed. It wasn't fashionable to have a child who was sick with such a common illness and it was even a bragging point if a child made it to their teens without getting it. After the age of nine, Lex hadn't had to worry about it anyway, which had allowed him a small, fleeting glimmer of pride from his father.

But now he was paying for that pride. The embarrassment of having small red welts dotting his pale skin made this worse then when he'd been sick with hypothermia. They were even on his head, dotting his bald scalp. And of course, those were the ones that itched the most, as if wanting to cause a scar where everyone would see it. It took everything Lex had to grip the blankets Anatoly had wrapped around him and not scratch at them.

Speaking of Anatoly, the Russian had been hovering like a mother hen ever since Lex's throat had begun to scratch. At first, Lex had been flattered and ate up the attention, but now he had to hold back from groaning when he heard a soft, accented voice asking if he needed anything. He loved Anatoly, he really did, but all the attention was smothering him. Granted, hearing Anatoly tell stories of taking care of his children when they had the chicken pox was adorable, but it still didn't make up for it. He'd spent more time pretending to be asleep then he ever had in his life.

At the moment he was sitting up in bed, wrapped in blankets despite the heat, trying to read. Anatoly had brought him back a book about Alexander the Great which he'd pleaded from the bookshelf to sooth Lex's temper. It was a good book, with good theories devised from Roman monuments and tombs but Lex was finding it hard to concentrate on the words. Instead he was mainly gripping the cover tightly in his hands so he didn't give into the urge to scratch.

Getting away from the studio had been easier then Lex had thought. Of course, Trumper throwing a temper tantrum and distracting all the reporters helped immensely. And Anatoly had been just as ready to get out of their as Lex had been.

Though, the closer their cab got back to the hotel, the more anxious Anatoly got and by the time they arrived, Lex had a hand in the Russian's curls and was saying soft Russian sayings in his ear to get him to focus and calm down. Lex, on the other hand, was just more keyed up, back in his element, in a game he'd been trained from birth to play.

Once back at the hotel, Lex had to practically drag Anatoly up to his room, once he got the number out of him. There they stood by the closed door, the only barrier now between them and Florence Vassey. Ideally, Lex didn't want the coming conversation with Anatoly's former lover either, but it had to be done. After glancing around to be sure the hallway was empty, Lex pulled Anatoly close to him by the hand he'd placed at the small of the Russian's back in it's usual comfort place so that their foreheads touched. "Just remember. We owe this to her. Better she finds out from us then De Courcey or Trumper. And I'll be with you, the entire time, I swear Tolya." He placed a soft kiss on Anatoly's lips then released him to open the hotel room door.