The water runs red although Lex never notices. He can't remember how long he's stood there; all he knows is that he can't stop. Ever. His hands will never be clean again, the stench of death chokes him, stealing his breath.

From a distance he dimly hears someone calling his name. Strong arms circle his waist pulling him back from the abyss.

Tears not his own mingle with his as gentle fingers wipe them away. Comfort steals over him, cooling the fire from his mangled hands. His voice ragged as his heart, he whispers a single word, his salvation.

"Clark."