Lex tossed and turned.

His first couple of weeks at the Kents had actually been great, but the night before had been terrible. He'd cycled between nightmares about his father getting out of prison and punishing him, to ones where his father stayed in prison forever, to the worst dream he'd ever had—his father coming back, but punishing Lex by disowning him.

On Lex's first night at the Kents, Clark had heard him crying, and called in Mrs. Kent. Lex would never have admitted to anyone but himself that her comfort had been really nice, but he didn't want to wake anyone up again. He wasn't that weak.

He had gotten lucky the night before—no one heard him wake up with a shout—but he didn't want to risk anyone hearing this time. Lex decided to avoid closing his eyes until he was sure Clark was sound asleep and wouldn't overhear his reactions to any future nightmares. The Kents had been nice so far—he didn't want to bother them. And aside from a few awkward moments, Clark had been the best part of it all. He didn't replace Julian, not exactly, but he was everything Lex had wanted out of a little brother.

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Lex waited until his fatigue began to overwhelm his anxiety, then he let himself close his eyes . . .

"Lex?"

Lex shot up in bed. Clark stood in his doorway.

"Are you asleep?"

"Not anymore." Lex flicked on the lamp. "What are you doing up?"

"I don't want to sleep any more. Do you want to play with me?"

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"Mom and Dad won't mind. We just have to be quiet so we don't wake them up."

Lex sighed. He wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon now, anyway. "What do you want to play?"

"Have you ever made a blanket fort?"

It had been a long time. He'd been Clark's age. His dad had told him he was too old for that. "Once."

Clark raced into his room and came back with an armful of blankets, the ends trailing behind him. "Can we use your room? It's cleaner."

Lex grinned.