a week.

sat. • 2/10/18 boston, ma He doesn't like to appear weak, and so to everyone who matters (and everyone who doesn't), he's not. But the loss of memory has taken a toll on him. The inability to not find anything of note to help him understand only frustrates him more. There's talk of "fictional" and "comic" characters and every time he hears it, it makes him irrationally angry. But he doesn't know why. It just angers. It frustrates. And even though he doesn't know why he has all these new scars and cuts on his back, his chest, his arms, his face, he knows it can't be for what those people are saying. Science says that he's fine. Brain scans come back normal. But the frustration remains. Until, midnight comes.

sun. • 2/11/18 boston, ma The thing that Lex still hasn't had control over is the shift, the moving of control from Xander to Lex, and that frustrates him. He strives to be in control, yet nothing about these moments give him any control. He wakes up alone, and finds himself surprised at that, and then finds himself surprised that he's surprised. But a familiar glow comes from the corner of the bedroom, in the dark, where not even the moonlight is touching it. So he does what any curious man does; he goes towards it. And when he gets to the object and picks it up, it feels cold between his fingers, but the stone, it glows hot. Kryptonite. It's his kryptonite ring. He swallows hard and sets the ring back down, backing away. He's supposed to be different now. Right?

mon. • 2/12/18 boston, ma He tells his assistant to hold his calls. To cancel his meetings. He is not to be disturbed at all this week. This happens every month now, as Lex knows the importance of business, and while his intelligence far surpasses Xander's, he does not see the need to meddle in the other man's affairs. Xander isn't trying to meddle in his, after all, the same respect is deserved. Though, it seems that perhaps both men have the same affair they don't wish to admit to be interested in. Lex can sense Xander's growing confusion, waking up in other countries with a particular person, while he's trying his best to get control on the situation. There's one thing he's never been able to control, and she's a spitfire, and he's never wanted to control her. When he first shifted and went to Xander's office months ago, Lex had gone through every desk, every drawer, every piece of paper in th XC Corp office. In Xander's office. IT was then that he found a particular photo, that he hadn't done anything with. One buried in the bottom of his left desk drawer, behind a hidden locked compartment. Two things resided there. A photograph, and a ring box that Lex felt it best he not open. It's not until this month, this week, that he takes the photograph out of the drawer, and sits at the desk. And after looking at it for a long time, he sets the frame on the desk and walks away. The smiling, loving faces in the photograph face the empty chair.

tues. • 2/13/18 boston, ma >He's making his own plans, the wheels turning in his head faster by the day. He might not be able to heal like some people, but the scars from the mojodome remind him of what was at stake. It reminds him of what he needed to do. It reminds him of what's at stake, what he could lose if he fails. The kryptonite ring remains in his pocket, unseen until at night when he's alone. The green stone is glowing in the dark when he takes it out, and stares at it, still cold The light shows there is a hint of conflict still in his eyes. Hasn't he turned a leaf? Hasn't he tried to be a better man? The ring returns to his pocket, but the heavy feeling pushing down his chest remains.

wed. • 2/14/18 boston, ma It's different, this feeling. There's still a heavy feeling weighing him down, and part of him actually feels conflicted for having dinner with her. In a way, it feels as though he is betraying his oldest friend (and foe), but his friend has moved on in his life, and Lex can't help himself. She's the one thing he's never been able to fully predict, and Xander has the same problem. It's complicated. But he's used to complications, because it means somewhere there is a resolution, there is a method of making things work in his favor. Only, he doesn't know what is 'in his favor'. Does she see him as a better man? One trying to walk the path of redemption, of trying to do right by his (now distant) Metropolis? Or does she still see him as the rest of the world still sees him, as a villain? He doesn't have super senses to tell her reactions to him. He isn't a walking lie detector test. All he has is trust. In choosing to trust that what she says, in what she does, is true. It leaves him vulnerable. He doesn't do well with vulnerable. He doesn't tell her about the photograph in the office. Because he's not sure if she fully believes he's different. Because he's not sure if he fully believes he's different. But his feelings for her? They're the same as they've always been. Complicated.

thurs. • 2/15/18 boston, ma "There is a difference between you and me," He tells the man walking with him, "The difference is that I know how to get what I want. The difference is that I do not let a minor issue like that get in my way." He turns, hand in a fist, as he stares at the man in front of him, "You will fix this problem, or you will become my problem, do you understand?" The younger man, horrified, nods. It's the first offence. Xander's new personal assistant, and Lex is not overly fond of the young man, and he knows that Xander isn't either. "Do you know how many problems I have, Mr. Andrews?" He asks, putting his hands in his jacket pocket, as the young Mr. Andrews shakes his head. "None. Because I always make them disappear." The young man takes the hint and bolts from the CEO office, and Lex sighs heavily. He had been set to go out for the night, but found himself taking off his jacket and throwing it over the back of his chair. The ring, the damn ring that he can't get away from, is now in his hand, and placed on the desk. He spins the object a few times, but it falls over, lopsided, heavy at the top. He frowns in frustration, his brow furrowing. He almost wonders if it's possible for the green stone to corrupt him. But he's always been a slightly corrupt man, hasn't he? Perhaps he hasn't changed.

fri. • 2/16/18 boston, ma The dream he has isn't a pleasant one, but it's memories of his old life. Of all the confrontations in his office (and outside of it), and yelling that he had been telling the truth. Of all the times his loyalty had been called into question. Of all the times he tried to lead himself down a better path, only to be turned away and fought at ever turn. Of seeing her marry not him, but someone else, someone he isn't even sure ever deserved her in the first place. And then the dreams are of fights. Of his power suit and trying to match him blow for blow and sometimes it working and other times not. OF almost dying, at the hands of a 'friend' out of anger. Of almost trying to kill that friend. OF all the past deeds he had done. OF all the horrible people he had worked with, and all the good people he had betrayed. He wakes up in a cold sweat, alone, and swallows hard. This isn't the life he should be leading. Things used to be so different. Maybe things still can be. Just not the way the world would want them to be. Being 'good' just isn't working. Not anymore.

sat. • 2/17/18 boston, ma He finds himself, staring at the photograph once more. He spends hours doing it, sitting in silence, thinking. She's not going to approve of this, but it has been made clear to him that he can't be the better man. That no matter how hard he does try, he can't be who people want him to be. He's painted the villain, over and over, despite trying to walk the lonely path of redemption. But it's not for him. He knows it now. The ring makes it clear. He just hopes that perhaps somewhere, down the line, she'll understand why he gave up the 'hero' lifestyle. If people demand him play the role of a villain, then maybe that's just what he'll do. But there is a heavy feeling sitting on his chest, knowing from here on out, he'll be playing with a different deck of cards. One he's stacked in his favor. A game in the shadows, in the dark, with nothing but his instincts to guide him. Another lonely path. Unfortunately, there is one thing he needs to control, to convince to get to his side. He sets the photograph back in the drawer, and locks it up, exactly where it was. And he pulls out a piece of paper, and starts to write. It's time he told his story.

sun. • 2/18/18 boston, ma When he wakes up, not in another country but in his own bed (but with her next to him, as he's used to), Xander actually breathes a sigh of relief. And at first, things seem to be okay. There are no new cuts, or scars. There's no overwhelming pain, though there is a weird feeling in his chest that he can't quite explain. But other than knowing he had missed a week, there was nothing else to be worried about. Until he went into his office to check on something, and sitting on the desk was an envelope and a box on top of it. He approached the desk with caution, looking to see that his office hadn't been broken into. That his new security cameras he had installed were still in working order. And as he sat at his desk, in front of the envelope and the box, he could see the red recording light of the camera watching his every move. Good. Cautiously, Xander opened the box to find a gold ring, with a green stone at the center. It glowed brightly, and had a weight to it that Xander couldn't quite put his finger on. With out really thinking, he slipped the ring on his little finger and opened the envelope to find a letter written in his own handwriting. "I know about the cameras. I did not disable them. I felt it was time you got to understand what goes on here, so none of the audio or visual has been altered. It's under a large level of security, but I have no doubt that you will be able to crack it. I am not sure if you will get this other item that I am leaving for you, but if you do, protect it. Wear it. Do not lose it. There are things here that you might not understand, but we have the same mind. Almost the same level of intellect, and thus I will try to explain it to you the best that I can. But first, an introduction. My name is Lex Luthor." And all that Xander could do was mutter "Well, shit."