The tall corn had fallen, becoming a quiescent sea of green. The
silence after the impact was absolute. He could feel his heart cold and
leaden in his chest, seized with something he refused to call fear.
This should not have happened. This should not have been allowed to
happen.
"Lex!" Where had he gone? He'd seen Lex walking into the rows of corn,
he'd *told* him to come back, but of course the boy hadn't listened. He
never listened.
Silence, unbroken by anything but the sound of his own too-harsh
breaths. It could not happen like this – not again. It was too sudden,
too unreal. Not like this.
Lionel's steps crunched over the crushed plants unsteadily. The stalks
and leaves beneath his feet felt almost like flesh and bone. Lex could
be anywhere beneath this sea of green, small body crushed to the ground
just like the corn, his son, his only son. But it couldn't happen like
this, not again. Lionel refused to accept it.
He breathed deep and calmed himself, recalling the direction Lex had
wandered off in. First, evaluate the situation fully. Then, take
immediate action to minimize the damage. Finally, analyze –
A puff of hair, orange against bruised green. The stench of chlorophyll
bit into his sinuses as he bent to pick it up.
Lex was only a few steps away, almost entirely covered by cornstalks.
Hope and terror warred in Lionel's heart as he dragged the broken
stalks off his son. He wasn't bleeding, he was breathing, but – his
hair –
Radiation poisoning. It would have to be. Lionel was no expert on
chemical warfare, but this – meteors or bombs, whatever it had been –
He realized he'd retreated a step, tried to force himself closer and
couldn't. He needed to get help. It might be unwise to touch the boy
anyway. What if Lex shouldn't be moved?
The rationalization allowed him to turn and run back. He couldn't
remember the last time he'd run outside of his fitness studio – it was
undignified and smacked of lack of control. Striding was intimidating,
it spoke of energy and certainty, confidence and authority. But he
didn't slow down. There was no one to see him, and at this moment, it
didn't matter.
The factory yard was deserted – apparently, everyone had taken cover
inside the production hall. As if that would save them if another wave
of meteors – bombs, whatever it had been – came down. His briefcase was
still propped on the hood of the Ross brothers' pickup, exactly where
he'd left it. At least he'd had enough of his wits left about him to
snap it shut before heading into the corn.
A minute later and he had finally succeeded in entering the combination
into the new LuthorCorp-patented digital lock. He fumbled with the cell
phone and had already hit the speed dial for his executive secretary's
mobile when he realized that the net was down. Jesus, hadn't anybody
heard of emergency backups? Had the incompetents that called themselves
net providers somehow managed to miss the Cold War?
He threw the useless phone halfway across the yard. "Help me – my son!"
The words stuck in his throat for a heartbeat before he forced them
over his lips. Either no one heard, or no one cared. None of the
cowards came out to help. Didn't they realize that his only son was
lying in the cornfield, maybe dying, maybe dead already?
A hot surge of rage welled up in him. He would fire the lot of them as
soon as he got to a working phone, breach of contract or no. It would
be easy to manufacture sufficient grounds – rampant incompetence.
Embezzling. Alcoholism. Hell, if need be he would forge their birth
certificates and deport the entire pack as illegal aliens.
The fact that the Rosses had left the key in the ignition of their
pickup almost swayed Lionel to forgiveness. When he stopped by the
roadside, as close to the spot where he'd found his son as possible,
Lionel made sure to pocket the truck's keys.
Lex was still curled in the same spot, but his eyes were closed, and he
wasn't moving anymore – not even to shiver. Lionel couldn't bring
himself to touch him. This naked creature didn't look like his son
anymore. What if he was –
"Lex, son -"
*Don't think about it,* he admonished himself. *Don't think.* First.
Evaluate the situation. Second. Take immediate action. Minimize the
damage. Get Lex to a hospital. Now.
He reached out, but drew back before touching the still body. To his
surprise, Lionel found that his breathing had grown unsteady and his
hands were shaking.
Lillian had had her hair cut before she went into hospital for the
first time. Lionel hadn't realized how much he'd hated the new style
until he saw her in her hospital bed, cropped hair like a wan halo
against the pillow, emphasizing the delicate line of her neck, the
too-sharp contours of cheekbones beneath a sprinkling of freckles that
was stark against the paleness of the skin. Too bare – too vulnerable.
He hadn't been able to bring himself to visit again for over a week.
Neither of them had ever mentioned it.
He looked up, away from the small form of his son lying in a bed of
crushed cornstalks, skull bare and white as bone. Wasn't there anybody
here who could help him? Surely there must be somebody...
At first, he thought he was hallucinating. But when he'd blinked and
looked again, the child was still standing in the same place – smiling
up at him as sunnily as though the last hour had been nothing but an
unlikely nightmare. A child that young wouldn't have been out in the
fields alone. Had his parents been killed? Had he wandered here from
the street, or even the factory?
The boy advanced carefully, picking his way over the uneven footing. If
his parents had been killed in front of his eyes, surely the child
would be traumatized. And why was he naked?
When the strange child reached the spot where Lex lay, he stopped and
regarded the other boy in earnest silence, finally stooping. Lionel was
close enough that he could see his son's eyes open at the touch of the
child's hand on his cheek. They fell shut again almost immediately, but
the relief that surged through Lionel instilled resolve into him. He
bent and lifted Lex into his arms, settling his son's head against his
shoulder and trying to ignore the sight of the wisps of red hair that
still clung to the pallid skull.
The naked boy watched him. He seemed to be about two, perhaps three
years of age, as old as Julian would have been.
Julian had had red hair, just like Lillian. Just like Lex. He'd been
less delicate than Lex had been as a baby, though not as robust as this
boy.
"Where are your parents?" Lionel asked. The only answer he received was
another smile, starting out almost shy, then blooming into a happy
grin, steady and unafraid. Lex never smiled like that. Julian – Julian
was dead. And Lex...
Lex looked even more like Lillian now, and Lionel had never fooled
himself into believing the doctors when they spoke encouragingly of
revolutionary new treatments.
Lionel hesitated. He couldn't very well leave this child here alone,
but neither could he tolerate any further delay in bringing Lex to a
hospital. "Where did you come from?" he asked again, rather sharply.
The boy studied him for a moment and then turned, beginning to make his
way deeper into the field. Perhaps his parents had been caught by the
blast and were lying in the vicinity, hidden by the corn just as Lex
had been.
This child looked so healthy, so strong... calmly standing in the midst
of devastation with not a scratch on him. Looking at him, it seemed
inconceivable that life was so fragile – that it could be taken from
you overnight, between one heartbeat and the next. That someone could
lie down to sleep one night and not wake up. Step into a field of corn
and not walk out. Go to a routine check-up...
Lionel resolved to spare a minute to look for the boy's parents, but no
more. No one could ask more of him when his own son lay poisoned and
unconscious in his arms.
The crater torn into the field by the force of impact lay only a little
further along, camouflaged by the flattened corn and a small dip in the
ground. The rounded, half-buried shape at the center of the hollow made
it immediately clear that the impact had been caused by neither meteor
nor bomb.
The boy had followed Lionel. He walked up to where the egg-shaped craft
lay buried in the soil. Lionel would not even have tried to move it on
his own; the boy hunkered down, considered for a moment, and grabbed
hold of one spiny metal protrusion with chubby hands. The ground
shifted beneath Lionel's feet, and the ship came free of the earth's
embrace with a sound grotesquely reminiscent of that of a cork popping
out of a bottle.
On the way back to the truck, Lionel carried Lex in his right arm and
held the alien's dirt-smudged hand with his left hand. The alien smiled
up at him and dragged his spaceship behind them.
It was a myth that your life passed before your eyes in the instant
before you died. Either that, or you got a choice in the matter. Lex
certainly wouldn't have chosen to live through his twenty-one years
again, no matter what the circumstances; once had been quite enough.
Whatever the reason, the only thing that went through Lex's mind in the
instant before the Porsche tore through the guardrail into free fall
and his head collided with the steering wheel was "oh fuck."
Coming back from the dead wasn't all it was cracked up to be, either.
For one thing, it hurt. For another, the first thing Lex saw when he
opened his eyes was the anxious face of his savior, tousled dark hair
still dripping water.
"Jesus," Lex rasped once he had finished vomiting what felt like half
the river. He paused to grimace at the pain in his chest. Christ,
*everything* hurt – his head, his ribs, his heart, his lungs, every
fucking thing. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Saving your ungrateful hide, you stupid prick." Lian's face closed
down into the usual sullen scowl, but he continued to hover, going so
far as to support Lex's shoulders when he tried to sit up. "If it had
been anyone else standing on that bridge, you'd both be dead now."
Dimly, Lex realized that this much unsolicited helpfulness, coming from
this particular person, was significant. He felt too awful to think
about much of anything except how much he hurt right now, though, and
he could definitely use the assistance. Considering he was feeling as
though he'd taken three dozen valium – on top of something far more
vicious – Lex on his own probably wouldn't have been able to do much
but flop on the ground like a stranded fish. It took major effort just
to hold up his head.
After a moment of marshalling his strength, Lex very carefully turned
to assess the situation. Lian had dragged him up onto the gravel slope
beneath the pier to revive him. The Porsche had ripped through the
bridge's iron guardrail as though it were foil. The torn beams were
bent outwards, stark against the blue sky. They looked almost as though
they were grasping for something, and Lex couldn't suppress a slight
shudder.
It had been terrifying, that split second when he knew that he wasn't
going to survive. Even in his darkest moments, Lex had never wanted to
die; the futile knowledge of how intense his desire to live was came as
a shock even so. And when he'd caught sight of Lian, when he'd realized
there was no way he could bring the car around in time to prevent it
from hitting him...
Waking had been almost as bad, a start of pure disoriented shock, a
flash of mingled nausea and agony. But in between dying and living
again, there had been a soaring moment of freedom. It had almost been
worth it, just for that timeless instant of unfettered joy.
"You were dead when I dragged you out, Lex." Lian's voice was low. "You
weren't breathing. Your heart had stopped."
Lian was still glowering fiercely, but in the second before he looked
away, Lex thought he saw a suspicious sheen in his eyes. A small jolt
of shocked surprise ran through Lex, resonating too much with recent
memory to be anything but wrenching. He couldn't think straight. Maybe
there was something wrong with his sight, too.
The boy dashed a wet sleeve over his face quickly before scrambling to
his feet. "I'll go get help."
"No!" Not his sight, then. Lian was panicking, which wasn't like him at
all. Lex struggled to get to his knees in preparation for standing, but
before he'd managed to so much as shift his weight, Lian snarled and
lunged at him. Heavy hands fell on Lex's shoulders and held him down.
He gave Lian his coldest and most unnerving stare, but his brother
seemed unimpressed, countering with a narrow, icy glare of his own.
Good – maybe he was getting back on his game now. About time, too.
"How did you get me out?"
Lian shrugged with infuriating casualness. His hands remained where
they were. "Pried up the roof. The car was totalled anyway."
Lex felt an absurd flash of regret at the premature end of his favorite
Porsche.
They were both still rattled. That was no excuse for sloppiness,
though, and he made his voice hard and more than slightly scornful when
he spoke. "Go back in and bend it back, Julian. Then, and only then,
can you go get help. Why do I have to tell you this?"
As expected, the order earned him a sullen glare, but after a
challenging lift of one eyebrow and a moody grunt, the boy took himself
off, diving into the stream with a showy splash that had Lex checking
the bridge and the banks of the river to make sure they were still
alone. Fortunately, Lex seemed to have chosen a conveniently deserted
spot to kill himself.
By the time Lian climbed back out of the river, Lex was so cold and
miserable that he'd almost stopped caring. It must have shown; Lian's
moody sulk gave way to a flash of what looked suspiciously like alarm,
and he sped to a slightly too-fast pace on his way back to Lex's side.
"You look like shit, Lex. Are you –"
"You did check for suspicious dents in the metal, I assume." Lex
couldn't tell whether his voice had been as sharp as he'd intended.
Lian's face didn't change; he only nodded and bent closer. "And the
radiator grille? If there are any fibers from your clothes caught in –"
"Jesus, Lex, shut up already. No one's going to have the chance to get
that close a look – as soon as the car's towed from the river, we'll
have it compacted."
It was a good point. Lex shut up. Not that he had all that much choice
– at this point, his teeth were chattering so badly that it would have
been too undignified to persist in berating his wayward brother, anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lian found that there were few things that could bring your world
crashing down about your ears like the discovery that you were a
stranded alien lifeform. He supposed the fact that he hadn't been even
remotely prepared showed a lamentable lack of the kind of cold,
analytical logic that seemed to come so easily to his father and Lex.
Not being prepared for any eventuality was a cardinal sin in the Luthor
household, and yea verily, Lian had been caught with his pants well and
truly down.
There had been clues, true enough – the kind of clues that, in
retrospect, could have been clearer only with the help of a large
wooden hammer. Still, Lian's larger-than-life father had been talking
about emperors, god-kings, and pulling the strings of the modern world
for as long as Lian could think, and Lex had been bald since he was
nine and doing astrophysical equations in his head since he was twelve.
Lian thought he should really be cut some slack when it came to not
hitting on the extraterrestrial explanation for his own strangeness.
Suddenly being a space invader gave you a whole new perspective on
pretty much everything. Perspective wasn't the only consequence, of
course. There was also the utter disbelief (because this was clearly
insane), the blinding shock (because Dad did *not* pull pranks like
this), the panic (hard to escape with a universe of certainties
collapsing around you), the hysterical shouting, and, of course, the
Condescending Paternal Smile of Doom.
Lian, Lian, Lian. What did you think you were, son, something that
crawled out of a petri dish one day and that I decided to take home and
introduce to my wife?
Perspective. He'd known he was adopted, if not where Dad had found him.
He'd known his abilities had figured large in the decision to make him
a Luthor. This was only as it should be; his abilities raised him above
the rest of the crowd, made him someone out of the ordinary – someone
who would not be out of place in the Luthor fold.
Even though this still held true, Lian's new knowledge cast a chilling
slant on the matter. Dad had a way with language – he could evoke vivid
pictures with a few well-placed words, so clear as to seem almost like
memories. An alien kid in a blasted cornfield, dragging his spaceship
with one chubby hand... potentially the most revolutionary discovery on
the face of this biologically and technologically underdeveloped planet.
He wasn't entirely certain just where the crucial difference lay
between this truth and those he'd sometimes pictured in younger years,
but whatever it was, it was deeply unsettling. It made him flee the
lab, his father and the silent shape of the spaceship before Dad had
quite finished expounding on the subject of how Lian had fallen to
earth in the midst of a meteor shower. How art thou fallen from heaven,
how art thou cut down to the ground...
No doubt his father had been expecting a dramatic reaction. It
explained why he'd chosen the early hours of morning for his
revelation, the only time when Metropolis streets were relatively free
of traffic. The vicinity of the lab was entirely deserted, but Lex's
penthouse was downtown, and Lian winged a delivery van, a courier, and
even several parked cars on his not entirely co-ordinated rush down the
streets. He was running too fast to be seen, though, and he was certain
he didn't cause any inexplicable accidents.
Almost entirely certain.
Lian had to stop in an alley near Lex's building to stifle a fit of
near-hysterical laughter. Maybe in the morning, the Inquisitor would
print a feature on UFOs hidden away in secret laboratories and the
nocturnal activities of hubcap-kicking aliens in downtown Metropolis,
never suspecting that for once, their usual drivel was nothing but the
truth.
Conscious decision didn't play any part in his headlong dash. Hard to
say why Lian headed instinctively for Lex; he'd thought he'd stopped
running to him a long time ago. Luthors did not run to anyone, ever.
But Lex was always so cool and collected nowadays... nothing seemed to
faze him anymore. Even Dad had to work at getting to him, and looked to
be failing at a steeply increasing rate. If Lex had been the one to
fall from the sky and into Lionel Luthor's lap as though dropped by a
giant interstellar stork, Lian imagined he'd have greeted the sight of
his toddler-sized spaceship with a thoughtfully raised eyebrow and
nodded once, slowly, while reaching for a notepad to jot down some
interesting theories on the alloy of the ship's hull, relative
velocity, vector of entry, whatever.
Well, no. As comforting as the image of a preternaturally collected Lex
was, Lian had to admit that realistically, the discovery he'd been
living under the same roof with an extraterrestrial lifeform would
definitely give Lex pause – and that was if Lian could make him believe
it in the first place. But surely Lex wouldn't be this panicked. Surely
he'd go at the matter logically and find some way to turn it all into
known facts and conjectures to be tested, and he'd know if there was
anything Lian ought to do, like – like try to phone home or something.
He'd probably even be able to figure out how to do it. Lex would –
No. Lex would do nothing, because Lian would not, could not, tell him.
Not if he didn't already know. The information was too valuable, and
Lian didn't know of anything he could have demanded in return to
balance the scales. Lex had secrets, but Lian was certain there was
nothing quite like this lurking in his closets. Handing anyone such an
advantage went against everything Lian had been taught.
Maybe they could keep this apart from the usual wrangling, though. If
Lian asked Lex for help in figuring this out, if Lian just trusted
him... If Lian showed him how important this was to him, surely Lex
would understand. Surely Lex wouldn't use him as a weapon in his
ongoing campaign against their father.
Could Lian afford to take that chance, though?
In a way, dealing with Lex was even trickier than dealing with Dad. At
least Lian always knew where he stood with his father. With Lex, there
were always things that got in the way. Memories of a younger Lex with
an explosive temper who fought Dad with bitter intensity, often over
wrongs done to Lian rather than himself; Lex's sudden, genuine smiles;
his habit of lecturing Lian on keeping his head down.
Lex wasn't Dad, but that didn't change the fact that he was a Luthor,
and Lian knew how the game was played. To a Luthor, family were people
who understood you. Family knew you and what you were capable of, would
pit themselves against you with equal skill and ruthlessness, and would
never, ever let you get away with weakness or mistakes. They were the
ones who mattered: the ones truly worth fighting.
For all that Lian's earliest memories were of Lex patiently naming all
of the toys in the nursery, Lex was dangerous. He'd been raised to be,
and lately, it had become increasingly obvious that Dad's educational
efforts were paying off.
God, Lian hoped Lex already knew about him.
As it turned out, Lian didn't have to decide anything that day. While
forcing himself to stand still in the elevator, he pressed his
shock-numbed mind into constructing alternate reasons for him to turn
up at Lex's in the small hours of the morning – just in case he decided
to go that route. None of the things he came up with were particularly
convincing; the best of the lot was probably the stellar "I had a
nightmare and couldn't go back to sleep." Lex might have been amused,
or he might have been worried, but he certainly wouldn't have been
fooled.
Perhaps it was just as well that Lex wasn't home.
Lian slept on Lex's couch that night, dreaming of cornfields and
meteors and tall men in armor battling above him, looming like
skyscrapers; mythical heroes too wrapped up in tipping the scales that
governed the fate of creation to notice that they were trampling Lian
and his toy spaceship underfoot. A steel-eyed goddess watched Lian as
he searched for his sword in the cornstalks. This is not your fight,
she said, her hair burning like fire. This is not your life. Who do you
think you're fooling, pretending to be one of mine?
The movers woke him when they came to pack up Lex's things.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lex's favorite Porsche plowing you straight through an iron guardrail
and off a bridge. More than that, tearing the car open with your bare
hands to drag Lex out, cold and still and blue-lipped and *not
breathing* –
And more than even that, feeling his heart begin to beat again beneath
your hands, listening to his first shallow, tortured breath, having Lex
come back to you to bitch about how you forgot to take the precautions
that really should have been second nature by now, that – to a real
Luthor – should have been as instinctive as... breathing.
Perspective. In a big way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The medics Lian insisted on calling were gratifyingly easy to get rid
of, perhaps because Lex glossed over the more dramatic parts of his
misadventure. No doubt it helped that the extensive bruising on his
ribcage was already beginning to shade into brown and purple around the
edges, lending a modicum of credibility to his claim that it was the
result of an altercation he'd had days ago back in Metropolis.
Lex planned on interrogating the youngest Luthor exhaustively as soon
as he got dried off and warmed up. He only sat down on the sofa in his
new office for a minute, just long enough for the painkillers – and the
scotch – to take effect.
That was the plan, anyway. By the time he woke up, it was dark, and
Lian was nowhere to be found. Nowhere in the room, in other words; Lex
wasn't feeling up to investigating the rest of the mansion's
seventy-odd rooms quite yet.
He'd almost dozed off again when the phone started ringing. The sound
threatened to make his headache return, and Lex decided he'd let his
secretary take care of it before remembering that she was wrapping up
things in Metropolis and wasn't due to arrive for weeks yet. He then
considered outwaiting the caller, but since it could really be only one
person, that idea was scrapped, too. It was never a good idea to ignore
Dad. It made him think you were up to something particularly
interesting.
He didn't sigh as he stood.
"Lex Luthor." Lex felt a bit woozy, whether from sleep or dying, but
his words came out gratifyingly crisp.
"Lex." His father's voice was cool with censure. "I've heard of your
latest peccadillo. Do you really think that this is the right kind of
first impression to be making with your employees?"
"Dad. Your concern for my well-being warms my heart. Yes, I am feeling
much better, thank you for asking."
An impatient sigh. "I don't have time for this, Lex. Have the
consideration to reschedule your attention-getting activities to some
time when I'm not in the middle of a corporate takeover." The muted
tapping of a keyboard, and a pleased sound that had nothing to do with
their conversation. "Duty calls. I'll leave you to the fertilizer
plant, son. Keep in mind that I don't hold with second chances."
"Imagine my shock and dismay," Lex said to the dial tone. After a
moment of gloomy thought, he dropped the receiver in the cradle,
wincing as the clatter resounded in his skull with unusual vehemence.
Interesting. Not a word about Lian – and by now, Dad was bound to know
he was in Smallville, whether Lian had announced his travel plans
before leaving or not. Lex had more than half expected Dad to issue Lex
with official orders to pack Lian back off to Metropolis.
If it had been anyone else, Lex would have known they'd been sent to
spy on him. With Lian, he was unsure. It was difficult to imagine a
collusion between Dad and Lian as more than a short-term, sporadic
effort. Lian would have to stay for several weeks or – better – months
in order to gain any kind of significant insight into Lex's doings, and
to forge an alliance intended to last that long, Dad and Lian would
have to trust the other not to double-cross them with Lex. And they
couldn't. Lex had invested a huge amount of effort and years' worth of
plotting to ensure that they couldn't.
Luthor family dynamics were a constantly shifting tangle of temporary
alliances and embittered struggles for advantage, but as long as they
could maintain some kind of balance, it worked. More or less – Dad did
push the envelope most of the time. If Dad and Lian ever formed a
lasting entente...
Lex would just have to see that they never did. His life was already
difficult enough.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Smallville was where boring went to die. It was as though Devilicus'
GehennaRay had sucked the potential interest out of the entire region
and then added some dreariness just to be on the safe side. It was
surrounded by nothing at all – just fields, corn and corn and yet more
corn, with the occasional fence and pasture or ancient, creaky windmill
to perpetuate the monotony. Smallville itself was a similar blank in
Lian's mental map. Terra Obscura.
Kansas: The Heartland. The Corn Belt. The Big 0.
Lian had never been inclined toward the quiet country life. He'd lived
in Metropolis all his life, barring the occasional trip or vacation.
Not that he'd necessarily wanted to stay there forever – for one thing,
it sucked not to be allowed out of your father's sight because he was
convinced you couldn't take care of yourself and, if left alone for
longer than two hours at a time, would inevitably be abducted to turn
up again as part of a competitor's new product range. Still, Lian had
no complaints about big city life. He *liked* being surrounded by
diversions and luxuries.
It had taken him three days to get his hands on an acceptable
motorcycle in this burg. The Smallvillian dealer had had to order it
from Metropolis, and then they'd had to redo the purple dragon Lian had
requested airbrushed on the side five times before they finally got it
right.
The hotel was intolerable. He'd had closets that were larger and more
imaginatively decorated, the floor looked like it hadn't been scrubbed
in decades, and Lian was afraid to turn in the night for fear of
destroying either the bed itself or the tasteless plywood nighttable.
The shower-stall was too small, and the shower-head was fixed at the
level of Lian's chest. So far, he'd managed to resist the temptation to
rip it from the wall, but if he got shampoo in his eyes one more time
trying to reach the water...
To add insult to injury, both the receptionist and the maid stared at
him as though he were an exhibit in a zoo – a real live Luthor,
transplanted from his natural habitat for their viewing pleasure.
Lian had originally planned on giving Lex all the time he needed to
settle in. Lex hated to be pushed – if he felt manipulated, he turned
into a grade A bastard in no time flat, and then Lian wouldn't be able
to do anything with him. It was better to give Lex a bit of space right
now, what with Dad sending him into exile and Lian following that up by
saving his life. Lex would come looking for Lian in his own time. If it
took too long, Lian could always act up a little, do something
almost-but-not-quite inhuman. It was a sure-fire way to make Lex turn
up coldly furious on his doorstep, demanding that Lian move in with him
so Lex could keep an eye on him.
Now, though, faced with the reality of the dingy hole in the wall that
was the Smallville Ramada's honeymoon suite, Lian decided that a change
of plans was imperative. A week would have to be enough for Lex to find
his feet in Smallville. Good strategy was one thing, lack of comfort
quite another.
In the meantime, he could get on with the other reason he was in
Smallville.
Thirteen years was a long time to let information lie. All evidence of
the destruction the meteor storm had wreaked must have been removed
long since. By now, even the last of the debris must have been cleared
away, or plowed under to sleep deep beneath the surface of the corn.
Scarred earth would have closed and healed over with a new skin of
green. People's memories, always unreliable, would be the product of
imagination more than fact after this long; small snippets of fervently
believed legend – brimming with pathos, heroism and hope in the midst
of despair – would have been born to replace the too-harsh reality of
sudden, inexplicable catastrophe.
All true, but even so, Lian felt that Smallville would provide the key
to his past. Which form it would take was uncertain, but it couldn't be
anywhere else but here, where he had first set foot on this world.
And no one said he couldn't have fun while he was searching for his
origins.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The high school gym was a rather pitiful affair, but Lian hardly
noticed. He was too busy being stunned. He had never felt like this
before in his life, and he did not like it at all. Was this pain, this
strange pulling in his stomach, as though someone had reached right
into his guts and was winding them around their fist?
His legs gave out suddenly and he crumpled to his knees, catching
himself with one hand while the other stayed pressed to his stomach.
The impact with the floor was like an explosion in his kneecaps,
sharply unpleasant sensations bursting outwards.
There was a peculiar and foreboding tightness in his throat.
"Hey, are you okay?"
With something almost like wonder, Lian realized that he was a hair's
breadth away from throwing up. No wonder Lex had always been so
ill-tempered on the mornings after his trawls through Metropolis'
seedier nightclubs. If Lian had had to deal with Dad right now, he'd
have vomited on his shoes and considered it an appropriate commentary.
Someone knelt next to him – a cheerleader, to judge by the short skirt
and shapely thighs. It took Lian several moments of careful breathing
and inner chanting to gather the strength to look up. *Luthors aren't
weak, Luthors aren't sick, Luthors don't fucking collapse to their
knees in front of the entire goddamned football team...*
The girl crouching next to him looked genuinely concerned, her open
expression revealing no trace of mockery or hunger for scandal. At any
other time, Lian would have been interested. She was undeniably pretty
– a bit blander than he preferred, but with long soft hair that looked
as though it would feel good trailing over his skin. At this moment,
though, all Lian really cared about was the slow salto his innards were
performing and the deafening pulse that had begun to hammer at the
inside of his skull. Bright shards of pain twisted in his head.
"No, I –" There was a moment of almost-clarity, and the girl's face
swam before him, eyes huge and questioning. In the instant before the
nausea rose up again, he had time to panic. *Get Lex,* he almost
begged, but managed to choke the words down in time. Luthors didn't beg
for help. Luthors didn't *need* help.
"I'll be... fine." God, he hoped so. What *was* this? What was he
supposed to do to stop it?
"Lana, move over, let me give the guy a hand." The cheerleader's place
was taken by a boy wearing football gear and an earnest expression to
match the girl's. "Come on, let's get you over to the bleachers."
Lian took the offered hand and let himself be pulled up. Another new
and, truth be told, frightening experience – he honestly didn't know
whether he'd have been able to stand on his own, and the football
player's grip felt too strong by far, as though he were exerting more
force than Lian was capable of, right at this moment.
Sitting down seemed to help. His stomach settled as soon as he'd
slumped onto the wooden bench, and his head cleared enough to let him
focus on his surroundings. His first impression had been accurate – the
gym was barely adequate and overdue for renovation.
Only three quarters of the football team were openly staring at him. A
small gaggle of cheerleaders stood near the door, caught between
rampant curiosity and the need to seem blasé.
The football player next to Lian made an abbreviated gesture towards
the pretty cheerleader who'd tried to help. She nodded agreeably,
giving Lian one more sympathetic look before jogging over to rejoin her
fellows. The gaggle closed around her for a moment, and when they
re-ordered and moved off to a more convenient spot to pick up practice
again, Lian's cheerleader was carrying pom-poms and had become
indistinguishable from the others.
"You need a doctor?"
Lian shook his head automatically. The lack of throbbing pain that
followed the action was miraculous; he breathed deeply once, twice, and
almost closed his eyes in relief as the sick weakness drained from him.
"I'm okay," he said, speaking slowly and giving the other boy a
grateful smile to gain time. This called for a bit of extempore
improvisation. What would be sufficient cause for such a violent bout
of illness, but not be serious enough to prevent him from joining the
team? "I've already seen a doctor. It's not as bad as it looks, or
feels, for that matter. Don't think I'll ever eat fish again, though."
The football player seemed to accept this explanation. Lian himself was
far from satisfied with it. It had been the only thing he could come up
with on such short notice, though.
"Talk about making a dramatic entrance, huh?" Lian gave a rueful smile.
He hadn't envisioned his introduction to Smallville High quite like
this, but he could work with it.
"Yeah." The other boy's amicable tone was encouraging. "Sure got our
attention. My name's Clark. You?"
"Julian, but everyone calls me Lian." Back on track, and moving right
along. He returned Clark's smile and restrained himself from offering a
handshake. Social mores in Smallville were a bit different from what he
was used to. "I'm new. I was hoping to try out for the football team."
Clark gave him a look that Lian countered with an easy grin. "Not right
now, of course. I just thought I'd check the lay of the land – find out
who I need to talk to, see whether you're even looking for new players,
you know."
The appraising once-over Clark gave Lian was familiar and reassuring
enough to push him entirely into his present role. This, he could
handle easily. There would be time enough to deal with everything else
later.
Lian had devoted careful attention to the minutiae of his appearance,
from the slightly tousled hair to the faded jeans and inexpensive
running shoes. With some judicious adjustments to his posture, he was
indistinguishable from any of dozens of Smallvillian youths, though in
considerably better shape than most – as his plain and comfortably
loose t-shirt failed to conceal.
Clark regarded Lian for a thoughtful moment before nodding decisively.
The moment he opened his mouth, a chorus of bright voices began
chanting a rhythmic, unspeakably inane little verse, and they both
glanced over to the cheerleaders. They were now engaged in bouncing up
and down like demented yo-yos, shaking their pom-poms and tossing their
heads.
For a long and slightly vertiginous instant, Lian truly felt like an
alien, observing the bizarre rituals of a primitive species.
"We're always looking for new players," Clark said. "The coach isn't in
today, but check in tomorrow at the same time. I'm sure he'd be happy
to arrange for a try-out sometime next week, when you're okay again."
On a hunch, Lian chose to leave by the door that led into the school
proper instead of the one he'd entered by. He'd felt his old self again
all through the conversation, but sure enough, when he drew near the
energetically cheering girl with the almond eyes and soft-looking long
hair, his knees grew weak and his insides clenched. He barely had the
strength to tug open the door by the time he reached it, and the effort
was not the only thing that made his heart pound in his chest fast and
harsh, like a drum.
He found a bathroom and tried splashing cold water into his face. It
didn't do anything for the fear, though, and his body had stopped
acting up as soon as he'd left the gym.
Nothing like this had ever happened to him before, and the fact that it
*could*... and he didn't know what had caused it, except that it must
have something to do with the cheerleader. Lana. Something to do with
Lian, specifically, and Lana.
Lian went and sat in the library until the almost overwhelming urge to
call Lex had passed. Only a firm reminder that he was a Luthor kept him
from hugging himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was only recently that Lex had begun to change, although in
retrospect, Lian could recognize the first signs much earlier.
He'd caught him swimming naked with a girl, once. She'd been lovely,
her nude body glistening and sleek as she climbed out of the water and
bounced on her toes twice before arching back into the pool, breaking
the surface with hardly a splash. Lian remembered that she'd been
lovely, objectively speaking, although he couldn't recall what she had
looked like – whether she'd been dark or fair, short or tall, plump or
skinny, well-endowed or boyishly slim.
Lian's eyesight had always been excellent, and he could be as quiet as
a cat when he chose to be. He'd crept up on them soundlessly, attracted
by the sound of water and voices in the middle of the night. Had it
been Dad, Lian would have turned around long before arriving at the
pool. It had been Lex's voice murmuring low words to his companion,
though, so Lian went on until he had a good view of them. They were
distracted; neither of them so much as glanced in his direction the
entire time he was there.
Lex had been laughing, and the girl had come up in the circle of his
arms when she surfaced from her dive. Not long after, they'd made
little splashing sounds and hushed, choked moans as they moved together
against the side of the pool. The girl had wrapped her legs around
Lex's waist, and Lex's muscles had been shifting rhythmically beneath
his skin.
It hadn't really been that interesting to watch – mildly revolting,
even. Lian had left before they'd finished. The next morning, the girl
had been gone, and Lian had been glad.
He remembered the way droplets of water glistened on Lex's shoulders,
the way the muscles in his back moved. When he'd turned his head to the
side, his mouth had been slightly open, his eyes closed. There were
freckles on his shoulders.
Years later, Lian followed Amanda home, just to see if he could. He
stood on the other side of the street from her apartment building and
looked up, and he saw the light go on in her bedroom, waited for it to
go out some time later. She slept on the back side of the building, and
Lian thought that if he got some rock climbing bolts to drive into the
stone and support his weight, he could scale the wall to her window
very quickly. So quickly that no one would have a chance to investigate
the sledgehammer-sound of metal being thrust into and ripped from
concrete... at least not before he'd reached her window, gone inside,
and come back out to leave the same way. It would only take a minute.
Less than that.
It would have been obvious to anyone who knew about Lian that he was
responsible, of course. But Lian didn't think about that as he stood
beneath her window; it was all purely hypothetical, after all.
He wondered who she thought about before she went to sleep. He didn't
have strong feelings about her, and he failed to understand how anyone
could. She was not particularly beautiful, nor was she a great wit, or
particularly smart. Dad's women were always gorgeous. If he'd thought
about it at all before Amanda appeared on the scene, Lian would have
guessed that Lex's women would always be brilliant. But Amanda was not.
Amanda wasn't even Lex's woman, really.
Not smart in the least. But she did have a nice smile. And, for
whatever reason, Lex liked her.
Lian left before anyone noted his presence, and didn't follow her home
again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dad claimed the Luthor mansion in Smallville was the ancestral home of
their line. Lian rather doubted it; he hadn't made a particular study
of Scottish history, but the family who'd built this thing had
obviously been very wealthy. The first mention of a Luthor in any
historical document was a court record from New York around the turn of
the century, where Livius Luthor ("blacksmith") had been fined for
disturbing the peace. He'd probably still been hung over at the trial,
because he'd tried to excuse his drunk and disorderly conduct with
enthusiasm after winning a horse in a card game. A Luthor should have
been able to come up with a better excuse than that.
Lian circled the mansion twice before he caught a glimpse of Lex,
ensconced behind a massive desk with his laptop and a glass of scotch.
Idiot – he had to be taking antibiotics to guard against pneumonia
after inhaling half the river, but of course that didn't stop him from
drinking. Sometimes Lian thought Lex was *trying* to kill himself. At
least he'd gone off the recreational drugs, as far as Lian could tell.
That year had been like an extended nightmare –
Without warning, his foot slipped out from under him. Lian gave an
embarrassing squeak before tumbling head over heels down a slope. He
came up hard against a collection of solid and uncomfortable objects
that felt a lot like rocks. Checking was pretty much out of the
question, though, what with the neon green, glow-in-the-dark field
mouse the size of a terrier baring its teeth at him from about two feet
away.
Lian squeaked again – in surprise, of course. The mouse growled.
An uncertain moment passed while Lian and the glowing rodent stared at
each other, neither willing to commit to a course of action just yet.
"Uhm," Lian said at last. This was ridiculous, but then, so was your
father taking you to a lab and showing you the spaceship you'd touched
down in. There was no one around except him and the neon mouse. He
might as well try. "You don't happen to be from – somewhere else, do
you?"
If it was, it didn't speak English, or just didn't feel like talking to
him.
Lian shifted on the ground, moving slowly. He didn't want to spook it.
"Hey mouse," he said softly. The animal's whiskers twitched, and it
retreated a step. Lian froze until it stilled.
He found that if he moved very smoothly, the mouse would twitch
nervously, but not retreat further. Until he'd gathered his legs
beneath him and tried to bring his hand closer to the animal, that was.
As soon as he lifted a finger toward it, the mouse bolted.
Lian lunged. The mouse wasn't even a yard away, and there was no way to
miss it – its bright green halo had even begun to pulse slightly at
some point, making it stand out in the night like a strobe beacon. No
living being on the face of this planet was as fast as Lian. There was
no possible way for one rodent, no matter what size or color, to escape
him.
But escape him it did. Lian was not at all sure how it happened, but
his legs went out from under him and he crashed face-first in the dirt
just when he thought he had the animal in his grasp. Soft fur brushed
his fingertips, and then the mouse was gone, and Lian was left gasping
for air in the ditch behind Lex's window.
His knee throbbed where it had hit the ground, and he had trouble
catching his breath. Although he didn't feel nearly as bad as when the
cheerleader had come too close, he felt distinctly ill. The mouse was
gone, but even after waiting a minute or so, Lian didn't feel much
better.
What if it wasn't the cheerleader and the mouse after all. What if Lian
was the problem? Maybe he was dying – maybe people never grew to be
sixteen where he came from. Maybe something here was poisoning him.
Maybe his system had had as much oxygen as it could take, and he was
going into shock right this moment, and Lex would find him here in the
morning, dead of too much healthy country air.
For a moment, Lian thought he might be hyperventilating, but Luthors
didn't panic. No real Luthor would ever panic. Luthors were logical.
Lex wouldn't panic. What would Lex do?
He rolled over and climbed to his feet slowly. His legs were a bit
unsteady, but it wasn't too bad, and after several deep breaths, Lian
very carefully made his way to a convenient boulder, just the right
size and shape for sitting on.
At first he thought it was his imagination, but by the time he'd
reached his goal, he was certain. He felt better with every step.
Several yards beyond the boulder, he could almost imagine he'd imagined
the entire episode. He was tempted to pick up a rock and crush it
between his palms, just to prove that he could, but the sound would
wake everyone in the manor, and it wasn't really necessary. He knew
he'd be able to, if he wanted.
Very deliberately, Lian turned and walked back past the boulder. The
change was instantaneous, and this time, Lian could take a perverse
kind of satisfaction in the roiling in his stomach and the tremors
running through usually obedient muscles.
Poisoning, but not by anything so profane as oxygen. Thirteen years
ago, less than a mile from this spot, Lex had been caught in the middle
of a meteor storm, and been poisoned. The meteors had since been
analyzed and judged harmless, but the facts spoke for themselves: Lex
was bald, there were glowing green mice in Smallville, and Lian – who
had not even known what pain or illness felt like until he returned to
Smallville – was suddenly mysteriously sick.
He had to backtrack twice, but with the help of triangulation, it took
no longer than five minutes to find the cause of everything. It took
longer than that to dig the meteor fragment from the soil, both because
Lian was clumsier than usual and because he had to pause and gather his
strength every other minute. He was a Luthor, though, and Luthors did
not wimp out.
The thing looked almost like a fist-sized, uncut emerald – if there
were emeralds that glowed in the dark with an eery, pulsating rhythm
almost like the beat of a living heart. It was hot to the touch,
searing his skin, and Lian was certain he must have whimpered at some
point. It didn't matter, really. There was no one to hear.
Lian crawled away until he could no longer feel the meteor's effect and
slumped panting on the ground while the unnatural light in the heart of
the meteor died slowly, dwindling first to an even, dull glow, then to
nothing at all.
He lay still for a long time even after he'd fully recovered, staring
at the lump of stone and thinking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was almost a week before Lian turned up again. Lex might have
worried if his credit card hadn't been billed for a hotel room
downtown, various items of less-expensive-than-usual clothing, numerous
electronic toys, and a motorcycle. The characteristic combination was
reassuring, and Lex refrained from passing on the incurred expenses to
his father until such time as he'd found out a bit more about the game
Dad and Lian were playing.
In the meantime, Lex had more than enough on his mind with LuthorCorp
Fertilizer Plant No. 3. He wouldn't have chosen to come to Smallville,
but since he was here, he'd do the best he could – and Lex's best was
damned good by anyone's standards. Not that he expected Dad to admit
that, no matter what miracles he worked in this neglected little fief
of his father's business empire. Still, they'd both know. That would
have to be enough. It had always had to be, even though Lex could never
quite stop himself from attempting to force an overt acknowledgement of
some kind from the stubborn bastard.
"Hey, Lex," Lian said when he breezed in at last. "Good thing Raines is
here with you. Where'd you get that incompetent excuse for a butler?
You might have told him to expect me – I had to get down on my knees
and beg before he called for Raines to confirm my identity."
"Strangely enough, I doubt that," Lex said absently. He was almost
through the last of the plant's annual reports, and it confirmed
everything he'd so far concluded about the type of mismanagement that
had taken place here. Before he could even begin to work on improving
productivity and lowering costs, he'd have to redesign the overly
complex management structures and inefficient operating procedures the
plant was presently mired down in. Without clear lines of
communication, unambiguous assignment of responsibilities and efficient
workflows, the innovations he planned on implementing wouldn't be able
to take full effect. Lex hated wasting his time.
The situation was complicated by the fact that evidently, his father
had utilized Fertilizer Plant No. 3 as LuthorCorp's Siberia – the last
stop for employees who had proven their incompetence or undesirability
elsewhere, but were for some reason still in Dad's employ. Perhaps they
had connections or other potentially valuable assets, or perhaps Dad
simply wanted to keep meeting up with their wives at the annual
LuthorCorp Christmas party.
Ideally, Lex would have liked to cut out at least one management tier
altogether, size the rest down by half, and weed out every last one of
the Siberians. That would cause far too much bad blood, though, and do
more harm than good in the long run. He needed to gain his employees'
trust and willing cooperation if he was to get anywhere, so to start
with, he'd restrict himself to replacing the worst offenders and
shifting the others to new positions, where he'd have the opportunity –
"I have chosen my Macellum," Lian declared dramatically. "This will be
my castle of oblivion."
After a calculated pause, Lex put down the report and straightened in
his chair, giving Lian a hard look. Lian smiled brightly back. He was
holding a folded newspaper in a suspiciously casual way that
immediately had Lex searching his memory for any less than wholesome
activities he'd engaged in over the course of the last months. Nothing
came immediately to mind, unless the tabloids were now so hard up they
were printing accounts of his late-night studying binges.
"Macellum." Lian nodded encouragingly, and Lex sighed before going on.
"I fail to see the parallel, but no doubt you will enlighten me."
"Flavius Claudius Iulianus was brought to Macellum to continue his
exile in seclusion, locked away from the world under the watchful eyes
of various spies of his ruthless cousin, the Emperor Constantius." Lian
grinned. "He didn't like it there, but he learned much – and when he
left, he went where he pleased."
A very clumsy analogy, considering the historical Julian had almost
immediately been forced back into exile after making his bid for
freedom. It was irritating, but Lex prudently kept his thoughts on the
matter to himself. Correcting his brother's historical references would
only put his hackles up, and Lian in a sulk gave new meaning to the
word obstinate.
"Should I infer that I am one of the spies of Constantius?"
"Would I insinuate such a thing? You forget that Gallus, Julian's older
half-brother, was finally reunited with him at Macellum."
If it was an intentional dig, it was so far off the mark Lex couldn't
take it seriously enough to be offended. "I seem to recall that Julian
found his brother brutish and uneducated."
Lian shrugged airily. "So the analogy isn't perfect. Who cares? It
sounded cool."
Lex shook his head and didn't bother to suppress his smile. Luthors
weighed every word before they spoke it and never backed down, and if
Dad had been here, he would have made certain Lian learned to abide by
the family credo. Lex wasn't Lionel, though.
"What brings you to Macellum, Julian?"
A moody glower greeted this question, followed by an extended amble
through the room. Lian found the liquor cabinet, considered the scotch
briefly, made a disgusted face and wandered on to inspect the view from
the stained glass window behind Lex's desk. Lex swivelled his chair
patiently, waiting while his brother stomped elephant-like across the
Persian rug and stared out of the second window.
"Dad won't let me spend a year in Oxford, like you did," Lian burst out
finally, whirling away from the view to glare at Lex accusingly. "I was
willing to compromise, but no, Paris and Switzerland and Tokyo are
right out, too, and so is every damn school in the entire world except
Metropolis. It's too *dangerous*. Someone might find out about me! What
am I, a little kid? It's no more dangerous in Berlin or, or Rome or
Sydney or wherever than in Metropolis, and I'm old enough to take care
of myself. I don't need anyone looking after me."
His tone was resentful, and the heat behind the words was genuine
enough, but it was an old argument. The last time Lex had witnessed
this point being discussed between Lian and their father, Lian had been
passionate, but resigned, and sullen with it. All three of them had
known that Dad wouldn't budge on this point.
Lex tipped his head to the side and studied his brother intently. To
his credit, Lian didn't fidget, though his stance tightened up
infinitesimally.
"No," Lex decided at last. "Good, Lian, but not good enough."
And, surprisingly, it was as simple as that. Lian caved. He threw
himself onto the sofa and expelled a gust of air in a hissing sigh. The
defiance was missing from his expression when he turned toward Lex; his
face looked strangely bare, almost defenseless, without it.
"Dad took me to the Rodale Foundation's high security lab."
The implications tightened around Lex's heart like a vise, making his
breath hitch in his throat and a numb chill invade his gut. Only the
sight of Lian sitting before him, green gaze very steady, allowed him
to force air into his lungs to speak. "I'm listening."
His voice must have given something away; Lian paused to search his
expression, looking suspicious. Lex felt his face smooth into neutral
attentiveness beneath the scrutiny. "You do know about it, right?"
"Of course," Lex said immediately, the lie slipping out without
thought. "I wasn't aware you did, however."
The challenge that had begun to dawn in Lian's expression was eclipsed
by a sudden rush of jumbled emotion. "I didn't. When I – I thought it
had to do with the meteors, an effect of the radiation, like your hair
and – I know, there was never a truly satisfactory explanation, but in
my wildest imaginings I wouldn't have pictured..."
A milky curve of semi-transparent hull, dusted and dulled by the dark
Kansas soil. An oddly graceful, compact superstructure enclosing the
dome, elegant in its straightforward functionality.
Lex had convinced himself long ago that the blurred image in his
memories of that day had been no more than a figment of his
shock-numbed imagination... a desperate bid to make sense out of
madness.
"He showed you the ship." By the time he spoke the words, there was no
doubt left in his mind, and his thoughts were racing to make
connections. Dozens of facts sundered by unlikelihood suddenly closed
ranks and turned into valid conjecture. He should never have discounted
this possibility; it was actually far more likely than a breakthrough
in genetic engineering or miraculous luck in mutations. "The spaceship
you arrived in, together with the meteor shower that almost destroyed
Smallville."
It was an excellent diversionary maneuver. Who would think to look for
one particular meteor when the entire area had been bombarded with
them? A single one would have been far more likely to be discovered,
particularly since the target would have to be a fairly densely
inhabited region, or the ship's young passenger would die. Lian could
have survived longer alone than a human child, but even Lian needed to
eat.
The ultimate purpose? Not even a matter of conjecture at this point.
As tactics went, sending out a child in a meteor storm left much to be
desired. The element of chance was far too large. The safety of the
alien boy depended entirely on who found him. How likely was it that a
random passer-by would decide to adopt an extraterrestrial? Even if
they were amenable to the thought of raising an alien, how many people
would be able to keep his secrets until he was old enough to fend for
himself?
Dad had been a stroke of sheer good fortune, no more, made even more
unlikely by the fact that Lionel Luthor was perhaps the least likely
person on the planet to take a shipwrecked alien toddler under his
wing. Although, of course, securing a powerful ally while he was young
and impressionable was sound strategy.
It wasn't even out of the question that Dad had had other, more
personal motives. An indestructible, perfect son – wasn't that just
what he'd always wanted?
The faint, familiar bitterness was swamped by yet more connections
clicking into place. Dad had never revealed a particular interest in
Smallville, although Lex was now certain he owned far more of the town
and surrounding lands than he'd cared to make known. Over the years,
Lex's routine checks into LuthorCorp had unearthed a number of
acquisitions that had never made sense before now – and the ones he'd
found had only been the fairly straightforward acquisitions, no doubt
merely the tip of the iceberg. Lionel had done a good job of hiding in
plain sight. He hadn't bought just the crackpot astronomer's research
station in the Arizona desert; he'd also bought a less than successful
football team in Kansas and a small chain of arts and crafts shops in
Wisconsin.
It was so obvious, and yet, no sane person would ever make the
connection. Lex couldn't help but feel a grudging measure of admiration.
"That's a pretty big bombshell to drop on someone," muttered the alien
on Lex's leather couch. "I'm afraid I didn't take it very well."
They shared a glance. Lionel Luthor's position on excessive shows of
emotion was entirely uncompromising, no matter what the occasion.
"So that's why you're here," Lex said softly. "Returning to where it
began."
Lian shrugged and looked away to study the bookcase on the opposite
wall. "Yes, plus I don't want to deal with him before I've sorted this
out in my own mind... and I thought I'd spend some time with you while
I was in town. We haven't really talked for a while, and now that
you're finished with university... Considering how busy you must be
with the plant, though, I should probably just stay out of your hair.
Figuratively speaking, of course."
Rolling his eyes at the weak crack, Lex got up to stroll around to the
other side of the desk and lean against it comfortably. An almost
unnoticable hint of pink tinged Lian's high cheekbones, and his eyes
were wide and earnest when he caught Lex's gaze again. It seemed he
wasn't quite finished babbling yet. "As it turns out I'm not related to
you at *all*, but... maybe – "
"You shouldn't be living in a hotel," Lex interrupted. "People will
talk. There's more than enough spare rooms in the mansion. Take your
pick."
The sudden flash of victory in Lian's eyes caught Lex off guard. "God,
Lex, you're a soft touch."
He was fairly sure he managed to catch the jolt of surprise before it
showed on his face. 'Soft touch' wasn't a term Lex usually associated
with himself, although in this instance, he supposed it was accurate
enough – he'd walked straight into Lian's little trap, and he should
have known better. Using genuine emotion to lend credibility to a ruse
was an old trick, and a very good one. It was a double-edged sword,
though... it could make the wielder bleed as much as the victim. Lex
only ever employed this particular stratagem when dealing with his
father. It wasn't worth it with anyone else.
There had been truth behind Lian's intentionally displayed
vulnerability; Lex knew him too well to fall for a mere pretense.
Evidently Lian found the emotional cost worth the inconsequential
victory it had gained him, even though all he'd done was trick Lex into
offering something he could have had for the asking.
Lian was completely off balance, desperately scrambling to re-establish
some measure of control.
While the ends he'd furthered by his little demonstration were rather
pitiful, however, the means were another thing entirely. Deliberately
displaying vulnerability in order to exert power... How exceedingly
Luthor. Dad would have been proud.
Lex had never needed to resort to such tactics with Lian, but
apparently that would soon change. It was an ugly thought, for all that
Lex accepted it with determined calm. Lian was almost sixteen, after
all.
"Anything of interest?" he asked, gesturing towards the newspaper. A
less than elegant change of subject, but it got the job done – Lian
tossed the paper over with a smug quirk of the lips.
A local high school paper, as it turned out, relatively professional in
terms of layout and print quality. Lian had made the front page. The
picture was excellent, but peculiar, featuring Lian in jeans and a
simple black shirt, a backpack slung casually over one shoulder and a
big and entirely unfamiliar smile on his face. The lack of expensive
clothes and aggressively confident poise was in itself remarkable, but
more than that – there was even a hint of shyness in Lian's posture, as
though he were not at home in the spotlight, but willing to put on his
best face in spite of it.
It was a *dorky* smile. The word popped into Lex's head from nowhere,
and with a definite tinge of incredulity flavoring it. He couldn't
prevent himself from looking up to counter the incongruous image of his
brother's face wearing such an outlandish expression with the
accustomed sight of Lian lounging on the couch as though he owned the
place, clad in immaculate charcoal designer pants and a calculatedly
casual t-shirt that had doubtlessly cost more than the monthly income
of most of Lex's Smallville employees.
Very deliberately, Lian conjured forth a huge, dorky grin identical to
the one in the school paper. It looked completely genuine, and it
changed him completely. It made him look like someone who *should* be
wearing plaid flannel and chewing on a straw. Amazing, and definitely a
talent to be watched in the future.
Self-effacing wholesomeness was a good image to cultivate in a place
like Smallville. Lex wasn't certain whether Lian would be able to
uphold the illusion for any length of time, but then, he didn't have
to. It was first impressions that counted – and more importantly, this
picture hadn't been taken for the benefit of the students of Smallville
High. It was a statement of intent: I will fit in here.
The surname of the latest newcomer to the school will ring a bell with
any Smallville resident who hasn't been hiding out in a storm cellar
since the meteor strike. Not only does half the town work for Julian's
father, Lionel Luthor, but his older brother has recently moved into
the Luthor mansion to take over the management of the LuthorCorp-owned
fertilizer plant.
"In a way, I'm getting back to my roots," Julian – called Lian by his
friends – explains his move to Smallville. "My family used to live here
before grandfather moved to Metropolis. As soon as I heard my brother
would be taking over Plant Number Three, it occurred to me that it
would be a good opportunity for me, too, to get away from the big city
for a while. Not that I don't like Metropolis." He shrugs with
endearing openness. "It's great, but I've always liked the country, you
know? And I really like Smallville. Weird as it sounds, I feel like I
can be myself here in a way that's just not possible in Metropolis. And
being here also gives me a chance to hang out with Lex. Lately he's
been very busy, what with getting his degree and getting into the
family business and everything. So, I asked Dad to let me finish school
in Smallville, and he agreed. And, well, here I am."
There was more in the same vein, and Lex skimmed over it quickly,
noting only that the article consisted almost entirely of direct quotes
and that Lian seemed to have done everything but scuff his toes on the
ground and say "Aww, shucks." Endearing openness, indeed.
This was either for Dad's benefit, or for Lex's. Maybe for both, to
some degree.
What was Lian planning? To research his origins, of course, and get
away from Dad. To come to grips with what he now knew about himself.
And what else? The likelihood of Dad allowing Lian to finish school in
Smallville was about as high as that of Lex waking up with a full head
of hair one morning. Lian would have to come up with far better levers
than a feature in a school paper – assuming he actually meant to stay.
There were far too many unknown variables in this equation. Lex would
have to work on that.
"Not bad," Lex said at last, opting to take the article at face value
for now. "It won't stop Dad from dragging you back, but at least it's
an argument in favor of letting you stay. A weak one – you'd better
start looking for more. Still, if you're lucky, he'll be amused at your
budding deviousness."
The smile Lian flashed at Lex was suspiciously innocent. "That's what
I'm counting on – as well as the fact that he can't claim I won't be
safe here, with you around to babysit me and the town all but owned by
LuthorCorp."
Perhaps Lex was using the wrong set of parameters. It seemed unlikely,
but... Dad had always given Lian more leeway in some ways, perhaps
because he felt that someone who could demolish a building in a fit of
teenage rage needed to be handled with a softer touch. Then again, if
Lex had never been sickly, whiny, or afraid, he might have been
afforded the same privileges.
And that was an unproductive line of thought that Lex had thought he'd
been finished with long ago.
He shook his head and folded the newspaper carefully. Lian jumped up to
reclaim it, taking a moment to regard the unlikely picture of himself
dressed up as a clean-cut farmboy with a pleased expression before
rolling the paper into a tube and thwapping Lex playfully. "Not too
shabby, if I do say so myself. Bet you couldn't have pulled that one
off."
Lex gave him an exaggeratedly haughty look. "Not all of us have the
rare good fortune to be naturals at the country bumpkin look."
Lian laughed, unoffended, and squeezed Lex's shoulder on his way to the
stained glass window.
The view seemed to exert a curiously strong draw on him. He stared out
into the garden with peculiar concentration, face gradually closing
down into a glower. While the landscaping around the manor wasn't
dazzling by any stretch of the imagination, it certainly wasn't bad
enough to warrant such disfavor.
"Looking for anything in particular?" Lex asked after several moments.
"No, it's just –" Lian glanced toward the second window. "You can't see
anything except the garden from here. The wall's too high."
Lex raised a questioning eyebrow, but Lian shook his head, dismissing
whatever had gone through his mind. "It doesn't matter. I'm off to get
my stuff. You have your mechanic with you, right? I wouldn't let any of
these hicks within twenty feet of my bike."
The interview was evidently over. Before Lex could answer, Lian had
blurred to the door and slipped out. Lian had grown increasingly
cavalier about using his abilities in recent years, but he'd also
gotten far better at monitoring his surroundings and choosing his
moments accordingly. It was a vital skill for him to develop. Watching
Lian practice it still had Lex biting back admonitions to be careful.
It would take Lian about an hour to ride his motorcycle into town, find
someone to deliver his belongings to the manor, and return to oversee
the move to his new domain. Someone who didn't know Lian might have
assumed that in a house as large as this one, the more remote rooms
would remain untouched by the arrival of a single teenager. Lex, who
did know Lian, briskly jotted down notes on the strategy he'd begun to
work out that morning, made several phone calls that couldn't be put
off until tomorrow, and then powered down his laptop to go warn the
cook about the imminent descent of what amounted to a plague of
locusts. Effective immediately, all meals would have to be prepared in
sufficient quantity to feed a ravenous horde of Mongol invaders (the
cook smiled at Lex, evidently believing this to be an exaggeration),
and there would have to be at least two gallons of milk, half a bushel
of apples, several varieties of cookies, and an adequate supply of
Swiss or Belgian chocolate and salted rice crackers in the house at all
times.
The chocolate and rice crackers, it transpired, would have to be
imported from Metropolis.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As far as Lex could tell, Smallville was a fairly typical medium-sized
Midwestern town. Main Street was the center of commerce as well as
community life, such as it was. Even Smallville High – a mainstay of
the town's social activities by virtue of a football field and a
gymnasium that doubled as the site for cake walks, square dancing, and
similarly bucolic entertainments – was on Main Street.
There was only one café. Lex still held out a faint hope that, with
sufficient training, the proprietors could be brought to produce a
substance that bore an at least superficial resemblance to café au
lait. In the meantime, Lex regarded his almost-daily encounters with
the place's vile brew as a kind of ritual sacrifice, furthering his
plan to integrate himself into Smallville community life. Lex didn't
usually frequent the place in the afternoons, so he hadn't known it was
quite this popular with the high school crowd. He might have guessed,
though. The choice of venues for hanging out was limited.
It was peculiar to see Lian here; he should have seemed utterly out of
place – every bit as much as Lex himself did – but he didn't. Instead,
he blended seamlessly into the scenery, comfortably settled at the best
table and chatting to a group of eminently Smallvillian youths with an
open, genial mien. The clothes he was wearing would not have seemed
remarkable on a farmer working the fields, and even his body language
was different, devoid of the usual reserve and the perpetual hint of
challenge.
The brightness of Lian's smile when he caught sight of Lex was as
startling as everything else about this encounter. It also gave rise to
speculations that trouble in the form of one of Lian's schemes was
brewing.
After short deliberation, Lex decided that he preferred to find out
sooner rather than later. Coffee (for want of a better term) in hand,
he changed course to make his way over to the corner Lian had laid
claim to. In a second suspiciously welcoming gesture, Lian stood as he
approached, putting one large hand on Lex's shoulder. He was already
taller than Lex. By the time he stopped growing, he'd be towering over
both Lex and Dad. "Lex! Great to see you. Guys, this is Lex, I've been
telling you about him."
Absorbing the hint of pride Lian had injected into his tone with
composure, Lex gave the clutch of teenagers his most charming smile.
"This is Chloe Sullivan, the Torch's editor, and Pete Ross. Pete runs
the debating club." The girl nursing what the serving staff would have
called a cappucino looked him up and down thoroughly before accepting
his extended hand. Her assessment seemed powered by nothing more than
habitual curiosity, and he didn't take it personally. By contrast, her
companion's glower was unmistakably personal. He shook Lex's hand after
a noticeable hesitation, evidently choosing grudging politeness over
public unpleasantness by a narrow margin. One of the Creamed Corn
Rosses, no doubt. Interesting that he was here at all – perhaps he was
making an effort for the sake of his girl. She'd want to stick close to
Lian to get further stories out of him, if nothing else.
The broad-shouldered boy on Pete's right leaned forward to offer his
hand with a ready smile, as did a younger girl with freckles and
rust-colored curls. "Clark Kent and his sister Cathy. Clark's the
captain of the football team, and Cathy's the swim team's rising star.
And Lana Lang, head cheerleader and Clark's girlfriend." An exotically
pretty girl dimpled appealingly at Lex.
A high-class circle – Lian had assembled both the sports stars and the
intelligentsia. It appeared the social elite of Smallville High was
already eating out of his little brother's hand. Lian was almost
alarmingly good at this... certainly far better than Lex had been at
his age, or any other. Lex made a mental note to stop thinking of him
as a headstrong child. Underestimating a Luthor was always a grave
mistake.
He wondered which of the girls Lian was – or would be – sleeping with.
He hoped it wasn't the redhead; she looked about twelve, and the Luthor
name was already mud in this town.
"I'm really glad Lian will be joining the football team," the blond boy
– Clark – said. "He was great in the try-outs, and we can definitely
use another quarterback who can tell his hands from his feet. He's got
a lot of raw power, too. I think he'll do really well."
"Will he?" Lex replied politely, glancing at Lian. Lian gave him a
wide, unabashed grin. He must have gotten better at forging Dad's
signature.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I can be careful," Lian said later that day, having practically shooed
Heike out of the training salle. "It's the best way to get in with the
important people right away. And besides, I've always wanted to play
football. It will be fun."
Lex tucked his fencing mask under one arm and slowly tugged off his
glove before replying. "It won't be fun when Dad hears of it."
Lian was suddenly standing very close, pleading written all over his
face. Only long practice allowed Lex to avoid flinching at the too-fast
change of his brother's position. "But he won't hear of it right away,
will he? And when he does, I'll already have proven that I *can* do it.
Besides, he'd look really indecisive if he retracted his permission at
this point. And what kind of an impression would it make if a Luthor
were exposed as a forger of permission slip signatures before he'd even
officially started school here?"
Lex gave him an openly incredulous look. If Lian believed those were
the only options Dad had of making his alien son quit the football
team, he hadn't been paying attention the last thirteen years. Did he
think this would give him a bargaining chip of some sort? Or was he
asking Lex to intercede on his behalf?
"I don't see the point, Lian," Lex said at last. The answer fit in
either case. "It's not worth the battle. Save your strength for a more
decisive confrontation."
"Every confrontation is decisive, in one way or another."
It sounded like a quote from Lionel Luthor's book of wisdom, though Lex
couldn't remember ever hearing this particular phrase from his father.
He sighed and shook his head, beginning to undo the fastenings of his
padded jacket. "Don't rush into an unnecessary skirmish when you have
plenty of unavoidable ones ahead of you. Which reminds me... You're not
sleeping with the Kent girl, I hope."
Lian looked genuinely startled. Good. Lex hadn't really thought it very
likely, but better to be safe than caught unprepared. Of such stuff
were PR nightmares made.
"She's just a kid, Lex. What would I want with her?"
He tugged the jacket over his head and re-emerged to find his brother
staring at him, perhaps affronted at the intimation he would stoop to
seducing younger girls. Up to now, Lex hadn't paid much attention to
his brother's sexual tastes – he'd been more than happy to leave any
damage control in that particular area to his well-practiced father.
With Dad in Metropolis and Lian running loose in Smallville, though,
Lex supposed he should make some inquiries and perhaps install a number
of safety nets, just in case. If Lian was half as much trouble as Lex
had been at his age...
At least Lex was fairly certain there weren't any clubs of ill repute
in Smallville, and – even better – the drug that would work on Lian had
yet to be developed.
Lex gave his brother a shrug and a cool smile. "I seem to recall an
outspoken preference for redheads."
Silence. At length, Lian moved to the desk and drummed out a vaguely
familiar rhythm on it. "Clark's adopted too, you know."
The statement seemed like a complete non sequitur for a second; then,
Lex's gut froze with the realization that he'd been unutterably,
inexcusably stupid.
It had been a long time since he'd last felt the vertiginous knowledge
of having fucked up in such a spectacular way. He'd almost forgotten
just how much he hated the sensation.
There was no earthly reason to assume Lian had been the only one to
come down in that meteor shower. It should have been the first thing
Lex thought of. That particular meteor shower might not even have been
the only one to mask the arrival of an alien. When the reason for
Lian's presence was completely unknown, how could any possibility be
ruled out? As trite as the "alien invasion" plot was and as much as Lex
would have liked Lian to be an innocent refugee like Warrior Angel, the
simple fact of the matter was that it would make sense to send scouts
to mingle with the native populace ahead of the invading force. All the
better if the scouts in question initially knew nothing of their
purpose – that way, they could not betray their masters.
How long would Lex wait, if he were an alien general? Why would he wait
at all, given a technological superiority of such magnitude? Perhaps
resources were low, or invasion was not actually the goal. He couldn't
make the mistake of assuming aliens thought like humans, though – that
was perhaps the most dangerous trap of all.
Lian abandoned the desk and crossed over to Lex again, standing very
close. In a flash of chagrined understanding, Lex realized how he had
managed to miss the obvious implications of Lian's true heritage. Lian
was too familiar, too much an ordinary part of Lex's life to make sense
in the context of "alien" – a context that declared "outsider,
stranger, unknowable quantity, dangerous invader, incalculable threat."
An inexcusable error, perhaps, but very explicable. Very... human.
He had been missing far too much lately, and all of it seemed to center
around Lian. It was simply not acceptable.
Lex swallowed down his angry self-disgust and forced himself to focus.
He made a conscious effort to see Lian as an unknown alien quantity. It
was inhuman and unnatural to be able to move so quickly, to be so
strong. This creature wasn't human – the face and body were nothing but
mimicry, a facade, a construct for something innominate and
incalculable to hide behind.
He'd come down in a spaceship. He'd been sent to earth for unfathomable
purposes by an unknown power.
Lian wrinkled his nose and smoothed a wayward lock of hair from his
forehead, and in spite of Lex's best efforts, the fragile sense of
distance he'd managed to build up fractured and collapsed.
Lex had drawn cat whiskers on Lian's face for three consecutive
Halloweens before Lian had decided that he was too dignified for such
childish nonsense. He'd made a cute cat, suitably sulky, bristly and
green-eyed. Even if he'd arrived by spaceship instead of the
traditional human way, he was too familiar to be anything but Lian.
"Is Clark a relative of yours?" Lex's voice was cool and even. His mind
was racing.
"I thought of that possibility, but no, fortunately not. Bruised him a
bit at practice. And before you ask, yes, I was careful – it's
football. It happens."
Which loosened the vise in Lex's gut by a fraction, but didn't excuse
his oversight. He'd have to begin researching the possible implications
right away. No doubt Dad had done so long ago, but the chances he'd
share his findings were slim to non-existent.
Two independent, but co-ordinated lines of research would have to be
pursued – one to look into the possibility of previous arrivals, and
one to trace Lian's path, gather as much information as possible on his
origins, his people, and their technology, and prepare for future
recurrences or the implementation of new stages of the master plan
behind Lian's presence.
Above all, Lex had to get his hands on that spaceship. Dad would have
moved it, of course.
"He's not really related to Cathy," Lian said, the words – irrelevant
to any of the dozens of Lex's loosely connected trains of thought –
only marginally registering in Lex's mind. "Sure, they grew up *like*
brother and sister, but the terms are just convenient labels without
actual meaning or relevance."
Occupied with plans of acquiring a constant, planet-wide feed of data
from assorted meteorological and tactical satellites and assembling a
crack team of astronomers and private detectives to locate and
investigate possible impact sites worldwide – over the space of the
last fifty years, to begin with – Lex filed his brother's strange
conversational sally away to be analyzed later.
He tossed his fencing jacket over a chair as he strode to his desk,
hitting the key to power up his laptop and hovering impatiently while
it booted. Perhaps an analysis of the meteors could provide clues to
Lian's origin. They had to crack the spaceship's safeguards and analyze
the technology, learn to imitate it, improve upon it, find potential
weaknesses. Install a planetary defense grid to guard against attacks
from space. It would have to be disguised as a traditional safeguard
against ground-based attacks, or as meteorological satellites.
The expense would be impossible for Lex – or even Dad – to meet. This
called for creative thinking.
Lian hung around for a bit before disappearing. Lex didn't notice
precisely when he left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lex had always had nice shoulders. Lian wondered if the fact that he'd
noticed qualified as kinky. Probably not; he'd never heard of a
shoulder fetish, and furthermore, Lex wasn't really his brother. In
fact, it was a safe assumption that out of the entire population of the
earth, Lian was the one person least related to Lex.
Slinky – that was the word. Slinky, and elegantly muscled, and lightly
freckled. Not that he could see any freckles at the moment, but he knew
they were there, covered by the silk and cashmere blend of Lex's
long-sleeved t-shirt. Lex's really soft-looking long-sleeved t-shirt.
Midnight blue was a good color on Lex.
"Anything I can do for you, Lian?"
Lian grinned a fair approximation of his usual obnoxious grin. That
shade of pointed politeness meant he'd interrupted Lex in the middle of
something he wanted to get back to. Well, it would have to wait,
whatever it was. Profit margins, stock tendencies, or something equally
mind-numbing, no doubt.
He'd planned this – he'd spent hours going over what he would say, from
the basics of phrasing and intonation down to the most minute details
of delivery. He'd determined that he would put his plan into motion
immediately, not giving himself a chance to reconsider, but now, faced
with the smoothly expectant mask Lex used on business acquaintances, he
faltered.
As unlikely as it seemed at first glance, Dad and Lex were similar in
many ways. For all that they packaged it differently, they owned the
same implacable will and steel-trap mind. Dad's intensity was turned
outwards; he radiated aggressive energy, an irresistable force that
swept people along like leaves before an autumn gale. Lex turned
everything he was inwards and locked himself away from view, leaving a
surface as hard and blank and perfect as the statue of a long-dead
emperor... and underneath, inestimable power, poised to pounce.
Lex and Lian had been close, once. It seemed irretrievably long ago; at
this moment, Lex was an inscrutable stranger. A dangerous one.
Of course, that attribute was pretty much the point of the exercise.
Going through with this would have been much easier if it hadn't been
for Lex's damned sphinx-like poise, though. Lian had always hated it,
in exactly the same way that he hated Dad's half-expectant,
half-mocking attentive look.
Luthors were not cowards, but they were not fools, either.
"You know that football game I was telling you about?" Lian was glad
the question came out casually, not as though it had been thrown into
the breach in a last-moment fit of caution.
Lex held his gaze over the laptop's screen for a long moment before
capitulating and getting up, brushing Lian lightly with one
attractively slinky shoulder as he walked past. Lian shivered.
Unsurprisingly, Lex headed for the liquor cabinet. It wasn't even noon
yet, and Lian had to bite down on a comment about Lex's drinking
habits. Lex wouldn't appreciate it, and it wouldn't do any good,
anyway. Dad might have come up with an underhanded way of getting the
point across to Lex, but Lian wasn't that good at subtlety. He did his
best work with straightforward force and simple, uncomplicated
deception, not the kind of byzantine multiple bluffs Dad and Lex
favored.
Damn. This was every bit as difficult as he'd feared.
After a thoughtful sip of whatever he was ruining his health with now,
Lex seemed to feel sufficiently fortified to face a discussion about
high school football. "If you refer to the homecoming game you have
been babbling incessantly about, then yes."
Babbling incessantly was a gross exaggeration; Lian had only mentioned
the matter once or twice a day. Still, Lian swallowed his irritation at
the small dig and substituted a good-natured smile for his initial
reaction. It was almost comical to watch the barely noticeable frown on
Lex's face as he tried to come to grips with Lian's new image.
Football had turned out to be every bit as rewarding as Lian had hoped.
Lian wasn't officially part of the team yet, but he'd been at practice
for several weeks now, and had already established himself as a very
good player. In fact, Lian had wondered whether the coach would let him
play if something happened to one of the regular players... if Clark
were to twist his ankle, say. The temptation had been there, but Lian
knew better than to push this hard, this soon. It was too early to
challenge the team's star players. That would come later, when he'd
truly become part of the team and they were able to share in his
success rather than resent him for it.
"It's this Saturday." He tried a wide-eyed puppy-dog look he'd
perfected several days ago. The amused quirk of Lex's mouth was
encouraging. "Are you free this Saturday?"
Lex eyed him with steely, unswerving attention. "You're playing?"
It was a good thing he'd decided to go the slow and certain route –
judging from Lex's expression, the alternative would not have gone down
well. "Of course not. How could I be? Not only am I not part of the
team yet, I'm not even a student at Smallville High."
"Have you been in touch with Dad at all since you left Metropolis?"
Lian could feel his air of innocent openness waver with surprise. "Why
do you ask?" he stalled, immediately aware of the clumsiness of the
response. He could have shrugged off the question with a casual denial;
instead, he'd given Lex an opening, and one that all but shouted out he
was hiding something, to boot.
He hadn't even started on his agenda for this encounter yet, and
already he was off balance. He had to get a grip, or this would go
south in a spectacular fashion.
Had Dad gotten on Lex's case about Lian this soon? He'd given Lian
until the beginning of the new school year. Of course, that didn't mean
Lex wouldn't catch heat about keeping an eye on Lian to make certain he
stayed out of trouble – and maybe Lex was supposed to convince him to
return to Metropolis ahead of schedule. Quite possibly, Dad was
attempting to use Lex to spy on Lian, though given the present level of
antagonism between Lex and Dad, the attempt would likely misfire.
Wouldn't it?
Lex gave an enigmatic smile and perched on the desk with one hip,
taking another slow sip of liquor before putting down the glass.
Lian had chosen to embark on this risky course of action because the
circumstances were fortuitious. Lex had expected to forge a permanent
alliance with Dad after finishing his degree, at least on the business
plane. Instead, Dad had sent him into exile – to prove himself, as Dad
had claimed. All three of them knew that the true reason was that Dad
wasn't willing to share his power. It was an unusually blunt, even
clumsy move on Lionel's part, and more than that, it was a clear sign
of weakness. Unfortunately, neither Lian nor Lex were in a position to
take advantage of it.
Smallville might be Lian's Macellum, but it was Lex's Gaul. Come back
with your shield or on it – and if you do come back victorious, make
sure to bring your army, because the Emperor does not like competition.
If he wanted to see Rome again, a Caesar in Gaul needed allies. At this
point in time, theoretically at least, Lex was available for an
alliance, even a long-term one. If Lian played his cards right. If Lex
was at all interested...
Of course he would be interested. He'd have to be an utter fool not to
be. Lian would make a very serviceable army, after all.
The silence stretched. Lian wondered why he'd never before noticed how
slim and... well, slinky Lex's hips were.
Damn it, this was not helping.
Just as Lian was formulating a desperate verbal diversionary maneuver,
Lex waived his victory. "I can think of no better way to spend my
Saturday afternoon than at a high school football game."
The curve of Lex's lips was too slight to be called a smile, but it
brought a fleeting warmth to Lex's eyes and allowed the severe marble
stillness of his features to settle into softer lines.
Lex had never shown the slightest interest in football. If Lian asked,
no doubt Lex would claim that being seen at one of the main events on
Smallville's meager social calendar would enhance his standing in local
society, or perhaps that he was taking the opportunity to watch the
football team in action in order determine tactics that would allow
Lian to play well, but not too well. These reasons would be entirely
valid, as far as they went, but the fact remained that Lex wouldn't
even have considered setting foot in the stadium if Lian hadn't asked
him to.
Lian had asked and Lex had agreed. No games, no hidden agendas –
straight up front. It set a precedent. It was the perfect opportunity.
Now or never.
Luthors did not back down.
Before his misgivings could get the better of him again, Lian took the
small case from the pocket of his jacket and held it out to Lex,
offering it up on the palm of his hand like a sacrifice. He hoped it
would be received as he intended, as an oblation to Pax... even if
right at this moment, he felt more like Achilles placing a quiver of
arrows on Apollo's altar.
"Interesting," Lex said, picking up the sacrificial quiver. "A snuff
box, late Victorian period, no jewels or enamel, inferior workmanship.
The material appears to be an inexpensive alloy of base metals. On the
whole, I'd place it at two hundred dollars, slightly more if you can
produce an authentic-looking document claiming the original owner
belonged to the aristocracy."
Lex quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at Lian as though this were a test
and he were waiting to hear his score. Lian rolled his eyes. The amount
of inconsequential knowledge that lurked in Lex's brain was incredible.
"Ten out of ten, Mr. Useless Trivia."
Up to the second that Lex opened the box, Lian had forgotten the true
measure of his loathing for feeling sick and weak. He'd trained for
this; he'd trained with both the chunk of meteor behind the manor and
the pendant, and he was far better at resisting the urge to curl up and
die than he had been. Unfortunately, the only difference lay in his
readiness for the wave of sensation. The pain and nausea were still
every bit as bad as the first time.
Weirdly enough, he always failed to remember the true awfulness of it.
Perhaps his brain didn't want to preserve the memory in its unmitigated
state.
The stone cast a virescent sheen over Lex's features as he lifted it
out of the box by the chain. It began to pulse in time with Lian's
heartbeat as soon as it cleared the small lid. Lex was fascinated;
there was no mistaking that rapt stare.
With green luminosity and weirdly angled shadows playing over his face,
Lex looked rather satanic. By rights, Lex should have been the alien.
Too smart, too different, too tricky, too flat-out dangerous to be
anything near human...
Deep within Lian, foreboding and caution launched one last attempt to
be heard. He ignored the inner clamor as much as he could. It was too
late to stop this. It was too late to play it safe.
"I have no idea what this is," Lex said at last, not taking his eyes
from the pulsating stone. "But whatever it is, I'm buying."
"It's cut from one of the meteors," Lian said. His voice was firm and
calm, if somewhat flat. "Some of them are crystalline, and all of them
make me sick."
Lex's gaze instantly whipped to Lian. Apparently, Lian didn't have his
expression as firmly under control as he'd hoped. A ripple of shock
flew across Lex's face, and in the next instant he'd dropped the
cheerleader's pendant back into the snuff box and snapped the lid shut.
The pain stopped. To Lian's displeasure, the abrupt cessation drove a
gust of air from his lungs in a very audible gasp.
His eyes burned, and when he swept a hand across his face, it came away
wet.
"Lead," Lex said evenly, staring at Lian with unwavering concentration.
"To block the radiation."
"Exactly. I bought the snuff box in a pawn shop in Grandville – it was
the only possibility of transporting the pendant that occured to me. I
wasn't certain it would work, considering the meteors' extraterrestrial
origins, but fortunately, it did." God, now he was babbling. It was all
he could do to shut his mouth before he blurted out that he'd snuck
into the cheerleader's house while she was asleep and swept the pendant
from the dressing table into the box with the help of a pink ruler
adorned with butterflies. Giving out more information than necessary
was always unwise... and Lex's odd strain of private-school
conservatism could come to the fore at the most inconvenient times.
Lex had lost his earlier sphinx-like poise completely. Now, he looked
pale and rattled. The knuckles of the hand closed around the little
leaden box were white with strain. "Who – transporting the pendant.
From where?"
"A girl at school had it. The first time she came near me, I all but
collapsed."
If Lian hadn't been monitoring every nuance of Lex's reaction so
closely, he'd have missed the subtle shift in Lex's body language. Even
with thirteen years of experience in watching him, Lian was unable to
interpret the easing in the leashed tension coiled in Lex's slim form.
"Tell me you haven't breathed a word of this to anyone," Lex said with
terrible intensity. "Jesus Christ, Julian. You should know better than
to tell anyone about a thing like this."
The unspoken addendum "even me" hung in the air between them for a
long, painfully honest moment. Lian shivered with something very close
to shock. They never spoke of these things. Not like this, not so
openly.
He resisted the urge for a fraction of a second before giving in and
stepping closer. If he concentrated, he could hear Lex's heartbeat,
swift, but strong and steady. It was oddly calming. Lian thought it
would be even more reassuring to reach out and feel warm skin and firm
muscle beneath his hands, Lex alive and alert and flashing from known
facts to conjectures to unified field theories at the speed of light.
Lian might even be able to feel the live current of cognition raging
beneath his fingertips.
It would all work out just as he'd planned. It had to.
"I'm no-one's fool," Lian said softly. Standing this close, Lex had to
tilt his head back slightly to meet his gaze. "Dad probably knows,
given how long he's had to work on this, but I wasn't the one to tell
him. I won't be the one to tell him anything. I'm not telling anyone
but you."
For the second time in as many minutes, Lex seemed at a complete loss.
They stared at each other in tense silence. Lian's doubts began
clamoring again at the back of his mind, screaming recriminations. This
went against all of his instincts. Lex was too ambitious, too ruthless,
and far too smart to be trusted. He could be sentimental, but it never
lasted – before anything else, Lex was a Luthor. This was sheer
foolhardiness – it was far too late to back out now, even if Lian had
wanted to, but...
But that wasn't true, was it? It *wasn't* too late. Even now, it would
be easy to prevent this from going any further. Lex was so close; all
Lian had to do was reach out. Lex wouldn't be able to open the box in
time. He'd never even have time to realize what Lian was doing.
The nausea threatened to rise again even though the lead snuff box was
still shut, firmly enclosed in Lex's fist. With a jolt of sheer
surprise, Lian realized that the hollowness in his gut and the
clamminess of his palms meant that he was afraid.
He was losing perspective.
Lian remembered the unmistakeable roar of the motor, approaching fast.
Leaning back on the railing with a smirk calculated to be just the
wrong side of obnoxious. Waiting. Too many thoughts racing through his
mind to realize what was happening before Lex's Porsche slewed around
and sped straight for him. Impact and noise, metal yielding, Lex's
stunned expression. Rush of vertigo and motion, shock of cold,
disoriented fumbling, metal and plastic tearing like paper beneath his
shaking hands. Lex. Lex, too still, too cold, too pale. It had gone so
fast. Lian hadn't had time to panic until later, when he'd realized how
easy it would have been to crush Lex's ribcage by mistake, ensuring
that he would never wake up, never again plot and scheme and
outmaneuver Lian, never again lift coldly mocking eyebrows to make Lian
flush with inarticulate rage, never again shape words like filigrane
weapons of devastating beauty. Never be Lex again, rather than a
graceless lump of flesh and bone with every trace of Lexness leached
from it.
This wasn't about dangerous knowledge or vulnerability. This wasn't
about Dad and his endless manipulations. This was about Lian. Lian
wanted to tie Lex to him with unbreakable bonds, with knowledge and
power and shared goals. He needed Lex, for more reasons than he could
count, and therefore he needed to make this work.
It had to work. Capitulation was a word not found in the Luthor
vocabulary.
Lex had been searching Lian's expression with unsettling intensity; too
late, Lian realized his face had automatically reacted to his
discomposure by falling into the familiar lines of a lazily challenging
sneer.
With a slow nod, Lex pocketed the snuff box and turned away. The sudden
absence of his regard was a tangible void, like a lull in a
hurricane-strength gale. Lian should have been stumbling forward,
unbalanced by the lack.
"You remember Club Zero?" Lex sauntered around the desk, trailing one
hand over the polished wood. Stupidly, Lian nodded, even though Lex's
back was to him. Of course he remembered, even if he wasn't certain of
just where Lex was going with this; Dad had been angrier than Lian ever
hoped to see him again, and Lex...
His tone was casual. "Max wasn't the one who shot Royce."
Lex had been broken into razor shards, making everyone bleed for the
transgression of being around him. Lian had been relieved when Dad had
packed him off to Princeton. Had alcohol had an effect on him, Lian
would never have touched it after seeing Lex drown himself in it,
muting himself, all of his sharp-edged intensity lost in the muzzy
stupor of inebriation. So much less Lex than he should be.
Lian had never bought the official version of Royce's death.
"I know, Lex." Even now, Lian still felt the hot burn of anger at
Amanda's incredible stupidity. She hadn't been worth it.
Lex laughed, the sound rough and bitter. He didn't turn, but the
tension in his shoulders, his entire body was impossible to miss. "No
you don't."
"Lex." Lian stopped because he wasn't sure they were still talking
about the same thing; he went on because Lex was bowing his head, and
the simple motion made the lines of his neck and skull seem wrenchingly
vulnerable. "It doesn't -"
"Dad doesn't know, either." Lex wheeled abruptly, his gaze holding
Lian's with implacable purpose. "It was Amanda."
And Lian finally realized what this was about. This was Lex's secret,
his hidden vulnerability.
Lex had tricked Dad into covering for Amanda; he'd known he'd never
have her and he'd still taken the fall for her because, for whatever
reason, he loved her. Lian hadn't realized Lex would go this far to
protect anyone. And now, Lex had delivered her up to Lian on a silver
platter. Even without Dad's help, Lian would be able to find witnesses,
find Amanda, undo Lex's sacrifice, throw her to the wolves.
It was power, a primed weapon in his hands. Lex had already proven that
he would do anything to protect her, and there was no doubt in Lian's
mind that even after all this time, he would do the same again. Perhaps
more.
Lex had understood. Lex was accepting Lian's offer. This would work.
This would actually work.
Lian had to remind himself that he'd been certain it would in order to
stop his voice from being undignified with elation. "I won't."
Lex smiled. It was one of the rare smiles that reached every part of
him, lighting him up from the inside. Lian hadn't seen it in far too
long; he'd forgotten how open Lex could look, and how much Lian loved
seeing him like that. "I know. I won't, either."
"No power on the face of this earth will be able to stop us if we stick
together," Lian said softly. "Not even Dad."
This laugh held true amusement, and Lex came back to stand close, one
hand on Lian's shoulder. "I think you're right, Julian. Our alliance is
going to be the stuff of legends."
Lian had long suspected it, but never before dared to push this hard,
to risk everything just to confirm it. No matter how unapproachable he
appeared, Lex would always respond to a perceived vulnerability on
Lian's part not with an attack, but with a defense. Lex would take the
fall for Lian, if he needed to. He'd do whatever it took.
Lian could not have done this alone, but with Lex by his side, all the
rules changed. Lex could have run circles around Lian in any test of
intellect. He was intimidatingly brilliant when it came to both matters
of business and hard science. He could handle people with a
comprehensive understanding of what moved them, and an icy certainty in
how to turn it to his advantage that Lian could only envy, but never
emulate.
Lex was... Lex.
Lian wanted to lick him all over, but it was too early for that. He
settled for giving him his best country bumpkin grin and pulling him
into a bear hug. Lex was stiff with surprise in his arms, but Lian held
on, and after a moment, the locked muscles melted and Lex returned the
hug briefly before pulling back. Brilliant, sharp-edged, dangerous Lex.
Sweet, slinky, sentimental Lex. The most valuable asset on the face of
this biologically and technologically underdeveloped planet, and it was
all Lian's.
This was going to be even more fun than football.
"You do realize I've moved it, I hope."
The words failed to cohere into meaning. Lian clutched the dirty
plastic receiver of the payphone outside the 7-11 so hard he heard
something snap. The sound stabbed him with an almost physical twinge of
pain. "What?" he blurted, and could have kicked himself immediately
afterwards. He should have waited to make this call, at least for a day
or two – until he'd adjusted to the thought of not being human.
Right.
Dad had perfected the art of raising a sardonic eyebrow without being
physically present.
"You never were the brightest, Lian, but I'd think that even you would
be able to anticipate that much."
Lian breathed deeply once, then once again before trusting himself to
speak without crushing the receiver into its component atoms. "Why did
you show it to me in the first place?"
That earned him an amused chuckle that made him want to kill something.
"Do you honestly mean to tell me you never wondered what you were?"
"That's not what I asked."
Paper rustled; his father was silent for half a beat too long before
exhaling impatiently. "You have your answer, Lian."
Damn it, talking to his father was like petitioning the Oracle at
Delphi. Never a straight answer, and by the time you figured out what
he'd meant, it was too late and you were screwed.
"What if I find out how to open it?"
The rustling paused for a moment, but resumed before his father spoke
again. "Then you can make me an offer."
Business, of course. Lian relaxed a bit; this was familiar ground, and
he felt less at sea just hearing his father place the situation in the
safely familiar terms. "Perhaps you can make me one."
Dad laughed, briefly but with real amusement. "We'll see about that
when you have something to contribute to the hypothetical partnership,
shall we? Now, son, unless there's something else –"
"I'm in Smallville."
"I thought you might be." Still amused, the old bastard. "All the
better to pursue your new line of research, I believe."
Lian was certain his father had had every stone in Smallville turned
over twice, immediately after finding his alien son and matching ship
in a cornfield. Whatever he'd found, though, it hadn't helped him open
the spaceship. Thirteen years, and it remained exactly what it had been
the first instant Dad had set eyes on it: an enormous well of untapped
potential, promising not only riches untold, but knowledge and power
beyond the dreams of earthly man.
"Come back before the beginning of the next school year," his father's
voice interrupted his thoughts. "You have that long."
"You never – I've never been in a lab," Lian said very quietly. For a
moment, he thought his father hadn't heard him.
"You're my son, Lian," Dad said then, with strange emphasis. "You're a
Luthor first."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He considered the quarterly projections absently before putting them
down and leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled over his stomach.
He'd thought it highly likely Lian would run to Lex. Smallville, as
logical as it was, had not been the boy's first thought; that dubious
honor had fallen to Lex. In fact, Lionel suspected that even Lian's
second thought, which *had* been Smallville, owed more to Lex's
presence there than to any expectation of unearthing valuable
information thirteen years after the fact.
To be so predictable was unfortunate, if not downright dangerous even
for someone like Lian. Almost as dangerous as being so dependent on
another person.
Lionel had tried time and again to teach his sons these lessons, but
even now, they hadn't internalized them. People were fickle, weak and
untrustworthy. Putting your trust in someone was akin to handing a
knife to an enemy and turning your back. People were frail – they could
be held hostage, injured and killed. Inevitably, they would sicken and
die. Even Lian was not immortal. His tissue changed and grew, he
matured, and one day he, just like everyone else, would weaken and die.
People – whether human or not – were always an investment risk too
large to chance.
His sons had refused to learn this lesson, but Lionel was a Luthor. He
would try again, and try again, until he shattered their willfully
naive insistence on clinging to this sentimental weakness.
He had no fear he would break them; they could not be broken. He had
made sure of that.
Feedback of all kinds – positive and negative – welcome at worldsenough@gmx.net
Note: I invite – nay, challenge! – anyone who's
interested to play in this CLexish alternate universe with me. Take an
ep – any ep. Take as many as you want. Take them all! Take any point of
time before, during or after aired canon and ask yourself what happened
to our heroes in this AU. Then, write it down and share it.