Chapter Text
Something cold is gently touching his face when he wakes up again. Sensation – even if not his Sense – tells him that it's a water-soaked towel, the slight roughness of damp fabric moving against his upper lip.
His head hurts. He doesn't want to open his eyes.
Lex would chide him for sulking, if he doesn't.
He blinks his eyes open, fluorescent lights sharpening his headache until he squints and adjusts, and he sees blonde hair quickly pull away from him.
Cassie.
That was it. Cassie, who'd punched General Riley in the face when the General had tried to pull him away. She's got a blood-soaked towel in her hand, and he puts his fingers to his nose, the remnants of blood tacky on his fingers when he pulls them back.
"Oh," he says. "That's- new. Is this…normal? Bleeding? From the nose?"
A poof of red leans over Cassie's shoulder, freckles all scrunched up with his frown. Bart, who’d held his wrist, felt his fluttering pulse and dragged him free. "Sometimes," Bart says, "Depends. Humidity can cause it, or blowing your nose too hard. Or stress. Have you never had one before?"
"No," he says shortly, and reaches up to touch the blood again. He's never actually even been injured before, bar a few times Mercy's flipped him over her shoulder and driven the breath from his lungs. Normally he sees his blood in vials, in chemical composite summary, not-
Not on his fingertips. Not on Cassie's towel.
Oh.
"Were you- cleaning?" he says, gesturing, and then, belated, "Uh, thanks, dude."
"Yeah," Cassie says, levering herself off the floor and backing away to a sink to rinse out the towel. He blinks, and his senses expand – not his Sense, and that's making his stomach squirm but maybe if he just ignores it, he won't think about how empty everything feels right now-
Bathroom. They’re in a bathroom, white linoleum and bright walls and a row of sinks staring back at him.
Huh. It's got a lot less graffiti than he'd expected, judging from Young Lycan, and honestly…it seems boring. The walls are an ugly off-white and there’s no indication that anyone else is hiding in a stall to jump them. Is this another thing that TV has tricked him about?
"We just figured since you were unconscious, the bleeding was something we could…do something about."
"Yeah, instead of trying to figure out the rest of the shit that just happened," Bart mutters. "Serious amounts of violence are happening in this building today, and we are not close enough to things I can turn into explosives."
Cassie snorts, and when she comes back she hands him the damp towel and kicks Bart in the ankle. "Let's not give Luthor any more reasons to fire us, yeah? Attacking another employee woulda been bad enough. Even if the dude was being a creep."
Water drips down his wrist, and he looks down to see he's tightened his grip on the towel enough that his hand is shaking. The water is tepid, and the fabric is furrowed in his grip. His elbow still has a little red circle from Dr. Ross’ needle.
Cassie tugs the towel from his hands and folds it into a square with deft, sure movements. Then she chucks it behind her and it splats against the side of the sink, making Bart giggle. “Why’d you say there were dead bodies in your room?” she asks, like that’s somehow the most important thing to be thinking about when there’s technically people wandering around the tower wanting to kidnap him.
He blinks.
“I didn’t want you to go into my room. Who’d want to see dead bodies?”
Bart raises two fingers to interrupt, “Oh, me.”
“No,” Cassie says sternly, “I’ve seen you around goopy shit, I’m not letting you near a goddamn dead body.”
“You could let Bart do it, and have it over and done with,” he offers, but Cassie just irritably swipes her hand through the air.
“Not happening, this would not be a one-and-done deal. His graduation project is cybernetic constructs designed after rotting food."
"...that sounds sick, actually."
"Right?!" Bart says, delighted.
Cassie sighs. " Okay, it is cool as hell, it is just also gross to be at your house and see platters of rotted fruit. And maggots."
"Got me an internship," Bart says with a shrug, and Cassie laughs.
"Yeah, and Chaplain's still testing you for demonic possession."
Bart leans into Cassie's shoulder, and she clutches at her chest. "Rest in Pieces, Mr. Smith!" they say in unison, and he watches their easy familiarity, the well-practiced way their bodies curve against each other, and wonders if this is what the TV means when it talks about friends. The pod gave him the word, the definition as it's written for books and dictionaries, but there's something about seeing it play out in front of him that feels…different.
They know each other. They trust each other. Cassie's name on Bart's lips is as easy for him to say as it is for her, and the twist of their tone as they call for each other belays more information than he can read.
“So, Thirteen-”
“Huh?” he says, and then realises. “Oh. No, don’t call me that. That’s not my name.”
Bart blinks at him. “Well then what is?”
“Uh-”
“Don’t go claiming stranger danger,” Cassie jokes, “I just kicked someone in the balls for you.”
“No, I’m just not sure.”
“Say what?” Bart asks, his eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I know I have one,” he says sensibly, “I just don’t know what it is. Lex keeps forgetting to tell me.”
“Excuse me? ” Cassie says, face flushed a fierce red. “You’re like, 16! How does someone forget to call you by name for sixteen years?”
“What? No, only two.” Jeeze, imagine sixteen years of no name – two years have been awkward enough, adapting to Dr. Ross’ use of his designation instead, but sixteen?
He doesn’t wince, to imagine sixteen years in the labs, waiting for Mercy and Lex and Dr. Ross to say he’s good enough to go outside with everyone else, but- but the memory of Dr. Ross is still enough to make his chest cold. Thankfully, Cassie and Bart both seem to be stuck on his name and not the way he feels tense.
“Two what?” Bart finally asks. “Two years of not knowing your name? Then where were you before?”
He frowns. “Nowhere?”
“What, you didn’t exist?” Cassie says, arms folded.
“Basically.”
Cassie’s eyes flick to the ceiling, mouth drawn in a scowl, and he puts his hands on his hips.
“Well I don’t know how else to explain it! Do you remember being born?”
“Woah, wait,” Bart says, darting between them both and grabbing his arm. His skin still feels numb, but Bart’s touch is a prickle of warm sensation. “Are you saying you’re two years old?”
He makes a wavy motion with his hand, the one Dr. Ross uses to mean sort of, and both Cassie and Bart gape. Bart tugs his arm even more insistently, and he lets it extend as Bart runs careful fingers along his ulna and up his bicep, pushing till his arm is straight up and his shirt has lifted.
“Oh shit you really don’t have a belly button,” Bart says. He drops his head down to look, feeling self-conscious at the surprise in Bart’s tone. The implication that he doesn’t fully comprehend yet, that there’s something wrong with not having a belly button. What is Bart even talking about?
“Dude, are you like-” Cassie starts, and then stops, hand reaching out. He pulls back from Bart, tugging his shirt over his stomach so she can’t touch. “Are you like, a Luthor science experiment?”
“No?” he says, “I’m his son.”
This declaration goes over with the same grace as his line about dead bodies. He’s not entirely sure why that’s the case, considering both of them need to have biological donors too, but honestly it’s getting a little annoying, that they handle all of his statements by yelling.
Cassie finally breaks through the unintelligible scramble that both of them have fallen into by grabbing Bart's arm and slapping her hand over his mouth. "Are you saying Lex Luthor grew his own dang kid. And made you sixteen. For- for kicks. For science?"
"For my dad," he says, nodding, and then pauses. His Sense prickles uncomfortably under his control, too weak to do anything but press against his skin, and he rubs his arm. "Lex doesn't- really talk about him much, though. He gets weird about it. So probably don't bring it up when we find him?"
"When we what?" Cassie says, and then she says, "oh ew, Bart, you little gremlin!" and wipes her hand on Bart's t-shirt. Bart beams at him proudly.
"Cassie doesn't like spit," he says, as though this is a fact that gravely needs to be imparted, "but, also, dude, what? Why are we gonna be bringing up weird family dynamics with Luthor ? We gotta get you outta here. Maybe see if we can find a couch for you to crash on for the foreseeable future, so you don't have to play happy families with a scientist that just tried to have you kidnapped."
"And what?" he says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just wait for them to get bored of chasing me? Get you arrested for kidnapping me? We need Lex's help. Besides, I can't get out of the building without setting off, like, six alarms."
"What," Cassie says, and he folds his arms tighter over his chest, trying not to snarl. They're trying to help. He knows they are. It's not their fault they don't understand what he needs, that he's not perfect yet.
"It's safer," he stresses, a snap almost entering his tone. "I know how much people would love to mess with Lex, and I- I'm not- good at the world yet. We're working on it."
"By keeping you inside a lab? With a literal mad scientist trying to sell you to the government?"
"That is a one-off incident!" he yells, and all the windows crash shut in unison.
Great. Awesome. His Sense feels like it's flaying his hands when he tries to use it on purpose, and when he's not paying enough attention, trying not to think about how hollow his chest feels, his Sense is snapping out.
He buries his face in his hands and takes a shuddering breath, the stress of the last hour making his shoulders hunch. It feels like he's being put under pressure, but now there's no Sense lacing with his spine to keep him up straight. If he thinks too much about Dr. Ross and the needle sliding into his arm he thinks he's going to drown.
A gentle hand lays itself on his shoulder, and then Bart presses against him, cheek warm on his bicep. "Dude…I kinda just think this whole thing sucks for you. That's all we're saying."
They think they’re helping, he reminds himself. They don’t know him, not like they know each other, and he doesn’t know them either. “It’s fine,” he says, trying to ignore how his skin prickles under Bart’s touch.
“Can we just plan on getting you out of here temporarily, and then- figure out Lex after? It’ll be a good plan, right, Cassie?”
He knows what an elbow to the side means; he’s seen it happen enough in comedies to know it’s an order to agree, but he has no idea what Cassie’s supposed to agree to.
"...and could we maybe talk about the, um, poltergeist situation going on?" Cassie adds.
"Sorry," he mumbles. "Normally I'm better at controlling it. Whatever- whatever Dr. Ross gave me is messing with my- everything."
"Your…what?" Cassie says, and she sounds faint. "Are you…Is that how you- on the ceiling-?"
He looks up, and both of their faces are pale. There's another score to his Sense not being normal, but his stomach still knots uncomfortably. Even if he'd suspected…he'd still hoped that maybe people outside would know what it was like. Would have the same threads tugging at their fingers, the same map splayed out in their brain, and he'd be…
Whatever. It's awesome, and he's used the Web to his advantage way more than Lex or Dr. Ross will ever know, and he'll only keep getting better. Who cares if nobody else can do what he does, that nobody else understands the way the world throws itself into constant definition? It just means his domain will never be contested.
“Yeah, dude.” He says, and quirks his head to the side. “When I’m touching something I can- I dunno, tell it to do whatever I want. I’m touching my shoes, my shoes are touching the wall, and they’ll just stay there? If I want ‘em to. If I’m touching something I know where everything is, on it, and I can touch it without being near it.”
"That's," Bart starts, and he braces himself.
"That's the coolest thing ever," Cassie finishes. "That's the coolest thing ever? Holy shit?"
"If you closed your eyes could you see what I was doing?" Bart asks, suddenly right in his face, and he reels back.
"If you were touching something I was touching I could probably figure it out," he says, trying for a shrug. That’s the easiest test he ever did with Dr. Ross, even if Dr. Ross had started trying to up the difficulty by having him pick out different things at the same time, overloading the points of contact on his Web. “But right now it’s-”
"You're like Toph from the Last Airbender!" Bart cries in delight.
"Who?"
"Oh we have to fix that," Cassie says. "But also - how does that translate to walking on walls? Or do you just have more superpowers? Because that is seriously so cool.”
“Uh- no? What do you mean, other powers? I only have telekinesis. But like, based on contact? So, tactile telekinesis. And since I’m always in contact with myself…” he braces a foot on the wall, spreading out his Web to keep him anchored, and then it's a simple matter of walking forward until he reaches the ceiling and can hang upside down. “Easy.”
Well. It should be simple. His control is wrecked right now but he grips it with stubborn fingers and a bubbling sense of frustration.
“Your hair,” Bart cries in delight, and tugs. He shakes his head to get rid of the pull-sting-tingle, and Bart laughs again. “Oh that is the coolest thing. Are you doing the hair on purpose? It totally looks like you're not even upside down, my brain is totally tripping.”
“Just telekinesis, he says,” Cassie mutters. He runs his hand through his hair, trying to figure out what Bart’s talking about, and then sees himself in the bathroom mirror. They look like mirrored images of each other; he’s never seen himself on the ceiling before when someone else was also around. It’s making his brain trip, like it’s trying to tell him something’s wrong, but he can’t figure out what the differences are supposed to be.
His eyes catch on the blood under his nose, and his Sense falters again, steadier but still weak. He kneels down and puts his hand on the ceiling, shifting his weight till he’s hanging from his fingertips and can drop to his feet properly.
“Ta-da,” he says, trying to grin, but the way Bart excitedly claps makes it shift to something softer, realer, a low pride blooming in his stomach.
“Dude, that was the coolest shit ever.”
He winks in response, and Bart beams while Cassie hides a giggle behind her hand, cheeks faintly pink.
“Plus, superpowers are gonna make it way easier to get out of here. If you-”
“I’m not-” he interrupts, then feels his mouth twitch oddly. “Dr. Ross…did something. Nothing’s working the way it’s supposed to. I can barely even feel you guys, and you’re super close to me.”
Bart looks sad again, but Cassie’s look turns contemplative, a thoughtful scowl on her face. Then, her eyes light up. “Okay, final thought. If getting you out of the building sets off a shit ton of alarms then let’s…just do that?”
“What?”
“That’s what you said, right? That you couldn’t get out without attracting attention? So let’s get some attention – any public enough place and Dr. Creepo won’t be able to grab us, and if they’re alarms specific to you, it’s gonna get Luthor’s attention, yeah?”
“Dr. Cree- you mean Dr. Ross?”
“Yeah,” Bart says, grinning at him conspiratorially. “Dr. Creepo.”
It’s not accurate. But it is fun, and it’s making it easier to ignore just how long he’s known Dr. Ross. If he remembers that, he remembers-
“Okay,” he says. “Okay, out the front door.”
A question with the wrong answer, but this is the only one he can think of that’s not going to end with General Riley’s grip on his collar, or Dr. Ross’ hand, traitorous and gentle.
His heart beats like it’s prepping for a jump scare as he thinks about out, about Cassie and Bart leading the way through the building. His Web stretches uselessly, trying to sense others around him, but he only barely feels the flicker of Cassie’s red converse and Bart’s sneakers as they touch the floor.
Is this why Cassie and Bart were joking before, about finding monsters in the hall? To try and ease the fluttering, too-hard heartbeat that comes with not knowing what’s around the corner, behind a door? At any moment Dr. Ross or General Riley or anyone could come around the door and stop them, find them, chase them.
They’re out of his section of the lab. He’s never been this far without Mercy or Lex before, and then-
Then he’s in the public areas, around people, and he thinks about what this would feel like on his Web and can’t decide if the sickening swoop is excitement or the drug still in his system.
“Shit,” Cassie says, suddenly, and he watches her shoes backpedal, “They got ahead of us.”
Bart echoes her, glancing around wildly, then grabs both of them. “Fire escape,” he says, dragging them toward another hallway.
“The fire alarm will go off!” Cassie hisses. “Defeats the purpose of setting off another alarm if everything’s already chaos, Bart.”
“No,” he says, and steps in front of Bart to put his hand on the door. If this is a problem, if this is going to put them in danger – more than the fact that they’re helping him – he’s got to-
He closes his eyes in relief as his Sense answers his pull, the system that controls the alarm an easy latch he can hold down as he pushes the door open. “Oh hell yes,” Bart says, “fucking awesome, dude-”
“There!”
“Oh tits,” Cassie says, and shoves them through the door. “Go, go, go-”
They make it out in a tangle of limbs, almost tripping, and he grabs Bart’s elbow to stop him from tumbling down the stairs. Bart gives him a breathless grin and an equally breathless laugh, and then they’re sprinting down the stairs, level numbers counting down their escape. His bare feet echo on the cement in tandem with their shoes, and the ache on his soles grows alongside the stitch in his side and the ragged burn of his breath in his throat.
Bart hits the front door but doesn’t push, nearly vibrating in place, and realisation hits almost as quickly as Cassie does – he leans over Bart’s shoulder to slap his hand on the door and shove it open.
“Front door,” Bart says, gleeful and triumphant, and small hands wrap around his bicep, dragging him forward. But-
Cassie’s still by the staircase, eyes narrowed, and something-
Something feels wrong.
“Wait,” he tries, digging his heels in as he tries to figure out what’s setting him off, and then he realises: his Web, overloaded by the people around him, also has-
Dr. Ross lunges through the door, hands outstretched for Cassie’s throat just as Lex strides in through the front door with a crowd of cameras. The falter of Lex’s step is only revealed through the Web: every other part of him is perfectly poised as he catches sight of the chaos that’s erupted in his lobby.
“What on earth is going on here,” Lex says, eyebrow arched in disapproval, and his eyes slide over everyone.
Everyone.
His stomach drops and he skids to a stop, grabbing at the back of Bart’s shirt as Bart tries to tug him for the doors.
“Mr. Luthor!” Dr. Ross says, and his hands fall on Cassie’s shoulders. She shoves him off, obvious and snarling, and quickly makes her way to them. Dr. Ross looks startled for a moment, then tries to smile; it looks grim, and tight, an awkward and unhappy edge to it as he eyes the reporters clustered at Lex’s heels. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Good afternoon,” Lex says, an affable amusement clear. “Was it bring your child to work day, Dr. Ross? I was unaware you had redheads in your family.”
“Um-” says Dr. Ross, and Cassie steps in front of him and Bart, her chin jutted stubbornly.
“We’re just interns,” she says, her teeth gritted. “All three of us, from the Planet, sir.”
Lex is looking at them, mouth in a flat line, and at this point, he’s thankful his Sense has finally decided to stay under his control. He needs it to keep them all steady, because Bart’s nails are digging into his arm and Cassie’s so straight she’s almost leaning backward.
Lex’s mouth purses, further, and his eyes flick to the people surrounding them, staring at them, and then Dr. Ross. “I doubt you are just interns,” he says carefully, “I have high hopes for all the young minds Lexcorp decides to sponsor.”
“Nepotism notwithstanding,” Cassie says, almost a sneer, and Lex’s eyes narrow. His stare rests heavy on them, as uncomfortable as Dr. Ross at their backs.
Lex looks up, past them again, and his cold gaze fastens onto Dr. Ross.
“Nepotism, hm?” Lex asks, and Bart’s face, in the corner of his eye, is open and still.
“Yeah, I mean, of course you’d expect great things from your son, right?”
There’s a beat. Two. Lex looks at Bart’s hand on his arm, at Cassie’s careful stance in front of both of them, and then at all the people in his lobby.
Lex doesn’t look at him.
“Regardless of biological connection I’ve always encouraged excellence in my interns,” Lex says, and then smiles and reaches forward to ruffle his hair. It almost makes him recoil, startled, but this time Cassie and Bart are keeping him still. “But I think, all things considered, I’ve adapted well to familial pride.”
The pod said that the people who create you are your parents. The TV said that family is you and your parents and your siblings and your aunts and uncles and friends and it never mentioned clones.
Lex has never explicitly used the word son.
(What other word is there, when Lex is the one who made him, who wanted him? Lex doesn’t always act like a father, but if he’s not then-
He just wants one part of his life to be normal, and normal kids have parents.
He shouldn’t have used the word son.)
“I’m sorry, Mr. Luthor,” someone chimes up from the group following on Lex’s heels. “Did you just say that kid was your son?”
“Ah, I suppose the cat’s out of the bag,” Lex says with a charming laugh, and then there’s a hand placed firmly against his shoulder and he’s pushed forward. “I know it probably comes as a bit of a shock, but yes. This is my son. His mother only recently came forward, and, well, I am at the beck and call of the public.” Lex offers a magnanimous shrug. “I wanted to make sure he wasn’t overwhelmed by all the attention. If you could respect our privacy while he adjusts, I promise we’ll let you ask all the questions you want should he decide he wants to stay with me.”
“Mr. Luthor,” says one of the reporters, sounding vaguely aghast, but then the palm on his shoulder blade is guiding him closer to Mercy, and he doesn't have time to think about how quickly Lex’s lie had been available because he doesn't want Cassie and Bart to be left behind.
(Has Lex been waiting? Preparing that story? Is it possible that Lex finally thinks he’s ready to be public, that he can pass as a normal person? The explanation is so neat, left Lex’s mouth so easy, and with Lex’s hand on his shoulder-
He doesn’t look much like Lex, he knows, but another woman keeping him secret leaves Lex able to avoid questions about his other donor. About how long he’s been alive. He knew Lex never wanted to be reminded of Kent, but does Lex really intend to imply that his existence is due to infidelity?)
“Mercy,” Lex says, “would you kindly escort Dr. Ross into one of our meeting rooms? I think we have some things to discuss before his departure today. Oh, and the children can wait upstairs, thank you.”
The office, he thinks, ignoring the squirming twist of nerves in his stomach as Mercy looks at him, eyes narrowed in displeasure. She inclines her head, and he grabs Bart’s wrist and Cassie’s hand, pulling them in the direction of the elevator. Neither of them speak as Mercy scans her ID and presses the top floor.
“Don’t leave,” she says, a threat if he’s ever heard one, and he nods his assent as she moves away to deal with Dr. Ross.
“The General-” Cassie hisses, and he shakes his head.
“She’s not here. There weren’t enough footsteps in the stairwell.”
“She must've split when we got too close to getting attention,” Bart mutters, and then the elevator doors open into Lex’s work suite and both Cassie and Bart gape.
“Uh, ‘scuse, why is your bedroom on creepy hallway avenue when there’s a whole ass apartment up here?”
He frowns and rubs his inner elbow, trying to think about how often he's been in this office and what preceded each time. “It’s the entertaining suite? For business executives. Of course I can’t stay up here.”
Entertainment, Lex has said, is all that reporters want to know about. And now they have his face in frame and Lex’s hand on his shoulder.
“Of course,” Cassie mumbles, and Bart gives her a look then bee-lines for the windows.
“You ever tried walking down the side of a building?” he asks, nose pressed to the glass, and Cassie’s face loses colour.
“Oh, don't, Bart,” she says, “we're so high up.”
“I wouldn't fall,” he says. “I don't.”
“Ever?” Bart asks, and he shrugs.
“I guess? Not so far, at least.” Sudden panic grips his throat through the blank static buzz that’s been been looping through his mind on repeat, and he reaches out to snag Cassie's hand. She looks at him, startled when he blurts out, “Hey, though, you can't- Lex doesn't know about- don't tell him,” he finally finishes with. “Don't tell him what Dr. Ross- did. What he wanted. I don't- know. What he'll think-”
“Dude, no. Everyone knows what Lex Luthor thinks about mutants,” Bart says, wandering over with concern in his eyes. “Even if he is your dad, if you don't want to risk it, we won't.”
Maybe don't call him that, either, he thinks about saying, but then the elevator chimes open at the end of the hall and his worry is back. Is it better or worse that they're second, that Lex will have already talked to Dr. Ross about the General and the violence, and-
The glass door sticks when Lex pushes it open, and realisation hits him at the same time as Lex frowns; quickly, he pulls his Sense back under control and the door finishes opening seamlessly.
At least whatever Dr. Ross did to him wasn't permanent, but currently the thought brings him very little comfort. The stern lines of Lex’s suit are perfect, no evidence of the conversation he’d just had lingering to dishevel him, and he strides past the three of them to sit at his desk. What did Dr. Ross say? What damage control now needs to be done, to keep Lex normal?
Did Dr. Ross talk about the Web?
“So,” Lex says as he sits behind his desk and steeples his fingers together, “I’m now doing damage control to explain why I have a previously unmentioned heir and have also fired the chief executive of my disease and genetic disorder division. Would you like to explain why?”
Silence sticks to the back of his teeth like his tongue has been wrapped up with his Sense, and he looks at Cassie and Bart like they’ll be able to come up with an answer any faster than he can. How to explain where they’d been without getting them in trouble? How to explain their escape without letting Lex know about the Web?
Lex’s eyebrow raises slowly and he leans forward onto his elbows to lace his fingers together. “Alright,” he says. “Don’t lie to me. We’ll start with this - Dr. Ross has invited military personnel into my personal laboratory. There are also two Planet interns who just happened to be there at the same time.”
“Cassie,” he interrupts, “and Bart. They’re- this is Cassie, and this is Bart.” He may not have a name but these two do, and he wants Lex to know them as more than just- just strangers, teenagers who've saved him-
“And what are Cassie and Bart doing, with you,” comes Lex's response. It's not a question, but it's not a question in the same way that it is a reprimand - Lex wants an answer and doesn't want to ask for it.
“Well, for one thing, we were stopping him from being kidnapped,” Bart says, and his hands are in trembling fists by his side. “And, also, major Q here - but why not start with concern over him being almost kidnapped rather than the third degree?”
“You,” Lex says coldly, “could very easily have been part of this entire fiasco. In fact, you are undeniably part of this fiasco - at this point it is simply a matter of determining your level of malicious intent.”
“They're not-!” he tries, but Cassie interrupts.
“The only one here with malicious intent is you! The hell is wrong with you, thinking it's okay to lock someone up- he deserves to experience more than this building!” Cassie says. “We literally watched one of your employees try and kidnap him, and nobody ever would have known about it, about him, if we-”
“If you hadn’t been trespassing?” Lex says smoothly, and Cassie blushes.
“We were-” she tries, and then, “well it still-”
“Still counts as trespassing, yes, even if you did assist me.”
“We didn’t do it for you,” Bart says, and his voice is cold. Cassie nods, strength returned, and Lex takes a long, slow breath. His finger tap---tap---tap s on his keyboard, too soft to be a press of the keys but a distinct indication of his displeasure, and Sense curls around his chest in a too-tight brace to keep his back straight.
The tapping stops. “You’d have to do something for me,” Lex says, and Cassie arches a challenging eyebrow.
“What, not report you for child neglect?”
“He’s a creation of sensitive nature. If I agree to your proposal, you and your friend sign an NDA. Any information you found here today is property of Lexcorp, and anything he or I tell you in the future is kept in strict legal confidence. You do not tell anyone he’s not a real child, and you do not say anything public in opposition to whatever choices I make in raising him.”
Well. At least that means they won’t be allowed to tell anyone about his Sense. He’s got the feeling that considering what happened today, the more people who know about it the more he’ll be in trouble. It’s bad enough that Dr. Ross’ military friend knows him. He doesn’t want to think about Cassie or Bart showing him off on a stage like a presentation on: look what you could do, if you wanted to take him apart!
“And what about your weirdo scientist who tried to kill him?” Bart says.
“And kill us?” Cassie adds.
“It will be taken care of,” Lex waves his hand dismissively, then fixes them with an ice-cold stare. “Do we have a deal?”
Cassie grabs Bart’s arm and turns them away from Lex – Bart’s head automatically comes in close, and their voices drop low, like this is a practiced move. He watches them curiously, uninvited but not excluded. It’s an odd experience, to be bought into their - anyone’s - circle of confidence.
"This is illegal, isn't it," Bart hisses, and Cassie makes an aborted shrugging motion.
"Yeah, probably. Minors can’t sign legal documents without parental permission. And, I mean, at the very least it's totally blackmail."
Bart hums. Then: "We're signing?"
"Yep."
They nod together, scowling and in sync, and he has to step back when Cassie whirls around and slams her hand down on Lex's desk. "We're not signing shit until you agree to answer our questions."
He blinks, confused as to this sudden heel-turn considering what he'd just overheard, but Bart is nodding seriously, his arms crossed.
"What questions?" Lex says, mouth in a tight line, and Cassie stands up straighter.
"I reserve the right to ask more if necessary," she says, and then- He notices her fingertips are white. Notices the deliberate way she's not looking at him. "You need to tell us his name. He deserves it. Can't exactly be normal without one."
"His-?" Lex starts, and his brow is furrowed. "Kon. K-O-N. Conner in polite company. Why didn't you introduce yourself?"
Conner.
Kon.
Lex's attention is normally like an itch, but right now-
Kon.
What's the meaning behind the name? What's the choice that led Lex to pick something so short, that he seems to say with a slight tinge of disdain? Why say the nickname first?
"Conner," Lex says, like a reprimand, and Kon decides: who cares? It's his.
"Hi," he says, beaming and grateful as he shoves his open hand toward the people who've fought for his name, who've given it to him so freely, the people he’s decided are very definitely his friends, "I'm Kon."