Archive of Our Own

Disclaimers: I cry at night over the injustice of it, but none of 'em are mine... Summary: The prophet Luthor dances in the shadows of what's to come Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Author's Note: There's no slash here, no Clark here...but I'm anticipating another three complimentary stories that will have both and justify its placement here. This is my first time writing Smallville and I would appreciate any feedback...good, bad, indifferent.

1996

"Lex..."

He stopped mid-stride, one foot on the Persian rug, the other on the polished hard wood floor, both stilled by the sound of his name on her lips. Her voice was deceptively strong as it wound its way through the dark like a red ribbon caught in a breeze. It broke the barrier that the thick mahogany door presented, squeezed through to reach the other side, to penetrate and be heard. How she knew he was there, he couldn't quite say. She just did.

Always did.

He closed his eyes, a rapid fire scenario unfolding in his brain, possible details being invented -reinvented- and then worked into the story to enhance the believability rating of the lies he would use should the situation demand it. He really hoped it didn't, that she would assume that no answer meant that no one was there, that she was merely hearing things. He stood absolutely still. Movement meant presence. He didn't want to be a presence at this moment. He wanted to be a figment of overactive imagination.

Seconds ticked by...

He was so close to his destination. Only five feet and a closed door separated him from the comfort of a soft bed and warm sheets. It would take practically no effort to get there...just a few more steps, a twist of the wrist.

Seconds ticked by...

He'd passed the halfway point, he was closer to his room than he was to the one across the hallway, the one with the voice that beckoned him. He couldn't have been expected to hear her...even if he were in the hallway, which in a couple of seconds he wouldn't be and then she would never be able to prove that he had been. She didn't know...just suspected. She heard a noise in the middle of the night. That was it. In no way did noise equate Lex. Maybe if he were Lionel...that would be different, she'd have a valid argument because, to be frank, Lionel was noise. He was a buzzing, roaring, attacking onslaught of sensation against the eardrums. He burst into a room, doors clacking on their hinges, footsteps hammering against linoleum or cement or marble or even deep pile carpet. His voice was a clap a thunder, his tisking and snarling loud and unavoidable. He was a shrill siren, cutting across the countryside, immune to earplugs, be they foam or any other man made material.

Lionel always penetrated.

It was also quite obvious that in no way did Lex equate with Lionel. Lex made it his life's work to walk softly, talk softly, never give warning. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be working at the moment, for, once again, her voice sounded.

"Lex..."

He grimaced. She'd heard it...the faint squeaking of a floor board as he had shifted his weight. "Lex..." she called again, this time a bit more insistent.

His moment of escape had passed. He'd had plenty of time, really...he was just afraid of what it would mean if she knew that he had just completely disregarded her. Lex would rather face her now than to eventually have to see her look at him the way she looked at Lionel when he was busy doing any and every thing just to avoid having to look at her. At moments like that, her face would register this faintly odd expression of hurt mixed with a kind of knowing-as if she knew she would be ignored, even expected it, but would never accept it as her due. Thought she deserved more...never got more...wouldn't know how to handle more if she did get it, still...longed for more in the way Lex longed for his hair, as a sweet kind of something it would be nice to have IF a Luthor could ever have the kind of stuff money couldn't buy.

He wouldn't go there with her. He took a deep breath, turned to face her closed bedroom door, projected his voice, "Huh?"

"Come here!"

He moved closer. "What?"

"Come here!"

Lex eased the door open, stuck his head in. "What?"

The lamp beside her bed flared to life in a low wash of amber, illuminating the drawn features of her face as she struggled to pull herself up into a sitting position. He had to blink several times as his eyes adjusted to the light. She didn't seem to have the same problems, her eyes zeroing in on his face from the moment it appeared in her doorway. "It's three o'clock in the morning, Lex."

He made a show of looking at his watch, then smiled as he replied, "Actually, it's two fifty-two."

"Where have you been?" she asked, the lines around her mouth growing deeper as she frowned.

He was ready for this question, the carefully laid out story that he'd conjured up earlier was instantly recalled and processed for quick and believable recitation. He began talking, knowing that he would be perfect in calculation, perfect in execution, perfect in manipulation.

A small pout as he reminded her that he could be in Cozumel with his "friends" from school if Lionel hadn't been punishing him for some imagined offense...

Rattling off of familiar names of kids his age that corresponded to familiar names of parents her age...

The intricate weaving of those names into plausible events that could have happened since he left the mansion, including dinner with Kiki Laughlin's son Dirk and Al Dunleavy's daughters Muffy and Mitzy...

A laugh as he detailed a flat tire on Dirk's Daddy's new Jaguar...

Another laugh as he talked about how Mitzy found panties in the glove compartment box of Dirk's Daddy's new Jaguar that definitely -if you had seen Kiki Laughlin's rear end recently, you couldn't deny it- did not belong to Dirk's Mom...

"-Mitzy was mortified, but Dirk didn't even seem to care-"

"Don't lie to me, Alexander!" She cut him off, glared at him in anger, set her mouth in grim disapproval. "I'm not as stupid as you and your father like to think."

"Mom-"

"You were at that club again, weren't you? That Zero place."

He looked away, aware of the fact that it made him look guilty, but did it anyway because of the simple fact that he was guilty. It was harder to lie to her face when she knew he was doing it. Her gaze was too intense, her pale face too drawn and weary, her form too frail. "Maybe," he allowed finally, his voice barely audible.

Again, she heard when she shouldn't have been able to. "And you've been...what? Drinking? Doing drugs?"

"Maybe."

She leaned forward, strained to see him in the dim light. "What else? Having sex with women twice your age?"

Finally, he looked at her. He smirked, "Not just women, Mom. I've got a reputation for fucking anything that moves."

His words sat in the air between them, thick and heavy like a fog that wouldn't lift. She fell back against the pillows, let her head roll awkwardly on her neck, her fingers clutching absently at the gold velvet bedspread. This time, he stared as she looked away. After a few moments of silence, she spoke with irritation, "I don't want you going back to that club."

He slumped against the door jamb, his head resting against the edge of the door. "What makes you think I care about what you want?" he asked boldly, allowing his eyes to lose focus. The room became a blob of orange and black, with a faint image of the large four poster bed emerging in soft lines somewhere in the middle and he had this extreme urge to seek that bed out, to crawl onto it, to hide somewhere in his mothers arms. To tell her whatever she wanted to hear if she would just let him stay there forever. He was suddenly so tired, his body ready to crash, whatever euphoria he had starting to abate.

"Are you saying you don't care?" Her voice had lost its intensity, had become small and lost and bruised.

He'd done it...made her look at him the same way she looked at Lionel. He was officially a piece of shit. He didn't know why he'd done it, why he'd been so brazen with her when he knew she wouldn't take it with the same disinterest as his father did. It would hurt her, because she cared about how he felt, what he wanted, what he did...what he thought of her. It had occurred to him that he did things like this on purpose, that he stayed out late just for the sole purpose of making her worry, liking that she worried, liking that she cared enough to take issue with his comings and goings. He never accepted that as the reason, afraid of what kind of a monster it would make him if it were the truth.

"Is that what you're saying, Lex?"

"No, Mom. I do care what you want."

"Then promise me you won't go back to that place."

"We both know I'm a liar. Why would you even accept a promise from me? It won't mean anything in the morning," Lex sighed, his body sliding down to the floor of its own volition. Standing had turned into a much more difficult task than usual. He pulled his knees up to his chest, rested his chin there. He couldn't see her anymore, not from this new angle. He wondered if she could see him.

"Why can't you love you as much as I do?"

What was it with her and questions tonight? She was full of them, each one slamming into him harder than the one before. "Because I don't have a heart?"

"Because you see yourself through Lionel's eyes?"

"I don't care what he thinks-"

She laughed. "Maybe you ARE a liar."

"Maybe YOU are a liar!" he launched at her. He clutched his arms around his legs, began to rock back and forth as he continued, "You keep telling yourself that Dad loves you even though you know its not true...because if he did, wouldn't HE BE HERE? It's three o'clock in the morning, Mom! Where's your husband? Why isn't he in bed? Why isn't he even home? You keep telling me that you love me, but that's not true...because if it were....if it were..."

She was standing in front of him now. Was out of bed, across the room, standing in front of him. He hadn't realized she had even moved, so wrapped up he had been. As his voice died away, the rest of the words unable to even form in his mind, yet alone be uttered, he stared at the hem of her nightgown, at the bare feet with chipped pink toenail polish that poked out from underneath. Slowly, she lowered herself down, kneeled in front of him, her face registering the effort it so obviously took to perform just that small feat. He had to wonder how she had even made it out of bed. Once she had settled herself, she lifted his face into her hands. He drank in her features, the delicate nose, the full lips, the cheeks that had thinned, the skin that had paled and turned to nothing but a thin sheet of milky white paper, the eyes that still blazed a brilliant brave green. She was so beautiful, despite everything she had endured...still beautiful.

Even in the long black silk scarf she had wrapped so artfully around her head, the one that concealed absolutely nothing because, much to Lionel's dismay, there was nothing there to conceal. She smiled wanly when she saw his eyes travel to the scarf she wore and linger there. And then, she finished his thought for him, gave life to words he wished he could hide from the light of day. "I'm a liar...because I keep telling you that I love you, but that's not true, because if it were-"

"Stop!" the word sputtered desperately out of his mouth, a tear escaping the corner of his eye to roll down smooth white cheeks. "Don't say it!"

She leaned forward, laid her lips against his forehead, continued as if he had not interrupted, "-then I wouldn't have stopped fighting. I wouldn't have given up on the Chemo. I wouldn't die and abandon you to the world."

"NO!"

"I don't want to leave you, but I have to. I am dy-"

"NO!" He pulled his head from her grasp and buried his face in his knees. Tears fell in earnest now, wetting the gabardine of his slacks.

"Yes, Alexander, Darling. Yes! We talked about this when you first came home for break."

He shook his head, kept his face hidden. "I don't remember..."

"I'm dying."

He looked up slowly when he heard her voice break with the effort of saying the words. She was crying too. "Then I want to die with you..."

In an instant, she had pulled him into her arms, pressed him against her and held. "Oh, no, baby," she cried, "you don't want to die. You have so much to live for...an entire life stretched before you."

"Don't you see that it doesn't matter?!" he asked, his tone bordering on hysteria, "I die with you, Mom! There's nothing left in this world for me when you're gone...no one else to love me. You do realize that you're the only one, don't you? The only one in this whole world that loves me..."

"Lex...that's not true...your father-"

"He hates me!"

"He does not hate you! He loves you, Lex. Lionel...Lionel just doesn't know how to feel his feelings. Besides, there are so many people in this world who could and would love you if you let them in. You're so closed off-" She sat down completely and waited as he laid his head in her lap. She began stroking the smooth skin of his scalp with long tender fingers.

"I don't want to let anyone in," he sniffled.

"Well, one day, you'll find a person that you want to let in, that you want to share your whole life with-"

"No, I won't."

"Shh!" she admonished him, brushing the drying tears from his cheeks, "Stop interrupting and listen to my wisdom. One day, you will come across a person who intrigues you, who challenges you, who has the courage to tell you the truth whether you'll want to hear it or not, who loves you FOR you, not for all the money you have or the power you wield. I can't tell you who it will be...only God knows, but the moment your lips touch the first time, you'll know and there will be no turning back from there. You'll be in love, Alexander, and once you've loved and been loved, you can never truly be alone again."

Lex wanted to believe her. When had she ever lied to him? Still, he was hesitant, resistant, refused to accept. "No...not for me."

"If your father can find someone to love, then why is it so crazy that you can, too?" He said nothing. She smiled triumphantly. "Your day will come."

"You know, you keep saying that I'll find a person to love. Not a woman ...What's going on? Am I sending off gay vibes or something?"

She looked vaguely uncomfortable, but chuckled a little. "I'm not sure...when your fifteen year old son tells you that he has a reputation for making love to anything that moves-"

"Actually, I said I had a reputation for fucking anything that moves-"

"-you realize that the specifics aren't really all that important. Woman. Man. Space alien. Just as long as it's true and real. And you know what? Over time, it might even be all three...at different times, as you change, as you grow."

Lex began to laugh heartily. "Hmm...yeah, I can just see them all lined up in a row at my funeral, dishing the dirt about loving the vile Lex Luthor..."

"The beautiful blond with a sensitive air, kind eyes, compassion...big breasts-"

"Mom!"

"And then...an exquisite man with chiseled features, rugged, handsome, tall...how do you feel about muscles? I always loved a man with muscles."

His eyebrow arched in wonder. "Then how did you end up with Lionel 'Scrawny Ass' Luthor?"

"Beats me."

"Yeah, I like muscles."

"Well...tall, dark, muscular...he'll have a light about him...open and honest."

"What about his eyes?"

"Brown?"

Lex sat up, looked at his mother, shook his head. "I think he'll have eyes like you. Green or blue...maybe both at the same time, either at any given time..."

"They'll be kind eyes."

"And the space alien?"

"Umm...green skin?"

Lex shook his head. "Don't you watch the X-Files? They're some sick looking gray-brown color."

"Ummm...okay, it'll be some sick looking gray-brown color...cute little skinny legs and big black eyes. It'll always know what you're thinking...being able to read your mind through telepathy or whatever..."

Frowning, he remarked, "I don't like the idea of my space alien love being able to read my mind."

"Well, maybe it won't be able to read minds..."

"But it's an alien...it has to be able to do something cool, otherwise, why would I waste my time loving it?"

"Is that what love is to you? Being entertained?"

"No comment." Lex smiled slyly.

"Okay, it can...I don't know...Fly?"

"That's a given...in the spaceship."

"No...fly by itself...like a bird or a plane."

"It has wings?"

She shrugged.

Lex looked puzzled. "Did E.T. fly in the movie?"

"I never did see E.T. and I suppose I never will...what about that Alf character that you were so fond of a little while back? Did he fly?"

"No. He couldn't fly. He ate cats, though."

"I certainly hope your alien doesn't eat cats."

"I think he should fly, Mom. That would save me a lot on jet fuel."

"Typical Luthor male...all about money..."

"I'm not ALL about money. I'm about power, too. And nice cars."

"And love?"

"Yeah...and that too...I'm about finding my three true loves. My big-breasted blond. My tall, dark, kind-eyed man. My sick looking gray-brown flying space alien. I have a question, though."

"And that would be?"

"I know you said that I'll love them all, but which one will I love the most?"

She leaned over and kissed the top of his head, allowed her lips to linger. "I don't know if you want to hear this, but I have a feeling you'll love your flying space alien the best."

"The alien?! Why? Because I'm a freak, too?"

He sounded a little hurt and she kissed his head again. "No, Lex...the space alien will be the only one who will be able to take you out of your realm. Take the control..."

"I don't see how that's a good thing."

"It's the only one of the three that you will be able to trust implicitly. If it's flying, it's in control...and you have to believe that it will carry you safely, not drop you...or that it will take you where it said it would, do what it said it would do. Once you, Lex Luthor, trust that alien not to let you fall...then you will love it above all others, with a deepness and a simplicity you didn't know you had."

He stared at her with wide, open eyes. Her words touched him, made him think that he could be loved, that he just needed the right alien to come along and lift him up, keep him from falling. He loved her even more at that moment. She had given him hope...he reached out to touch her cheek. She smiled, but it was weak, tired. He had kept her up too long. He felt bad, knew that he should have been more considerate. He shouldn't have stayed out so long in the first place, let alone came home and yelled at her. "I'm going to miss you, Mom," he whispered, his voice trembling.

"I'll never be too far away, Lex."

"It'll seem like it."

"You're my child. We're the same flesh, the same blood. When...when...when you miss me, just go look in the mirror. You'll be able to find me in your face, baby..." Her hands shook as she raised them to the knot that tied her scarf. She managed to pull the knot out, to shake the scarf loose. She sat before him, completely bald, her skull gleaming. The Chemo had taken her beautiful red hair and now, it would probably never grow back, wouldn't have enough time. "My child, my child," she cooed, "look at me." He did, looked at her, stared at her. "Find yourself in me, Lex...so that, when the time comes, you can find me in you."

He took her hand and raised it to his head, laid it on his scalp, placed his hand on her head. Anyone who was watching would think it strange, two Buddhas in meditation, two bald vulcans in the middle of a double mind meld. "I want to remember you like this...like me."

"Then remember me like this, as bald as your father is rich." She took his hand off of her head and gently kissed his knuckles. She cupped his chin with her other hand. She watched him for a moment with suspicious eyes, then asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Well, kind of...I mean, I do have a problem...with my space alien. Umm...aliens don't really turn me on, Mom."

"Well, maybe that will change."

"Not if it looks creepy. I mean, if it didn't look like an alien, that would be different. What if it were my flying space alien, only it looked like...uh... my tall, dark, handsome stud?"

Lex's mother rolled her eyes. "Really, Lex...what are the chances of THAT happening?"