Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Prologue

He should have kept Lex close. Rocks crashing all around, fire, smoke, and ash, and his son is nowhere to be found.

Lionel searches for what seems like hours, half-blind and half-deaf and with his left ankle weak and throbbing from when he’d fallen, when he’d dove to the ground as one of the meteors shot over his head.

As he shouts and screams, he for some reason thinks of dragons. Shock. It’s almost certainly shock, but dragons are cautionary tales, warnings against greed and pride.

He wonders if this isn’t his dragon come to demand tribute, come to take his only son. What a poor bargain. Lex is worth twice as much as Lionel has. He’s Lionel’s only child, his legacy, his future, and if this is where he dies, buried beneath burnt corn stalks in some backwater hellhole, then that’s it. What lesson is Lionel supposed to learn from this?

But then he catches sight of a small tuft of bright red hair, tangled around a smoldering ear of corn. Lionel follows the trail, dropping down on his knees in the dirt when he spots a small black dress shoe just peeking out between green.

It’s Lex, his boy, his only child, but he’s disfigured, maimed. He’s shaking and staring, and Lionel eventually pulls himself together enough to reach down and gather Lex into arms.

He stumbles to his feet, hitches Lex higher, and begins trekking toward the nearest dirt road.

But there’s something in their path.

Lionel doesn’t truly believe in a deity on high who shakes its finger at him for all his supposed crimes and misdeeds, his so-called sins. Needing something like that stinks of weakness to him, like an adult cuddling a baby blanket and sucking his own thumb. There is no such thing as God.

Lionel is strong enough to make his own rules.

But what he found in that cornfield isn’t a coincidence. It can’t be.

It was fate, destiny.

Dragons aren’t real, and neither are gods, but the lessons and truths surrounding them are.

He’d be a fool not to take advantage, not to seize this opportunity.

Lillian is—hopeful.

“God's will,” she said at Lex’s bedside. “My sweet Alexander is so brave and strong. You'll see. Nothing will hold him back. My courageous boy.”

Lex isn’t the same. Nothing is. Nothing will ever be the same for any of them. Lillian will spin her own worldview, just as she always has. He'd known that within five minutes of meeting her, and it’s as true today as it was 12 years ago, perhaps even more so.

Let her stay with Lex.

Lionel can’t afford to shut himself away. He has to keep going, keep them afloat. And in all honesty, he doesn’t want to stay with his wife and son. It’s a sickroom, and seeing both a sick son and a sick wife in it is too much.

Besides, he’s needed elsewhere.

Not at Luthorcorp. No, his leave of absence is in his best interests. With his son gravely ill and lovely Lillian always so delicate, it’s understandable he take time off.

Lionel plays the stalwart husband, the loving, doting, deeply concerned father.

But he is also the witness to something so incredible he’s shared it with only his scientists and his scotch.

He’s found a miracle.

Lionel plans on stopping by the new facility again today to see what else they’ve learned about—it.

Twelve Years Later

Lex let himself into the house, marveling at the nosedive the décor had taken since he’d last been home. That painting on the south wall was new, as were the decorative pillar candles—three, four, and six foot candles embossed with gold leaf and pressed ivy.

A good son might tactfully offer his criticism about the new decorator, but in this instance Lex was more than happy to wear the mantle of prodigal.

It made him smile, if only on the inside.

His entrance had attracted the attention of one of the staff, so Lex handed off his overcoat and bag to the maid standing nearby. He then bit the bullet and started down the left hallway toward Dad’s study, their understood meeting place.

Grabbing the handle of the oak door, however, Lex was startled to find it locked, startled and irritated.

Why would the old bastard lock him out of their own damn meeting?

If a ploy, the move had no real purpose besides putting Lex off balance, so he made himself calm down and forced his body loose and relaxed, hands in pockets as he leaned against the opposing wall, the picture of upper crust nonchalance.

Lex wondered if Lionel were even in there.

Perhaps he’d merely stood him up again. It happened often enough not to be completely far-fetched, although why he wouldn't notify Lex was a mystery. Usually cancellations were due to someone or something more important than Lex expressing an interest in his father. And Dad would always call, chock-full of false guilt and demanding Lex's understanding that so-and-so just happened to be in town this weekend only.

“Lex, my boy,” he'd say, “I apologize, but you know business comes first. I'll see you at break. Make me proud, son.”

Dad never cancelled without the bragging phone call and almost never sent word to Lex via one of his many lackeys.

Just the once.

The only time anyone had ever played messenger for Dad was back when Lex was at Princeton, and it was Julian.

And it was because of Colin.

Dad had taken Colin somewhere in a hurry, leaving Lian himself at home with his nanny.

That was more than three years ago now.

Lex had certainly missed his youngest brother, missed him more than he thought he would when he left, hell-bent on escaping Dad's clutches.

Quite the feat, that, as it turned out.

Lex had quickly realized Lionel's control extended far beyond his own household, company, or even hometown.

Stanford, Princeton, and of course Metropolis U all had board members and a shocking percentage of the faculty on-call to report on Lex to his father.

Harvard did not, which was why Lex was soon to be graduating there. One semester and change left. Lex had briefly considered Oxford but would've seen even less of Lian if he'd gone overseas. He was also self-aware enough to know if he set up shop in Europe, he'd almost certainly never want to come back to the States. And Lian needed someone on his side. Lionel had his protégé in Colin; Lex couldn’t leave Lian stranded here with no allies.

Colin didn’t count. He hadn’t counted in years, not since he’d shown his true colors.

The study door suddenly opened and Lex made sure his game face was solid.

Speak of the devil.

Colin stood holding the door open, apparently waiting for Lex to enter.

Lex smirked at him and winked as he passed by, and as expected Colin’s blank expression didn’t waver in the slightest. Lex had always envied him that, that perfect poker face. His younger brother had always been able to lock down his expression, to go as opaque as concrete and keep everything in his head well off his face and body.

Once upon a time, Lex would have already had an idea what was behind those dead green eyes, would have cared intensely, but now he didn’t. Now, he was just envious. Lex could convincingly put on most feelings, after all, but he couldn't wipe them away entirely.

It was unnerving. Colin was unnerving. 

And then there was Dad.

“Lex,” he said, “son, good to see you.” He stuck his hand out for Lex to shake, and Lex obliged, giving in to his pettier side and squeezing too hard. Lionel just smirked and squeezed back, his long hair looking even wilder than Lex remembered.

Something was definitely off. Lex couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly, whether it was Lionel or something Lex had done that he was being called to the carpet for or even if it were Julian or—Colin, but there was a strange, alien tension in the air.

“What's with the hold up?” Lex asked. “You two hatching another plot without me?” Hoping it would still put Colin off-kilter even if the kid didn’t show it, Lex deliberately looked at him while saying this, and he gave the question a heavily sarcastic tone to needle his father.

Summoned back to the house like a loyal hound, and here Lex came, but that didn’t mean he had to play nice.

“Of course not,” Dad said, scoffing. “You know I don't discuss business with you boys.” And wasn’t that a bald-faced fucking lie? “Besides,” Dad continued, as Lex tried in vain to hide his thoughts half as well as his fucking brother, “it's far less exciting than all that. Day in and day out, board meetings, presentations, and luncheons: Lin's probably bored to tears. Isn't that right?”  He directed the last pointedly at Colin.

And some small nasty part of Lex hoped Dad would elicit a reaction from Colin, hoped something would crack that shell of his, pretending he was above them all when he was the worst.

And Dad’s delivery was impeccable; Lex would give him that. Old bastard could convince the Pope Mary Magdalene was naught but a housewife, but, as sometimes happened, that same cold stare he was famous for also gave him away. His was the look one liar gave another when forcing the second to play along. ‘You'd better do it,’ Dad’s eyes said, ‘or else.’

For his part, Colin only blinked before turning and staring at a place just beyond Lex’s shoulder. He said calmly and quietly in a voice deeper than Lex was expecting, “Absolutely dull stuff. Why would I want to be here any more than you—or Lian?”

Lex turned around at that, and sure enough there was Julian standing back in the doorway. Still dressed in his school uniform, he was looking right at Lex and smiling.

Lex started to smile back, and before he could even say anything Julian had carelessly dropped his schoolbag and come dashing over. Lex spread his arms wide just in time to catch him in a hug.

He said into his ear, “Hey, kid, how's it going?”

“How long are you staying?" Lian asked, pulling away and dropping down into the nearest chair.

Lex almost grinned but pushed it back down into a small smile. He pulled out the chair next to Julian’s and sat. “That depends,” Lex said, with a look toward Dad. “Well, we're all here now. What's so important it requires a ‘family meeting’?”

“Boys,” Dad said, turning and pacing behind his office chair like a circling shark, “it’s time I shared a profound secret with you. This will seem odd, even impossible, but it's crucial that you listen to me. We need to come together as a family, now more than ever, and in order to do that, Lex, Julian, you need to hear this and appreciate what it means. First, know that I'm taking Lin out of school. His private tutoring will resume here at the house and the Centre, and in light of events I know it's best for everyone that he not be around those people at the academy any longer.”

Well, that wasn’t what Lex was expecting. Part of him breathed a sigh of relief because whatever Dad was talking about wasn’t Lex’s fault.

Mostly, though, he was just confused, even more so than before.

Dad had prepared this speech. It had just the right pacing and wasn't repetitious. He'd also apparently already told Colin all this because of the boy's reaction, or lack thereof. True to form these days, Colin just sat there staring at their father. He didn't glare or sulk and, conversely, he wasn't smirking or snarling either.

He just sat there, like a statue, like he didn’t care.

Lex, meanwhile, was left wondering what the hell had happened at Excelsior that was so bad Dad felt he needed to withdraw Colin.

Was he bullied?

Seemed the most likely.

Maybe he was expelled for some reason.

Did he cheat? Did he refuse to speak? Lex could think of a few professors who would find that irritating.

Had he done something—strange?

When Julian had called that time three years ago, Lex remembered thinking it could have been an overdose he was describing.

Hell, Colin was 15 now. It could be sex, for all Lex knew.

“Why aren't you going to school anymore?” Lian asked Colin quietly. He looked concerned, upset, which Lex found adorably and absurdly kind of him.

“Son, your brother’s had some—trouble acclimating to the academy, and I feel that– I think it best he come back home. Here with us.”

Lionel had hesitated. He'd stuttered, and his body language was now atypically nervous.

Impatient, Lex asked, “What the fuck actually happened?”

Dad glared at him before saying, “You remember how difficult it was for you at Excelsior, Lex.”

“Yeah,” he said, “and I also remember you refusing to let me transfer.”

“He’s not transferring anywhere.”

Next to him, Julian asked Colin again, “What'd they do to you?” And he was so heartbreakingly sincere it made Lex's stomach churn.

All that sympathy was being wasted on someone who wasn't even real. The person Lian cared for was just another mask Colin wore, that of kind and caring brother. Lex was once very familiar with that character, less so now with the betrayer hiding behind it, although he knew that snake was still there, ready to turn on him and Julian whenever Dad gave the order.

The Judas.

“That's nothing you need to worry about, Julian. Your brother’s fine, and– ”

“And what’s all this about ‘sharing a secret’ and ‘coming together as a family’?" Lex asked, interrupting. “Is this the big secret? That Colin's back with tutors and home-schooling? How is that either new or secret?”

“That’s only the tip of the iceberg,” said Dad.

At the same time, Julian asked again, “What'd they do?”

And somehow Colin’s voice, when he did speak, cut through both Dad and Julian. He said without rancor, “Tied me up and left me outside during a lightning storm.”

“Jesus,” Lex said, mildly sympathetic despite himself. “The Luthor name certainly didn't get you the star treatment either. Well, welcome to the ‘Loathed Club.’ Better get used to it if you ever want to venture off the property again.”

“Lex!” said Dad.

“It’s the truth, Dad. This family is scorned among the elite and reviled and vilified in the press. You’re not fooling anyone with this noble shtick.”

“All the more reason for us to present a united front as a family– ”

“Who says we don't?” interrupted Julian.

Lex looked at his youngest brother, speechless. Where had Lian gotten this idea that any of them were in it for anything but their own benefit? Lex certainly only cared that he and Lian got out alive, and he knew Dad only cared about himself, regardless of the fact Colin had always been his favorite. As for Colin, who the hell knew what went on in that kid's head? Lex certainly didn't, not anymore, and nor did he particularly care to find out.

Julian still evidently felt something for them, though. He was young: he'd grow out of it soon enough.

“Now that's what I like to hear,” Lionel said. “I won't always be here, so it’s important that you trust each other. We’re family, after all. Your mother and I always wanted you to be close.”

Colin stood up from his chair so quickly it toppled on its back. He didn't say anything, just stood glaring at Dad with his hands in fists.

Here was the tension suffocating them all. It wasn’t Lex or Julian at all.

It was Dad and Colin.

It was Colin, visibly angry, looking ready to rip Dad’s head off, his entire body shaking with rage. It was quite the display.

Then, abruptly, the tension broke, and Colin turned around on his heel, jerked open the door, and left. He didn't slam the door, but it was near enough.

Lex wouldn't have really blamed him if he had slammed a door or two. He’d done far worse himself when he was that age, and he hadn't just been yanked out of school altogether.

Being stuck here would suck for anyone, though, even if they were toady fucking spies.

“Well, Dad,” Lex couldn’t resist saying, “care to let us in on the 'secret' of what that was about?”

Moments later, Lex held the door open for Lian and then shut it behind him. After Colin unceremoniously stormed out, Lionel cut the ‘family meeting’ short.

No revealing of secrets today, it seemed.

Oh, darn.

Lian glanced at Lex and asked, “Do you have to go back to Boston now?” And it was obvious from how quiet he was that he assumed the answer would be ‘yes.’

“Nope,” Lex said, bending over slightly to try and catch Lian's eyes, “I’m staying the weekend.”

Kid lifted his head up surprisingly quick at Lex’s answer, and a wide toothy grin was Lex's reward for putting up with their father's games.

“What did you want to do?" Lex asked.

“Oh! Um, we could—go for a walk or swim?”  

“The pool sounds perfect,” Lex said with a smile, swinging his arm around Lian's shoulders. They walked down the hall and made a right toward the other end of the house. “Your birthday's coming up soon, huh?” Lex asked, trying for casual.

“It's only October. My birthday's still two months away.” Julian’s tone was so serious it made Lex laugh.

“Blink of an eye,” Lex said affectionately. “Aren’t you excited? I know I was for mine: think I got more gifts that year than I have since—combined.”

“Because of Mom?” Lian asked quietly.

Lex looked at him carefully. The boy had an expression on his face Lex couldn't quite categorize: equal parts sadness, wistfulness, and curiosity. Of course it was little wonder about the last. The past wasn't spoken of in the Luthor household, Lillian Luthor in particular taboo. Only Lionel was allowed by tacit agreement to mention her, and that only happened when the old man wanted something, as witnessed back in his office. Otherwise it was as if she’d never existed. Even the decor of the house had changed, so that nothing of her presence remained.

And poor Julian hadn't even known her, that incredible, vibrant, flighty woman his mother had been before the weight of illness weighed her down. First, it’d been Lex's ‘sickness,’ then her own, concurrent with Lian's birth and the complications from that. In most of the memories he had of her, his mother was damaged and weak and sad.

Only Lionel knew her when she was truly happy and full of life, and he never shared. Never.

“Actually,” Lex said, “I think it was most likely from all the publicity over the meteor strike and my condition.” He glossed his left hand over his scalp to make his point, and Lian followed the gesture with his eyes. Oh, sure, the kid had likely heard that tale from someone, but Lex had definitely never mentioned it.

One of the maids or nannies had told Julian perhaps or a classmate. Children were cruel, and a freakishly bald older brother and one whom no one ever saw were perfect fuel for the fire.

“Oh,” said Lian, dropping his eyes down to the passing tile as they walked. “I hope Dad doesn't make me have a party.”

“Yeah, those parties are awful. Dad insists on inviting the rich, snobby kids just so their parents will show up, and he can talk business while we try not to be poked and prodded to death. Although, by the same token, they're always huge productions, so it's easy to slip away after you’ve opened the gifts and had some cake.” Lex smiled at Julian and reached out to tickle him in the side, just as they finally reached the atrium and pool.

There were changing rooms over on the left with trunks and towels. After changing, Lex took off and executed a massive cannonball just as Lian came within splashing range. When he emerged, his brother was glaring at him, hair hanging in his face, and Lex laughed for a long time, Lian joining in only after failing to remain serious.

By the time they got out of the pool, it was 6:30 and time to get ready for dinner. Lian's room was just two doors down from Lex's, so they met up in the hallway and headed down the stairs at ten to seven.

Dad was already stationed at the head of the table, looking toward the doorway as they entered.

As he took his seat at the absurd formal dining room table, Lex asked in his shiniest voice, “Where's our fourth?”

“Sulking in his room, no doubt,” Dad said, distracted already as the cook and her assistant entered with the first course. Salad was placed at each setting, including Colin's, and once the two servants exited, Dad wasted no time spearing a tomato, methodically conquering even his meal.

Lex winked at a morose Julian and chugged his expensive sauvignon blanc.

Business, and family, as usual then.

Afterward, climbing Dad’s custom front staircase, his hand sliding along—and, in its polished reflection, stretching in toward—the gold of the railing, Lex suggested a movie, and Julian shrugged.

The entertainment room was already occupied, however.

Lex opened the door to the sound of Edward Scissorhands clipping away at housewives’ hair, and while Lex was locked awkward in the doorway, Julian eeled on past, crossing the plush beige carpet and dropping onto the sofa next to Colin.

“Hey,” Lian said quietly to Colin, setting a hand on his shoulder.

Colin, eyes still focused on the screen, gave him a nod and went on watching the screen. At his feet was a notebook, a sketch pad really, with a slim black pencil tucked into its spine.

“You still draw, I see,” Lex said inanely, his brothers electing to ignore the weak icebreaker.

“After this, do you want to watch Monty Python with us?” Lian asked Colin, at which point Colin turned his head to look Julian in the eyes. The look was searching, assessing, and Lex wondered when Colin had started making it a point to judge someone's sincerity.

Maybe around the same time he’d started faking it.

Instead of responding though, Colin turned his head away and stopped the movie with the remote, holding it out for Julian to take, and finally dropping it in the kid's lap when he made no move for it. Colin then gathered up his pad and pencil, ejected the movie, returned it to its case, and left the room.

No words, not even a wave or dirty look.

“OK,” Lex said awkwardly. “So, Holy Grail?”

Lian just looked at the remote in his lap and sighed.

Lex tried to remember if he'd ever sighed when he was almost-nine. Probably. Luthors were all well very knowledgeable in the fine art of brooding. He'd probably sighed in his crib.

“Lian?” His brother looked up. “Movie? Monty Python? Ringing any bells here?”

“Yeah.”

Lex went over to the cabinets, found it, and stuck it in the player. Sitting down to Lian's right, he finally asked, “What is it?” as the llama credits rolled by onscreen.

Lian, still looking at the remote, said, “He hardly ever talks anymore, even to me. He used to. Now he just sits and draws in the atrium—when he's not with Dad.”

Hating everything about this conversation, Lex said, “Well, if he doesn't like being Dad's shadow then he should tell him that, using words and sentences.”

Not that he was bitter at all. 

“You're so mean!” Julian said, and Lex was surprised at the censure in his voice. “You don't even care anymore.” He looked up and met Lex's eyes and asked the most direct question he ever had, one Lex certainly knew the answer to but would never under any circumstances tell his naive little brother. “Why don’t you like him?”

“I don't know,” Lex said instead of the truth, feeling like a coward despite himself.

“He spends too much time with Dad,” Lian whispered, not like a secret, not conspiratorially, but like a confession, a warning, a plea for help.

A chill ran down Lex’s spine.

“I wish you were still here,” Lian said, dropping his head back down and fidgeting with the damned remote again. “Everything was better. Even Dad was nicer, except when you got in trouble.”

“Hey, look at me,” Lex said, pulling Lian's chin up. “What's going on?”

“You could talk to Lin?” Lian asked. “He's always sad, and he's not getting better, and I– I don't know what to do, Lex. But you will. Please? Just talk to him. I promise, you'll see.”

Here was Julian all but begging him, complete with supplicating hand gestures and teary eyes, and Lex, God help him, couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “Ok, sure, I'll talk to him.” He grabbed one of Lian's hands in his own and said with conviction he didn't feel, in a voice he wasn’t sure was actually his, “In the morning, all right? We’ll figure it out. Now watch the movie, kid.”

Julian squeezed Lex’s hand before letting go and sliding down into a slouch on Dad’s designer sofa. He breathed out in relief and turned to watch the screen, smiling as the part with the Frenchman began.

And Lex felt the tension ratcheting up between his shoulders and neck, as he once more braced himself for a godawful morning in this house.

Though Lex was used to waking up relatively early, last night he'd decided to sleep in, mostly to take advantage of his little impromptu break from studying and really only partially to put off the dreaded conversation with Colin he’d for some reason agreed to, so when he woke up and saw it was still dark outside, he was understandably confused and groggy.

He closed his eyes and waited to fall back to sleep.

But then he heard a sound, heard it again, the creaking of someone walking down the hall at something like three in the morning and not even bothering to tiptoe.

And Lex couldn’t stand not knowing. 

He quickly hauled himself out of bed to take a look, cracking open his door and squinting into the gloom of the hallway. Moonlight streamed through the floor to ceiling windows on the left, and Lex just caught sight of the door to Dad’s master bedroom swinging closed behind someone, footsteps causing the sliver of yellow light visible under the door to ripple and blink before shining steadily once more.

Just the old man finally calling it a night. Lex shook his head at himself, wondering what the hell he’d thought it was.

Workaholic and perfectionist, three was probably him turning in early.

Later, Lex woke up abruptly from a bad dream, only it was light outside and birds were singing right outside his window.  

Colin wasn't in his bedroom, the entertainment room, or the kitchen. Then Lex remembered what Lian had said about Colin drawing in the atrium.

When he reached the closed glass doors, he stopped, recognizing the shouting coming from within. Taking a look through the pane, he saw Dad on the right, waving his arms and looking particularly frustrated, and Colin as the obvious target. Head down and shoulders hunched, the kid looked thoroughly chastised and altogether miserable. Smart kid, though. Once Dad hit his stride, it was easiest to just roll over and show one's belly and pray he won't go for the throat. Lex managed to wilt perhaps only once every ten spats, but he took pride in making the old bastard work for it.

Colin always rolled over. Except yesterday.

And that was maybe the first time Lex had ever seen that kid mad.

Dad finished his rant by reaching out and lightly shoving Colin, not a slap or a cuff like when he was really angry, and not enough to push Lin in the water or topple him sideways, but it still proved upsetting to Lex.

It was still somehow upsetting, even on this side, to see Colin treated that way.

He might not like the little shit, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see him–

Maybe it was just another act, another show for Lex’s benefit. Dad and Colin, cohorts and coconspirators and partners in fucking crime.

But maybe it was real.

Suddenly, the door was yanked open.

Dad said a cool, "Lex," as he breezed past, too quickly for Lex to catch him, pick at him, trick him into giving up whatever tidbit he was holding on to.

Bad news.

Something to do with Colin.

Maybe a bust business deal?

Maybe a deal Colin bust?

Lex cracked his knuckles before walking into the atrium.

More plants now, succulents and leafy ferns and tropical flowers, and if Colin spent a lot of time here that made sense.

Tiny four-year-old with his “friendly flowers.” He’d loved drawing them and talking to them and sitting with Lex as he read to him and tried to explain Latin, why each plant had two names, like people—something just for them and something for their family.

“Don't think we need to worry about oxygen in here,” Lex said, stopping on the opposite side of the black tile pool. The dense humidity curled the ends of Colin’s hair and had Lex breaking a sweat. It was like August in the city, oppressively hot and crowded and yet oddly isolating.

Lex was almost shocked when Colin looked up and made eye contact.

‘Unhealthy’ was his first thought, followed shortly by ‘unhappy.’

Dark circles, hollow cheeks, snarled hair: he was maybe a typical teenager but a far cry from that precise, orderly little stick figure Lex could remember yelling when he’d left.

But kids change a lot between 11 and 15. Growth spurt or two, baby fat burning off, developing informed opinions on big issues and a fondness for Tim Burton movies, apparently, gestures he made, phrases he fell back on, and Colin was this house, this life Lex had tried so fucking hard to ignore and forget and overcome.

And he looked sick.

Didn't eat last night, and neither Dad nor Julian considered that strange.

“Julian's worried about you,” Lex said, figuring he might as well just charge in full-steam.

Colin would know he wasn't doing this out of the goodness of his heart because Lex still thought they were, somehow, despite it all, still on the same page. It wasn’t concern for Colin now driving him, just his natural curiosity, his need to keep informed, to not be caught off guard again, and Colin would know that.

He’d know Lex as well as Lex, finally, knew him.

Right?

Colin nodded and smirked in response, and it wasn’t a smile, real or fake, or a beaming grin like Lex remembered from when they were kids, but it was something more than yesterday's indifference.

Of course, the nastier part of Lex wondered if maybe it weren’t the shithead’s guilty conscience finally coming home to roost.

Was this the beginning of amends?

Or was this just more of the same?

Lex immediately felt bad for thinking that, even though he had every goddamn reason to, even though he was the injured party here, the betrayed, the one Colin had spied on back in the day, spied on for Dad, for Christ’s sake.

Lex wanted to believe it served Colin right.

“Apparently,” Lex started to say, before he could overthink it, “you’re spending too much time with Dad these days, at least according to Lian. . . ”

He trailed off when he noticed how stiff and tense Colin had gone.

Something about the set of Lin’s shoulders pricked Lex the wrong way.

And he wanted to ask what was wrong, wanted to tug once more on one of those many now-fraying threads they’d used to weave together back when they were kids, when it was them against the world.

He wanted to and yet. . .

Lex said, “I'm sorry to hear he's making you stay home again. Even Excelsior’s gotta be better than stuck here all day or tagging along with him to all those meetings. Or going back to that Centre.”

No response.

Colin wasn't looking at him anymore, just staring off into space.

“Hey,” Lex tried, “what's the big news by the way?”

“Do you remember Daniel?”

Abruptly dredged up and apropos of nothing, Lex was surprised the question wasn't rhetorical.

“His last PA?” Lex asked, game-face on. “Wasn't he a Daniel? Or maybe a David. Or do you mean the ‘man-made maid’?”

That old in-joke. . . 

“The ‘man-maid,’ ” Colin said.

“What about him?”

“What did he say to you before you left—for Princeton?”

Strangely specific detour.

Fishing?

Knowing this family, almost certainly.

Lex shifted his weight from one foot to the other and finally said, “Something like, ‘Don't waste your brains down a sewer.’ Ever the poet, right?”

Dig at his past recklessness, sure, at the drugs and people, but also a dig at Colin and that first disastrous foray of his into playing both sides.

But Colin still wasn't looking at him. He had been at first, but now he was off somewhere else, judging by the familiar mannequin glaze.

“What's he got to do with any of this?” Lex asked.

“Nothing,” Colin said, a few seconds too late, voice just this side of blasé.

And Lex just about caught what was lurking beneath. Worry? Fear?

Too close to home.

Colin abruptly scooted back from the edge of the pool and pulled his legs from the water. He then got to his feet and said, even as he was walking away from Lex, "Just remembering better times and all that."

Then he was across the dark wet tile and, without a coat or even shoes, unlocking and opening the exterior doors. Out went Colin into November, and Lex felt as dazed and blank as Colin looked.

The doors rattled closed behind Colin, and Lex sighed, putting his head in his hands.

Well, that had gone well. Lian would be overjoyed with how Lex had handled the situation. Problem solved.

Obviously, in retrospect, the direct approach wasn't the best one, and he probably shouldn't have emphasized the fact that the only reason he'd initiated the conversation was because of Julian.

Lex hated this, felt like he'd let himself down once again and fallen prey to the deception, but he did feel bad for Colin. The kid was obviously stressed about something.

Not sleeping, not eating, not speaking, angry but swallowing it down—Lex knew from personal experience what waited on the other side of repression.

And now Lin was trapped here in the house again, here or at the Centre.

That fucking place.

Lex wondered if Colin still hated it there. He had when they were younger.

He used to beg Lex to try and convince Dad to let Colin stay home.

Maybe he still wanted to. Maybe he’d hated that place this whole time.  

Lin used to be so small, and he'd hadn't spoken a whole hell of a lot then either. Mom got him to say things but usually only the polite words: yes, no, please, thank you. Colin never asked for anything, never threw a tantrum or refused to do what he was told. He was ever the good child, docile, meek, obliging, and painfully shy.

Lex remembered trying to diagnose him, reading up on autism because it just seemed so strange for a four-year-old kid to hide and look away and not say anything. And Colin would stare and stare at everything, forks and jackets and rugs and the TV.

He remembered how protective he’d felt. Mom had read to them at night before bed, and while Lex pretended to let her because it made her happy, in all actuality he was the one who’d told her which books to read and made sure she never forgot. He'd taken it upon himself to pick out more books with pictures so that Colin could enjoy them.

He liked to think he was the one who'd helped Colin fall in love with art.

Even now, after everything.

The first time Colin asked him if he had anything to ‘make pictures on’ was a few months after he'd come to stay with them.

He was so small, so young and scared.

Lillian had let Colin look through her old college art books portfolios, so Lex wasn't all that surprised when the boy wanted to imitate what he'd liked so much. Lex asked Mom for some paper and art pencils and crayons and then gave them to Colin.

And he’d wondered since if maybe that wasn’t the first present the kid had received.

And weren't they all surprised when he drew things like the Confusion of Tongues and Hylas and the Nymphs using only crayons.

Lex figured out two important things right then: first, Colin was a prodigy, and if he could recreate those paintings just from memory then he could most likely do other incredibly difficult things; second, he hated attention. Colin clearly had no idea what to do when people talked to him. Lex tried to teach him, felt it was his duty as the older brother to show him how to act gracious, but Colin never got the hang of it.

Instead, he started deliberately hiding his drawings so that no one would see them.

Or he’d hide himself away until whoever it was forgot why they were looking for him.

And Lex couldn't understand that, couldn't fathom why Colin wanted to be invisible, why he tried so hard to disappear and deny something that made him the good kind of special.

Envy. Envy is ugly and childish, and Lex learned it as a child. 

Growing up, they each had what the other wanted.

Lex died a little more inside, became a little more obnoxious and petty every time his father ignored him and brushed him aside to get to Colin, and Colin had suffered what Lex knows now were panic attacks each time Dad and even Mom spoke to him or asked him a question or tried to put a hand on his shoulder, pull him close for a hug. Here was this beautiful child and absurdly handsome teenager with his head of glorious hair, and here was Lex, pale and pudgy as a child and though now slimmer and in possession of a better physique, still incredibly pale as an adult. 

Here was Lex, still hairless, almost completely so and certainly freakishly so.

At least Julian had been blessed with their father's curly brown hair and not their mother's painfully vibrant red. It had looked brilliant on her but ridiculous on Lex.

And maybe that was the silver lining right there: Lex no longer looked like Bozo the Clown.

He now only reminded people of an underfed Uncle Fester. 

Dinner that night was pretty much the same as last night's, save Colin's presence across from Lex. Dad single-mindedly ate his meal, and Lian quietly finished his vegetables first, as though Dad would even care if any of them didn't clean their plates.

Lex took to studying Colin throughout the meal, as the kid just moved the food around on his plate and didn't even try to fake eating. He also kept his eyes on Dad, slowly getting the feeling he was watching something other than just Colin being angry at their father and Dad, as usual, being more interested in his brisket than his dependents. Some undercurrent strummed through them all, hinting that Dad wasn't actually indifferent to Colin's presence at the table—or to the kid's rage. Dad's face would twitch whenever Colin deliberately set down his glass too hard on the table or dropped his fork on the plate or screeched metal tines across china. Lex even caught a couple of sighs coming from his right, a sure sign Dad was only acting uninterested.

By the end, they were all wound tighter than a new girdle, Lex practically dragging Lian away from the table.

Late that night as he was reading, Lex heard creaking outside his door and decided to make sure it was actually Dad and not some servant bent on thievery.

He opened his door and heard the same footsteps as last night, walking steadily down the hall past Lian's room towards the master suite. The moon wasn't full but still bright enough for Lex to make out long hair and plaid pajama bottoms and someone not his father.

Lex saw him, watched him open the door casually and go inside like it was nothing, shut the door behind himself quietly, and all like it was normal, routine, like there was nothing weird or strange about Colin waltzing into Dad's bedroom in the middle of the night.

Lex didn't go back to sleep. He picked up his book and couldn't read it, his hands shaking and his eyes unable to focus on the page in front of him. Then he set it aside and started pacing, something Dad had endeavored to mock out of him, with little success. 

"If you get rattled so visibly, son," he'd once memorably said, "you'll never be able to do anything even remotely stressful. You'll always give the game away, and then where will we be, hmm? Perhaps you can be the official Luthorcorp pencil sharpener, though even that might be too much responsibility for such a delicate, sensitive, high-strung young man as yourself."

Dad had been particularly vicious that summer, and Lex had a hard time remembering why exactly. It was most likely due to another scandal popping up in tabloids and gossip mags, but that certainly didn't narrow the field. Usually their father’s taunts and brutal remarks weren't as cruel as that one, but it was true that every now and then it seemed his sole mission in life was to see if he could make his sons cry.

Make them cry.

Make them sick and angry.

Lex started posing questions in his mind. ‘Why is Colin going into your room at three in the morning?’ probably wouldn't be the best bet, but it would succeed in taking the old snake by surprise.  

Finally the sun rose, and he gave up and went to shower. The hot water helped push away the storm raging in his head for a few minutes, enough for him to catch his breath and realize he'd been clenching his hands so tightly his fingernails had left bloody crescent-shaped moons on his palms.

As he dressed, he heard the opening and closing of a door down the hall but refused to go and look. He knew which door it was, and he now knew who it was making his escape—escape, for Christ’s sake, doing the walk of shame in their own house. . .   

Breakfast later consisted of three cups of black coffee and glaring at Dad. Lex could feel Lian's confusion from where he sat next to him but forced himself to remain silent. This was neither the time nor the place for Lex's accusations. He'd corner Dad later in the man's office, away from Lian and Colin.

And Lex wasn’t at all surprised Colin was absent.

Afterward, in an effort to kill some time and salvage even just the bare amount of joy from this fucking visit, Lex challenged Lian to a game of chess. Turned out Lian was quite the shark. They played three games, and Lex lost twice. Twice! Julian would be formidable when he was older.

Toward the end of the second game, Lex felt eyes on them and glanced up to see Dad watching them from the doorway. He was leaning against the doorjamb, hands casually in his trouser pockets and a wistful look on his face, although once he saw Lex had spotted him, he quickly schooled his expression to one of blank boredom. It was a familiar expression.

God, they were all like little clones of him.

Dad remained there through Lex just barely managing to escape one of Lian's checks by taking the boy’s nearby rook, but when Lex looked over at the doorway after that it stood empty. And Julian, when Lex turned back to the board once more, had looked strangely apologetic.

But Lex wasn't embarrassed that Lian beat him at chess, and he wasn’t ashamed.

He was proud, proud that Lian felt it wasn't necessary to hide how accomplished he was.

And he was sad, of course, because where he felt he’d succeeded with Julian, he knew he’d failed Colin. Maybe Lex should have invited him, and they could have made a tournament out of it. Again, guilt washed over him and anxiety because he never won against Dad, not in any way involving anything.

And the stakes were so much higher now.

A friend of his from boarding school had once spent the winter break with them at the house. He'd remarked that he was taken aback by the lack of brimstone and screaming, as Lex's descriptions of his father and home life had closely resembled those of the Devil and Hell, respectively. Lex of course laughed, partly due to the comment itself, but mostly because of Bruce's timing in saying it in the middle of formal dinner. The resulting sour expression on Dad's face had definitely been worth the lecture Lex received that night, all about proper connections and useless playboys. And it was even better because Bruce staying with them over Christmas and New Year's meant Lex traveled to Gotham for Spring Break and Easter. Although looking back, he now felt a little guiltier than he had then about abandoning his brothers to Lionel's not-so-tender mercies on Easter.

Easter had been Mom's favorite holiday, and that year his father was particularly harsh and snappish. Lex didn't know why, didn't really care to find out. Regardless, whenever something even remotely reminded him of his wife, Lionel lashed out or disappeared, which could possibly explain why he rarely looked at Lex while talking to him, much preferring to call him or have some email dictated to him.

Lex looked like Lillian, and Julian looked like Lionel, although both had their mother's ever-changing eyes, and both were left-handed like Lionel and like Mom's father had been evidently, if Lex remembered right. In fact, all of the Luthor men were left-handed, as Colin predominantly used his left as well. In truth, Colin was ambidextrous but had once confessed to Lex that he deliberately used his left in order to fit into the family better.

During Bruce's stay at 'Chez Luthor,' the two of them had endeavored to spend as much time with Lex's two brothers as possible. Lex had missed them, and as Bruce had no real family besides his butler he'd been greatly interested in the dynamic of Lex's, though Lex repeatedly told his friend that they were not a normal family.

Thinking about Bruce brought up mixed feelings these days. Lex hadn't been in contact with his former best friend in years, and last he knew Bruce had been requested to leave (read: kicked out of) Princeton and had promptly dropped off the map.

Lex learned his lesson. He kept to himself now, not making any close friends, only acquaintances. Back at the academy, he and Bruce had hung around with a few others of similar mind-set, necessary there to have at least a few guys at one's back who could fight, would fight, either with words or fists. It was Bruce who'd taught Lex how to block and dodge and punch, who'd stood with him a few times, who'd answered his questions, and who'd toss out good advice like candy at parades, advice he never took himself, all about introspection and passion and making a goddamn difference in the world. Bruce the adolescent psychologist, the guru of misfit wealthy boys, who could dissect a person with his gaze, smell a lie a mile away, and who Lex would put money on knew more about a person in five minutes than most people gleaned over several years of intimacy.  

And what he'd picked up on when he'd been in this house for two and a half weeks was something Lex was only now just figuring out years later.  

They'd been in the entertainment room, Lex and Bruce watching a movie while Colin drew and kept an eye on Lian. Throughout the evening, Bruce had been surreptitiously watching Colin. That was when Colin had been stuck on the color red, red ink, red paint, red paper, and his hands had constantly looked as though they were coated in blood. When it was time to put Lian to bed, Colin volunteered to tuck him in and read him a story or three, leaving Bruce, Lex, and his sketchbook alone in the room for a good half hour.  

Bruce turned to Lex with a raised eyebrow then slid his eyes over to the abandoned sketch pad. An invasion of Colin's privacy, but what could it hurt? Lex could remember thinking that. What kind of secrets would an 11-year-old have? Even one as introverted as Colin. And Colin never showed anyone his artwork anymore.  

They'd both stood up and walked over and looked through it until they reached the last drawing and then they both stood there, shocked speechless.  

The majority of Colin's drawings were landscapes, all red trees and red leaves and too many suns and moons floating in the sky, red stars and red grass and even the odd red animal here and there.  Only five were portraits, one  each of Lex, Julian, Bruce, and two of Lionel. Bruce was drawn in profile, strangely grinning, which Lex had chalked up to artistic license. Julian was laughing mid-tickle, the hands doing the tickling looking like Lex's own. In the portrait of him, Lex was scowling, red crosshatch depicting him glaring towards his right.

And then the drawings of Lionel. The first was of him full tilt shouting, arms flung wide and face contorted in a sneer. Lex had no trouble identifying that look. The second was a sick bookend to the first, Lionel open-mouthed and wide-eyed and almost smiling, drawn doing something Lex back then hadn't been able to tackle, like a suitcase with a bomb inside he'd hid at the back of the closet. 

He should have asked. Back then, he probably would've got an answer too. What must Bruce have thought?

"Did you see the figure in the eyes?" Bruce had asked. "Lex."

" Huh? Pardon, what'd you say?"

"I asked if you'd seen the figure Colin drew in each eye."  

"What figure? There was a figure?" Lex asked dazedly, still attempting to process what he'd seen, what Colin had drawn, the secrets of an 11-year-old.  

"There was a child crouching in each figure's left pupil."

Lex swallowed thickly and pressed his fingers to his eyes as though he could wipe it away, blot it out and keep avoiding it all, drown it in denial and self-pity, make Colin the villain again, walk away and still leave that suitcase untouched.

He didn't have to unpack the past; he could sublimate, push it onto other people—like he'd been doing for almost a decade. 

After all, his father was only molesting his adopted brother. Not like it was the end of the world.

At a quarter to three in the afternoon, Lex was pacing in his room again when Lian came bursting through the door, pale and loud.

"Lian, what's– ?"

"Lex, he won't come down! I tried to get him away, but he won't." Lian choked back a sob. "He won't– !"

Lex grabbed him by the shoulders and demanded, "Who won't come down? From where?"

"He's on the roof! Colin! He won't come down, Lex! I tried, I did, Lex– !"

When he was 11, Christmas was celebrated without much fanfare. Dad had been absent that year, overseas in Tokyo, but it was also due to the fact that it was Colin's first Christmas with them. Lillian had wanted the boy to feel comfortable and at home, rather than anxious and uneasy in his new father's habitual and overly formal observation of the holiday. Lionel had brought the four-year-old home in mid-January of that same year, and so while technically Colin's first holiday with them had been Easter (as Lionel refused to acknowledge either St. Valentine's or St. Patrick's Day for some reason known only to the man himself), everyone knew Christmas was a much bigger and more important affair than any of the others. In fact, growing up, Lex recalled that December was especially hectic and chaotic with party-planning and decorating because Lillian's birthday was December 29th, and the Luthors always threw a huge banquet and ballroom extravaganza on New Year's Eve, combining both events into one gigantic celebration.

That Christmas of 1991 was the source of some of Lex's favorite memories, not only because of his father's absence, but also because it was the last time they'd ever happily celebrated the holiday. The next year's had been almost nonexistent. Lillian had been in the hospital, and little Lian, barely a week old and so tiny, had just been brought home.

Lex's mother died on January 9th, 1993 at 7:20 p.m. Lionel was with her in the room, Lex had been at home on the phone pleading and crying a message to a doctor's answering service in Gotham, and Colin had been at the Centre. Julian had been upstairs in the nursery with the nanny looking after him, asleep in his crib with no knowledge of what was going on.

But that Christmas the year before had been wonderful, full of laughter and smiles. Lex had taken to guiding Colin through the various traditions and activities he and his mother always planned, and the boy couldn't have been more excited and cheerful. Lex had gifted him with a set of his favorite Warrior Angel comics, figuring Colin would enjoy the art. In return, Colin had drawn a detailed portrait of Lex and Lillian, giving it to him along with a bear hug. Lex's face had been sore at the end of the day, he'd smiled so much.

The date of Colin's birthday was something of a mystery. Lex had once overheard a conversation between his parents where the words "abandoned" and "junkies" had come up. So Lillian had decided to celebrate both her own and her new son's birthday together that year. It'd been left up to Lex to fully explain why Colin had to wear a suit and tie to an adult's party, but finally he just said, "Because it will make Mom happy," at which point his little brother had simply nodded sagely and stopped asking.

They celebrated neither Lillian's nor Colin's birthday the next year, and the year after that his father insisted on changing Colin's to August 21st, the same as Lionel's own. And every year since 1993, Luthorcorp hosted the big New Year's party downtown, and Lionel was away for Christmas.

Poor Julian's birthday was always overshadowed by the impending anniversary of his mother's death, her 'would-have-been' birthday, and the bittersweet memories of Christmases and New Year's Days past. Lex tried to make the day special but knew their father's continued absence made it hard not to take it personally. Lian grew up thinking his birth had caused his own mother's death, when really she'd been dying of cancer before he'd even been conceived. No matter how many times Lex tried to convince him that it wasn't his fault their father was an icy bastard, although he never used those exact words, Lian was never happy to see his birthday.

Colin was sent to the Centre over the winter holidays and, looking back, Lex realized after his mother died Colin was wholly Lionel's, even more so and in different ways than either Lex or Julian. That's when Colin became Lionel's shadow, his puppet and lackey, his little spy. The kid grew his hair out and wore business casual, and whenever Lex would come home from boarding school Colin would speak less and less, until Lex thought he must only talk to Lionel. Evidently it was just Lex he ignored. 

Mom would be upset if she saw what had become of their family: Lex despising Lionel and essentially abandoning his brothers; Lian alone and deeply out of his depth; and—Colin. But if Lillian knew what her husband was doing to her sons, Lex was sure she'd forgive him his hatred, maybe even encourage it. She'd been kind and affectionate, but there were lines, and she'd had no problem yelling at Dad when she felt he'd done something deplorable. If she were here now, none of this would have happened.

"Shit!" Lex said. Grabbing Lian's arm, he bolted for the door, saying, "Show me where he is. How long has he been up there?"

Lian took a deep breath as they broke into a run down the hall, taking the stairs to the attic two and three at a time. "I don't know," Lian said, gasping and winded from having run all over the house, "but when I went to knock on his door—he wasn't there—so I looked everywhere—even the gazebo—and when I was going back inside—there were papers falling into the bushes."

The door to the roof was wide open, a cold wind moving it slightly back and forth ominously and sending chills running down Lex's arms. He overtook Julian and was first through the door but stopped abruptly at the top, Julian pushing past him and slowly walking over to where Colin stood on the ledge.

"Lin, what's going on?" Lian asked.

There were the remains of several sketchbooks behind Colin on the ground, just front and back covers and everything within thrown over the side into the wet wind and snow. He was visibly shivering, barefoot and wearing only pants and a t-shirt, and he didn't say a single word or make any noise, just the howling wind and barely perceptible ripping of paper. Five stories up with slick and unsteady footing, one wrong move and the wind would just carry him right over the side.

"Come away from the ledge, Colin," Lex said, walking closer until he was just below him to his right, at which point he could see Colin's face.

He was smiling, laughing, clearly hysterical but that wasn't what Lex had expected. He'd been ready for tears, sobbing, even more of that anger—not glee. But this wasn't right or healthy, destroying something he clearly loved in such an elaborately risky way, and so Lex dared to set his hand on Colin's right arm. "You're scaring Lian," he said, playing his trump card, "and you're scaring me. Please come down." Colin went still but didn't turn, so Lex said without thinking, "He isn't worth it." 

The sketchbook in his hands was dropped right over the edge, and then Colin shifted, turning and stepping down off the edge. Lex grabbed him by the shoulders, scared that it was a ruse, that Colin would jerk free and throw himself over next. He held on, and tried to catch Lin's eyes, and now there were tears.

"I'm sorry," Colin said, the 'sorry' forced through a sob.

"Jesus Christ," Lex responded. Julian was inching closer, just as wary as Lex about somehow startling Colin into finishing the job. When he was near, Lian reached out and wrapped himself around Colin, another body to hold him back.  

"Why?!" Lian said, "Why were you doing that? I saw you. I was so afraid you were gonna jum– !" Lian abruptly stopped talking, shooting a look at Lex.

Yeah, not the best thing to discuss while still on the fucking roof. 

Lex slowly shifted Colin to his side and started walking back to the door.

His first semester at college, he was at Princeton and lived off-campus with Bruce. They shared a townhouse in Lawrenceville, six miles and about twelve minutes away from campus. Their place was nice, new and furnished and ridiculously expensive. Lex hated it in that detached resentful way he hated most everything about being a Luthor. He didn't know what Bruce thought, as he'd become even broodier since graduation in the spring. The house was 1300 sq. feet, comprised of three bedrooms, though only the one was used regularly, each with its own bath, featuring a big kitchen which neither of them really knew how to use apart from making coffee and toast, and the usual assortment of living and dining rooms.

The class load Lex took that semester was great, mostly hard science and engineering with one business course thrown in for variety.

Bruce was a robot on autopilot. He left the house after Lex in the morning and was already there when Lex came home in the evening, or maybe he didn't leave at all, just stayed in there stewing all day every day, whatever it was he wouldn't share eating away at him for several months.

But Lex was busy, too busy, the kind where he pulled A's to the exclusion of everything and everyone else, but there wasn't an alternative. If he wanted to be the very best at Princeton, he had lighten the load somehow. People were first. Lionel often barged in unexpectedly, checking up on him, and Julian called and left messages a few times a week, and Bruce was always there, but they were distractions, secondary concerns.  

He did feel guilty whenever Julian called and he didn't have time to return it, forgot about altogether until Lian left the next message, asking if Lex were mad at him, if he were ok. He'd come home to Bruce sitting in the dark, looking out a window and telling him his little brother had called again, that he, Bruce, had talked to him for a bit.

It was always Julian or Lionel; Colin never once called. 

So it was only mildly surprising when, after his last final at an especially heinous nine in the morning, he came in and dumped his stuff in the entryway to the sound of Bruce talking on the phone.

Assuming it was just Lionel cancelling 'the inspection' before heading into Gotham, Lex walked to the fridge in search of food. The tabloids had recently linked his father to a senator's ex-wife, and he had no doubt in his mind that all these recent trips weren't solely business-related.

Then Bruce said loudly, "Hey, hey! Calm down, he just came in the door," which wasn't how he talked to anyone. "Here, I'll put him on." Then he held out the phone, and with a sinking feeling of dread, Lex walked over and took it.

"Julian?" he guessed. "What's going on?" He could hear heavy breathing and sniffling over the line. "Hey, what's the matter?" he asked quietly.

"I think he's dead," Lian blurted out, and Lex's stomach just shriveled into a tight knot. Oh, God. . . 

"They took him away," Lian said, audibly crying and almost shrill. "I know I'm not supposed to call you, but I didn't know what else to do! Are you coming home? Dad said you weren't and that I wasn't– wasn't to say anything, but he's dead! He looked dead, Lex!" 

Lex had been pacing, but he stopped when Lian went quiet. 

"Julian," he said, trying and failing to sound calm and supportive, "take a breath and slowly let it out." He waited and then said, "Now tell me what happened from the beginning, ok? When was this? Today?"

"He was acting funny last night," Lian said, "mean and asking Dad a lot of questions. And then Dad got mad and asked him what he thought he was doing, and then he told Lin to go to his room. But then Lin got even madder and threw his plate at the wall, and it broke. And then he left."

Lex took a deep breath himself and tried to keep his shock under control as he asked, "And then what happened?"

"I didn't see him for awhile. He went to his room, like Dad said, but later I could hear them yelling at each other. And then when I– when I got up this morning– " Lian broke off, and his breathing picked up again, terrified and hysterical, and Lex wanted to tell him to breathe but he needed to find out what had happened first. He had to know.

"Lian. . . " Lex whispered.

"I went to the bathroom when I woke up this morning," Lian said, "and he wasn't moving! He was just—lying there! And he was dead! He was dead, Lex! He wasn't breathing, and I think I– I screamed, and Dad came in, and then Kate came and made me wait in the hall, and then Dad was yelling at someone on the phone, and he was still– still just in there, on the floor."

At this point, Lian stopped talking and his sniffling became full-out crying and these terrible little whimpers.

Lex couldn't process any of that, so he latched onto the first thing. "Who's Kate, Lian?" he asked, hoping it would distract his brother long enough for him to calm down a bit, for both of them to calm down. 

"My new nanny. Dad fired Julia last month. He said she was too nosy and was probably stealing, but I don't think she was. I liked Julia. She was nice, and she didn't make fun of– of Lin like Chelsea did." 

What did he say to all that? He hadn't been known Chelsea made fun of Colin. He hadn't even met Julia, but Chelsea had had a dry sense of humor and dressed rather conservatively for a woman hired by Lionel. Why would she have made fun of Colin?

"So who's there now? Kate? Is she there with you? And forget what Dad said, ok? You can always call me. Anytime."

"Dad said you're too busy," Lian said.

Christ.

"He said I wasn't to bother you with this," Lian continued, "but– but I thought you should know. I think he– I think he might be. . . " Lian didn't finish, just took a big breath and said, "They came and put him on a stretcher. And Dad and his new assistant were talking and then Dad left, and the assistant stayed here for awhile, but then he got a phone call and he left too. Lawrence? I think his name was Lawrence-something."

Julian was good with details. He'd make a good spy—or Luthor.

"I'm glad you called me," Lex said, reassuringly. "I want to know if anything's wrong. And just because I'm not there doesn't mean I don't care, ok? Where's Colin now, do you know?" 

"Dad was yelling at someone on the phone. Then later Lawrence was there, and he told Kate to take me to the kitchen, but she didn't stop me from looking, and I saw them take Lin away. He wasn't moving. Did they take him to the hospital? Stretchers and ambulances, right? Maybe he went. To the hospital.  Graham at school said that once his Uncle Charlie had to go to the hospi– "

Lian kept talking, but Lex couldn't focus very well. Too much information on no sleep had shut down his brain. Lawrence, Kate, Dad yelling at someone, and Colin. Jesus Christ. It sounded like a suicide attempt. Drugs? Lian hadn't said anything about blood, so Lex assumed it was an overdose. But Colin was only 12 years old! He didn't leave the house unsupervised or at least hadn't when Lex was back there. Where would he even get drugs? How would he buy them? Did he have money? Lex hadn't had any kind of cash or credit cards when he'd been 12. Maybe it was different with Colin. Lionel always treated him differently.

Look what's come of that.

His head hurt and he didn't know what to do, what he could do from here. He wasn't going back for Winter Break, and how awful that he'd forgotten about Julian being stuck there. Over his birthday. Although, considering some of the experiences Lex had had with their father growing up, maybe Lian was better off spending Christmas without the rest of them. It might be lonely, but at least he wouldn't be humiliated and mocked by his own father. Lionel was a dangerous and cagey creature in the best of circumstances, and the winter holidays were most definitely some of the worst circumstances to be had.

And now this.

" –but I told him that I didn't think the teacher would like that, so he just stuck his tongue out at me and turned around. Lex? Are you still there?"

Lian's voice suddenly came to a stop, and Lex realized he had to respond. 

"Yeah, I'm just shocked," Lex said. "You said you weren't supposed to call me, that Dad had told you not to. I don't want you to get in trouble, Lian. Perhaps I'd better let you go, but don't worry: I'll call Dad and find out what's going on. And I'll call you back when I know more. Your birthday's in a couple weeks, right?"

Yeah, that's right, remind him that he'll be alone. Nice. 

He heard a sniffle and a sigh, and then Lian said, "Yeah, only two weeks and three days. But you won't be here, and neither will Dad. And now neither will Lin. He'd promised to ask if he could spend Christmas here, but now. I'll be all alone." The sniffling was back in full force, and Lex swore he could actually hear the tears running down Lian's face. "But it'll be ok," Lian said, "even without you. Kate's here and she's nice. You and Bruce can have Christmas there in New Jersey, Lex. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." And then he hung up. Lian hung up on him. 

Lex stood there before eventually hitting the 'Off' button. When he turned, he realized Bruce was sitting on the sofa and had been the entire time. 

"Suicide attempt?" Bruce asked calmly, as though he were asking about the damn weather forecast.

"I don't know," Lex answered. "Probably." And with that he turned and set the phone back in its cradle, passing by Bruce on his way into their bedroom.

Interlude

Lian had always had a hard time understanding his brothers' relationship, or non-relationship. He had vague memories of the two of them talking and joking but had decided that maybe he'd just made that all up because the last few years they never spoke to each other at all.

Lian had always looked up to Lex. He was everything Lian wanted to be, except when he was mean. Lian wasn't mean, and neither was Lin—mostly. Lex was loud and smart and popular, and Lian was ok. He was getting better. He had friends now. Lin didn't. Lin was quiet, and he was smart too, but he wasn't loud. Everyone liked Lex, except Dad, except Lin now. And only Lian liked Lin. Lex had everyone, and Lian had some too, and Lin only had him.

All his nannies were always so weird when they met Lin. They treated him like he was stupid. First, they would ask him lots of questions and smile a lot, and when Lin wouldn't answer they'd get mean. Lian always warned them, tried to explain that Lin wasn't like Lex or Dad, wasn't like Lian, but they thought he was stupid too, so they ignored him. It was like they got mad when Lin didn't talk to them, like they were special enough that he'd be different just for them when even Lian couldn't get him to talk most of the time. Lin just didn't like being around people, but he made Lian the exception, which meant he was the special one. And he earned it. That was his job. He sat with Lin when he didn't talk, when he was sad enough that he cried. Lian talked for him, made jokes that were stupid and not funny but that Lin laughed at anyway or at least smiled. Lin smiled and he laughed and he talked, and he did that with Lian.

But never right after he got home, sometimes not even when he'd been home all day, and never with Dad or Lex. Not anymore. Lin came home in the springtime, and he didn't laugh for days or weeks. He would smile and it wouldn't be real, just something he did because he thought he had to. So Lian wouldn't try to make him smile; he'd just sit with him and talk about stuff that wasn't funny but wasn't sad, like his day at school and what he'd learned. Or they'd watch movies, and Lian would make Lin choose, even though mostly the movies he picked were weird and not happy at all. 

And Lian made sure he didn't ignore Lin, not just because everyone else did. He had to. Ever since that one time when Lin was angry and mean and hid from Lian and then he'd taken away, Lian always tried to keep his brother company. He followed him and made sure he was ok because he didn't want something like that to happen again. He'd been so afraid Lin had died, and he thought only he and maybe Dad would have cared. Lex wouldn't have. He was busy. And if Lin were dead like Mom, then it would just be him and sometimes Dad, and Dad was mean most of the time.  

But that didn't happen again because Lian was a good brother. And Lin had him at least. Everyone else might not like him, but Lian did. He never made fun of him, and he didn't hate him either.

His last nanny, Julia, she'd been the nicest. She'd talked to Lin like all the others but didn't give up and say nasty things about him when Lin never talked back. And sometimes she could get him to smile too. She was nice and smart and she sang songs and she wasn't mean. Chelsea was. She was funny, but it was a mean kind of funny. And she called people names, not Lian, but the other people in the house, and he'd heard her say Lin was retarded to one of the florists. So when Dad fired her, Lian was a little mean too because he was glad she left. He should be glad when stupid mean people left, even if sometimes nice people left too like Mom. Or they stopped caring like Lex.

But Julia, she was different. She gave him hugs and kissed his cheek. She didn't try to hug Colin, which was good because Colin didn't like that stuff all the time, and sometimes he really didn't like it, not even when Lian tried. But that didn't make him leave. Lin always came back, even when he gone all winter or for weeks and weeks. He could be home in the morning when Lian left for school and then gone for a month when Lian got home. And he was special because he had tutors and didn't go to school like Lian or even Lex. He didn't know why he didn't go and was afraid to ask in case it wasn't because he was special in a good way. Like Lex and how he didn't have hair, and Lian knew it wasn't a nice story, and it would hurt Lex to ask him about it. So he figured it was better not to hurt Lin by asking him. And if he couldn't ask Lin and Lex didn't care anymore, that left Dad, and asking Dad questions was always a bad idea.

Lian was the youngest, so he thought he probably shouldn't know more than older people did, but a lot of times he did. He knew when to be quiet and what to say and he knew how not to hurt people. He was nice to mean people. And maybe that was what stupid people did, and someday Lex would come back and tell him he was stupid and not talk to him either, or maybe he'd be there when Lian got home from school one day and they'd all leave together. Wherever they went, it must be better than here, and sometimes Lian wished he could leave too, just not get in the car to come home and run away. If only they were nicer though. If Dad were nice and not scary, and if he didn't make Lin cry, then they would be happy. If Lex were here, and he and Lin just sat together and didn't even talk, then they could be a family. 

But it was all made up stuff like a story. Even Lin's weird movies never ended like that, and they were full of witches and ghosts and fairy tales. All of that was stupid. So he talked to Lex, and he kept Lin company, and and he did what Dad told him, and he tried to be good so they'd all stay, or at least come back.

Lex was sitting on a chair in his bedroom, and his hands were shaking. Colin was in his shower, and Lian was in the doorway to the bathroom, holding a towel. And this was what it felt like when a foundation crumbled. 

"It's all right, Lex," Lian said, now very calm and even a touch condescending. "You can flip out now if you want to."

Hilarious on paper.

The water was shut off, and Lian looked back that way. "Lin?" he said, leaving the doorway and walking into the bathroom. "I've got a towel here for you." 

"I'm sorry you had to come up there," Colin said to him quietly, and Lex shook his head because this was insane. "I didn't mean to– I didn't want– I mean, I wasn't going to jump," Colin said, sounding like he was trying for defensive and snide and just coming up exhausted.

"Colin, why don't you dry off, and put on the clothes Julian got you?" Lex suggested, surprising himself with how steady his voice was when his hands were still shaking and he felt like screaming. "Then we can talk."  

"Here, Lin," Lian said from inside the bathroom, and there was rustling as Lin dried off and dressed and as Lex tried to come up with something to say. And then his brothers walked into the room.

Lex looked up and waved towards the other chair. After a moment and a few glances back and forth, Julian sat down in the chair. Colin still stood by the bathroom. 

"I'm pretty sure I know what's been going on," Lex said, trying to catch Colin's eyes, which he kept on the floor. "With Dad," Lex added, which got him to look up quickly and then back down, only now he was tenser. "What he's—doing, it isn't. This isn't your fault, Colin. And now," he said, chuckling despite himself, "it's really time to leave. So. We're all going to pack, and we're going to leave. Now. In—15 minutes, let's say."

Lian was staring at Lex dumbfounded, and Colin looked to be trying to wait him out. 

"I always knew he was an asshole.," Lex said, "I just didn't realize how bad it really was. But now I do, and I'm telling you that whatever shit has happened, you don't have to put up with it. We're not his property, and he doesn't have the right to touch you."

"What?" Lian asked. "Lex, what's going on? What do you mean?"

Lex, still looking at Colin, said, "He's molesting Colin and has been for years."

There was that eye contact. And Colin had a good many masks, but Lex would bet money that wasn't what he was looking at now.

"Wha– ?" Lian said, his mouth hanging open and his eyes tearing up. He looked how Lex felt or maybe how he wanted to feel. "Lin?" he asked.

Colin breathed out deeply and looked over at Lian, and then Julian started crying.

"It's not your fault," Lex said again, after Colin dropped his head and seemed to slump against the doorway like his strings had been cut. Then Lex cleared his throat. "So let's pack, ok? And then we'll– we'll go to a hotel, and I'll figure out what to do after that."

Lian was still crying, but he stood up and marched right over to Colin and took his hand. And then he tugged him out of the room. 

"Holy shit," Lex said to himself, before standing up and repacking the small amount of stuff he'd managed to fling all over the place in less than a day. Once done, he walked down the hall to Lian's room, saw him putting shirts in his little suitcase and went past his room to Lin's. 

Lin, who was sitting motionless on his bed. So Lex set his own bag down and went to Lin's closet and dragged down a suitcase and started packing for him, all while Colin sat there. It didn't take long. He opened the dresser drawers and just took out what was in there and laid it in the suitcase, shirts, pants, socks. Screw the suits and slacks and dress shirts. Maybe if the kid dressed like a kid. Maybe if he didn't have to worry about shit like this.

After searching for a minute or two through the drawers, Lex finally asked what he probably should have just left alone. 

"Where's your underwear?" 

"I don't have any," Colin said. 

Lex didn't shudder and he didn't growl, but he balled his hands into fists and took a huge breath, holding it until he could think past the disgust and rage. So he nodded and bent down to zip up the suitcase, leaving the drawers open. Let him come in here. Let him walk into each room and see them gone.

Turning, he walked closer to Colin. "Ready?" he asked.

"Just a second," Colin said, sliding off the bed to reach under it, pulling out a small wooden case about the size of a laptop. Picking it up and holding it under his arm like a book, Colin got to his feet and said, "Keepsakes," in response to Lex's questioning look.

Lex nodded again dumbly, and they left the room. 

Julian was waiting for them in the hall, his face blotchy but dry, and Lex took the lead as they went down the stairs. 

Lionel wasn't there to see them leave, his children, his sons. He was off doing whatever he did everyday when he wasn't spitting on Mom's grave. He'd come back sometime though, and Lex wished he could see his face when he realized what had happened. 

As he held the door open, Lex thought of how he'd felt coming back here yesterday, summoned and answering like nothing had changed, like he was still that boy wanting Dad's approval. His approval!

His brothers were outside, and Lex turned and slammed the door behind them.

Lex woke up covered in sweat, the nightmare drifting away like an unpleasant odor. Looking around frantically in the dark, his memory of the day's events came back to him slowly. Hotel room. Shared. Concentrating on slowing his breathing, he looked for his brothers' shadowy forms in the other bed. Lian's was easily visible. The boy had kicked off the sheet and his left arm and leg were hanging off the side of the bed. Now that he'd regained some measure of composure, Lex quietly got out of his own bed and crossed over to put Lian fully back onto his. As he gently rolled his brother more towards the center, his eyes fell onto the empty spot beside Julian. Colin had been there earlier. Lex had kept a look out on them, making sure he waited until they were both asleep before allowing himself to drift off.

Quietly, Lex left the bedroom and went out into the living area, and there he was sitting at one of the windows, legs tucked up close to his chest and arms wrapped around himself. Lex was struck with the countless memories of finding Bruce in a similar position.

And what would he have said right about now? Lord, Lex missed him. Bruce had disappeared years ago, no email, phone call, word of farewell. Just vanished, and no one knew where he'd gone, not even Alfred. Most people thought him dead, some stupid accident off the coast of Somewhere Exotic, likely drunk and high and a cautionary tale for wealth, excess, and maybe even some residual guilt about controversy. Bullshit. Lex knew how stubborn and resourceful Bruce was, and he was sure the man just didn't want to be found. Which hurt. A lot. Lex had been thinking the whole time how close they were, how they were able to understand each other so well, the only two who really could in their circle, but evidently Bruce hadn't felt the same. 

He would know what to do right about now, with Colin.  

Maybe that was it. Maybe Bruce had run away because of—everything he kept locked up inside. How alike Bruce and Colin were, both such isolated people, never comfortable around others, hating and avoiding attention, whether good or bad. Especially the good, especially from those closest to them, like Lex. Two rocks he'd dashed himself against more than once, and he'd always broke, not them. Silent as they both were, at least Bruce could put up a charming front when he wanted, could charm the pants off anyone. Colin just went dead in the face, hiding away and staring off into space and drawing everything he– everything he could've told Lex. 

Because neither Lin nor Bruce ever really shared. Important, painful things that ate them up, and they didn't say a word. Lex had roomed with Bruce for years in boarding school, and then they'd had that house at Princeton, and Lex had, for a very, embarrassingly long time, been in love with Bruce, who had to have know it, and still there was always a part of Bruce kept separate, a big part, a core Lex was never allowed to see. Maybe he wasn't trusted enough, or maybe he'd failed some kind of test. He was no fool, though. He knew scary things lived inside Bruce, dark, ugly, hurting secrets the man constantly hid and tried to bury, so he'd never forced the issue. He'd let Bruce brood and never asked him why or what or any of the important questions. He'd let Bruce slip away, just stood by and let him run. 

He'd be damned if he let Colin do the same. All this time, wasted. So much clear now, even if the secrecy and the reasoning behind it baffled him. 

They'd been close too for so long. Or was that just another example of Lex feeling more than another felt in return? 

"Colin," he called softly, walking over to the window, "why aren't you in bed?"  

"Can't sleep," Colin said, not looking at him. Clear sky outside, but no stars were visible, not with the city's pollution. That was one thing Lex remembered Colin had always been upset about: the lack of stars above Metropolis. 

"It's after three," Lex told him. "Shouldn't you at least try to sleep? Maybe if you lie down, you'll- " Lex stopped talking as suddenly a thought occurred to him. The two times he'd seen Colin—walking down the hall at night, it'd been about this time. And Lex had the sick feeling that perhaps Colin couldn't sleep now because he normally didn't.

"It's all right," Colin said, eventually. "You don't have to say anything. I'm just going to sit here. You can go back to sleep." 

"No," Lex said firmly, "I'll sit with you." He pulled over a chair, dropping into it and propping his legs up on the window seat. "If that's OK?" He should've asked first. Maybe Colin didn't want anyone near him right now.

But Colin just shrugged and continued looking out the window, and Lex was again struck by how much he'd grown up. Taller, deeper voice, not a little kid anymore. 

"Do you still have that drawing I gave you for Christmas?"

Lex lifted his head and saw his brother looking back at him, trying to appear casual and disinterested. What a shitty poker face, Lin had, surprisingly enough. . . 

"Which one?" Lex asked, gently teasing. "You always used to give me drawings. I could publish a book."

"The first one. The first one I gave anyone," he said. "The one of you and Mom." 

He'd already known which one. Lin might have given him several drawings, but he'd only ever given him one for Christmas, only made a production out of giving him one. He'd had it framed, that portrait of him and their mother, both smiling the same smile, arms wrapped around each other and so happy. He hadn't ever hung it anywhere, couldn't honestly take seeing her as she'd been, as he'd been, look at her holding a younger version of himself and remember how it used to be, living with her and the Lin who'd drawn it and given it to Lex—and then have to remember everything that had happened since to ruin it. Lex's own Pandora's Box, that portrait, his own Dorian Grey.  All his anger and pain and hurt and despair would just come rushing back, and maybe he was afraid he'd never be able to climb back out of that dark abyss. It trapped everyone else around him so easily. Maybe sublimation wasn't great, but at least he was functional. So Lin's portrait stayed wrapped and in storage.  

"Yes," Lex answered, eventually. "It's back in Boston. I had it framed." He looked up. "I always kept it." As he said that, Colin looked away, tucked himself away, hid away again. "You were only, what? Four, when you did that?" Lex shook his head in wonder. "Amazing. You were so talented, even then."

Middle of the night, and Lex was tired and scared and in over his head, and so he asked, "When did it start, Colin? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You couldn't have done anything," Colin said, still not looking at Lex. "And you were gone. And I- I just didn't- " Here he faltered. "Couldn't tell and then I didn't even know- then it wasn't even an idea. There wasn't anything to say."

Lex had to force himself to keep his head up and focused on Colin, not get up and pace. He widened his eyes and kept his mouth from turning down or frowning. Kept himself from crying. Colin looked up but stared at the wall across the room, not Lex. "It was easy to just—do it and keep going. You don't- he was going to—in the office that day, he was supposed to tell you about. . . " He gestured with his hands, as though trying to wave up the words he was looking for.

No. What?

"What was he supposed to tell us?" Lex asked, trying to help him, trying to keep his voice down for Lian in the other room and Lin right now, sitting here, saying Lionel had been planning on telling them, what, exactly?

Surely not.

"Surely not what he's been doing to you all this time," Lex said, and he sounded angrier than he'd meant to. "Something secret, though, right? And why'd you leave?" Lex remembered being so confused by Colin's reaction in Lionel's study.

"He was supposed to tell you the truth—about me." After saying this, Colin looked scared. He looked right at Lex, and he looked scared. Lex had a hard time not reaching out to comfort him. Stopped himself at the last second, not wanting to freak him out any more than the kid already was. "Lex," Colin started again, "you don't know. I'm not normal. I'm not like you and Lian. That's why he kept me home- "

"What do you mean you're 'not normal?' " Lex interrupted, heatedly. "Colin, just because he- that does not mean you're not normal. He's the one's who's not normal." At this point, Lex couldn't help it as he reached out and laid his left hand on top of Colin's knee. He didn't even truly realize he'd done it until Colin quickly jerked his leg away and scrunched up even further in the window seat. Feeling guilty and stupid, and for some reason he didn't want to think about, offended, Lex then sat up in his chair and put as much space between him and Colin as he could manage while still staying seated. 

"Jesus," Lex said, sighing.

What was he supposed to say to make this better? Lex didn't know psychology that well, at least not this. Not this. Here he was, holed up in a hotel across town from his pedophilic father, with his two younger brothers depending on him. He didn't have the resources Lionel had or the knowledge from experience or the many contacts. Lex didn't even really have any friends, not any that he'd ask about—this. How was he supposed to oppose his father, stand up to him and win? He'd never won against Lionel, not ever. 

He sighed again and finally looked back up.

"I know that what I say now can never undo what happened," Lex said, "but I swear he won't ever touch you again." And, God, did he hope he could keep that pledge.

"Lex," Colin said, looking out the window, "some things- some things just happen, and there's nothing you or anybody else can do to stop them." He turned his head, and Lex found two hard green eyes zeroing in on him. "And some things have to die. There are things in this world that can't be allowed, and someone has to make sure those things don't destroy innocent people. Don't make promises you won't be able to keep, Lex."

Jesus Christ.  

He made the difficult but easy decision to withdraw from his classes for the semester. Fortunately, the Dean of his college had always been on Lex's side. A long phone call later, and somehow he'd managed to wrangle Lex a special hold on classes. He would be allowed to come back next semester and essentially pick up where he'd left off, assuming everything was somehow settled by next semester. God.

It was a Monday. Lex hated Mondays as it was, but today was even more depressing than usual. He'd researched a bit online yesterday, looking for a great lawyer not on his father's payroll and one not likely to be easily bought in the future, and he'd found a hopeful candidate in one Richard Jameson. The man had a respectable firm downtown focused on family law, in particular—abuse cases. Jameson himself was a well-known proponent of animal and environmental rights and had been quoted in The Planet several times as basically calling Lionel Luthor the Devil and laying almost all of humanity's problems at his doorstep. In this case, the enemy of Lex's enemy was, if not exactly a friend per se, at least a definite candidate for representation in the suit he planned on filing against Lionel. He was pretty sure, though, that even if Jameson did decline their case, they'd at least gain somewhat of an ally. After all, this was the lawyer's chance to pat himself on the back and say 'I told you so' to all those people who for years had been calling him a melodramatic loony. Maybe Lex could get a few referrals out of the deal too.

Lex easily convinced Julian to stay home from school today. If he'd gone, Lex knew Lionel would have had someone just pick the kid up, and that would be the last they'd see of Julian for awhile. And Colin, well, Colin didn't go to school, and he'd wisely been trying to distract Lian all morning so that Lex could attempt to figure out what the hell they were going to do. He'd essentially kidnapped his brothers, an eight-year-old and a fifteen-year-old, and he was now holding them captive in a hotel room. That's what Lionel would say. He'd paint Lex as some kind of addict or pay a shrink to testify Lex was in the middle of a psychotic break or any number of awful things. Of course, Lionel would never go to the authorities if he could avoid it, not with what Lex and Lian would surely tell them, so maybe it wasn't quite as hopeless a situation as Lex thought. 

He'd have to leave soon for his appointment with Jameson, leave Colin and Lian alone in the room. Jesus, it was up in the air as to which one would take over in Lex's absence. Most likely Julian would step up and lay down the law. He seemed almost as disgusted as Lex by what their father had done, good ol' Lian had always been the optimist when it came to their father, never seeming to lose hope that one day Lionel would turn into Ward Cleaver, and they'd all live happily together in the burbs. Well, he certainly didn't hope for that anymore. Lex had overheard him telling Colin over this morning's breakfast that he "didn't have to wear that man's necklace anymore." 'That man' was how he'd referred to his own father, and Lex was at least partly glad Julian could finally acknowledge how horrible a man Lionel was. Only partly, though. He was sad to see Lian have to grow up so soon. He was even younger than Lex had been when he'd realized how cold Lionel really was in those days following the meteor shower. And Lex didn't even want to think about how Colin had come to know their father's evil or how young the kid had been when it'd happened. Too young, no doubt, too heartrendingly young and innocent for something like that to happen to him. 

They were all kinds of fucked up, and Lex wasn't sure any of this, the lawsuit, changing their surroundings, getting them away from Lionel, would actually make it any better. But then Lex had always been a pragmatist, if not a downright pessimist. It was as Colin had said. "Some things have to die. There are things in this world that can't be allowed, and someone has to make sure those things don't destroy innocent people." And while Lex didn't necessarily want his father dead, he did want those things which he did to stop. Maybe he'd just be exiled to a nice deserted island, somewhere his father could just stay for the rest of his miserable life, where no internet or phone line or mail courier would ever bother him again. That would do just fine for the sick old bastard.

Finishing his coffee, Lex turned away from the Metropolis skyline and picked up the tie he'd draped over the back of the sofa earlier. As he began by rote to tie a four-in-hand knot, he made his way back towards the bedroom. Stopping in the doorway, he saw Colin reach out to Lian and get his attention, pointing to Lex. Both heads focused on him, and he walked closer, sitting down on the chair near their bed.

He looked at Lian and said, "You're going to be alone here, you know. So if anything happens or you need me, just call my cell and I'll get back as soon as I can. I'm going to meet Jameson now and hopefully put things into motion. You're- " He broke off and dropped his eyes to his hands, trying to figure out how to ask what he wanted to without upsetting either of them. Taking a breath and looking up at Colin, Lex tried again. "You're sure about this?" he asked him. Not that he would actually let him back down, but it might make Colin feel a little more in control if Lex asked. . .

Colin looked down at the sketch pad in front of him and nodded. His eyes turning back to Julian as he rose from the chair, Lex jerked his head towards Colin and tried his best to communicate 'watch him' using only his eyebrows and mouth. He must have succeeded in getting something across because Julian nodded back and his face grew determined. Lex gave him a small smile in return then left the room, grabbing his suit jacket and keys on the way out the door.

Richard Jameson was an extremely tall middle-aged man, with graying hair and a body that looked as though it belonged to a man half his age. And he hadn't stopped pacing the entire time Lex had been there, and it was really starting to get on Lex' nerves.

"So, let me get this straight," Jameson said, pausing over by the window. "Your father- ," and here he stopped and chuckled. "God, I don't think I'll ever get used to calling him that." Jameson turned and began pacing towards Lex now. "Your father has been abusing your adopted brother, and you don't know for how long." He stopped and stood looking down on Lex. Uncharitably, Lex thought it was probably both literally and figuratively. "And your other brother? The younger one. . . ?"

"Julian," Lex supplied.

"Julian," Jameson repeated, holding his right index finger up in a triumphant jab. "Can he confirm this? Did he see anything—abusive?" He finished by tucking his hands behind his back and rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet, still hovering directly over Lex.

"He didn't see them having sex, if that's what you're asking, Mr. Jameson," Lex replied coldly. If the man simply wanted to gloat, then Lex wasn't going to just sit here and take it. Especially if it were at, not only his own, but primarily, Colin's expense.

But Richard Jameson must have had a heart after all, for he quickly moved behind his desk and sat down heavily in the creaking leather chair. Laying his hands flat on the dark wood top, palms down, the lawyer leaned forward and seemed to earnestly address Lex.

"I apologize, Mr. Luthor," Jameson said, and Lex thought it most likely genuine. "I never meant to imply that I was, hmm, somehow reveling in your situation. I want to know what you know, what your brother Julian knows, and hopefully, when he's ready, I will need to know what Colin knows. About your father." Jameson sat back in the chair, which squealed alarmingly. God, the thing looked to be at least as old as Lex himself.

Looking at Lex contemplatively, Jameson said, "I know for a fact you are not a stupid young man, no matter how determined the media seems to be to convince me otherwise. No matter what trouble you've previously gotten into, I can tell you genuinely care for your brothers. And, truthfully, and I am perfectly aware that you know this, but I'm going to say it anyway, I despise your father. I have had the misfortune of meeting him, and having to suffer through his company, on several occasions over the years, and each time, I was struck by the sheer apathy he displayed towards his fellow human being. It had—occurred to me that that might extend into his home life as well, but I am truly sorry to see I was right."

Hands now steepled in front of him, and rocking back and forth in that damned squeaking chair of his, Jameson was looking at Lex in an assessing manner, as though wondering whether or not to continue his speech. Evidently deciding yes, the man said, "You came to me." He stopped, and Lex realized he was being asked a question and simply nodded his head. "And you did so deliberately. You know my history with Lionel, and I'd wager you sought me out thinking I'd never be able to resist sticking it to the man, especially in the courtroom, especially with something like this, something he'll never be able to weasel his way out of once it's public." Taking his eyes off Lex and turning them towards the fifth story window, Richard Jameson sat there for a moment before nodding to himself. He leaned forward, and looked at Lex sadly.

"This will not be pretty, Lex," Jameson said softly. And Lex knew then that he'd made the right choice. He'd gambled on this man and beaten the house. Hopefully it was the first tiny victory, the first of many. 

"I'm taking your case, your brothers' case," Jameson continued, "and I'll do it personally, with a little assistance of course." He smiled briefly. "But this will be ugly and cutthroat, and you have to be aware that, considering who your father is, and who he is in this town, there's a good chance we won't be able to win." 

Jameson stood up and resumed his pacing once more, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, across the length of his office. "Our best bet—and I know what you're going to say but just think on it a bit—our best bet is to go to the media and get the public behind you." Lex was about to interrupt, but Jameson again stopped in front of him and put his hand out. "If you do that, there's a chance the court of public opinion could turn the tide, and I'll do my damnedest to make sure you get a judge who's not bought off, though that will definitely be tricky." Nodding to himself, the man moved towards the window, then turned on his heel and stalked back towards the door. Back towards the window, heel down and turning around to- 

"Could you please stop pacing?" Lex asked, exasperated. "I can't think when other people do that," he added, in the hopes he wouldn't offend the man too much. But evidently Jameson wasn't offended at all, for he simply moved over to sit in the chair beside Lex's own. Puzzled and wondering if this was some ploy to catch him off-guard, Lex shifted and turned to look the other man in the eye.

"He doesn't go to any school?" Jameson asked. At Lex's confused look, he added impatiently, "Colin, your brother? I remember something in the paper a few years back, but that isn't exactly a reliable source. So—does Colin attend school?"

"No," Lex answered, and then thought better of being so terse. "Well, he briefly attended Excelsior here in the city, just this term, in fact, but he was taken out last week. By my father. Some of his fellow students performed some sort of hazing on him, and. . . " Lex trailed off, not knowing exactly how to finish that sentence.

"I see. And before this year? Was he home-schooled? Somehow I can't picture Lionel Luthor teaching him arithmetic."

 "No, Colin's always had tutors who come to the house a few times a week. And then there are his stays at the Centre." Now it was Jameson's turn to look puzzled, and so Lex attempted to clarify. "My father's development. It's a research facility and also houses some of his more priceless collections: ancient artifacts, extremely rare books, artwork. It's essentially a sub-division of Luthorcorp." Well, Lex thought that was a pretty clear explanation, but the other man still had a confused expression on his face. OK, more information. Can do. "Colin goes there every week, I believe, and has for as long as he's been with us. I've been there a few times myself, as has Julian, but as both of us were educated outside the house, Colin's understandably been there more often."

The lawyer next to him furrowed his brow and again steepled his fingers. "Huh."

Yeah, OK. That was illuminating.

"What?" Lex asked. "What am I missing?"

"How old was Colin when he was adopted into your family?" Jameson asked, brow still furrowed.

"About four, I think. I was never really sure of the circumstances surrounding his birth or the adoption itself, for that matter, but as I recall, neither were my parents. We just chose a day to celebrate his birthday." Lex was beginning to think Jameson was reaching some conclusion he wasn't seeing and decided to just ask outright. "Mr. Jameson, pardon me, but what does this have to do with the case? I'm afraid I don't see the connection."

"That's because you're not thinking like your father," Jameson replied, lowering his hands and leaning forward to rest his forearms on his legs. He looked Lex right in the eye and asked somewhat ominously, "Haven't you ever wondered why both you and Julian, the natural sons of Lionel and Lillian Luthor, were enrolled in various well to-do academies and schools and rarely allowed into 'the Centre,' " Jameson using finger quotes for the last part, "while your adopted brother, whose past is completely unknown, was never allowed to attend a traditional school and spent a great deal of time at a research facility created by your father?"

Lex felt cold seep into his bones.

"Lex," Jameson asked, "what possible reason does a man have to essentially hold an abandoned child hostage in a research facility for more than 12 years if he's not doing something terrible?"

Interlude

Bruce had never been one for small talk and was infinitely glad Lex felt the same. Usually, Bruce didn't enjoy company. Excluding Alfred, he hadn't really interacted with anyone since- since before. Sometimes Rachel would try, but he'd guess that after so many rebuffs, she'd simply decided to finally give up on him. She and her mother still sent birthday and Christmas cards, but that was about the extent of it. 

Sometimes it hurt too much to keep it all fully hidden, so he'd slip and say what he really wanted to say, do what he really wanted to do, and every time Alfred would try and make it better. And it almost helped. It made Bruce feel not so alone for a bit, and as long as Alfred were there, things could be OK.

And so school had been difficult. Alfred wasn't there. And the others looked at him weird. Those boys whispered about him, and Bruce didn't really care all that much, but he thought he should. So he tried to be friendly, like he remembered being before, and he tried to make them want to be around him, but it didn't work. That just seemed to make them even cagier. He wasn't good at this.

By the time he was 13, Bruce had reconciled himself to the fact he was strange and defective and had attempted to get Alfred to understand that he would just be 'that spooky Wayne kid' and there wasn't really any point in trying for anything different. Then the spring semester, and he was forced to room with another boy for the first time. There were a lot of boys in his year at the academy, and evidently they'd run out of other housing alternatives.

That was when Bruce had met Alexander J. Luthor.

Lex looked how Bruce sometimes felt, vulnerable and ashamed and alone, and so he attempted to be friendly again. At first it didn't work, but after a few weeks Lex seemed to come around. Bruce suspected the other boy latched on to him partly for protection, as Lex had been so small back then, but mostly because Lex too seemed out of step with all the others, with everyone but Bruce. And sometimes it was Bruce who took charge, but mostly he followed Lex's lead and gladly. Lex was grateful and appreciative of Bruce's attention, which made him a little suspicious of the other boy's family and home-life. Bruce knew he was no catch, but Lex never asked him those difficult questions, those questions the other boys always whispered among themselves when he walked by, so Bruce didn't ask his, either.

Later, he would often wish he had.

When they were 16, they spent winter break at Lex's house just outside Metropolis. The experience was enlightening. Bruce knew himself, knew he was different, but he was a different kind of different from Lex and Lex's family. There was something wrong with the Luthors, something bad. Bruce tried to figure them out but couldn't quite get to the end of the puzzle. Pieces were missing. 

Lex's brother Colin was a missing piece. He was a strange kid, and Bruce wasn't sure Lex could see just exactly how odd the little boy was. It wasn't a good kind of odd, either. He didn't eat well, not like Lex's other brother, Julian. Colin drew and didn't speak, but he wasn't delayed or stupid. Bruce could see the boy thinking. He chose not to speak. And he didn't sleep well, either, slept less than Bruce, and Bruce could usually only manage a couple hours of sleep on a good night and sometimes none at all on bad nights. And he hid. Lex would joke that they had to go find the kid for dinner or a game, but Bruce didn't think it was funny or cute, not when Colin seemed to think it something other than a game. And he wasn't so young that he didn't understand, either. At ten, he knew what he was doing.  

Sometimes when Bruce looked at Colin, he got the feeling he wasn't even there, like whatever made him breathe had just vanished or evaporated. Sometimes Colin was so still and sunk-in that Bruce thought he might not even be human. No one was that still. 

And then there was Lionel. Lex's father was not a good man. Bruce's dad, he- he wouldn't have liked him. Lionel was intimidating, and that was putting it mildly. The man had cold eyes, and perhaps that was because of Lex's mother, who'd died, but Lionel's eyes weren't cold in a blank way. They were cold like cruelty and hatred. And what was worst was when he'd look at Lex like that, and Lex would see him doing it. Or when he'd look at Colin, and Lex didn't see it.

It was a puzzle Bruce didn't want to solve, truthfully, and that's what unsettled him most. 

Lex could never seem to figure out what was going on, either, and though Bruce tried to stay out of it he quite often ended up pushing Lex in the right direction. Lex had a family, and Bruce didn't want him to lose it, no matter how willfully blind or careless he pretended to be. Bruce couldn't understand that. If he still had a family. . .

Then things shifted, and Lex acted indifferent to Colin, even antagonistic. He'd roll his eyes at Julian on the phone, cut him off, claim he didn't care. He'd scoff, say something like, "Oh, I'll just bet he's feeling bad." All his devotion funneled over to Julian, and Bruce never asked what had happened, never asked why Lex went out more, drank to be drunk more often, took whatever some stranger gave him. He didn't ask. Colin was adopted, Bruce knew. That would have been obvious just by looking at them, and maybe that was part of it. Maybe he'd found out or there had been a fight and Lex said something he regretted. Maybe Lex didn't think Colin really belonged. If anything, though, Lex seemed hurt and angry. 

But Bruce never asked and so Lex never said. And sometimes it bothered Bruce how separate he felt, but it was only sometimes, and usually what bothered him was just how much it didn't bother him.  

Lex stopped at a coffee joint on his way back to the hotel. Thinking of something with a hell of a lot of caffeine in it for himself, he attempted to figure out what Julian and Colin might like. Hot chocolate never failed, right? Something with caramel? Lex's mind was still back in Richard Jameson's office. He remembered how certain Colin had been, saying he wasn't normal, and Lex had just assumed he'd meant because of the- the abuse, but what if there were something else at play? Why the Centre? Was there something physically different about Colin, something to do with doctors and scientists, some kind of- of hereditary disease or syndrome perhaps? Chromosomal anomaly or treatments he had to get, like dialysis or something? And what was it Lionel was going to tell them that day in the library? Colin acted as if it were the answer to everything, but Lex just now wanted to know what his father had been doing at that facility all these years, and to Colin. As if it weren't bad enough he'd been sexually abusing him, likely physically and emotionally, too, had Lionel also been somehow experimenting on the kid? Was Colin some sort of guinea pig or lab rat? 

Jerking into awareness, Lex realized he'd reached the front of the line. His stomach wasn't the best right then, so he opted for three hot chocolates, attempting to play it oblivious as a few people stared a little too much or a little too long or gave him double-takes. Not what they needed. He was buying hot chocolate, for Christ's sake. What was so exciting about that? Though in truth, he'd almost come to expect it. It was irritating but not exactly new. What was surprising was it happening now when he'd been gone from Metropolis for a few years, at least as far as the media was concerned. But people were always curious about the 'bald freak,' as The Inquisitor had once memorably referred to him.

Lex waited for the drinks at the other end of the counter with his head up and his hands in pockets.

"Here you are, sir," the barista said, putting the three drinks in a carry-caddie for him. She looked up and was studying him closely, so Lex stuck a ten in the tip jar next to her and turned to leave. As he neared the door, the last man in the long line pushed open the door for him and smiled.

"Thanks," Lex told him, as he waited for an incoming customer to pass by before starting through.

"Hey, no problem Mr. Luthor," the man replied, still smiling.

Sir? Mr. Luthor? Lex had never thought of himself as a mister-anything. 

Lex walked to his car, carefully balancing the drinks as he hit the unlock button. After he'd settled both himself and the hot chocolates inside, he reversed and swerved out of the parking spot, turning left onto Vine St. and reaching the intersection just as the light turned green. Being the only car in the right turn lane, Lex didn't bother slowing down as he roared through. He didn't bother to check for other vehicles as he hit the gas, trusting the lights had done their job and stopped all other cross-traffic.

One moment, Lex was sitting in the driver's seat of his Acura. . .

. . . and then he was staring at the warped and bent steering wheel, his head pounding, as someone repeatedly calls his name through the passenger side window. The window was broken. What- why was he? Stopped. The car was still. And his head! Jesus Christ, what was wrong with his-

"Mr. Luthor, just stay still, OK?" the voice from his right was saying. "Someone's called 911, and an ambulance is on its way. We didn't want to move you, in case your neck or back were- " The voice kept going, but Lex couldn't keep track of it any longer. His head must have hit—the window. His window. And his car wasn't- his car had been hit. He'd been in an accident. A car accident. And he couldn't think clearly because he'd—hit his head. What was that called? A. . .

"Mr. Luthor!" the voice screeched at him. The door was open, the passenger's door, and it was the guy from the coffee shop. The one who'd smiled at him and called him 'Mister.'

"You have to stay awake, Mr. Luthor," the man said, trying to maintain eye contact. "You were hit by another car and you've probably got a concussion. You have to stay awake."

"You already said that," Lex tried to say, but his voice came out strangely. "Where's the- is the other car OK? The people in the other car? Are they hurt?"

Lex was still trying to focus on the man near him, so he caught the angry expression that crossed his face briefly before being replaced by a gentler version of pissed off.

"There is no other car," the man said tersely. "It drove off after it hit you. Some kind of SUV-Hummer thing. Just- it just took off after putting you into the median. Sir." He stopped suddenly, as though he'd overstepped his bounds or said too much.

A hit-and-run? But. . .

"But everyone is OK?" Lex asked.

The guy gave him a strange look as he replied. "Yeah, no one else was hurt. We heard the crash from inside the cafe, and the woman next to me called 911. The paramedics should be here soon, and we'll tell the police what happened. Don't you worry."

"Thanks," Lex said, as sincerely as he could, with his head kind of messed up.

"No- no problem, Mr. Luthor." 

Lex felt a smile tug at his mouth, as he repeated, "You already said that." Evidently, his new 'friend' remembered their brief exchange in the coffee shop too, for a small smile graced his face.

A thought came to Lex and he took the chance and asked, "Did anyone get the plate number from the other vehicle? I don't- I didn't even see it. It just came out of nowhere. . . " Lex slowly trailed off, thinking he must sound like every crash victim the world over.

"I don't know," the man answered, crouching down on the ground, just outside the car. "You're not at all how the papers make you out to be. Wait, uh, what I mean is. . . " the guy started stuttering, so Lex interrupted.

"Lex," he said. "Please call me Lex. Whenever someone says 'Mr. Luthor,' I think my father's suddenly ascended from Hell and is standing behind me."

The guy gave a loud startled laugh, a sharp 'HA!' then shut his mouth and looked a bit guilty. Lex just dredged up another smile.

Fucking Lionel. Which, now that he thought about, made him. . . 

"My name is Chance," the guy said, and Lex lost his train of thought. "Chance Aerson." He smiled again. "Pleased to meet you, Lex, though I don't think I'm the only one to wish it'd happened under different circumstances."

"No," Lex replied. "Definitely not alone there."

Lex understood his place in the social hierarchy of Excelsior. He was the geek, the weird bald kid, and he was pretty much left alone after the first few weeks. Eventually he learned that Bruce had started throwing his weight around at that point, all but threatening those who'd still had designs on hurting or humiliating him.

He tried to thank his new roommate, but Bruce consistently denied he'd had anything to do with it. He'd simply shrug and say, "I don't talk to them, Lex. They don't like me, either; why would they listen to anything I said?" Which was a clever evasion, and Lex knew the truth. Bruce was a good actor and modest. He'd saved Lex, and he hadn't gloated or asked for favors or anything in return. Bruce never asked for anything.

As the years passed, Lex grew accustomed to the silence of their friendship. In a way it was soothing, comfortable, and nothing like the silences at home. There were no hidden agendas with Bruce, no games or tests. All Bruce really wanted was someone who didn't judge, someone who wouldn't push him or expect too much, and Lex could give him that. In return, Bruce didn't judge him, or make him feel responsible for his father's actions. He also seemed not to care about Lex's lack of hair and hopefully didn't know that, even if it were faked, that was probably what meant the most. For in truth, Lex had had a crush on Bruce pretty much since the day they'd met.

Bruce was handsome. Everyone knew that, but it wasn't what really drew Lex. No, it was the fact that Bruce was so there, had such a physical resonance, that made Lex admire him and want to be closer. The air in the room vibrated when Bruce was present. Just by sitting at his desk and reading, he made Lex forget about everything.   

By the time they'd reached their second to last year at Excelsior, Lex had accepted the fact that nothing would happen between them. Bruce had never dated anyone, girl or boy, that Lex knew of. So he didn't know for certain, but he assumed his friend was straight and therefore uninterested. Which was fine. And typical. Actually, Bruce seemed kind of asexual. The two of them never talked about that kind of thing, as it definitely made Lex uncomfortable, considering, and Bruce had always in turn ignored or mocked the boys in the locker room who carried on and on about their supposedly numerous conquests of the fairer sex. Nobody talked about other boys, except as something sick or weird.  

Which is why it was something of a shock when, the day before his 16th birthday, Bruce asked if he could kiss Lex on the lips.

They were in the library, sitting by the east windows in the Theology section, which was always empty. Lex was at the table with his books spread out, and Bruce was staring out the window as usual. In fact, when Bruce asked, he was still facing the window. It took Lex a moment to understand he was being asked, and by then he'd become fully tongue-tied, staring at the back of Bruce's head in some vain hope that if he just looked hard enough he'd be able to see what was going on in that brain. 

"Lex?" Bruce asked, as he finally turned around to face him. "Aren't you going to say something? I believe a 'yes' or 'no' is appropriate."

Damn him. This might be the only opportunity he had, and Lex was ruining it by imitating a largemouth bass.

"Um, what?!" And, God, his voice had not just broken like he was 14! "Why would you want to do that? Is this some kind of joke? Because it's not at all funny." There. That was better, even if he did succeed in sounding like an asshole.  

"No, it's no joke," Bruce replied, confusedly. "I just wanted to know. If not, that's OK, too."

The boy was certifiably insane and heartbreakingly perfect. Lex wanted to scream. Well, kiss him and then scream, as screaming first might scare him away.

"Here? You're asking me if you can kiss me here in the library?"

"On the lips," Bruce reminded him, like that cleared up everything.

" Yeah, on the lips. Got that part." Lex put his pencil down and sighed, reminding himself that Bruce didn't really joke or lie, at least not to Lex. So if he were asking, then logically it followed that he was serious and actually wanted to. . .

"Yes," Lex said and made sure he was looking Bruce straight in the eye. "I'd- I'd like that, Bruce." All in.  

And before he knew it, Bruce was leaning down, hand on his cheek, and his lips were oh-so-gently pressing against Lex's. It was sweet and chaste, and nothing like what Lex wanted. So he took control and pressed forward, opening his mouth and biting at Bruce's bottom lip.

Bruce's breath came out in a gasp, and Lex felt the other boy's hand slip back to cup his head. Feeling brave and mature, he slipped his tongue into Bruce's mouth, but the angle was wrong and, as he'd had to stretch up to meet Bruce who was still standing above him, Lex felt his back start to ache. He broke off the kiss, and it felt as if he floated back down to his seat.

Opening his eyes, Lex saw Bruce wearing an expression he'd never seen before, at least not on Bruce's face. Bruce looked almost—happy. He had a huge goofy grin on his face, and his eyes sparkled. And that was it: Lex was lost. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but Lex had fallen in love with Bruce, and there was no turning back now.

"That was good," Bruce said, his eyes still dancing and that wide smile plastered on his gorgeous face.

"Yeah," Lex replied. He tugged on Bruce's shirt, pulling him down closer. "But that could have been an anomaly. I say for accuracy, we should run the experiment again."

"Oh, for 'accuracy,' eh?" Bruce asked, chuckling. Attempting a serious expression, Bruce slowly leaned in until his breath was puffing across Lex's face with each word. "I think you're absolutely right." And as Bruce pressed his open mouth against his once more, all Lex could think was how this was just about the best present he'd ever received.

He came to when he was being moved into the ambulance. At first, because of the strobe light effect of the red and blue, Lex thought he'd somehow gotten into it again at one of the clubs. God, another overdose? Lionel was going to be so pissed-

Oh, God, Lionel! And Julian. And, Jesus, Colin. It was Lionel. He'd been hit- 

"Sir, you were in a car accident," said a feminine voice from his right, but when he tried to look at her he couldn't make anything out. The lights kept messing him up. 

"Sir, are you coming along?" the paramedic asked. Lex was beginning to wonder if he were really in trouble in the head department because that comment had made absolutely no sense, when he heard a familiar voice respond. 

"Yeah. Yeah, sure, I'll ride along," Chance said, breath wheezing out. The guy must have had to run after the stretcher or something. Either that, or he was just in piss-poor physical condition. Lex felt the legs of the stretcher fold under as he was pushed into the back of the ambulance, closing his eyes against the harsh white of the overhead lights inside. He also felt one of the doors towards the front open and the shifting of weight inside, and then a closing thump.

"Ready, Allie?" asked a gruff male voice from up front.

"Yeah, we're all in back here. Let's hit it," his attendee responded, slamming the doors surprisingly close to Lex's ear. "Mr. Luthor. Mr. Luthor, I need you to open your eyes for me. You have a deep head laceration, and I need to check your pupils and responses. OK?" Lex opened his eyes slowly, wanting to avoid the startling retina-fry for as long as possible. "There. Keep 'em open, just like that. OK, good."

Seeing a blurry shape behind 'Allie,' Lex tried to focus on it and force it into resolution. Gradually, Chance Aerson's worried face came into clear view, and Lex felt a tiny smile tug at his lips.

"Hey," he said, briefly startled at the raspy-ness of his own voice, "decided to stick around for the show, huh?"

The other man just scrunched up his face, looking like he was searching for something to say. Meanwhile, Lex's new paramedic friend must have finished her testing, for she removed the pen-light from his eyes and smiled at Lex.

"Looks worse than it is, is all," she said, as though that were somehow comforting. How bad did it look?

"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Luthor," she said, chuckling softly, "I'm sure that gash will heal just fine. You do have a concussion, but a couple days and you'll be all good."

All good. All- Shit! Colin and Julian! They were in the hotel room all alone. What if Lionel hadn't just been getting back at him? What if the old shark had arranged the crash in order to get Lex out of the way while he and his goons went after the boys?

Was that possible or just paranoid? This was Lionel, though. Lex wouldn't put anything past that man.  

Terrified that he might be right, Lex looked over to Chance again. "Chance, can I use your phone? It's an emergency."

And the guy just looked at Lex like he was an idiot—or crazy as a loon. 

"Look," Lex began, "I know what's going on, but my phone's back in the car, probably smashed on the floor, and you- look, I left my brothers alone and I have to tell them—what happened." He tried to imitate Lian's puppy dog eyes. "I have to make sure they're OK. They'll be worried if I'm not back soon." Chance was still just sitting there, looking at him strangely, so Lex tried again. "Chance, I have to call my brothers. Please, can I use your phone?"

Well, maybe the puppy dog eyes just took a little longer than usual to go into effect when Lex did them, because after he finished that sentence Chance began scrounging around in his jacket pockets. After a minute of watching the man near grope himself, a blue cell-phone was finally uncovered and placed into Lex's left hand.

Lex then realized the number for the hotel wasn't saved on this phone, and he had to try to pin down its name. Concussions definitely did not help with the memory.

"What's the number?" Chance asked.

Lex resisted the urge to snap at him. After all, it wasn't this guy's fault that- none of this was Chance's fault. The other man had only helped him, and so Lex took a few breaths in an attempt to calm himself down before answering.

"I can't-- I don't remember."

"You can't remember your home phone number?" the paramedic asked. "That could be a sign of- "

"No, they're not at Lione- um, the house," Lex interrupted. "They're- they're at the. . . " And now he debated whether or not he should tell them the name of the hotel. If he didn't, there was no way he'd get a hold of his brothers. . .  

"They're staying at the Kline Hotel," Lex said quickly, "but I don't remember the number there."

"Here," Chance said, reaching for the phone. Completely freaking out now, Lex handed it over. "I'll get 'Information,' and we'll find out, no problem." 

"Yes," Chance suddenly said into the receiver. "I need the number for the front desk of the Kline Hotel, please. Thank you very much." There was a longer pause and then, "Yeah, that would be great, thanks." Then he quickly shoved the phone back at Lex.

He grabbed it and put it to his ear, to the sound of the line ringing. A click and then a smooth male voice asked, "The Kline. How may I help you?"

"I need to call room 634. Please."

"Certainly, sir. One moment for me to connect you." There was another click and then the phone was ringing again. And again. And again. And-

"Hello?"

"Julian," Lex said, relief obvious. "Oh, thank God, I got you. I- I was in an accident." He heard the gasp over the line. "But don't worry, I'm fine. I need you- I think you two should. . . " How was he supposed to say this, with two strangers listening to every word? Fuck it. It would all become public knowledge soon, anyway. "Lian, you need to leave. The wreck, it- I just need you to get Colin and get out of there, OK?" He tried to give Julian a clue, without totally giving it away, but he had the feeling he'd only come across as paranoid and crazy, to both parties listening. And as he listened to the light breathing coming in through the speaker, Lex prayed that by the time they got out of there, Lionel and company wouldn't somehow already be waiting for them in the lobby, on the elevator. . .   

"Now, Lian," Lex said, sharply.  "And take the stairs." 

"Lex, what- why do we have to go? Where are we gonna go?" Which was a good question.  

"Jameson," Lex said, suddenly. "Look it up on the laptop. No, wait. Have Colin look it up, and you pack, and then get out of there. Take a cab. Don't walk." Lex tried to remember if there was anything else he had to tell them, but he'd already wasted enough time as it was. "OK, do it." And with that, Lex snapped the phone shut, ending the call. 

Taking a breath, Lex briefly closed his eyes and held his arm out in Chance's general direction, phone resting in the palm of his upturned hand. Opening his eyes again, he looked at Chance and said calmly, as if he hadn't just acted like a crazed conspiracy nut, "Thank you."

And the other man just nodded, picking up the cell and shoving it back into one of the multitude of pockets decorating his beat up jacket.

"Here we are," called the voice from up front, as the ambulance rushed to a stop. "Let's unload the merchandise, Al!"

And with that, Lex was jerked out on a gurney, and wheeled into Queensway Hospital's emergency room.

Chance stayed with him. When he asked why, all the other man had said was, "Lex, being in a hospital sucks. Being alone in a hospital seriously sucks." Which Lex had to admit was true. He'd never been in a hospital when it hadn't meant something bad had happened.

A doctor Feth had checked him over and declared Lex fit enough not to require overnight observation, followed by a nurse who applied butterfly bandages to the cut on the side of his head. As he finished up the paperwork a bit later, he felt Chance's eyes on him. Finally finishing the last form, signing the entirety of the visit over to Lionel's insurance almost gleefully, Lex returned the stare, declaring, "We're outta here," and jerking his thumb in the direction of the exit.

Trying his best to remain upright and forwardly mobile, Lex wondered what his next step was. Did he just show up at Jameson's doorstep, too?

As the two of them stood just outside the sliding doors of the ER, Chance turned to face him.

"Look, I know it's none of my business," he started, "and that you probably don't really want my help anymore, but is there something I can do? What I mean is, since you don't have a car and you were really—worried about something back there, I want to know if you need anything." Eyes on his feet, Chance added, "I don't have a car or anything, but I could call you a cab, or—I don't know, let you use my phone again to maybe call your brothers? Make sure they got out OK?" 

Lex had to hand it to the guy. He still looked completely freaked and utterly bewildered, but he very nearly managed to pull off the air of slacker nonchalance he seemed to be aiming for.

Lex just smirked. "A cab would be greatly appreciated," he responded. "I still have my wallet, so I could drop you off somewhere."

"Well, the thing is, honestly, I was wonderi- it's just you sounded like you needed some help or something, and I- " He looked up at Lex. "I'm not trying to get anything here, man, but I would just feel bad if I left you in a bad spot. I could help." Chance dropped his head again. "If you needed it, that is."

Was this guy for real? Who the hell actually offered to help anyone these days, let alone help a Luthor with no expectations for reward? This was just some game. And if Lex accepted, then Chance here would pull a fast one, and he'd be left worse off than he'd been while in that wreck. It could even be a trick of Lionel's. Maybe Chance Aerson was a rat. . .

But the problem was he didn't act like a rat. He wasn't giving off the 'bad' vibes Lex was used to getting with liars. Lex could detect a fraud almost as well as Bruce, and Chance? Wasn't.

But did he dare trust him with his life? With the lives of the only family he had left?