Title: Shifted Destiny
Rated: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville, Superman, Lex or Lionel Luthor. They belong to DC Comics, Warner Brothers Entertainment, and the creators of Smallville (the show) itself, Al Gough and Miles Millar.
Genre: Alternate Universe. GenderBending. One Shot (unless my muse decides differently).
Warnings: Gender bender (for my own sake), though I do not plan (if I continue this story) to have it evolve into a romantic relationship between Lex and Clark.
Summary: What if Kal-El had been found by Lionel Luthor instead of the Kents-and vice versa? Would Lex be evil, driven by the desire to regain her lost heritage? Would Kal-El actually follow the destiny both of his fathers have in mind for him? Or would they find a new path?
Author's Note: To spare myself some confusion over names and whatnot-though it probably won't help the reader all that much-there was an accident at Luthor Corp the day before the meteor shower. Lionel kept Lex with him after this happened, mainly because his wife and he are estranged, so there are very few who know what happened. It is explained in a very vague way in the beginning of the story. Feedback about my grammar, spelling, characterizations are welcomed. In fact, they are needed as I have only just rediscovered this fandom after three years out of it. Flames about me, however, are not.
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"Lex!" Lionel shouted, pushing through the tall cornstalks that blocked his path, making his way both treacherous and unstable. This was the second time in as many days that he'd lost his child, the first time being in his labs where Lex had been exposed to some dangerous experiments that had gone awry. An accident that had changed his son into a daughter. Tripping over his feet for what felt like the hundredth time, he looked up and saw a pair of pale, pink feet coming towards him. Walking with surprising ease over the uneven ground.
"Lex?" this time it was more of a question than a demand for an answer. Even as he looked up, knowing what he would find, the owner of the feet crouched down and Lionel saw a very young face surrounded by curly, dark hair and expressive green-blue eyes staring back at him. This was definitely not his daughter-but he could become his son without the painful reminders of his wife. The last he heard, she was still in Paris with her friends, trying to put their marriage behind her without severing all ties to him. At least, that's what his informants told him. Lionel wasn't sure that it was true at all. Whenever they met, it was on Lillian's terms-not his own.
Pushing himself to his feet, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around the boy. "Come on, Lex. We have an appointment to keep."
The boy merely tilted his head and stared up at him, docilely letting him carry him through the field towards the road he hoped would lead them to Smallville. The full extent of the dreadful accident in Luthor Corp's lab was unknown to any but him-the scientists having all died in the explosion-and he'd been very careful to keep Lex covered up. Through his shock, he recognized that he could not have the press catching wind of what happened. It had been in his mind to force Lex to remain a boy, using all of his power and influence to make sure that Lex had her own room-complete with bathroom-and a locker room of her own so that now one would ever find out the truth. This worked out even better.
For a moment, he spared a thought for the real Lex, lost somewhere amidst all of this destruction, but it passed quickly. There was no way Lex could have survived the meteor shower, not with the dust it would have kicked up. The asthma that had dogged Lex from birth would have killed her instantly. No, there was no way she had survived-but he had this boy in Lex's place. His mind stuttered to a full stop, realizing the implications of his thoughts How had this boy survived?
More importantly, where had he come from?
Knowing he needed to get to his people fast so that they could secure this area and search it for clues, he picked up his pace. As he walked along-nearly jogging, he heard a car and turned about, hailing it. The truck slowed and the man inside looked at him, suspicion on his face as he stared at the well dressed man and the boy he carried. "I'm Lionel and this is my son, Lex. We got turned around in the storm. Could you give us a ride? I fear my son needs medical attention," he smoothly said.
"So do a lot of folks," the man replied, introducing himself after a moment, "I'm Sheriff Waid."
"Thanks," he climbed in and held the boy closer, listening with half an ear to the man talk, resigned. As grateful as he was for the ride, he could've done without the running commentary. It was going to be a long ride into town.
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Martha stumbled into the clearing, eyes wide in horror at the sight of the flattened stalks of corn that lay about her. Even at harvest time, the fields did not look like this. They did not have the appearance of sheer apocalyptical waste. Jonathan stopped beside her, as shocked as she was by the devastation. May be more so because this was his beloved world that was laid to waste, she could not even begin to think about how he must be feeling in that moment to see this...travesty of life.
Finally, he made his way forward, "We have to get to town, find out what's going on." His head shook, dumbfounded, trying to wrap its mind around all that he was seeing. "People will need our help and..." his sentence was cut off as he fell over something. Rolling over, he pushed away the fallen cornstalks, thinking that he saw something underneath them.
"Martha!" his shout snapped her out of her lethargic shock and she carefully ran towards him, feeling as though she was on auto pilot. Dropping to her knees, she stared at the child he'd uncovered in shock. A tuft of red hair was all that was left on the smooth head, the hand lay shaking, half opened.
"I've never seen this one around town," she gently touched the shaking hand, heart aching for the child. Shocked, pale gray-blue eyes stared at nothing as tremors continued to rock the body.
"That's because he's not from around here," he said, sounding almost cold to her. "Look at the uniform, he's from Excelsior or is on his way there. This has to be Luthor's boy, what's his name?-Lex."
Martha shook her head, "Then why is he here instead of with his father? The Ross creamed corn plant is miles away from here and wasn't Luthor interested in buying it? Isn't that why he was coming here?"
"They could've gotten separated in all the chaos," Jonathan pointed out reasonably, not sure that he believed his own words. Something didn't feel quite right to him. Careless as Lionel may have appeared to be about his family life, there was no way he'd let someone get their hands on his child. That would be giving an enemy a bargaining chip that Luthor wouldn't be able to wriggle away from. "Either way, he needs medical attention. Help me with him, will you?"
The odd trio made their way unsteadily towards the town, taking turns carrying the boy. It seemed to take them forever to come to the town. Reaching Smallville Medical Center, Martha took hold of him and excused herself. "I'll take him into the bathroom, it shouldn't take than a moment," she whispered. Though she knew that it would probably be better for the doctors to take care of Lex, she wanted just a little more time with him.
Nodding, he watched them walk off, faintly disturbed. Jonathan knew he shouldn't allow Martha to get so attached to the boy, but he just couldn't bring himself to stop it. Giving her five minutes to finish, he then made his way through the gathered people. As he walked towards the harried front desk, he thought he heard the name Luthor murmured a few times. "Excuse me, but did you say that Mr. Luthor was here?"
"Yes, with his son, Lex," the woman sighed and missed Jonathan's shocked look. Martha came up behind him, hearing her words. "The poor boy is in shock, can't speak a word, not that I blame him. The dear had been caught up in the midst of that meteor shower, though he seems surprisingly energetic and aware. But enough about the Luthor family, you three look like you were caught up in the shower as well. Is that your son?" Like everyone else, Sally knew that the Kents had been looking into adoption.
Before Jonathan could say anything, Martha said, "No. She's our foster daughter."
"This way," Sally walked down the hall, showing them to a mostly empty room. "A doctor will be with you as soon as there is one available."
Jonathan waited until the door shut behind her before staring at his wife, quietly demanding an explanation, "Foster daughter? Martha, you know as well as I do that this boy is Lex Luthor."
"No, Lex Luthor is already in this hospital being fawned over by his father and the doctors-you heard them talking. You know as well as I do that Luthor will not listen to us, he abandoned his own child in a corn field. And this is no boy," Martha replied firmly, placing the girl down on the bed. Running a calming hand over her head, she contemplated her words.
The girl's eyes never left her own, an almost desperate plea in them. "When I took her to the bathroom, I found out. That's why I threw out the Excelsior uniform. Jonathan, I don't know what else to tell you but we can't abandon her as Luthor did-we just can't."
Running his hand through his hair, he sighed and wished he was anywhere else but in this situation. He knew full well what Martha was asking of him. While it was true that they had been thinking about adoption, they had never really talked about doing it. "Martha, I don't know what happened but we both know the truth. This is Lionel Luthor's child and while he may be able to fool this community, he will not fool his own wife. He will come looking for her," he pointed out. "I don't think he'll have a choice in the situation. She can't stay with us, Martha."
"I know he'll come for her, that's why I said foster daughter," Martha argued, heart breaking again for the girl. The light in those haunted grey eyes had dimmed with every word Jonathan spoke before mercifully closing in sleep. What, if anything, had the girl understood? "We can't turn her away, Jonathan. She needs us."
The doctor's arrival spared him the necessity of answering but he knew full well that he would have to tell Martha something. It wasn't that he didn't want a child, he did. And it didn't matter to him that he may not be the biological father, he'd love the child anyway. What made him uncomfortably unhappy was the mystery surrounding the girl.
He knew the child was the blood child of Lionel Luthor. There was something in the facial shape that spoke of the Luthor he'd seen in the papers. And he recognized those eyes from the one glimpse he'd gotten of Lex and his mother when he'd been in Metropolis, visiting an old family friend. Though it was beyond his understanding about how the boy had become the girl.
Still, there was no way to fight a man like Luthor-and he didn't was to try. The man was a rotten apple and would harm Martha. And that was something Jonathan couldn't allow, not even for a helpless child's welfare.
Martha could see from the expression on his face that he'd already made up his mind. It was clearly not the answer that she wanted to hear, he even had sound reasons for his reply. But she had as well-and this was one war she intended to win.
After their own injuries were seen to, they left, knowing that they were only in the way. Catching a ride with the deputy sheriff, they arrived home, hungry and tired. After checking to see the damages, Jonathan and Martha had a quiet supper. By mutual agreement, they did not speak of the girl, not wanting to say anything they would regret.
The next few days passed in a blur of working to restore the community to a pre-meteor shower condition, though they knew that some damage was irreversible and that the town would not be the same. Still, they were going to try. Martha spent a lot of her time in town, helping with the relief efforts and visiting the girl she called Erin Clark after her great-grandmother. While Erin still did not speak, her shakes and the look of fear slowly faded away.
One day, after a long talk with Jonathan, she arrived to take Erin home. "Gone?" she repeated, feeling something shatter. "Do you mean her parents came for her?" If she was taken in by her family, then Martha knew she'd be all right. Yes, she would miss the girl but if she was family, she would be loved.
"No, the Sheriff turned her over to Child Protective Services this morning, said that we couldn't keep her any longer. There were others who needed the money being expended to take care of her. CPS would be able to find her a family, Mrs. Kent. I know that you were her foster parents but I guess they figured that you would be too busy with rebuilding to properly take care of her. I'm just glad that you were able to spend time with her. The poor dear looked forward to your visits."
"How could you tell?" Martha asked, never having really noticed any true difference. Erin hadn't said a word in the whole week that she'd known her.
"Her eyes," the reply was simple. "Most of the time, there was nothing there. But she always seemed to know when you where going to show up, those eyes of hers lit up like it was Christmas morning. She loved you."
"I loved her too," she softly replied. "I hope she knew that. Thank you, Sally." Martha slowly walked out, shoulders slumped in defeat. But she also wondered. Sheriff Waid knew that they were going to adopt the girl, he'd heard them discussing it. Why had he done this when he knew what they were going to do?
Though she knew Jonathan would not be happy with her, she called her father and they talked about the situation. Mr. Clark agreed to look into things-discreetly. Martha knew that as soon as she got home, she'd tell Jonathan. This wasn't something she could keep from him and she knew that her father would use this information to hurt him if she gave him the chance to.
"Where's your little Erin, Mrs. Kent?" a voice asked after she'd taken a few steps away from the phone in the lobby of the store.
"Didn't you turn her over to CPS, Sheriff?" she asked, thoroughly confused.
"No, I knew that you were going to take her in. Is that what you were told?" he asked, looking vaguely concerned. Of all the things he thoughts she'd be told, it wasn't that.
"Yes, they said you told them that CPS would find her parents or family. That we couldn't do more for her," she answered.
"I'll see what I can find out," he promised her, shifting his gaze away from her own. "This might have come from someone else and they just used my name to implement it. I do have to answer to my superiors, much like anyone else."
Though she didn't quite trust the look in his eyes, she nodded her thanks and continued on her way. Jonathan was waiting for her outside, a frown on his face when she noticed that she was alone. Alone and upset in a way that he'd become very good at recognizing immediately, "What's wrong? Is she worse?" he asked, placing his arm around her shoulders to draw her into a hug.
"No, she was taken by CPS," she answered, almost sharply. Almost as if she blamed him for what had happened, though she was well aware that it wasn't his way. Jonathan was not a dishonest man, "I'm sorry."
"I know how much she means to you," Jonathan quietly said, no blame in his voice. "Tell you what, we'll look around for where she was taken and visit her. If they have no information about her family, we'll go through with our plans."
"Can we?" Martha didn't wait for his answer, she pulled out of his loose embrace and flung her arms about him. "Thank you!"
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Pete Ross sat in the back of the truck with the rest of the children who'd lost their parents and had no where else to go. For the past five minutes, he'd found himself staring at the bald headed kid in the mismatched clothes. The poor kid hadn't shed a tear like the rest of them had as they were put in the car and taken away from their home-not one. Even the older kids cried, but not this one. He was curious about why as only a three year old could be.
Plus, he thought only really old people could be bald.
He vaguely remembered having an aunt who'd been bald before she died. She looked really strange with her funny hair and the way she always smelled of cats and old tea. But she had the nicest hugs and told the best stories to him whenever she tucked him into his bed under the big window that looked out at the cornfield.
They bounced along the road, coming to a stop at last. Slowly, they got out of the truck and stood in front of a tall, three story, gray bricked house with a large yard surrounded by an iron fence. Pete shivered, not sure he liked the look of the place. As they made their way inside, pushing and shoving, Pete lost sight of the bald kid.
Two weeks later:
Mrs. Octa stared at the young couple sitting before her, brown eyes thoughtful as she studied them. They looked nice enough and the background check revealed that they were stable and reliable with a steady income. Both were well educated and had what appeared to be a good marriage. "Yes, we do have a girl matching that description but I don't think she's what you're looking for."
"What's wrong with her?" Martha asked, apprehensively. Suddenly, all of the things she knew about the Luthor family came into her mind and she wondered if the child was some kind of monster.
"Nothing like that," she hastened to assure her. "In fact, we've had no disciplinary problems with her at all. Unlike the other children, she obediently follows orders. But she's a difficult child to handle for all of her good manners and quiet nature. She's too quiet, not apt to make friends at all, though she has become friends with a young boy named Pete. She doesn't talk and seems to have problems reading and writing. I was actually concerned that she may have some mental problems because of the meteor shower. But the doctors assure me that she shouldn't be so damaged. While the other children seem to be recovering, she shies from any kind of human contact."
"It doesn't matter," Martha insisted, "I would like to see her now."
With a sigh, she nodded and stood, "Right now, all the children should be at recess. We are trying to keep them to a schedule to help them feel a sense of normalcy. You'll see what I mean about her."
Jonathan and Martha followed the woman out of the dim office into the bright sunlight. The children saw them and stopped what they were doing, running towards them, eager faces shinning. There was hope in these eyes that it was family coming for them. Or, at the very least, a chance for adoption. Martha looked them over, searching for Erin.
Looking down from the tree, he noticed that the kids were gone. Quickly descending, he made his way over to the rolled up body. "You okay, Charlie Brown?" Pete asked softly, trying not to draw attention to them.
Her head nodded and she slowly uncurled, pushing up off the ground. Sucking her bloody lip, she tilted her head and stared up at him, asking what happened silently.
"Adults," he shrugged, falling silent as a shadow fell across them, growing larger as the person approached.
"Charlie Brown?" Martha asked, knowing her instantly. Though she looked at Pete, she was studying her Erin out of the corner of her eye. She looked better. "Why do you call her that?"
The girl rose and faced her very slowly, a shy smile forming as she recognized the woman from the hospital. Though she winced in pain, she couldn't keep the happy look off of her face. There was something about the woman that she trusted, that she missed, and she was glad to see her.
"Cause she's bald like him," he said, as if that was obvious.
"I see," she murmured, studying the girl intently. She did not like the bruises on her face and the thin body. But those things were easily fixed. Kneeling down so that she could look her in the eye, she solemnly said, "We've come to take you home with us. You're going to live with us and be our little girl."
"Not without Pete," she stammered out the words, forcing them past a clogged throat. It hurt to speak and she wasn't sure that her words had been heard over the gasps of shock that followed the first word to pass her lips. She forced herself to speak again, "I won't go without Pete."
Martha embraced her and stood up, holding her as tightly as she dared. "Pete can come to," she agreed, holding her hand out to the boy who eagerly took it.
"Are you going to call her Charlie Brown?" he asked as they walked towards Jonathan.
"I was thinking about calling her Erin...Erin Clark Kent."
"Erin?" he repeated. "I 'pose I can live with that."
