If there was a dimensional portal somewhere between the five floors separating his office and penthouse, well... nobody ever bothered to tell him.
He didn't quite realize it at first. The penthouse foyer didn't look too different, same marble veining, same suite of furniture, even the same antique glass catch-all. He hadn't been sure about the lighting, it seemed brighter than usual.
He knew something wasn't quite right when Martha appeared from the wings carrying a jug of a design that he would never voluntarily allow inside his penthouse. She was followed by his cook, who was carrying a tray filled with food-looking things. They were both chatting quietly but urgently amongst themselves, never once noticing the owner of the place standing dumbstruck just off their track. Their voices were a counterpoint to raised noises down the hallway, one of which he was sure belonged to the redoubtable Jonathan Kent. Unable to decide whether he's more annoyed at them not noticing him, or that people no longer welcome were having a free-run of his penthouse, he followed them into the den.
Lex felt a headache blooming behind his eyeballs. He was not used to this much noise this late at night. Not used to this many people in one of his last sanctuaries on God's green earth. Definitely not used to having the Kents prowling around his domain like it was Vintage Smallville all over again.
The screaming match grew exponentially louder as he stepped clear into the room. It was Jonathan Kent, alright. Lex recognized the platitudes even if he didn't get to see the person. But Jonathan Kent in bikers' leather? He knew that the man secretly owned not one but two sweet choppers, but this getup was not anything Lex was accustomed to seeing, all bright polished chrome buckles in a row and supple black leather.
Lex decided that he must be on drugs, and this was one hell of a bad trip.
Across Jonathan was a sneering woman in an extremely-expensively-one-of-a-kindly-made tailored pant suit, cream with blood red trimming. She might have been a handsome woman when she was younger, deep wrinkles on her face gave her a harsh look instead. Old but apparently not above exhibitionism, Lex noted, as he surveyed the results of good genetics and even more expensive doctors under her blindingly white linen shirt opened to the navel. The way the riot of messy dark brown hair tumbled onto slim but strong shoulders gave Lex a bad case of deja vu.
The cook had left for her kitchen sanctuary, apparently still not noticing Lex. Martha was also equally oblivious of Lex, concentrating her efforts on getting between the two combatants who were studiously ignoring her. The whole Luthor-this and Kent-that was also giving him a worse kind of foreboding. Everyone in the room was ignoring him. Lex wondered whether he's already dead and he was just watching everything from the other side of the veil.
"My son wasn't even gone two days and you're all traipsing around his penthouse like you own the place!" the lady was exclaiming. Son? Was Lex in the wrong penthouse? Lex might not have seen his mother for many years, but he was quite sure he could remember what Lilian Luthor looked like-nothing like this screaming banshee in front of him, to be sure.
"You wish!" Jonathan spat back. "Don't you put words in my mouth, Luthor!"
So, not exactly in the wrong venue. But which Luthor could this woman be? Was there even any more elderly Luthors left on the whole solar system?
They were yelling and Martha was trapped in the middle, her once-neat bun falling apart in front of Lex's eyes. It was fascinating. He noticed a vase lying broken in a corner, so far the only casualty. It won't be the only one for long, Lex thought, as he observed the currently unnamed but ultimately familiar Luthor-woman edging towards Lex's heavy crystal ashtray. It was a present from someone he didn't even like, so Lex really wouldn't mourn its imminent destruction, but it might also claim other collateral-like maybe his Lalique or his Miro. Think quick, Lex.
Lex stepped closer, opened his mouth and immediately jumped back two paces as the far door opened with a resolute bang, from where exited a person he never thought he would see in his penthouse half-naked. Ever. Clad in a rather damp pair of sweatpants was Clark Kent, furious-bright eyes and annoyed-red spots on his high cheekbones. "I turned my back for one second... Lex?"
Suddenly all eyes were aimed at him.
"Lex!" Clark bounded towards him as though they hadn't been enemies for the past how-many years. Any rejoinder he might offer was swallowed by an enthusiastic hug. "You're back early! Thank God!" Another squeeze, then Clark let him out of the hug, putting him about an arm's length. Smiles and enthusiasm was quickly replaced by a frown of concern. "You're back early." Clark said again, hands still wrapped around Lex's biceps, toasty warm and homesick-inducing. "Was everything okay?"
"Wha?"
"The Barbados deal. Was it okay?" Clark was visibly concerned now, maneuvering Lex gently towards the oversized armchair by the bay window. "You weren't supposed to be back until next week."
"Wait.. what Barbados deal?" Lex accepted a glass of scotch without thinking, then lifted an inquiring eyebrow at Martha who smiled sheepishly at him, hand still outstretched. Far be it for the mother figure to encourage inebriation, but Lex had a feeling that she knew this wasn't a situation Lex could handle without several fortifying drinks.
Old Lady Luthor surged towards him. "What do you mean 'what Barbados deal'? Don't tell me you've lost it. I knew the Kent boy was bad news for you! Ever since he moved in here, you've been all kinds of distracted." The woman sighed loudly and made a move towards the scotch decanter, pouring a generous amount for herself. "Look, ever since you swept LuthorCorp from under me, I promised not interfere with your affairs. But this time, I can't just sit quietly aside and watch you burn your legacy to the ground." She downed all the scotch in one go and shot a vicious look at Clark, who would've keeled over if he was anything but impervious. A determined look on that face told everyone she's not exactly finished with her lecture, and no one seemed inclined to either cut her off or clue Lex in. So they collectively braced themselves as she poured another serving. "Despite what everyone may think, and rightly so sometimes, I've always had your best interests at heart, son."
All of them sounded like white noise to Lex, overwhelmed and fully convinced that he was drugged. The last word cut through all static. "Son?" he croaked. "Wait. Who are you?" Lex struggled to his feet, Clark moved a hand under him to hold him steady.
Anxious hazel-green eyes peered at him, worry etched on darkened brows. "Lex, are you feeling okay? Did you meet any mutants on your way here? Lex?"
Lex ignored Clark's frantic questions and Martha's calls for Toby to be brought in. He decided to ignore Jonathan who was fussing with afghan throws and cushions on the couch. He bore down towards the largest unknown factor in the room, who was looking equally concerned and saying something like "Oh my god, he's finally lost his mind." and Clark probably did say "And whose fault was that?" at the woman.
Lex stopped across of her, and shrugged off Clark's helping hand. He can stand straight thank you very much. "Who are you?" he asked again, voice steady, eyes straight and unwavering.
"Lex," the woman began. "Son. I think you need to lay down a while."
"Who are you?" Lex bit out more forcefully, beginning to feel like he's part ghost, part broken gramophone.
"Your mother, of course." The woman answered with a familiar lilt, then a defiant flip of dark brown mane. "Leona Luthor."
For all his superpowers and enhanced anticipation, Clark couldn't quite grab Lex quick enough as he fainted clear away.
Lex came back to the world a few minutes later, or it could've been a few days later, and was greeted by another round of noise. Just noise on top of voices on top of noise, an impenetrable Great Wall of Noise that rose in front of him and stabbed him in the eye, it seemed. Keeping his eyes closed, he quickly ticked off names to correspond with the voice and came up with one short. There's a new voice. Male, Midwestern accent with a little French lisp to it.
"Zis is preposterous! I demand to be returned back to my lab! Immeziately!" the currently unknown voice rose above the cacophony. "I have a delicate experiment that needs my utmost care!"
"But Lex needs you!" Clark sounded really desperate. Lex needs who? Lex wanted to ask, but he felt faint again, his mouth felt like cotton had been stuffed down his throat.
"No, he doesn't!" Old Lady Luthor-because Lex refused to call her any other-exclaimed. "What he needs is a competent doctor!"
"Hey!" Toby sounded affronted, yet half-heartedly so. "I'll have you know..."
"Guys, please!" Clark pleaded. A shuffling of feet reminiscent of a bison stampede across a prairie of expensive carpeting, yelps of indignation, a firm click of the door, muffled angry words beyond closed doors. The throbbing behind his eyeballs quickened, like sharp and precise stabs with a foil.
"As I was saying, Lex needs you." Clark's voice had a desperate quality to it, made Lex wonder whether he was terminally ill. Maybe Lex had a tumor in his brain. Certainly would explain his prolonged hallucination.
There was a huff and a puff. "Alexander always needs me, ze zilly boy. Eez go wizout saying." There was an unmistakable fondness in the undercurrents of that exclamation, it made Lex think that his hearing was playing tricks on him. "What az ee done zis time?"
Warm touches on his brow. "Alexander?" low and smooth, warm breath against his cheek, like cherries. "Can you open your eyes for me?"
Lex shook his head lightly, frankly worried about what he would see.
"'eadache?" The questions came, soft interrogations punctuated by several clicks. His bedside lamp, the last. "Now, will you try, Alexander?"
"Go 'way," Lex mumbled instead, trying to twist away from the hand.
"What 'appened?" Slow and soothing, a rhythm against his brow. It was a frighteningly familiar gesture too, something that came with a lullaby if his treacherous mind remembered correctly. But the hands were wrong, the size of it, the pressure of it.
"We don't know. Yet. He forgot things, he was panicky, delirious, he... um..." Clark floundered in a way that made Lex think about farmboys and bright red trucks. "felt... um.. wrong? Somehow."
"eez certainly not acting like ze Alexander we know," the man remarked morosely. "I will want to run my own tests, you realize?"
"Sure." Clark volunteered. "He was calling for you, you know? That's why I had to go grab you. Sorry about your experiment. But I don't think Lex can wait."
"Ah, well. Eez fine. Eez nothing that can't be restarted again." A thoughtful pause. "Alexander eez more important."
Four little words. Stabbing right through Lex's chest, it constricted painfully. A simple declaration, soft and full of conviction. Nobody ever thought that about him, not since...
Lex opened his eyes and saw an outline of a man. The room was dark except the soft glow of his bedside lamp.
"Ah Alexander," the man greeted. "'ow are you feeling?" Concerned green eyes coming into view, a tumble of red hair across his brow. "What 'az you gotten yourself into this time?" Cool glass pressed onto his hand, "'ere. Drink some water, it'll be better."
Lex drank slowly, studying the man in front of him carefully from above the rim of his glass.
"Now, Clark told me you're confused. What 'appened? Problems at your lab? Some mutant?" A small hesitation. "Drugs?"
What?! "No, Mama~" Lex was aiming for affronted and landed in a whine instead. Then he froze, realizing what he just said.
Everyone else in the room froze also.
"Leona did this?" the man sounded positively glacial.
Lex shook his head, perhaps too slowly.
"Are you sure?" the man didn't sound convinced. Clark-off to one side, but close enough for Lex to feel his body heat-didn't look too convinced either. Like they wouldn't put it past Old Woman Luthor to harm Lex. He would've basked in their concern if it wasn't so confusing.
"I... I don't know."
"You want me to call her in?" Clark asked, more to the man than to Lex.
The man looked thoughtful, "Do you want to talk to your mother?"
It took Lex a while to realize that the man was asking him. "Mother?"
"Yes, do you want to talk to her?"
Clark was already walking towards the door. "I'll go find Leona," he announced.
"Leona? My mother? But..." Lex struggled to find the words, two pairs of concerned eyes watched him find them. "What about... Lilian?"
"Yes?" the man asked.
"Lilian..."
"Yes?"
"Lilian, you know..."
"I know," the man answered.
"You do?"
"Why wouldn't I know my own name?" the man looked amused.
"I told you he's confused," Clark said, visibly trying to be calm and not going into hysterics. It sounded as though he was trying to resign himself to Lex going round the bend.
"Lilian Luthor?"
The man smiled fondly at him. "Technically, it's Lilian Leclerc-Luthor. Although I did de-aypenate my name after ze divorce."
"You're my mo... what? father?"
The man only smiled, fondly, as though indulging Lex's fancies. "Go to sleep. We'll figure this out."
Lex nodded numbly, at least there's no cliched Star Wars references. He was being tucked into bed, by both Clark and Lilian-not-his-mother. He was so far out of it, hopefully he still could wake up sane.
"'Lex, je suis ton père'," Clark sing-songed, Lex groaned. "Sorry Lex," Clark said sheepishly. A smack. "Sorry Lilian," he sound properly chastised. "I can't help it." He dropped a kiss on Lex's brow, sending Lex deeper into a rabbit hole he now wasn't sure he could get out of. "Rest well, Lex." Wasn't sure Lex wanted to get out of it.
The door closed. More noises from beyond it. A lot of shushing. More shuffling. Then, surprisingly, comfortable quietness. There's still a lot of things Lex had to figure out. It couldn't be too long ago when he was riding up the elevator fully expecting to return to an empty penthouse, a half-life, and Superman as enemy, could it? If this was a parallel world, Lex wondered whether waking up back in his reality would be worth it. Would it be so bad if he could just dream and keep Clark close like this forever?
Plus, he thought as he turned to nestle on his side, it didn't seem so bad to have a Lilian in his life again.