Disclaimer: I own nothing except the snow. This story is dedicated to a friend of mine who loves Smallville, and Lex in particular. Lets just call it her Christmas gift because I'm too cheap and lazy to buy anything.
Snow wasn't a common feature of the Metropolis winter.
The weather was too warm, rarely below a crisp autumn chill. If it ever did sink so low as to produce even light flurries exhaust fumes and other miscellaneous grime of the city soon blackened what did fall. It would melt into a muddy brown sludge. Not what one would see on a Christmas card.
But at the Luthor mansion, far from dirt and dust, it was beautiful.
Lex could remember sitting in an overstuffed armchair with his mother, watching snowflakes drift by the window. He had been overcome with a childish thrill.
Thrilled, that is, until they had gone outside. He quickly went from exuberant to stiffly frozen.
His mother's delight never faded. She adored every ounce of the icy fluff with passion. Lex did not understand the attraction, even then. It was cold, it was wet and it made influenza rampant.
Nonetheless, since Lillian Luthor had loved the snow, her son shunned the beckoning warmth that was indoors. They had made snow angels, snowmen, even had a snowball fight.
His father, upon seeing his dripping wife and child being tailed by a butler with a mop, hadn't even bothered asking. He simply shook his head and walked away without a word.
Snow crunched under Lex's feet as he walked forward. No longer did it prompt pleasant memories.
Shallow breathing and surgeries, the sickly smell of hospitals. White walls and sheets, as physically bleak as their meaning. Endless pills and medications.
Still, she had loved the snow. Perhaps it was appropriate.
Lex knelt down at the grave, blanketed in white. In the pristine calm it seemed almost a shame to speak. He smiled in a way he had always reserved for her.
"Merry Christmas, Mom."