Lex opened his eyes. The first light of the morning filtered through the curtains. A cool breeze entering the room, through the slightly opened window. And how big the windows are in the Wayne Manor. The fresh air of the first days of autumn tangled his hair, and he felt chills going through his body. He should get up and close the window, but he just can´t find the strength - or the will - to do that.
It had been a month since he was living there. The other children who Mr. Wayne brought to live there were orphans - sons and daughters of criminals, or sons and daughters of people killed by criminals. (It seemed like most people in Gotham were connected to crime.) But Lex wasn´t an orphan. Not entirely. His mother was dead. His father was in prison. He was alone, and Bruce Wayne took him in to be one of his proteges.
He was one of the oldest there. The older ones would often run away. To be criminals most likely, Lex thought. It was the Gotham in them. The ones who stayed would eventually leave to college and make a living elsewhere. Lex had no intention of running away or going anywhere. He would rather stay in bed until the world would fade away.
At ten years old, Lex was the sole heir to the Luthor empire - LexCorp Industries. Mr. Wayne had promised to teach him and to help with everything he needed to know to be in front of a multimillionaire company - and Mr. Wayne knew everything about that. His parents died when he was twelve, Alfred Pennyworth, his manservant, taught him everything, and Bruce Wayne became head of Wayne Enterprises when he turned eighteen. And now he was gonna teach him. And now the circle would be complete. And in the future Lex could teach someone. And so on… And so on…
He dismissed that thought. He didn´t want to learn anything. He didn´t want to lead a massive company. He didn't want anything, really.
"You're the only one left, Jr.. Don't ruin it." Lex shook his head to disperse the last words his father said to him, before the guards took him in. He could do nothing. It was already ruined.
In all the thirty days since he was in that house, he only left his room for meals. He barely knew the other kids, only that they were loud and were always running around. Now that school had started, the house was quiet during the day. Lex would have to return to school in a couple days. "You can rest for a while, and when you feel ready, you can come back." Those were his school counselor's words to him. She gave him a deadline, and the time was up.
He wasn't ready.
After Alfred served him breakfast, Lex was about to go upstairs. One hand fell on his shoulder. He turned. The manservant was standing above him with a stern look on his face. Lex felt - since day one - that Alfred didn't trust him, like he knew something was off about Lex.
"Master Luthor, your new school books are in the library. I hope you have finished all the homework your classmates have sent to you."
Lex thought of all the papers and notebooks huddled on his desk. He didn't even read them. Didn't even look at them.
"I'm working on them right now, Alfred. Thank you." Lex turned his back immediately to him so he didn't have to look at his face. He knew he didn't believe him. Lex was too familiar with what would happen if he was a disappointment. He felt the rage of this father too many times.
Lex went to the library to get the books. It wasn't as rich as his own, back at the Luthor mansion in Metropolis. Here, the books were all old and dusty. It didn't seem like Mr. Wayne had acquired any new books in the last few years.
A movement caught his eye. He looked outside the window. A dark figure was wandering outside, in the dried up fields that surrounded the Wayne Manor in this time of year. A more attentive look showed him it was Bruce Wayne. He was wearing an expensive-looking coat that fit him like it was made just for him. It probably was. Alexander Luthor would approve. Lex didn't care. He didn't want to wear a suit and tie. But it was expected of him, he had no doubt.
There had been a month since he had been outside. Lex decided to follow Mr. Wayne, jumping out the floor-leveled window. The fresh hair brushed his pale skin. The sunlight burnt his eyes at first, until the landscape took shape in front of him. Fields without end, trees here and there, until the the forest turned dense.
Bruce Wayne's brown hair, usually combed to perfection, was swaying in the wind. His eyes, that had received him his his house with nothing but kindness, were focused on a point ahead, that Lex couldn't quite grasp yet. It wasn´t until he was closer that Lex spotted the flowers on his hand. Roses, orchids, daisies. All colorful, all shiny in the sun.
Mr. Wayne was headed to a small cottage. No… Not a cottage… It was a crypt, a burial chamber. Lex stopped on his heels. Suddenly the air seemed hard to breath, or his lungs weren't cooperating. He felt his knees hit the ground. He was being silly. It was just a tomb. His mother didn't have a tomb. Her ashes laid somewhere at his mansion, he didn't even cast a glance at them before he left.
He must have blacked out for a while, because when his eyes regained sight, Bruce Wayne was standing over him, a concerned, confused look on his face. He must have heard him fall. Lex scrambled to his feet, Mr. Wayne put a hand on his shoulder to help him from falling again.
"Lex, what are you doing here? Are you feeling okay?" His tone was sympathetic, but Lex could hear the concealed vexation on his voice.
Lex felt a wave of panic rising in his chest. He nodded and started running to the Manor, without looking back. When he was halfway there he could still hear Mr. Wayne calling his name.
Bruce was sitting at the hearing of Alexander Luthor. He presided at one of the main partners of Wayne Enterprises, LexCorp Industries. He would be in prison for the rest of his life for the murder of his wife. Bruce still couldn't grasp that idea. His father loved his mother, and his mother loved his father. They would never do that to each other.
He was twelve when they died. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't remember… But how he wished he could forget. His days were grey, and with every sun that rose, there was a mask he had to put on. The pain would never leave him.
He glanced at Lex, Luthor's son. His long blonde hair covered half of his face, but Bruce could still see his piercing blue eyes fixated in a point in front of him. He didn't look at his father when he made his statement, or when his sentence was read. It was only when the cops took him and he howled at is son "You're the only one left, Jr. Don't ruin it." - that he lifted his gaze toward him, like the world just fell down on him. The kid had lost his family, just like Bruce. Lex was alone. And Bruce stepped in. After all, who would be better than one heir to teach another heir to lead a multimillionaire company, to keep a legacy alive, to put on a mask everyday…
One night, Bruce was walking to his room, when he heard him. Lex was crying in his room. he knocked on his door, but he didn't answer, so he entered anyway. The kid was curled up in bed, grasping the sheets on his hands, his hair sticking to his damped face because of the tears. His sobs were echoing in the corridor, so he closed the door behind and started walking towards him.
"Lex… What happened?" The moment he said those words, he regretted them. "Lex…" He sat on the bed next to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. The kid stood up, trembling away from him, a scared look on his eyes, and tears still rolling down his cheeks.
"Lex… It's just me. You don't have to be afraid." But he was afraid. The kid hadn't said a word in his father's trial. Whatever happened, had been happening for a while, probably even before he was born. And he witnessed it, even though he didn't say a word, which could only mean his mother wasn't the only victim. And he was still afraid. And looking at him there, in front of him, Bruce wished he could do something about it, but he was also afraid. Since the day his parents died, a lurking feeling of uneasiness, of powerlessness had consumed him. And all he did was go to school, until he was old enough to take the lead at Wayne Enterprises, his parents legacy, that he had to keep alive for the sake of his city. But he was just a kid too, after all. And fear was a constant in his life.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne. It was just a nightmare." Lex looked away at the walls of his room. Bruce managed a smile. Nightmares weren't strange to him.
"It will pass." A lie. "Come here." Bruce didn't know what else to say. He pushed the kid to him and hugged him. He clung on his shirt with his wrists closed, sobbing against his chest. Bruce stroked his back until he calmed down. "Now get some sleep." Lex pulled away from him, his eyes piercing him, as if some kind of understanding had dawn on him.
Without another word, Lex laid back in bed, Bruce covered him with his blanket, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Eight years. It had been eight years to this day since his parents were murdered. And every single year, he would go to the city to buy some flowers. It was the least he could do. And after walking down to the crypt, putting the flowers in the vases next to his mother's and father's graves, he would go to whatever meetings he had that day, and never think back.
On his way to the crypt, a noise in the grass caught is attention. Something falling. No. Someone.
Lex Luthor was kneeling on the ground, his eyes unseeing, unmoving. He must have been following him. Bruce couldn't help but feel exasperated with the kid. Not on this day. He walked his way. The kid stood up when he reached him. Bruce put a hand on his shoulder to help him keep balance. "Lex, what are you doing here? Are you feeling okay?" He didn't answer, he raised his eyes to him, nodded and started running towards the house before he could say anything else. "Lex, come back. Lex." Bruce called and called but the kid just kept on running.
Maybe his tone was a little too brusque. He looked at where he was headed. The kid must have freaked out. Bruce couldn't blame him. He tightened his grip on the flowers and resumed his way.
The graves were the same way he remembered. The white marble, touched by time, was turning grey and green, but the names of his parents was still gleaming in silver. Bruce took the old and dried flowers from the vases and replaced them carefully with the fresh ones. For a second, he touched his mother's name carved in the stone. Martha. How he loved her and how he missed her. He retrieved his hand like an electric current passed through him. His sorrow was unfathomable. The tears started pouring from his eyes without permission. He would never recover. How could he?
He started walking to the house. All he wanted was to give his parents some peace. One day the murderer was gonna be caught. And he was gonna be there to make sure he would pay for what he did to his family. But Gotham legal system failed him all this years. He had no hope for any real justice. He would have to do it himself.
One way or another justice was going to be made.