Disclaimer: Smallville doesn't belong to me, and neither does Lex (why, oh
why??).
Thankies to Tuti! Without you this story wouldn't have been here.or anywhere.
Your first impulse is to give way to all the rage you've stored over the years. Those long years when under his despising stare and your own icy attitude, you have been boiling inside, forever struggling to keep the self- control he never lost. With feigned confidence and an unreadable expression, you always face him as best you can, but each of your encounters leaves you deprived of all energy. His every scornful word feeds the fire that burns you. And despite all your efforts, he always has the upper hand; whatever you say, whatever you do, he is always one step ahead. All the small victories you obtain are tainted with bitterness and his every triumph leaves a scar upon your soul.
And maybe, if you suffer so from his indifference, it is because unconsciously you can't help but seek for his approval, and because, however difficult it is to admit, you would like, just once, to hear a few words of pride coming from his lips.
But even now he is lying hurt and helpless under a flaming beam, his steel- cold eyes suddenly animated with fear, his whole expression imploring for your mercy, you know these words will never come. And you feel your resolution harden. You can strike him now and never live another humiliation again.
You take a look around the room. Pieces of broken glass litter the floor, gusts of wind from the empty frame of the window cause the fire to rage with even more violence, dust swirls in a kaleidoscope of tiny grey dots and smoke slowly fills the room, making it hard to breath. A twisted smile distorts your features as you think of the only piece of advice he has ever given you. Never to get caught has always been the only rule of the game and you will follow it even now. Who will know you could have saved him and didn't when his ashes are discovered among those of the house? It will all have been an unfortunate accident, the storm getting the better of your father, and you, Lex Luthor, being lucky to have survived. You can leave him with a clear conscience to the purification of fire, sure to have obeyed him to the last.
And he deserves it. He's gone through life with the conviction he could control everything and everyone, including you, with his power and his money and his heartlessness. And your resentment and your hate for him are not without foundation; they are not the delusions of an angry child, for every day he gives proof of his lack of humanity. He just closed down the plant for his own personal motives, mainly because of you, and it didn't even occur to him that on a day's notice he was striping half the population of a whole city of a job. And he dared to put the blame on you, hoping to force you to follow his plans. And as always before you will obey. You won't get caught.
You make a few steps away from him but cannot cross the doorstep. You see his face disfigured with pain and you can't bring yourself to leave him to his fate. The thought of Clark races through your mind and you can't bear to disappoint the dark-haired teen. You can already see your best friend's disgust, his revulsion at the knowledge of such a terrible deed. You look into you father's eyes, and behind the anguish, and the pain, and the supplication for help, you distinguish a mockery, a sparkle of amusement at your hesitation. Had he been on your place, an ungrateful son with nothing to be grateful for, he wouldn't have given it a second thought.
And with that realization, you lift the beam and extend your hand to him, for you have sworn to yourself that you will never become like this cold- hearted bastard who never gave you the tiniest bit of affection. And at that moment you know that you don't need the respect you could have gained from his murder. You don't need anything from him at all.
Thankies to Tuti! Without you this story wouldn't have been here.or anywhere.
Your first impulse is to give way to all the rage you've stored over the years. Those long years when under his despising stare and your own icy attitude, you have been boiling inside, forever struggling to keep the self- control he never lost. With feigned confidence and an unreadable expression, you always face him as best you can, but each of your encounters leaves you deprived of all energy. His every scornful word feeds the fire that burns you. And despite all your efforts, he always has the upper hand; whatever you say, whatever you do, he is always one step ahead. All the small victories you obtain are tainted with bitterness and his every triumph leaves a scar upon your soul.
And maybe, if you suffer so from his indifference, it is because unconsciously you can't help but seek for his approval, and because, however difficult it is to admit, you would like, just once, to hear a few words of pride coming from his lips.
But even now he is lying hurt and helpless under a flaming beam, his steel- cold eyes suddenly animated with fear, his whole expression imploring for your mercy, you know these words will never come. And you feel your resolution harden. You can strike him now and never live another humiliation again.
You take a look around the room. Pieces of broken glass litter the floor, gusts of wind from the empty frame of the window cause the fire to rage with even more violence, dust swirls in a kaleidoscope of tiny grey dots and smoke slowly fills the room, making it hard to breath. A twisted smile distorts your features as you think of the only piece of advice he has ever given you. Never to get caught has always been the only rule of the game and you will follow it even now. Who will know you could have saved him and didn't when his ashes are discovered among those of the house? It will all have been an unfortunate accident, the storm getting the better of your father, and you, Lex Luthor, being lucky to have survived. You can leave him with a clear conscience to the purification of fire, sure to have obeyed him to the last.
And he deserves it. He's gone through life with the conviction he could control everything and everyone, including you, with his power and his money and his heartlessness. And your resentment and your hate for him are not without foundation; they are not the delusions of an angry child, for every day he gives proof of his lack of humanity. He just closed down the plant for his own personal motives, mainly because of you, and it didn't even occur to him that on a day's notice he was striping half the population of a whole city of a job. And he dared to put the blame on you, hoping to force you to follow his plans. And as always before you will obey. You won't get caught.
You make a few steps away from him but cannot cross the doorstep. You see his face disfigured with pain and you can't bring yourself to leave him to his fate. The thought of Clark races through your mind and you can't bear to disappoint the dark-haired teen. You can already see your best friend's disgust, his revulsion at the knowledge of such a terrible deed. You look into you father's eyes, and behind the anguish, and the pain, and the supplication for help, you distinguish a mockery, a sparkle of amusement at your hesitation. Had he been on your place, an ungrateful son with nothing to be grateful for, he wouldn't have given it a second thought.
And with that realization, you lift the beam and extend your hand to him, for you have sworn to yourself that you will never become like this cold- hearted bastard who never gave you the tiniest bit of affection. And at that moment you know that you don't need the respect you could have gained from his murder. You don't need anything from him at all.