A Story So Timeless
Chapter One: Predestination
October 31, 1989
'Queen Industries CEO and Wife Missing at Sea, Presumed Dead'
Lionel Luthor smiled grimly as he read the article in the Daily Planet. Robert Queen had been a good friend, and a better adversary, but getting the other man out of the way meant one less obstacle between him and the Traveler.
'The Holy Grail,' he mused, 'and the key to ultimate power. Sorry, Robert, but not even friendship can measure up to that.'
Tearing his attention away from the paper, he saw, to his disgust, his son curled in on himself in his seat, his eyes screwed tightly shut, and visible tremors running through his body.
"This has to stop," Lionel snapped, glaring at his nine-year-old son. "Open your eyes, Lex."
Lex just shook his head, never opening his eyes.
"I can't," he whispered, fearfully.
"Lex is afraid of heights," Lucas taunted, in a sing-song voice.
"I am not," Lex defended, instinctively opening his eyes just wide enough to glare at his younger brother.
The six-year-old retaliated by sticking his tongue out at Lex.
"That's enough from both of you," Lionel scolded them. "Luthors do not behave in such a manner."
"Maybe Lex isn't really a Luthor," Lucas smirked, falling silent when Lionel's glare indicated that he'd gone too far.
"Mr. Luthor, we'll be landing in about a minute," the pilot interjected into the silence.
"Thank you, Robert," Lionel replied. "Now, I expect you boys to be on your best behavior, and to not do anything to embarrass me in front of the gentlemen I'll be meeting with."
"But, Dad, they're just farmers," Lucas whined.
"That may be so," Lionel told him, "but they also have the decision to not sell me their farm. I've worked too hard on the plans for this factory to let the two of you screw it up. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir," both boys chorused.
As the helicopter touched down, Lionel unsnapped his harness and strode out onto the field, leaving his sons to follow quickly behind him.
"Mr. Luthor," one of the men greeted him, holding out a hand that Lionel shook, cordially.
"Mr. Ross, it's a pleasure," Lionel returned.
"Shouldn't you save that until after we're done?" Kurt Ross asked, laughing. "After all, we haven't signed the papers, yet."
"I guess you could say I'm just a confident man," Lionel replied. "Speaking of, shall we get down to business?"
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Walking into Nell Potter's flower shop, Martha and Jonathon Kent were greeted by the sight of Dr. Lewis Lang, archeologist, professor, and, now, long-suffering father, being served tea by his three-year-old daughter as she chatted away, nonstop, about what all of her dolls had been up to, that day.
"Martha, Jonathon!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet as he saw them walk through the door. "What can I do for you, today?"
"Just here for some tulips," Jonathon told him.
"Where's Nell?" Martha asked, as she wandered idly around the shop, admiring the flowers blooming on all surfaces.
"She and Laura went to the Homecoming game," Lewis told them. "Laura's been bugging me all week to go, but I'm not much for high school football, so I told her she could take Nell, and I'd watch Lana and the shop while they were gone."
"I'm a fairy princess!" Lana piped up, clearly wanting to be a part of the conversation.
"Are you now?" Martha asked, smiling as she knelt down to the little girl's level.
"I'm magic," Lana confided, in a loud whisper that Jonathon and her father pretended not to hear.
"What kind of magic?" Martha asked, leaning closer to indulge the child in her secret game.
"Tell me your wish, and I'll make it come true," Lana said, confidently.
"Okay," Martha said, before leaning over and whispering something into Lana's ear.
The girl giggled and tapped Martha on the forehead with her glitter-covered wand.
"Wish granted!" she exclaimed, cheerfully.
"Well, thank you, Lana," Martha said, standing.
In reply, Lana ran across the room and took a bright red tulip out of one of the vases.
"This is for you," she told Martha, running back over to her.
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Bored with the dealings going on around him, Lex started to wander aimlessly around the corn field. A few seconds later, he noticed that he'd gained an extra shadow.
"Go away," he snapped, not even turning to look at Lucas.
"Where are you going?" Lucas asked.
"Nowhere," Lex said.
"I want to come," Lucas said, plaintively.
"No," Lex retorted. "Go back with Dad."
"You're mean," Lucas pouted.
"I don't care," Lex told him, stomping off resolutely into the rows of corn surrounding them.
When he'd gotten far enough in as to be hidden from view, he stopped and listened for Lucas. Satisfied that his annoying little brother hadn't followed him, Lex continued his solitary trek for adventure further and further into the field, until he was stopped by a harsh coughing sound.
Lex looked up, and saw a half-naked man tied to a post, a bright red 'S' painted on his chest. The man coughed again as he stared down at Lex.
"Help me," he begged, and Lex backed slowly away in fear. "You've got to get me down from here."
Lex silently shook his head, intending to run back to his father and have him do something about it.
But, then the earth started shaking.
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As they drove down the road, Martha twirled the flower Lana had given her between her fingers.
"Poor Lewis," she said, with a laugh. "Did you see the look on his face, as we were leaving, when Lana asked him if he wanted to be a fairy princess, too?"
"He's going to have his hands full with that one when she grows up," Jonathon agreed.
"I wonder if-" Martha began, but trailed off, her voice wistful.
"What is it?" Jonathon asked, glancing over at her. "You wonder if what?"
"Nothing," Martha said, dismissing her earlier thoughts with a wave. "It's silly."
"Martha, if this is about us having kids-"
"I'm fine," Martha reassured him, firmly. "It would have been nice, of course, but I just don't think that it was meant to happen. Not for me."
"What's with all the past tense?" Jonathon protested. "We're both still young, yet.
"Besides," he added, taking his eyes off the road long enough to wag his eyebrows at his wife, making her smile, delightedly, "maybe what we need is just a little more practice."
Martha laughed at his words, but her laugh turned into a scream as something hit the road in front of them, Jonathon swerving instinctively to avoid it.
"Look out!" she screamed, as more objects rained down around them, and now she could see what they really were: large rocks engulfed in flame, turning the countryside around them into a blazing inferno.
'A meteor shower,' she realized, in horror, and then something hit the truck hard enough to flip it over and send it flying, and the world went black.
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"Well, that was Moira," Gabe Sullivan said, as he hung up the phone in the small hotel room. "She and Chloe just made their last stop at a rest area, and they should be through Smallville and here in a couple of hours."
"Thank God," Ella Lane said, with a sigh. "No offense, Sam," she told her husband, "but I'll be more than happy to put Granville and Fort Ryan behind us.
"You just want to get back to Metropolis, and your shopping," Sam teased her.
"I'm just not a country girl," Ella reminded him. "And neither is Lois. Right, Lo?" she asked, looking over at her daughter.
"Mama, look!" Lois cried, from where she was glued to the window.
"What is it, sweetheart?" Ella asked, joining her four-year-old daughter.
"Fire!" Lois told her, delightedly.
Ella looked out, concerned, but was smiling when she saw the meteor shower in the distance.
"Isn't it pretty?" she asked Lois, as the sky turned a brilliant red. "They're rocks from space."
"Spaceship!" Lois declared, pointing at one of the falling rocks.
"It's not a spaceship, Lois," Ella corrected her. "It's just a rock, like out in the parking lot."
"Spaceship," Lois informed her, stubbornly, nose still pressed to the glass.
"Okay, sweetie," Ella said, with a fond chuckle. "It's a spaceship."
"Space man," Lois said, softly, a satisfied note in her voice as she watched the rest of the meteors fall.
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"Just half an hour longer until we can see Daddy, and then we'll be going home," Moira Sullivan told the wailing toddler in the backseat of her beat-up car. "And if you keep crying, it'll seem a lot longer."
Chloe only screamed louder, proving that she was not convinced. Moira sighed.
"Well," she told her reflection in the rearview mirror, "it was worth a shot."
Leaning over, she fiddled with the radio, hoping to hit on something that would calm Chloe down. It was only a few seconds before she found a station that could be picked up clearly, but it was still too long. Moira turned her attention back to the road just as something slammed into the ground in front of her car, sending them veering off the road, headed for a ditch.
For one terrifying, endless second, the car was airborne, then it crashed down into the ditch, and Moira was slammed forward into the steering wheel. Behind her, she heard Chloe's screams intensify, and she scrabbled wildly to unhook her seatbelt so that she could check on her daughter.
Moira breathed a sigh of relief when she was finally able to turn around. The seatbelts strapping Chloe's car seat in place were stronger than they looked; the toddler hadn't moved even an inch, and there wasn't a scratch on her.
"It's okay, sweetie," Moira crooned, as she climbed out of the car and wrenched open the back door to take Chloe out. "It's all right, baby girl. We're safe now."
Moira moved away from the wreck of her car, wondering what had happened, and how in the world she was going to explain the accident to Gabe. That's when she noticed that the sky was falling.
A rock, a meteor, had created a crater in the middle of the road where her car had once been. And others were falling all around her. Moira stood, dazed, unable to move for several seconds as she tried to wrap her mind around the devastation happening around. Then, Chloe's continued cries pierced through the haze that had enveloped her, and to her horror, she saw a meteor headed almost directly for her car. Moira started to run, trying to find shelter of any kind.
She'd only made it a few hundred yards away from her car when she tripped, and fell, sprawling, to the ground. Even as she tried to get to her feet, to keep running, Moira knew she was out of time.
So, she did the only thing she could.
Moira curled her body around Chloe's to protect her, and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, praying to whatever deity may have been listening.
'Not my baby, please not my baby, not-'
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When Martha awoke, some time later, it was to Jonathon shaking her shoulder and repeating her name over and over, anxiously. When she shook her head to clear away the fuzzy feeling that kept her from focusing, she felt nauseous, and realized that it was because she was still strapped to her seat-and hanging upside down.
"Someone really should win an award for these seatbelts," she muttered, out loud, testing her voice.
"Martha," Jonathon called, again, trying to get her attention. "Martha, look!"
Twisting her head around, Martha looked first at her husband, and then in the direction that he was transfixed. And she was shocked to see a small boy-a small, naked boy, she corrected herself-staring solemnly at them.
"Hello," she said, weakly, for lack of a better response, and she waved from her awkward position.
The child beamed and waved back, mimicking her, and Martha smiled in spite of herself. The child wandered closer to the truck and put his hand on the unbroken window, his fingers splaying against the glass. Martha copied him so that they were palm to palm.
The child frowned when he couldn't touch her hand, and Martha smiled, reassuringly, at him, but he didn't seem to understand. Instead, he pushed against the window, and Martha yanked her hand back, sharply, as cracks spider-webbed across the glass and it shattered into a million pieces.
She watched, horrified, as broken pieces of glass rained down over the child's unmoving hand. She held her breath, waiting for the boy to lose a finger, for his hand to be sliced to ribbons, but he remained miraculously unscathed. Only when the glass had stopped falling did he reach out to Martha, again, and this time she gently clasped the child's hands in her own.
Then, the spell that had taken over both of them was broken by a thud and a muffled exclamation from behind her. Startled, the child stumbled backwards, tearing his hand from her grip and staring behind her with wide, saucer-like eyes. Martha craned her head around to glare at her husband, who smiled sheepishly in apology as he slowly picked himself up off the ground. Reaching over, he carefully unhooked his wife's seatbelt and lowered her to the ground.
Martha tried to shove her door open, and when it refused to budge, she crawled out through the broken window, ignoring the glass that littered the ground and crunched painfully beneath her hands and knees.
"It's okay," she called out to the child, who still stood several feet away, eying her and Jonathon, warily. "It's all right, sweetheart, we're not going to hurt you."
She stayed frozen in place, not wanting to scare the boy off, and opened her arms in an inviting gesture. Behind her, Jonathon seemed just as frozen, waiting too see if the boy would flee or stay.
Finally, the boy started towards them, and Martha winced as he trod across broken glass on bare feet, not even seeming to notice it. But, once again, he came away without a scratch, and after several agonizing seconds that seemed like hours, the boy had reached them and was snuggled in Martha's arms like he belonged there.
"I can't believe we just found him wandering around like this," Jonathon said, retrieving an old, red, flannel blanket from the truck to wrap the boy in. "Who would just abandon their child?"
"Whoever they are, they don't deserve him," Martha told him. "And we didn't find him, Jonathon. He found us."
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Lionel strode into the overcrowded lobby of the Smallville Medical Center with Lucas in his arms, and put his son down in the first empty seat he found.
"Stay here," he ordered, turning to find the central nurses' station.
Lucas nodded, silently, staring around him in shock. He made a small sound of protest when Lionel started to walk away, but a sharp look quelled any further outburst.
Lionel pushed his way through the grieving, chaotic mass of people, trying to find someone in a position of authority. He passed a grief-stricken young man trying to comfort his screaming daughter, heard his voice catch as he tried to reassure her that everything was going to be all right, that Mommy was in a better place.
He had almost reached the nurses' station when he passed a gurney with a bald, shivering child lying on top, covered with a blanket. He would have passed the child by, dismissed him as insignificant, but something made him look closer, and he found himself staring at Lex.
Or, rather, what was left of him.
The trembling boy who made a soft, fearful sound when Lionel reached for him bore little, if any, resemblance to the son that he was looking for. His eyes were not blank, as Lionel would have expected, but wide with terror as he stared at something only he could see. And when Lionel spoke to him, his only response was to shrink away as far as the wall behind him would permit. There was no recognition of the man who stood in front of him. No words, only sounds, passed the boy's lips.
Lionel had never been as disappointed in Lex as he was at that moment.
'You are supposed to be my legacy,' he thought, disgusted with the child that lay before him. 'Instead, I find you sniveling and weak, like a coward. Lucas was right; you are no Luthor.'
"Excuse me, sir?" a voice interrupted his thoughts. "Can I help you?"
"My son is missing," Lionel told the orderly that stood behind him. "I thought, for a moment, that this boy might be him, but he's not. Have any other children been brought in?"
"We've got a lot of missing people," the orderly said, shaking his head in regret. "And too many of them are kids. If you gave me a description of your son, or a picture, I could keep an eye out."
"He's nine years old, he has red hair, and his name is Lex," Lionel said, and the man jotted the words down on a notepad he pulled from his pocket.
"And your name, sir?"
"Lionel Luthor," Lionel told him. "Please call me, if you find my son."
As he turned away, he saw a young couple with a small child approach the orderly, heard the woman ask after Lex.
"He's been like this ever since you brought him in, Mrs. Kent," the orderly told them. "But there doesn't seem to be anything physically wrong with him to explain his condition."
"He was caught in a meteor shower," the man said, irritably. "That explains his condition."
"What I'm getting at is that we're stretched to the limit," the orderly said. "We can't keep anyone here unless they're critically injured. I've called Social Services-"
"We'll take him," the woman interrupted. "He can stay with us until Social Services sends someone over to pick him up."
"Who is that couple?" Lionel asked a passing nurse, quietly, still watching them out of the corner of his eye.
"That's Martha and Jonathon Kent," the nurse told him. "Don't know the boys, though. Poor things were probably orphaned in the meteor shower."
"Do they live around here?" Lionel asked.
"A couple of miles out," the nurse replied. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Lionel said, quickly. "Just curious."
Then, before the nurse could ask any more suspicious questions, he turned his back on his son and walked away.
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Helen O'Shea scowled, darkly, as she pulled on the dirt driveway that led up to the Kent farmhouse. She could practically hear the loose rocks flying up from underneath her tires and damaging her brand-new paint job. Why people would choose to live in such rural surroundings, she would never understand.
But, as she pulled to a stop in front of the farmhouse, she schooled her features into a more pleasant expression. Lionel Luthor paid her, and paid her well, to take care of those things that he absolutely could not know about-not officially, in any case. And she was certainly not going to do anything to mess up the job she'd been given.
Retrieving a folder from the seat beside her, Helen strode briskly up to the door and knocked. When Martha Kent answered her knock, she pasted a smile on her face and held out her hand.
"Mrs. Kent? I'm Helen Meyers, Metropolis United Charities. I understand you're caring for a couple of young boys orphaned in the meteor shower."
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"Dad? Where's Lex?"
Lucas's voice was quiet and tentative, as though he was afraid of Lionel's answer, but determined to ask the question, anyway.
"He's dead," Lionel snapped, not even taking his eyes off the road long enough to look over at his youngest-his only-son.
Lucas blinked, furiously, at his father's words, presumably trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.
"Are you going to cry?" Lionel demanded, already anticipating the waterworks, but Lucas surprised him by angrily swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand and shaking his head.
"Mom's gonna cry when we tell her, so I gotta be strong for her," the boy declared. Then, his resolve crumpled and he looked nervously at Lionel. "Right?" he whispered.
"That's right, son," Lionel confirmed. "This news is going to hurt your mother very much. She's going to need you to be there for her, so that she won't be so sad."
"Aren't you sad?" Lucas ventured, quietly.
Lionel shot him a dark look at his question, and Lucas subsided into silence. Of course he was sad-at least, he would be when he was in public. He would grieve, as was expected of him, and then, when an appropriate amount of time had passed, he would begin work on the new plant in Smallville, at the site of his horrible tragedy. All in Lex's name, of course. His way of bringing life where there had been so much death.
And Lex, poor, disappointing Lex, would live with those farmers and be raised as their son, with no one the wiser. Now, that he would grieve for, even in private. All that potential, all those years, squandered when the boy proved to be so infuriatingly weak.
Of course, being as resourceful as he was, Lionel had no problem turning even this setback to his advantage. Thanks to Lillian and her bleeding heart, he'd been denied the chance he'd been given with Lucas, but now he was presented with the opportune means to conduct his experiment. Lex, it seemed, would be the perfect subject.
If he was a true Luthor, he would not only adjust to, but rise above, any situation he was thrust into. And, if by some chance, the image Lionel had so carefully cultivated could overcome the rural, substandard upbringing he was to going to receive, if the Luthor in him emerged and blossomed at long last, then Lionel would welcome him back to the family with open arms.
But, that was a concern for some distant, nebulous future. Here, in the present, he had other things to worry about. The Traveler, for one.
The mysterious being from another planet had been his primary motivation for coming to this backwater town, but so far, there had been no sign of the Traveler.
He couldn't understand it. All the signs, all of Swann's endless research had pointed to this day as the day that the Traveler would arrive. A veritable god was supposed to walk among them, and yet there was no indication of any such being anywhere in Smallville.
A flash of color out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and broke into his thoughts, and he eased the car over to the side of the road. He got out of the car, ignoring Lucas when he asked where they were, and went over to the smoldering hunk of twisted metal several hundred yards away. The heat emanating from the wreck was so intense it seared his eyes and almost knocked him from his feet.
On the other side of the car lay a charred, mangled body, curled up as though trying to protect something, even in death. And beyond the body, staring at the wreck with wide, solemn eyes, was a small, blonde toddler.
Lionel would have dismissed the scene as just another tragedy caused by the meteor shower if not for one thing. The toddler, small and defenseless, appeared completely unscathed by the devastation around her. She didn't even seem bothered by the heat, even though it had to be a couple hundred degrees, like standing in an oven.
There was only one answer. This girl was the Traveler, and his search had finally come to an end.
"Hello, little one," he said, as the child looked up at him, curiously. "How do you feel about coming home with me?"
The child held up her arms, eagerly, and Lionel swung her up into his arms. A thin chain around her neck flew out with the movement, striking him on the cheek, and he turned the small pendant over in his hand.
The small piece of metal was warped and melted, the etching impossible to make out, but the spot where it had rested against the child's skin was unblemished, free of burns or blisters.
"You truly are a miracle, aren't you?" Lionel said, quietly. "You will be a goddess among us mere mortals, someday. And you will have my hand to guide you."
Turning, he strode back to the car and opened the back door, placing the child on the seat next to Lucas.
"Who is she, Dad?" the boy asked, as he and the girl stared at each other.
"She was orphaned during the meteor shower," Lionel told him. "We're going to make her a part of our family. She'll be your sister, and it will be your responsibility to look after her."
"Yes, sir," Lucas said, quietly, ever the obedient son.
Then, as Lionel started the car and they drove away, he asked, "What's her name?"
Lionel thought on it for a long moment, and then smiled as he answered.
"Lena Luthor."