Chapter 7- Origins of the Wolf
Part III- Footsteps
"The child who refuses to travel in the father's harness, this is the symbol of man's most unique capability. "I do not have to be what my father was. I do not have to obey my father's rules or even believe everything he believed. It is my strength as a human that I can make my own choices of what to believe and what not to believe, of what to be and what not to be."
Frank Herbert, Children of Dune
For two hours he had been sitting in darkness. He had thought about lighting a fire, but decided that would be too much work. "A metaphor for my life no doubt." As soon as that thought passed through his mind, he snorted. It didn't get more emo than that. He'd been sitting in the dark, ignoring the world, and drinking another glass of Scotch. This would mark the fifth time in as many days that he would indulge in this activity.
All Lex wanted to hear was the frantic splashing as his liver cells drown in Scotch. Lex hadn't been neglecting the real world during the day, but the night was his. His time to wallow in self-pity. His time to brood and focus on the negatives. Tomorrow would be another day to put the night behind him. There were a million things that needed his attention; and for the first time in his life, he didn't know how to handle it.
It had been a week and a half since Lionel's death...since his murder. A week since he had buried him. "My father." The police were pinning the crime on some worker at FoxTech. Lex didn't believe for one minute that the person the police were investigating had been the perpetrator of the crime. He didn't even believe the man could've hired someone to do it. He was a nobody who was afraid of his own shadow. Lionel's murderer was a professional.
Something dark was swirling around that damned mine. First had been the death of the lead engineer, then a break-in was staged at a Wayne facility, and then the mine was used to facilitate the kidnapping of Lionel. It looked to be a large conspiracy. Lex had been obsessive in trying to make sense of the situation. He pored over everything. Files. Meetings. Anything that could possibly give him a clue as to why this happened. The lead engineer, whose name Lex couldn't recall at the moment, had been found dead. Apparently he murdered his family and then killed himself. His suicide note said something to the effect that his life was a sham and came at the expense of someone else.
The police had investigated the woman that had been mentioned in the engineer's suicide note. Lex couldn't remember her name either. His mind was far too clouded. But she had been cleared as well. Nothing in her bank records indicated any kind of dirty dealings. She was just a brilliant, young engineer caught up in the storm of misfortune. The only thing Lex did know at this point was that Bruce was beside himself. The first time the man ventures into military research and development and it ends poorly. He doubted that Bruce would get in bed with the government in anything approaching military applications ever again. "Just as well." It relieved Lex to know this. Luthorcorp couldn't afford the competition.
Lex had threatened and bribed a number of people to get the original report of the medical examiner. He even had photos. Lex had never been so horrified in his life. He raised the glass to his lips. His hands trembled. His breath quickened. Lionel hadn't just been murdered. He had been brutalized. A forensics specialist told him that the deep cuts and bruises that adorned Lionel's body were the work of an angry individual…someone who had no respect for human life. He'd also been told that Lionel had been alive for at least an hour on that cross. A small part of Lex recognized the dark humor of the mind that had posed Lionel. Both an insult and a twisted honor to have been placed in the death pose of a god. The person who had done this knew Lionel well. Or at least he knew the kind of person Lionel was.
The glass was raised to his lips again. The funeral had been hell. He'd given a eulogy. A generic speech that could've applied to any number of fathers. Any number of powerful men. Lex had refused to allow a priest to speak at his father's funeral. He even thought that a priest could probably give a better eulogy, but it seemed wrong somehow. Acting as a pallbearer had been hard.
Somehow he had persuaded Clark to stand and carry his father. Lex didn't know why Clark agreed or why he even asked. He'd flown Lucas in and had him act as a pallbearer as well. A board member had rounded out the quartet necessary to carry the coffin. The feeling of knowing that inside that coffin lay the body of his father was something that tightened his chest. He had been so numb. His father's funeral had been closed casket. He didn't want anyone to see. To see his father in death because the body he had buried wasn't Lionel.
Lex ran his hand over his face and shook his head. He tried to direct his thoughts to something else, but it wasn't working. The memory of identifying his father was one that would stay with him for a lifetime. He had been so broken. Whoever had killed his father had shaved him. It wasn't just that his hair was cut to his skull. It was that someone took a razor and removed all of his hair on his head and face; and then waxed him so that he was entirely smooth. "Maybe a reference to Samson. Maybe to symbolize that he was a sheep. A sheep to the slaughter. A lion without his mane. Macabre. Fitting." It was no wonder that he had also been investigated, but his alibi checked out. Lex had voluntarily handed over his phone records and the pertinent bank account information.
But all those thoughts lead him back to the funeral. He couldn't get away from it. He couldn't get away from the fact that his father was dead…murdered. No matter what Lionel may or may not have been, he was still human; and no matter what Lex may or may not have felt for his father, he was still his son. He didn't like his father and he didn't think he loved his father more than what was required of a son, but he grieved. No human deserved that death. The worst of society didn't deserve that death and Lex couldn't reconcile his conflicting needs. It wasn't that he needed his father's love or approval at this point. It was that he could never say the things he needed to say. He could never win and that was the rub. His father had the last laugh.
When he had gazed around and took in the people at the funeral, he had been amazed. There were plenty of people there who hated Lionel and wanted to make sure the bastard was actually dead. There were also those who wanted to endear themselves to Lex and didn't particularly care either way if the man was dead. But there were those, in the minority, who had actually liked and respected the face Lionel showed them. People who worked hard because Lionel gave them a reason outside threats and intimidation. It always boggled his mind that people like them existed, but they did. Whenever he had the opportunity to do so, Lex had tried to find those people because they had a piece of his father that would never be his.
Chloe had been there with her cousin. Martha had attended as well. He didn't know if they had been fooled by his father's recent attempt to win them over, but he supposed it didn't matter. They saw him laid to rest in the plot next to his mother. "My mother. The light of my world and his." There was something Oedipal in that thought and in the fact that his father and he had competed over her. "Who is the author of my life that I'm this twisted? Who would craft such a well worn and clichéd tale? I think I'll shoot them for this travesty of a life."
He remembered the way Chloe had looked. She was beautiful but there was something "off" about her. She was pale and had been sweating despite the fact that there had been a brisk wind and it was cold enough to warrant wearing a coat. Lex guessed that it was due to the reality of Lionel actually being dead. The woman and her male companion next to Chloe had caught his eye, especially the woman. There was something…some quality about them that forced onlookers to give them a wide berth. They were noticeable. At least the woman was. The man was not very striking, but there was something about the way he stood. This was a man not to be trifled with.
She was significantly taller than Chloe. Her hair was dark red. Beautiful. But it was her eyes that held him. They were a startling green. She had held his gaze and smirked at him. If this woman hadn't slept with Lionel, then he was king of England. There was also something very creepy about her. It gave him chills. Lex felt that he was well on his way to drunk if the word "creepy" entered his thoughts. He hadn't really had time to entertain impure thoughts about her since Lana was by his side. Both had offered the usual words of condolences and left.
Chloe didn't even give him that. She looked at his face as if searching for something. He guessed she didn't find it because her eyes flicked passed his own to settle on his father's final resting place. For a moment, her eyes looked liquid. There was something in her face that he couldn't identify. She turned from him and left, Lois trailing behind. He watched her leave and wished that she was by his side. But she wasn't and never would be.
Lana. His fiancée and soon to be wife. The mother of his child. He didn't love her, but she was his. He knew he could be happy with her in time…if he let himself. If she let him. There were moments when he was sure that she could be happy with him. Moments when she would smile at him because he had done something to put that smile on her face, but those were few and far between. Lex finished his current glass and moved to pour another when he heard the door open. It could only be one person since he had left instructions to his staff to not let anyone bother him.
Lana walked further into the room and watched Lex ignore her. She sighed, "Lex, we need to talk."
He finished pouring his Scotch and swirled his glass, "Do we?"
"Yes, we do. You know we do. It's been a week. You work all the time, barely eat, then isolate yourself in this room and drink until you pass out! We haven't spent any time together!"
The alcohol in his system made her voice shriller than it was. He didn't want to deal with her now. He couldn't. He didn't know how to deal with her, "Lana. Don't be that way."
Lex still hadn't looked at her and she was becoming irritated.
"Lex, I won't let you ruin yourself this way. He isn't worth it. Why can't you see that? Why is it so hard for you?"
Lex stood in a fluid motion and threw his glass into the fireplace that had no fire. He yelled at her, "Because he was my father! Because someone deliberately targeted him; and by extension, us! What do you expect, Lana? That I would feel nothing? That everything would be ok? It's not ok."
Lana could never understand what this pain was. Her parents died before she knew them. All she had was story clippings and a picture. She could never comprehend what it was to experience that unique brand of love and anger that was etched into the fabric of who you were by parental care. Lana could never understand why Chloe was the way she was or why Clark had such a hard time dealing with Jonathan's death.
Their parents weren't ephemeral ideas. They were ties that bound them tightly and intricately and to have it taken away either in death or because they walked away was to be cast adrift in a storm. Lana couldn't understand that Lionel gave him life. He gave him a legacy; and while he never got the approval and love that he needed, Lionel was still his parent. Hell, even he realized on some level that there were other people out there who had it far worse.
At the end of the day, Lana had Nell. She had a guardian who loved her. Who protected her. Why she persisted in thinking that she was singular in her pain and had it harder than anyone else was beyond him. He could understand that she longed for such a connection and that an aunt was not the same as a mother and father, but that was an entirely different problem. One that she had to reconcile, but she couldn't. Lex realized that Chloe and Clark recognized their own limitations to some extent. No one truly understood their own idiosyncrasies, but he recognized that they honestly tried. The harsh truth was that Lana was forever stuck in time and she didn't want to change. No one gave her reason too.
He was breathing hard and for a moment, he wished that he could hate her. He wished that he could cast her aside, but she was pregnant. He was a cold-hearted bastard in many ways, but he could never hurt someone like that…not even her. It was still dark in the room and only the faintest light from the moon trickled in. It was enough to see her face. Lex had never yelled at her. She had never felt his rage or what it meant to see him with no control.
Lex could understand why she felt neglected and why she was felt insecure about him. He didn't like it, but he could understand it. Their wedding had been called off. Between his project and his father's death, he didn't think it would be a good idea. They had plenty of time to give the child his name. There was so much to do and planning a wedding took more of him than he could afford at this moment. Not to mention the fact that he knew she loved Clark. Lex was loathed to give her his name, but he couldn't refuse her because she was pregnant and some part of him did care for her.
He shook those thoughts off and moved to stand behind her. His arms wrapped around her waist, he splayed his hand across her stomach and bent so that his lips were next to her ear. She was right. It had been a long time and there were more pleasant ways to relieve the tension in him. He ran his fingers through her hair. She was like a doll. All gloss. Never a hair out of place. He wanted to ruffle her. To really make her his. He was Lex Luthor and he got what he wanted. Lana was his and he'd make her believe it.
Lex breathed into her ear, "You're right. I should spend time with you. It's been awhile."
In one motion, he turned her around and began backing her to the wall. He felt a slight hesitation on her part, but she wanted to spend time with him. This was how he wanted to spend time with her. She could settle. She should be happy with what he gave her.
"Lex, I didn't mean—"
He silenced her the only way he wanted to at the moment. He wanted her mouth to do other things than talk at him while he was drunk. Sometimes thinking was overrated. He had done enough of it tonight and the past many nights.
Lana didn't particularly enjoy his manhandling at the moment. She didn't enjoy that he tasted like alcohol and she didn't enjoy the realization that he was probably doing this so that he wouldn't have to talk. She pushed him away and drew her hand back to slap him. Lex caught her hand and lowered it. His action was gentle. The nature of his action, however, was in stark contrast to his eyes. Lex's eyes were dark and uncompromising. They held the hint of a threat. His message was clear. Lex would never tolerate a slap from her.
She was breathing hard. Her chest heaving. Truth be told, Lana was a little scared. Lex had never been this way with her. He had never been rough. She could choose to believe it was because of what he had been through the last few weeks, but deep down she knew it was a lie. This was Lex. Focused. Intent. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that he hadn't enacted this scene countless times before, but this time he would get the response he should've gotten the first time.
Lex strode away from Lana towards his bar. He needed another glass. Since his Scotch was in his chair by the fireplace, he would just have to make due with whiskey. He downed his shot and poured another before he looked at her again. He ran his hand down his face and focused on her. He pushed the alcohol away from his mind. It took a lot of willpower to not give in, but he needed to say what he was thinking.
"I'll admit that I was out of line so we don't need to talk about it. I'll admit that I haven't handled recent events with the aplomb you might expect of me. I'll even admit that I am deliberately avoiding you. I'll admit all those things when you admit that you expect me to be something I'm not. I'm not Clark. I'm not Whitney. I'm not Jason. I'm not any of those high school boys that spent their time putting you on a pedestal and not acknowledging who you are. I'll never pretend to be. You are having a child. My child, Lana. The Luthor name carries with it the decorum as befits it. We will be in the spotlight. If this is something you can't handle, then tell me now and be done with me. I won't force you and I won't coddle you, but I will protect you. If you say yes to me, then we go all in. No half measures. I won't accept it. Especially from you. Don't answer now. I want you to think. To really think because I won't make time for games. I'm done with them. The easy out I'm giving you now I won't give you later."
Lex punctuated his words with a sip of his whiskey. Lana read the seriousness of the situation in the way he was standing. Whatever passion he held moments before was gone. The glaze of alcohol entered his eyes again.
Lana opened her mouth to speak when she saw Lex's pointed look. She was being dismissed and she'd get nothing more out of him. She turned on her heels and ran from the room. Lex figured she'd start crying soon after leaving his office. When alcohol spoke through you, it spoke with stark honesty and a blunt tongue.
It was at that moment that Lex realized that he would never marry that woman. He would care for the child. He would care for her, but he would never make that woman his wife. It was only a matter of time before she ended things with him or he ended things with her. Either way, it just wasn't going to happen. That realization both freed and weighed him down. "Another failure." But he wasn't going to end it now. She still had her uses.
After pouring another glass of whiskey, Lex began to pace. There had to be more to Lionel's death than a mine! There had to be a reason. Even if the sole purpose was ruining Wayne Enterprises, it made no sense. Bruce didn't need this project. Lucius Fox had persuaded him. The mine was a limited application mine. It didn't have the sheer explosive force of other series. No terrorist would shake in their boots.
Corporate espionage was brutal, but that was backstabbing and wheeling and dealing. At most embezzlement and blackmail would occur. Something deeper and far more sinister was happening, and that's what was twisting him into a knot. That's what kept him up nights and plagued his days.
Lex stopped pacing and lowered himself into the chair he had occupied earlier. He downed his whiskey and sat in the darkness. All the alcohol he had consumed in such a short time would hit his system like a sledgehammer soon. Tomorrow he'd make a phone call. He needed better security. He needed to be able to trust that he was safe because he wasn't. Lana wasn't either.
Tonight, however, he was going to wallow. Lex hadn't truly appreciated the situation he was in, but now he was beginning to. He was hemmed in on all sides by a foe he didn't know he had. Despite this, one niggling thought persisted. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe he saw shadows moving where there was nothing. He could believe that, but he would still get better security. Lionel's death taught him that he had taken his welfare for granted. "Something wicked this way comes."
He also needed to plug a few security holes. Lex knew about most of Lana's more destructive activities. He'd engineered many of them. His father probably had too. As long as she was where he thought she was, she was no danger. "Better the devil you know." In the interest of safety, however, he was going to rectify a few things. Lex could be effective, but he didn't have to be the man his father wanted. There were things he needed to change and it was going to begin with his project. His new reality was one that he could not have foreseen, but he could adapt. He had to adapt. He had no other viable choice.
Lex leaned over and put his head in his head. Those were thoughts for later. The only thing that mattered now was his self pity. Tonight there was only room for one thought. Lex had to speak the words even if it was only to a darkened, empty room that held so much of his father's presence.
"My father is dead."