Chapter 35 - Testing

Martha made sure Clark's favorite breakfast was ready for him when he came in to get ready for school after saying good bye to Lex, but he barely ate. He sat at the table with swollen eyes and a face that he'd clearly tried and failed to wash well enough that she wouldn't be able to tell how hard he'd been crying, and he only nibbled at his pancakes before getting up from the table to grab his backpack. She gave him a long hug before he took off to catch the bus—she was sure he'd miss it, with the way he'd been moping around, but that was the last thing on her mind right now—and she went to check on Jonathan before taking off for work herself.

Jonathan was behaving much like he had when the boys had been missing the summer before, but with a little extra stiffness toward Martha. She knew that it would be a while before the little part of him that blamed her settled down and reasoned that she'd been trying to do the right thing. In the meantime, she would give him space. She drove to the plant and went down to the little conference room where she met with the team of scientists on the meteor project, and she did the best she could to keep things running.

And she did the same thing the next day. And the next. And the next.

With Lex gone, the research team really seemed to have lost most of its motivation. Before, they occupied whatever time they didn't use in looking through Lionel's data by dreaming up new kryptonite-related projects and trying to figure out ways to pitch them to Lex such that he'd actually allow them to run tests, but Lex was incredibly cautious, almost to the point of paranoia, about what he would allow them to test and what he wouldn't. Martha had been preparing a presentation for him, taking extra care to appeal to him on the basis of logic rather than her maternal role, but there wouldn't be any opportunity to present it in the near future. Gabe Sullivan had taken on many of the responsibilities Lex had left behind, but he had no authority over the meteor projects; Martha wasn't even supposed to talk to him about them.

Lex had also left Martha strict instructions not to call him, or to let anyone in her household call him, unless it was an absolute emergency. Doing so could endanger his mission. That was hard enough on the family, but it made doing her job just about impossible. She couldn't even bring herself to coax her team into doing more work or trying new things; there was simply no point. One of the team members even tried to contact him against his orders, but he ignored their emails, and he had changed his phone number and given the new number to only a few of his highest-level managers, who were all also under orders to use it only in case of emergencies.

Then the emergency came.

One morning, a few weeks after Lex had moved to Metropolis, she came to work to find that security had been heightened, and law enforcement had been called into some kind of investigation. Her team had arrived before she did, so she asked them what was going on. Lia Teng told her that there had been a break-in; someone had ended up setting off a trigger that had exposed them to a substance that, if it worked, would force anyone who was near the infected person to tell them the full truth in response to any question asked.

Of course, the substance had never been tested. Lex had never given the okay to run the tests; he was waiting for them to come further along in producing the antidote. And the police didn't know any more about what was going on than the average employee at the plant; they just knew that someone had broken into a lab.

Martha excused herself to go into her private office, and she made the call. She felt so relieved beyond words to have an excuse to speak to her son, her chest hurt.

He picked up after two rings. "This is Lex," he said.

Her throat choked up so much, it took her two tries to speak. "Lex. It's me."

"Mrs. Kent. Would you give me a moment?"

"Of course." She blinked back tears at the formal address, holding the phone with both hands.

There was some slight shuffling on his end, then he said, "Still there, Mom?"

"I'm here."

"Just had to turn off the wire, I was about to leave for work. What's the emergency? Is everyone okay?"

"Everyone is fine. Someone broke into the lab at the plant."

"One of the meteor labs? Gabe called about it, but he didn't know much."

"Something about a toxin that forces people to tell the truth?"

Lex swore.

Martha bit her lip. "What do you want us to do, Lex?"

"Nothing. I have an idea of who might have done this."

"Who?"

"It's better if I keep that confidential until I know more. I'll call you if there's anything you can do."

"Promise?"

"Of course."

Martha smiled a little. It was so good to hear his voice. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm okay. Haven't gotten Lionel to bite on the merger yet."

"Have you found any other illegal activity?"

He sighed. "Borderline. He's got the whole plausible deniability thing down to a science. Lots of unethical bookkeeping and immoral dealings, but certainly nothing that would turn the Feds' eyes."

"I see." Martha shifted her weight. "Are you eating enough? Getting enough sleep?"

He gave a light laugh. "I'm taking care of myself. Like you taught me."

"Good." She sank down into her office chair and leaned forward on her desk. "We really miss you, sweetheart."

"Mom, I . . . I can't do this right now."

"Of course." She knew he needed to keep in a very specific headspace to be able to work with Lionel; he couldn't afford to break down in worry or grief over his family. "Don't forget who you are."

"I know who I am."

"You're my son, and Jonathan's. You're a good man, and you're strong and smart, and you're going to win this."

"I know. Thank you."

"I'll see you soon."

"See you."

She took the phone away from her ear. She wanted to dissolve into tears, but her team needed her to keep it together. And her son needed her to keep his team together.

She could cry when she got back home.

Lex hung up the phone and pocketed it, forcing himself not to think too much about what his mom had said or the broken tone of her voice. Knowing what he was fighting for kept him in a good place. Thinking too deeply about it, though, was a good way to paralyze himself. And when he was paralyzed, his darkness spoke. It had been particularly active since he'd moved out here, of course—he could feel its presence nearer to the surface than ever—but it wasn't speaking much, and for that he was thankful. He also wanted to keep it that way.

He turned back on the wire from Loder, finished tying his tie, picked up his briefcase and his jacket, and headed out.

He was ninety percent sure it had been Chloe who had broken into his labs. She probably hadn't even known they were his projects; she'd most likely assumed they were left over from when Lionel was calling the shots. Lex had never intended to get her involved in things, but he should have known that she would ignore his warnings to stay away.

The truth serum had been meant for him, not to test on someone else. It wasn't his plan A for dealing with Lionel, or his plan B, or any other plan; it was something he'd been playing with the idea of using far, far down the line. If Chloe was infected now, though, he might consider taking the opportunity to let her help. He still needed to think about it, and he'd need to speak with her, but it was worth considering.

The ride from the apartment building to the office was always too long and too short all at once. Since Lex had moved to Metropolis, he'd mostly been working in a separate office from Lionel, which was a blessing and a curse, for all the obvious reasons.

But this morning, when Lex stepped into his office, he found that Lionel was already there, apparently doing nothing but waiting for him. He sat on the edge of Lex's desk beside a cardboard box, and with a sinking in his stomach, Lex realized he recognized it.

Lex didn't allow himself to look at it. "Dad. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I've been thinking, son, about what you went through with the Kents."

"It's in the past." Lex remained back, close to the door of the office, and tucked his hands into his pockets. "I've moved on."

"Have you, though, Lex? I'm sure it was quite an ordeal, to believe with such certainty that they loved you as a son and then—" Lionel flourished with a hand— "to have that taken away from you in an instant."

"It's like you've said before. I'm a survivor. I'm fine." Lex came over to the desk and sat down his briefcase on the other side of it from the cardboard box. "If you have no objections, I'd like to begin the work day."

"You are a survivor, Lex. Nevertheless, I wanted to give you some, ah, closure."

"I can assure you, I've closed that chapter of my life. Aside from that, I don't see why you care."

"Nonsense. Your mental health is of utmost importance to me." Lionel reached into the cardboard box and took out the frame with Clark's school assignment, brushing his fingers over Lex's name on the family tree. "An odd gift," he said. "Sentimental."

"Manipulative. Clark was using me, nothing more."

He replaced the frame and picked up the paint brush. "I've been trying to figure out what to make of this."

"Me too. Believe me."

Lionel frowned. He looked back into the box once more. "Nice quilt."

"Not really my style."

"Smells like hay and chicken casserole."

"Like I said." Lex's heart beat hard against his chest. He really didn't know what Lionel wanted with him.

Lionel nodded, dropped the paintbrush in the box, and picked up the whole thing, standing and taking long strides toward the door. "Come with me, son."

Lex scrambled to follow, leaving his briefcase behind. "Where are we going?"

"To the courtyard outside the cafeteria. It should be empty at this hour."

"Why?"

Lionel stopped for a moment and turned back to face Lex. "To give you closure. You're going to burn these."

Lex felt like the pit of his stomach was being burned away, like electricity was passing through his fingertips. Luckily, Lionel wasn't watching anymore; he had resumed his brisk walk toward the elevator. Lex made himself follow, nearly tripping over his numb feet as he did.

It was a test. There was no other way to explain it. And the safety of his family depended on his passing.

They were just things. He knew that. Clark's gift had been sentimental; Jonathan's had been symbolic; Martha's was a gesture. Clark would still be his brother without the family tree. Jonathan would still let him paint the guest room in their house if he wanted to, with or without the paint brush he'd wrapped for Christmas morning. And Martha's grandmother had made plenty of quilts, if Jonathan's word was to be believed: Lex could have another. Besides, it wasn't like he didn't have anything else from them. He kept the compass Jonathan had given him for his wedding in a little metal box in his desk at the mansion.

But the thought of watching his most precious possessions go up in flames made him feel so sick, he worried he would vomit in the elevator. He could never set them on fire willingly. And if he did, he would never keep a straight face. Everything he was feeling would show, and Lionel would know the truth, and his family would be in danger.

It was the perfect test. And Lex was going to fail it.

Unless . . .

" . . . NOW you're asking for my help."

Lex didn't see what his darkness was surprised about. His motives had always been consistent. He wanted to keep his family safe.

"Only when the means suit you."

He wouldn't compromise the morality they'd taught him.

Lex could almost feel his darkness groan and roll its eyes. "Give me an inch," it said. "I'll get you through this. Only because I want to see Lionel taken down as badly as you do, and this could win us some points."

It wasn't exactly like he lost control of his own body or mind. His darkness was like an alternate personality, but only in some ways. He was still every bit himself, able to see and hear and move—but he didn't take that control. Instead, that deeper, darker instinct took over. He could feel his shoulders straighten, his features stiffen. As they entered the courtyard, his resolve steeled further yet, and when his father handed him the lighter, the only hesitation he gave was a show—a little frown, as though he were suppressing anger and bitterness rather than grief and fear.

The cardboard caught fire immediately, and the flames quickly passed to the quilt. Little by little, the orange flames darkened the purple fabric to black ash. The paper within the frame caught fire before the homemade frame did. The brush handle was the last to go, though the bristles didn't exactly burn; they melted and curled.

Lex's tears only fell on the inside. His darkness had hardened his exterior.

"It's in the past now," Lionel said. "And about the merger . . ."

Lex perked up—or rather, his darkness did. It wanted the merger as much as he did.

Lionel smiled. "I'll have the paperwork drawn up. We'll divide tasks among our employees, relocate whoever we need to, and, ah, you'll have all the security access you need."

This was what he had came for—his plan was finally working—but Lex merely nodded.

His father came up beside him and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm proud of you, son," he said. "I'll give you a few minutes to, ah, reflect." With that, he left the courtyard.