Title: Waiting - Part Four
Author: Hidden Willow
Email: willow4614@hotmail.com
Website: http://www.geocities.com/hiding_behind_the_willow
Summary: Everything Lex has found for himself in Smallville is being threatened. Can he face his father without becoming him?
Archive: Envision and Hazardous can take it if they want
Feedback: Just because you saw this happen on the show doesn't mean you can shirk your feedback duties! I need input!
A/N: I honestly didn't think I'd continue with this story, but I had a change of heart. Big thank you to all who gave me feedback for the last chapter.
A/N2: L/L interaction isn't in the cards just yet.
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Lex tightly gripped the edge of the desk as he leaned forward, letting the dull pain it caused center him. The tension in his body was growing, spiraling out of control in his gut. He could feel his jaw clench, the small line of his mouth set into a disdainful frown.
He didn't have the time nor the luxury of letting his worries get the best of him. Forcefully, he pushed away from the desk as he pushed his emotions away.
His right hand found its way to the back of his neck as he turned towards the window. He could almost feel the blood beneath his skin pounding. Rubbing the back of his neck, he let his strained muscles slowly relax, though his face held firm his look of resolve. It was the only comfort he could offer himself right now.
Comfort. That was a word that wasn't common in the Luthor family. Luxury, of course, was never a problem. But comfort, the kind you found in an honest smile or in the most understanding eyes you'd ever seen...
A barely audible growl escaped his lips at where he found his mind was heading. Now was not the time.
He stopped kneading the ache in his neck as he grabbed another folder filled with information from his desk. After staring at them for the past week, the abbreviations and percentages made little sense to him anymore.
Just like the idea of trying to reason with his father. Lionel didn't have an interest in bargaining. All he did was tell him that soon his son would see his way was the right way. What did it matter to him what happened to the people in Smallville? Business was business. He had always taught him that.
But Lex wasn't one for letting his father's words of wisdom sink in too deeply. He listened, he learned, he put it into use, but he tried not to become cold and empty by believing in any of it too much. Despite what his father thought, there *were* people out there in the world you could trust and depend on. And more importantly, there were people out there that could trust and depend on *him*.
Or at least that's what he used to think. Now he wasn't so sure.
Afterall, Lana had yet to show up once to show her support.
Even though he wouldn't admit it to himself, some part of him had foolishly been expecting her to stop by. Maybe she would have smiled at him sympathetically, telling him she knew he'd figure a way out of this. Or maybe she would have told him point blank to stop wasting time by feeling sorry for himself. She could be surprising like that.
But she hadn't shown up at all which was more surprising. Had he been wrong to think they had become close enough for any of that? She was friendly to everyone. Why did he think he had any special distinction in her mind?
And then there was Clark.
Although, he could be loyal to a fault, his trust in Lex was another matter. How many accusations had he thrown at him over the months? How many times had his half-hearted apologies contradicted the angry words he had spit out days before?
Maybe that was what was paining him the most. His father was ruining one of the most important things Smallville had given to him. That belief that he could be trusted, he could be cared for, he could be loved.
How could anyone believe in him now? He was responsible for letting everything go to hell. The plant. Nixon. All of it.
The imaginary hourglass in his head was telling him time was running out. And this time all the little tactics and manuevers his father had taught him weren't going to get him out of this one. Because this time he was going against his own father, the man who pulled out all the stops. For Lex to win he had to "bring it to a whole different level" as his father so succinctly put it.
Playing dirty wasn't the problem. That was in his blood. But there had always been limits. God knew his father never taught him how to stay between the lines. All he had ever had was his conscience and that had faltered on several occasions.
The question was how bad did he want to win this time? How far was he willing to go to salvage what he had found here? And if he managed to save the day, would it even matter? His belief in his friends and himself was already on the verge of destruction.
If that happened then all he truly had was his father and the path he had set in front of him. But even so, even if nothing was left, he would never follow his father. Never.
All he could hope for now was that it never came to that. He had to mend everything that had been broken in the past days. Starting with Nixon's attempt to ruin the Kents.
He threw down the useless folder of data and went for the container he had been keeping the alloy in. At least he had one thing under his control. But as he flipped the container open, there was no assurance in the form of the octagonal metal.
He felt the fear begin to trail down his spine, but he wasn't ready to accept it. It was somewhere near him. Misplaced in a desk drawer, located on the bookshelf by his copy of Dante's Divine Comedy, or who knows where else. It was somewhere.
His eyes said differently as they swept over his desk, unable to find a hint of that shade of gray. The reality of it all didn't have the chance to inspire panic in him before a rush of anger and frustration hit him. Swatting the empty container out of the way, his troubled hands fumbled over the papers and folders trying to shake out something that wasn't there.
There was only one place it should have been. And it wasn't there.
When had he stopped being so careful?
The shadows of the room flickered, almost teasing him, as the lightening beared down outside. He felt, more than saw, the flashes of light, as his rage heated him from the inside. He didn't pay attention as he felt panic begin to set in his chest. Fueled by denial, he went to the bookcase, throwing down everything that lined the shelf. The books fell with an angry, dull thud against the floor, barely missing his feet.
"Damn it, Nixon!" he cursed, more angry at himself than anything else. How had he allowed anyone to push him into a corner?
Another roar of thunder pealed outside as the doors swung open. His father appeared before him, a picture of power and balance while the world twisted and turned outside.
"So...you're using your mother's stock to fund the buyout. That's your secret source," Lionel said, his eyes sparkling with arrogance at the newly acquired information.
'Knowledge is power, Lex.' 'Ignorance is your first enemy.' Echoes of the lessons his father had given him. They were the only things his father had ever offered. Not exactly what a motherless boy needed, but they had become his weapons, his armor. And in time, Lex had learned well.
"I must admit, it's a bold move, Lex. But it won't work!" Lionel said, trying to bait a response out of his son, as he walked towards him.
Lex spared him an annoyed glance as he walked past him. "Did you brave the weather to tell me that?," he asked cooly as he ignored him in favor of the small bookcase at the other end of the room. This wasn't the time for a lesson. Those days were over. His father failed to realize he had nothing left to teach, nothing left to offer.
Seeing his son wasn't taking him seriously, he implored, "It's suicide, Lex! You may get the plant, but you're putting your employee's homes on the line. Forfeiting your own future!"
Forfeiting the future his father had in mind, not the one he was after. Though, both of them were crumbling at his feet. But if he had a choice he knew which one he'd make. He wouldn't let himself be controlled by Nixon, his father, or anyone else.
"Or forging a new destiny free from you!" he shouted out venomously, turning to face him.
"You're not my enemy. You're my son," the older man said, his words punctuated with disbelief.
Lex gave a small, cold smirk as he saw the realization begin to dawn on his father. "I never saw the distinction."
He didn't allow himself the pleasure of watching the emotions move across his father's face, instead opting to recheck the bookcase by his desk. Finding nothing but the same books and mantel pieces, he angrily slapped them aside with one sweeping gesture of his hand. Determined, he moved to the table behind his desk, quickly searching it before moving on to the bookcase beside it.
His father followed him relentlessly. Having already recovered from Lex's bitter words, Lionel's voice was raised and authoritative as he told him, "When Alexander the Great was dying, his generals asked who he would leave his empire to. If he would appoint a successor, it would keep the legacy intact...prevent generations of bloodshed! His answer was simple-- I leave it to the strongest."
If he was trying to appeal to Lex's desire to keep Smallville intact, then he was giving him the wrong history lesson. He turned to his father, standing only inches from him, nose to nose, he spat out, "I believe the term is 'Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!'"
Incensed, Lionel grabbed him by the neck and jerked him forward. In a threatening tone, he promised, "I'll bury you and everyone in Smallville who takes your side!"
That was something to laugh at. There was no one left to stand by him, his father had made sure of that.
He raised his arms and violently parted them, roughly breaking his father's hold, as a powerful rush of wind burst through the windows. The force of the tornado shattered the glass into pieces and sent the two men spiraling into the opposite sides of the study.
Lex slid across the polished floor, hitting a bookshelf that toppled down on him. His father, from the other side of the room, struggled to get up just as one of the columns sustaining the ceiling gave out.
The elder Luthor cried out in fear as he saw the column about to fall on him, but was spared from being completely crushed as it fall upon the chair behind him preventing it from going down any further. He found himself pinned down, but otherwise undamaged. Unfortunately, his situation was only growing worse as the support beam from the ceiling collapsed, it's jagged end hovering dangerously above him.
"Lex! Help me, Lex! Lex! I can't...move!"
He could hear his father calling out to him as he forcefully pushed the bookcase off himself. As he got back on his feet, Lex could feel the sting of broken skin above his right eye. The trickle of blood caused an odd sensation as it moved down his face, somehow overpowering the ache of the bruises he could feel forming all over his body. He let his hands clutch his head for a moment, still stunned from the impact. Sweat and blood clouded his vision as he looked in front of him to see a slightly blurred form of his father.
His once powerful father lay before him, reduced to an ordinary, mortal man as he weakly begged for help. The debris of the demolished study whirled around them, the deafening echo of the wind competing with his father's cries. Despite that, Lex couldn't help but feel strangely detached from his chaotic surroundings as he found himself slowly walking over to him, a chill begining to form inside of him.
"Help me! Lex!" Lionel's hand reached out to him, "Son..."
Lex stood immobile now, his face an icy mask as he watched the man plead to him as a father would to a son. But it was an analogy that didn't fit with the relationship they shared.
His eyes were hauntingly empty as his mind flitted through the ghastly possibilities. It would be so simple, so horribly simple, to just stand by and let it all happen, so much easier than searching within him the will to push himself into action.
'Prevent generations of bloodshed'
It resonated in his head. If it was really a question of what would be for the best then it would be this. It was a traitorous thought, even to his own ears, but it was true to the core.
His thoughts must have been evident in his face the way his father looked up at him in fright, as though looking straight into the eyes of a monster. If he was any kind of monster he wondered what that made his father.
'You really aren't like him'
The memory of Lana's words hit him unexpectantly, causing a sharp intake of breath.
She had been wrong. Maybe, in the end, he had little choice but to become his father's son. It wasn't what he wanted. He was doing all this to stop him! But his own father had looked at him in fear knowing what he was capable of. This was what he was! If he had to be a monster, he would at least be one on his own terms.
'You really aren't like him. Don't let him make you think differently.'
The memory surfaced again, stubbornly refusing for him to dismiss it. Her voice this time almost pleading with him, despite the fact she hadn't said it to him like that.
He could have easily let her words go, but for the fact she had told him so honestly and so simply what no one else had ever truly believed before. Not even Clark.
Someone believed in him. That was worth everything.
With that thought, he rushed to his father's aid, hoping it wasn't too late.