II.
Lana used to be the type who went for the music, for the thrill of knowing that each performance was different, fresh, vital. She was the kind that sat in the student seats in the far back and felt privileged to be there.
She hates Mozart. Her tastes run to Berlioz and Satie, the kind of music that goes with smoking too much opium and living free in Paris. She's not paying attention to the music; instead, she watches the performer. The violinist leans and sways with the music, letting herself flow out through it. It comes to Lana that she used to know how to do that. Now she's gotten used to dispassion; she sits at her telescope and silently studies the stars, then she comes home late and crawls into bed next to Lex. She's taken to staying late even when she doesn't need to; there's something in the stars that calms her.
At intermission, the bar is crowded as usual; and as usual, the wine tastes as if it came from a box. After she swigs the first glass, Lex gives her the same reprimanding look he always gives her when she drinks in public. It's not as if she doesn't understand. She is fully aware that he has an image to uphold, and one tabloid photo of Mr. Luthor's supposed drunkard wife could sink his next election bid. She knows this, but she doesn't care. The tabloid press is conspicuously absent, however, and he relents.
Their wordless fight is cut short when Lex is hailed from somewhere behind them. When they turn, Lana is indistinguishable from Lex, all million dollar smiles and charming words. She lets one of Lex's business associates stare at her chest for a while, until Lex notices and carts her off back to the box.
Lana takes her seat, feeling tipsy and tired. The violinist is joined by the full orchestra, and they immediately begin heavily plodding through something clearly intended to be light and airy. It gives her a headache almost as soon as it starts. She rests her head on one hand and studies the bassoonist.
In the second movement, Lana sees Lex start to tell her something, then stop. She wishes he would interrupt. At first it annoyed her, but she secretly started to enjoy it. It made her feel like she was a part of something, even if the Metropolitan social scene was something she thought she hated.
That was why she had married him, wasn't it? He always made her feel as if she was needed, an essential part of whatever he was trying to do. First it was the Talon, then Genevieve, then the spaceship, and it just kept spiraling out from there. Lex told her things no one else was willing to tell her- about Clark, mostly. Lex's version of the world wasn't pat like everyone else's. He didn't pretend that everything was all right, and most importantly, he never lied to her.
So she married him. It didn't seem to shock anyone except Chloe and Clark, which didn't particularly bother her- they didn't seem to have time for her anyway. In a stunning display of dramatics, Chloe had, characteristically, accused her of "turning to the Dark Side."
She ignored them, and life wore on; but the thrill of being Lana Luthor wore off quickly. Lana began to understand what it really means to be a necessary part of Lex's world; it means playing by his rules, following his orders, living his dreams. Already Lana could tell that Lex was becoming remarkably like his father.
But she loved him. She supposed that was her mistake; she had fallen for the man himself. Blinded by the truth and comfort she imagined in him, she had let herself become his pawn. Lana resolved to stay in the elaborate box he had created for her; she has always been one to believe in lost causes.
Lex leaves suddenly in the third movement. Without question, she goes with him. It doesn't matter; she hasn't been listening. She never listens anymore.