Chapter 6: Lex

"Son, I heard you took Oliver's shares last night." Lionel's smooth, charismatic voice echoed strongly through the dimly lit room as he fumbled at the door. He seemed little like he had once upon a time, his clothes were mismatched and his step a little hesitant.

Lex looked at his father, his mind flashing back. He could remember when the old man had used the same fumble to make them all think he was blind. Now there was no question of blindness. The swathe of modeled red tissue that slashed across his face made it so no one could doubt it now.

"So?" Lex absently traced the wood grain on his desk, not listening or caring.

"Don't you think you could leave his old man at least a bit of his company to live on in his old age.

Lex looked at his father's face. His hair tumbled in a snaggle of brown and gray around his face, partially hiding the massive scar. He held his head down, his hands convulsively stoking the head of the silver wolf that topped his cane. "Father, did you know you are wearing a yellow tie with a blue and maroon stripped shirt."

Lionel Luther snorted without any humor. "If I am, someone's been switching my tags."

"Or I could be lying, you really just don't know do you, father?"

The old man ignored the jab. "You've done good, son, become everything I wanted you to be."

Lex ground his teeth. "Everything I tried not to become."

"You never had a choice, you were born my son, and my son you have become." Lionel abruptly turned around leaving before Lex could respond.

The sound of a chair hitting the wall followed him out the door. In the office Lex gripped the edge of his desk, his face a mask of fury. His breath came heavy and fast as he tried to bring his mind back under control. Suddenly, his hand flashed across his desk, swiping everything to the floor. His computer landed atop a stone pyramid paperweight. Sparks flew off the computer before dying, the scent of scorched electronics strong in the room.

The young man suddenly sighed; the finely defined muscled relaxed under the pitch-black shirt. He stepped backwards, leaning against the wall, rubbing his hand over his slick head. "I never meant to become like this." His voice barley came above a whisper.

He snapped to attention, his long legs striding across the room and out the door. As he walked across the room Lex dug in to his pocket, searching for the set of key he always kept there. Driving fast was his only escape from the life he was living now.

In the small office that Lionel winced when he heard the front door slam shut. Random thoughts fluttered through his mind, wondering how much worse the world had become during his years of power. Without the distraction of economics and politics to fill his conscious hours, old bits of his soul Lionel had assumed long dead stirred and moaned. They made him question himself, his choices. Flashes of what his son had been like when his wife had been alive faded when held next to the boy that had cut Lionel's eyes out in a fit of rage.

Lionel's hand reached up, lightly brushing across the scar. Once he had feared that Lex would never become the kind of man he wanted him to be, but then that boy, Clark, had broken the last string that held Lex back from becoming a true Luthor.

Lionel knew it was his fault that the friendship had broken. His research on the boy kept calling attention to the Kent family's lies. He kept pushing for the truth, and Lex couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand the proof that Clark, a person he had invested with saint-like virtues, was a damn liar. Lionel hadn't expected his curiosity to free Lex the way it had. He hadn't known how close his son was to the ideal Lionel had always imagined for him

In the end, Clark Kent was still a mystery, only half-unraveled. He was little more than a dabbling interference in the maturation of a Luthor, which turned out for the best in the end. It still pricked at his curiosity, but without urgency. Losing his eyes and his company to his son was a relief. It was the way it was meant to be.

At his greatest moments of satisfaction, the doubt would return. Lionel couldn't understand how these regrets could torment him when he knew he had molded a perfect successor. Lex was his son in every way.

Trapped in a fit of conscience, Lionel remembered the end of the old Lex. After he'd read Lionel's carefully researched dossier on Clark. Lex had confronted his friend. Lionel had heard the shouts from his bedroom in the west wing. The details weren't important. When the shouting was over, Clark denied nothing, told no secrets, and walked away. Lex on the other hand, vented his frustration in a very real way. Lionel traced his finger across the scar on his face again.

The silver Spider kicked up a cloud of dirt as it left the smaller road and entered the country highway. Lex fed the small car more power, his existence reduced to rush of wind passing the around him, the muffled roar of the engine, and his ability to keep the car on the road that was built for half the speed he was going.

On a whim he turn towards Smallville's Main Street. The car quieted as he approached the single stoplight, newly installed near the Talon. The light turned yellow, then red. He would have sped on through except for the old woman who had chosen to walk across at that moment. Impatiently he tracked her movement across the road as the light turned green.

He continued to sit there after the woman was across, his eyes caught on a familiar car. He remembered the cheap Miata from the times he'd met with his former foreman, Gabe Sullivan. Lex frowned. Now that Sullivan was dead, Chloe had to be the one owning the little piece of junk, right?

Without any real conscious decision Lex steered the smooth Spider into a parking spot. 'Why do I want to talk with that girl she's one on Clark's friends?' If there was one thing he didn't want to resurrect it was his former friendship.

Lex paused with his hand on the crystal doorknob. Some part of him knew that there was no going back once he stepped through that door. Almost he turned back, towards the grayness that had consumed his life to this point, but opening that door would tip the balance.

On some level he was aware that stepping through that door could mean damnation. Plans that were still nebulous urged him forward. He wanted his revenge. He wanted to make his enemy suffer.

And some small part of him screamed against the insanity consuming his soul.

In case no one noticed this was a bit of a backtrack, doing bit of catching up on Lex. Also I started writing this during season 2, so I didn't know alot of the Luthor family 'history.' Anyway hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Debbie