Chapter 24 - Advanced morality

Dinner was a quiet affair. Martha wondered if it would have been if Lex hadn't been there. Clark sometimes liked to rehash his adventures, and he couldn't talk much about what he'd done with Lex listening. But examining Clark's face, he didn't appear to be bursting with untold stories. He just looked tired.

She was, too. Lex had warned her that working with Lionel would be endangering herself, but she couldn't have known the type of danger to which she'd be subjecting her family until today, when she'd seen the contents of Lionel's vault. Bars and bars of glowing meteor rock. It looked so pure—refined. Not to mention those files, and the metal octagon—she still hadn't told her family that she had it. Considering the pregnancy, that made two secrets she was keeping from them.

Jonathan and Lex looked tired, too, but to her, the fatigue felt anything but somber. There was a peaceful joy in the air—gratitude to be alive, safe, and together.

As Clark and Lex took their dishes to the counter, Jonathan announced, "Okay, Clark, you've got school in the morning. Go on up to bed."

Clark nodded, gave Jonathan and Martha each a hug and a brilliant smile, and Lex a clap on the shoulder, and left the kitchen.

"Lex," Martha said, "you must be exhausted. Why don't you—"

"Wait in the guest room," Jonathan said. "We'll call you down when we're ready to talk."

She gave him a curious look, but didn't argue. She'd already prepped the guest room for him before dinner, so there was no need to follow him up, either. She squeezed Lex's arm as he passed, giving him a gentle smile, which he returned with a broken look.

They washed and dried the dishes in silence. Martha could practically see the wheels in Jonathan's mind turning—clearly, he needed the quiet time working mindlessly with his hands to process what he needed to say.

Finally, they retired to the couch, where Martha couldn't wait any longer. "What's going on, Jonathan?"

He rubbed his face. "Lex sent those guys into the building."

Martha blinked. She knew the corporate games between Lex and Lionel could be brutal, but she hadn't thought Lex would resort to those kinds of measures. "To break open the vault?"

"No, no. He said they were supposed to be planting bugs in the building."

"Oh." That was less surprising. Clark had mentioned that Lionel was spying on Lex. "The surveillance team turned on him?"

"I guess so. If it weren't for him, none of this would have happened."

"Did you tell him that?"

"No."

She let out a sigh of relief.

"But I almost did. I was gonna yell at him, I wanted . . ."

Martha recognized the distress in her husband's voice, and she put a hand on his arm, stroking softly until his breathing slowed a little.

"I was going over to yell at him, but then I saw the look on his face, and . . . that wasn't the face of someone who needed to be told to feel guilty. So I held back, and I thought about the things my parents taught me about family."

"And you realized you need to forgive him."

Jonathan winced. "I'm so angry with him, Martha. I still want to go up there and beat him."

Martha took his hand in hers. Neither of them really believed that violence was the best solution to most problems, but violent tendencies ran through Jonathan's blood, and his temper ran hot. Early in their marriage, she'd encouraged him to be honest with her if he was feeling tempted to hurt someone physically. Talking about it helped to keep him from doing it.

"Help me, Martha. How do I forgive him?"

She looked away, considering. Then she looked him right in the eyes. "Forgive him for what?"

His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"What did Lex do wrong today?"

"He put you in danger!"

"No, that was the result, and it's why you're angry, but it's not what he did. What did he actually do?"

Jonathan sighed heavily. "Uh . . . he was planting bugs to spy on his father."

"I'm not sure if that's wrong, considering who Lionel Luthor is."

"I don't know, either," Jonathan grumbled.

"So what else did he do?"

"He trusted the wrong people."

She shook her head. "That was a mistake. But it's definitely not immoral."

"Okay, well, he didn't tell me right away that he knew what was going on in the building. I found out because I overheard him talking on the phone about it."

There it was. "That was bad. What does he think he did wrong?"

"I don't know. He thinks this whole thing is his fault."

That wasn't surprising. The last time Martha had seen Lex drowning in his own guilt, he'd spilled a lengthy confessional of everything he'd done that he thought was wrong for the past year. Some of his confessions were for things that obviously weren't his fault, some were morally gray, some were things he was clearly blowing out of proportion, and only a few were for real transgressions.

On that day, his real concern had been the controlling darkness inside of him—not what he'd done, but the lack of control he felt. At that time, it had been enough to confirm her love for him and forgiveness of his faults generally, rather than trying to pinpoint specific wrongs to justify, excuse, or forgive.

Today was different. Lex needed to know how to handle these situations in the future. "He's doing the best he can, but the only person who's ever taught Lex anything about right and wrong is his father. His mother died before he ever had to make any difficult decisions. We can help him."

"You want us to try to teach a 22-year-old man basic morality?"

"No, I want to teach him advanced morality. Emotionally, he's still a kid. He needs to know he's forgiven, but it's more than that. Some of this is his fault, and we'll forgive him for that because we love him. And some of it is not his fault, and wouldn't really need forgiveness, if it weren't for the guilt he feels. He needs to know the difference."

"Okay. So we talk to him, we explain what was right and wrong. And then what, we just forget about it and let it go? That's it?"

"Like you said, he's 22. We can't exactly punish him."

"We probably could," Jonathan muttered.

She knew he was right, but it wasn't worth contemplating until they knew more. "We only punish Clark if we think it will help him learn. I think Lex learned a lot from natural consequences today. Let's hear him out before we even think about trying to add to that."

"Okay."

"And if you get frustrated, try to think what you'd say to Clark in the same situation. You'd remind him you love him, and that you forgive him, and that you're proud of him."

Something shifted in his eyes, resolving. "Okay."

"You can do this."

Jonathan took a deep breath. "I think I'm ready."

Lex stopped by the bathroom to wash his face and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked awful. His eyes were red and the skin around them was baggy, like he hadn't slept in days, yet he didn't exactly feel tired. Honestly, he felt like he would never be able to sleep again.

He stepped into the guest room. Mrs. Kent had put out a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants on the bed for him to change into, which was a relief, since the slacks and long coat were becoming pretty uncomfortable. He picked them up to realize they weren't the same old set she had lent him the last couple of times he stayed over—they were new. Beside the folded clothes was a packaged toothbrush.

He blinked back tears. He'd almost gotten Mrs. Kent killed today, and she didn't even know it—and she must have bought these before any of this happened. Her kindness hurt, and all of Mr. Kent's words about small, sentimental gifts being the most powerful suddenly made sense to him.

If she knew what he did, she never would have been so kind to him. Knowing that, he couldn't accept it. He set the clothes and toothbrush on the dresser, kicked off his shoes, and lay on the bed in his long suit jacket.

Lex had been surprised before by how much the Kents could forgive, and it wasn't the first time one of their family members had been in danger because of one of Lex's fights, but this was the most direct role he'd ever played in causing the danger. Mr. Kent had said they would discuss things as a family, but Lex really had no way of knowing what that entailed.

Lex knew to expect from his own father when they encountered each other again in private, but he didn't know what to expect from the Kents. He didn't think Mr. Kent would strike him, but having seen the fury in his eyes earlier, he really didn't know. Lex made up his mind that whatever they did to him, it was worth it, if they allowed him to remain in their family. Wasn't that why he took what his father dished out? On the off chance that this time, he'd have completed his penance for Julian, and his father would love him?

A light knock on the door. He stood and opened it.

Mrs. Kent stood there with a steaming mug, which she held out to him. "Thought you might like some coffee."

"I—thanks." He took the mug, then stood, frozen. More kindness he didn't deserve. He felt sick to his stomach—he didn't think he could drink it even if he wanted to, and he didn't. His nerves were alive enough without the caffeine.

"It's decaf, sweetie."

"Oh. Thanks." He still couldn't drink it.

"Why don't you get changed and then come down?"

Lex nodded, and she smiled and closed the door behind herself.