Chapter 25 - Trust and pride

Lex felt like a man walking to the gallows as he made his way down to the living room. Mrs. Kent sat on the couch in the living room, while Mr. Kent sat in the seat beside it. Mrs. Kent gestured to the space beside her. "Have a seat, sweetie."

He did, and set his coffee mug down on a coaster on the table. "I'm so sorry about today."

Mr. Kent cleared his throat. "Why are you sorry, Lex?"

Lex could feel his hands starting to sweat. Mr. Kent was going to make him say it. "It's my fault she almost got killed tonight."

"No, sweetie." Mrs. Kent shook her head. "That might have been a consequence, but it's not all your fault."

"Why don't you tell us what happened today?" Mr. Kent said.

Lex swallowed. It was against his nature to tell the truth, especially when he was at fault. In his experience, doing so could only be dangerous. Worst case, he'd end up in danger of losing something—or someone—he cared about. Even in the best case, he'd still get hit.

But the Kents had subverted all of that. They cared about honesty for its own sake. They really wouldn't stop persisting until he was honest with them, and they seemed to be able to tell when he was lying.

"I've, uh, I've talked to Mrs. Kent about it before, but there's . . . this darkness inside me. I can't always control it."

"Can you describe it?" Mr. Kent didn't sound surprised or horrified, which was a relief, though Lex realized that Mrs. Kent had probably already talked to him about it.

"It sort of talks to me. Not audibly, more like an inner voice. It tortures me, and it . . . tries to influence my decisions. A couple of times, it's taken over."

"It forced you to do something?"

"No, it forced me to feel something. When I killed Nixon, it was happy to watch him die, and . . . I felt what it felt. But sometimes, it's so strong, I'm afraid it will take over and make me do something I don't want to do."

He looked up at Mr. Kent, expecting to see disgust or fear, but his expression was gentle, almost worried.

"Being with your family helps keep it quieter," Lex said softly.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." Mr. Kent smiled for a moment before returning to his concerned expression. "But I asked you what happened today. Can you start at the beginning?"

Lex nodded. "I called in a surveillance team to plant bugs in the LuthorCorp building, after my father did the same to my office in the mansion."

"Do you think that was the right thing to do?"

He looked down at his hands. "I really don't know."

"Well, was it a choice you made on your own, or something that voice told you to do?"

"It's not that simple. The voice doesn't always tell me to do the wrong thing. It just always has the wrong reasons for telling me to do things. It was happy to be spying on my father, but it's happy about anything I do to protect LexCorp. It likes having power over my father."

"I see."

Lex couldn't read his expression, so he went on. "When the surveillance team took over, I tried to negotiate with them. I offered a million dollars if they didn't hurt the hostages."

"I heard you arguing with them on the phone. Did they ask for more money?"

Lex had hoped to skip this part, but he wasn't going to get out of this without telling the whole truth. "No, I . . . I asked for the contents of the vault."

Mrs. Kent's face fell. Betrayal and hurt filled her eyes.

Lex swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat. He had thought that anything they chose to do to him would be worth if he was allowed to stay in their family, but he hadn't counted on Mrs. Kent giving him that look. Every muscle in his body cringed.

"Let me get this straight." Mr. Kent's voice rose just a bit. "You knew Martha and your father's lives were on the line, you had a chance to talk to the people who were trying to kill them, but instead of focusing on that, you took the opportunity to try to do exactly what they were trying to do, and steal from your father."

Shaking, Lex turned to Mrs. Kent. "I'm so, so sorry, I—"

"Do you care about Martha?" Mr. Kent asked.

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Apparently I do."

Lex winced. "I would die for her."

"Then why did you do this?"

"I—I don't know why. It just seemed like I could do both—get what my father had in the vault, and get them to safety."

Mr. Kent stood, beginning to pace. "My wife was being held at gunpoint. I was scared to death. You knew what was going on and why, and you didn't tell me. That was hard enough, Lex, but to know that that was why you did it . . ."

"I—I only didn't tell you because I thought you'd be angry I sent in the surveillance team."

Mr. Kent didn't seem to hear him. "Which part of you was it? The darkness?"

Lex wanted to say yes, but they'd eventually figure out it wasn't the complete truth. "It wanted me to threaten them for the vault instead of negotiating for the hostages. We . . . we compromised."

"Unacceptable, Lex."

The sting caught Lex completely off guard. It was so much worse than his father's scolding. Lex didn't realize how much he'd come to look up to Mr. Kent, or how much his approval mattered. To his horror, tears filled his eyes, though he knew they were as much from the emotional overload of the day as from the scolding.

"Jonathan," Mrs. Kent whispered, taking Lex's hand.

"I know you had to make quite a few difficult moral decisions today, but this wasn't one of them. There's no gray line here. This was wrong."

Every word was a burning lash, and Lex found himself gripping Mrs. Kent's hand for dear life against the pain. He would have preferred a beating. "I'm sorry," he gasped. Lex squeezed his eyes shut too late—hot tears rolled down his cheeks, and a couple of sobs escaped his chest.

"Jonathan," Mrs. Kent said again.

"Maybe I should have trusted my gut about you, Lex."

That did him in. His tears streamed as his head fell.

"Jonathan, look at him." Mrs. Kent pulled Lex's head over to her shoulder. His whole body shook with silent sobs. She kissed the top of his head, then rested her cheek on it, her hand cupping the back of his neck, but he didn't register any comfort.

Lex could feel Mr. Kent's eyes watching him cry, and he clenched his teeth to stop himself, straightening up and wiping away the tears as discreetly as he could.

Mr. Kent sat next to Lex on the couch, on the opposite side as his wife. When he spoke again, his voice was surprisingly gentle: "I'm sorry, Lex, I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it."

"But you were right," Lex choked out. "I lived up to the Luthor name today."

"Breathe, Lex. Look at me."

It took Lex a moment, but he forced his eyes open and made himself look up at Mr. Kent's piercing gaze.

"You're not your father, how many times do I have to tell you?" He sighed. "Did you mean to hurt Martha today?"

"No!" He began to shake once again. "Th-they started to describe what was in the vault, and I—I didn't think my father should have it. I knew they were already in danger, but I didn't think I'd be putting them in any more danger by . . . by . . ."

"Okay, son, breathe." He put a hand on Lex's back. "I believe you."

A small measure of relief flooded through him.

Mr. Kent took a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry I lost my temper with you. This is a lot for me to take in. But I've gotten to know you over the past few months, and I know you're not your father. You're . . . a good man, and a great leader. You're thoughtful and generous, you've always been respectful of us and our home, and this town owes quite a lot to your bravery and brilliance. And your conscience is strong, but I think that's the hardest part for me. You did this knowing it was a bad choice."

"I know," Lex whispered.

"I am very disappointed. You broke our trust, son."

Fresh tears filled his eyes. The firm reprimand burned enough, but the intimate endearment seared.

"I expect you to learn from this, but—"

"I understand." His muscles clenched even more. "I'll never . . . I'll—I'll stay away from your family if you want, I'll go now—"

"Son."

Lex looked up to meet Mr. Kent's gaze. It had softened.

"You are forgiven."

Lex had no control over the fresh wave of tears. "H-how?"

"How what?"

"How can you forgive me?"

Mr. Kent looked to his wife, who shifted her hand to Lex's forearm, stroking over his sleeve. "Because that's what this family does," she said gently.

Lex felt his tears stream once again. He couldn't even imagine what his father would say if he asked for something like forgiveness. "Mr. Kent, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but . . . it might be better if I just go."

"You're not going anywhere."

"Please—"

"I told you that you were a part of our family. I'm a man of my word."

"I don't want to hurt you again! But . . . I can't fight the darkness, and—" His voice cracked.

"Hey." Mrs. Kent waited for him to look over at her, then wiped away his tears with her fingers. "You don't have to fight alone. But you have to let us help you, because we don't want to see you get hurt. You are worth that and more to us. We love you."

"And you might be right," Mr. Kent said. "That darkness might be strong enough to take over at times, and that might not even be your fault, but you're still going to be the one who has to deal with the consequences. And yes, today, those consequences hurt us, too. But we're not going to abandon you to try to work this out on your own. We're in this thing together. As a family."

Mr. Kent slid his hand up to Lex's far shoulder, so that his arm rested across his back. Lex stiffened at the semi-embrace, but Mr. Kent lightly rubbed his shoulder until he relaxed.

"I know it's hard, Lex," Mr. Kent said. "I struggle with violence."

"Really?"

"You should know." He moved his hand to Lex's left arm, applying a light pressure for a couple of seconds.

Lex frowned—it was tender and sore. Mr. Kent's vice grip from earlier had hurt him—probably not enough to bruise, but enough that he could feel it hours later. "Oh."

"I hope you can forgive me."

"Of course. I probably had it coming."

"No, Lex. I could have lost control. I could have seriously hurt you."

Lex shrugged. It didn't seem to compare to his father's violent tendencies.

"But talking about it helps. We're here to talk whenever you need to. And we expect you to."

"Yes, sir." He straightened up a bit more in his seat, and Mr. Kent let go, though Mrs. Kent kept her hold on his hand.

"Okay, Lex," Mr. Kent said. "You're going to stay here for the next three days. You can leave the house if you need to for work, and you can help with farm chores if you'd like, but I want you to be home by dinnertime, and you're going to sleep in our house."

Lex raised his eyebrows. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting to come next, but it wasn't that. "Are you . . . grounding me?"

"No, not exactly. But you said being around us helps keep that darkness quiet. Well, we're going to make sure that happens."

Lex considered his plans for the next few days. "I've, ah, I've got a date with Helen tomorrow."

A slight pause as Mr. Kent looked toward his wife.

"That's fine," Mrs. Kent said. "But no drinking, and be home by midnight."

He'd rather reschedule the date—it would be easier to explain that than to try to make excuses for why he wasn't drinking or taking her home. "You can't tell me what to do."

"You're right, we can't," she said. "But we hope you'll do it anyway."

Lex fought the urge to groan. They weren't being overtly manipulative, they weren't threatening or bribing, and yet he knew he was going to do as they asked. His jaw pulsed. "You're punishing me."

"Yes and no," Mr. Kent said. "We're asking you to do this, for us and for yourself. You're twenty-two, Lex, we can't really enforce a punishment."

"Could always just hit me," Lex mumbled, but immediately regretted it.

Mr. Kent's expression darkened again. "What are you trying to do, Lex? Test me?"

"No, sir," he said, though he wondered if that was exactly what he had been doing.

"I'm sorry for the years I spent mistaking you for your father. But I've stopped, and now I'm asking you to extend the same courtesy to me. You're not him—neither am I."

"Hey," Mrs. Kent said, "I know I've swatted you on the shoulder sometimes, when you and Clark have come in late for dinner. I was trying to be gentle, I didn't think I was hurting you, but if you want me to stop—"

"It's really okay, Mrs. Kent, I wasn't talking about that. And Mr. Kent, I apologize. This, ah . . . family thing is new to me."

"Then let us help you get used to the idea," he said.

Lex understood what they were trying to do, and he wasn't really inclined to fight them on it. Still, he had to ask: "If I don't, are you going to kick me out of your family?"

Mr. Kent's eyes grew sad. "No. But breaking our trust damages our relationship. You can spend some time here and begin to restore that, or you can damage it further by disrespecting us when we're trying to help you."

Lex felt his eyes mist again. He didn't want to think about what would happen when he damaged it too much.

"You'll always be a part of our family, Lex," Mrs. Kent said, "and we'll always be here if you need us. But a family can be more than that, and we'd like to be. When Clark lies to us, it takes a long time for us to trust him again. When he hurts us, we still feel it long after we've forgiven him, and he feels it, too. But with time and effort, we'll all begin to heal. I promise."

"Okay," Lex said. "I'll stay for the three days."

"And hey," Mrs. Kent said, "Our trust may take a little time to earn back, but you still have our pride."

Lex blinked. "You're proud of me?"

"Of course we're proud of you, Lex. You do so much good. Today was a mistake."

Lex looked toward Mr. Kent, as if to ask for his confirmation. Mr. Kent stared at him for a long time, then gave a brief nod.

Lex's chest swelled. It was as if the weight on it, which had only grown unbearably heavier throughout the evening, had suddenly been lifted. He tried to thank him, but his throat was too choked up to make a sound.

Mrs. Kent stroked his hand one last time with her thumb before letting go. "It's late. You should go on up to sleep."

He nodded and stood, surprised by how much lighter his feet felt as he walked toward the staircase. "Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Kent," he said.

"Good night, Lex," Mrs. Kent said. "We love you."

He stopped for a moment, looking back at her. She'd said that to him a few times now, and the words always soothed away an astounding amount of his pain. But today, he felt he understood better what the words meant.

"I love you, too," he said.