A/N: This takes place during 2x13, Suspect. Contains direct quotes. I own nothing.

Chapter 27 - Arrest

Jonathan tried hard to remember the night before, but the more he thought about it, the fuzzier it was in his memory.

He remembered being angry about the watch that Lionel had given to his wife. His violent tendencies had gotten the better of him, and he'd smashed the watch—he knew anger didn't excuse destroying her possessions, no matter how inappropriate her means of receiving them, but he was at least thankful he hadn't hurt her. She'd granted him time to clear his head, and he'd run off to the bar.

He distinctly remembered not finishing his first beer, but everything else was a blur, right up until Sheriff Ethan had found him asleep in his truck, a gun that didn't belong to him in his hand, along with a half a bottle of liquor he hadn't purchased.

Lionel had been shot. And all the evidence pointed to Jonathan.

He sat on the edge of the cot in the jail cell, then lay down, then sat back up. He tried resting his back against the wall, even putting his head between his knees, but nothing stopped the splitting headache. Finally, he resigned himself to the pain and just sat.

That was when Clark and Martha had rushed into the jail. He tried hard to given them an explanation, but he couldn't remember what had happened to save his life—and it was his life on the line.

"We need to get you a lawyer," Martha said. "I'm going to call my father and ask him to take your case."

"Martha, that man has never believed in me before. I don't see any reason why an attempted murder charge is gonna change that."

Clark piped up, "Lana told me that Henry Small used to be a criminal attorney."

"Well, he certainly wouldn't be intimidated by the Luthors."

Sheriff Ethan entered the hall outside the cell, along with a younger officer leading a hand-cuffed prisoner.

Lex.

"Jonathan," Ethan said, unlocking the cell door, "you're free to go."

Jonathan's jaw hung open, and he numbly stepped outside the cell just before Lex was shoved into it, rubbing his wrists and wincing.

Jonathan put an arm around Martha, who trembled, her eyes watering. "Lex," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Kent," Lex said softly.

So they'd failed. The months of dinners, the talks about right and wrong, and the three days he'd spent with them—they had taught him nothing. The forgiveness and kindness meant nothing to him. His dark side had taken over, enough that he had killed.

Jonathan had feared that someday, this day might come—a day when the Kents wouldn't be able to help Lex enough. There was no denying the kid was damaged badly, but he'd hoped that Martha was right. That with enough care, enough guidance, enough people believing in him, he could rise above it and fight off the darkness for a long, long time.

Jonathan thought that if they discovered Martha had been wrong, it would make him angry. But he didn't feel angry, not right now. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut and was struggling for air. Disappointment wasn't a strong enough word; it wasn't even close.

Martha first turned to Jonathan and embraced him tightly, kissing him on the lips. Then she stepped to the door of the cell, where Lex stood as close to her as he could. She reached up and took his face in both hands, stroking his temples with her thumbs, then placed a gentle kiss on his forehead through the bars before breaking down into sobs. Clark wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving Lex a confused look before leading his mother out of the jail.

Jonathan watched them go. He would catch up.

"Did you shoot your father?"

Lex glanced in the direction Sheriff Ethan had gone.

"He can't hear you," Jonathan said. "Be honest with me."

Lex let his breath out. "I didn't shoot anyone."

Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief, so deep that he could feel his heart hammering against his rib cage. Lex wasn't lost. "What happened?"

"I heard you'd been arrested. Eventually they'll figure out who shot him, but in the meantime, someone's gotta be sitting in this cell. And I wasn't gonna let it be you, so I confessed and said I'd framed you."

Jonathan let his eyes fall closed, hanging his head. "Lex."

"I'll be fine, Mr. Kent. The media will drag my name through the mud for a few days, but the Luthor name has been through worse. The plant will survive without me for a few days."

"Listen, Lex—"

"No, you listen to me. You and your family have done far too much for me already. I won't let you be caught in the crossfire of our fight. Not again."

"Crossfire of your fight? You're saying you had something to do with your father being shot?"

" . . . No." It didn't sound like a lie; the denial itself was a confession.

Jonathan reached through the bars and took his shoulder, careful this time not to grip too hard. "Then this wasn't your fight. It's going to be harder for you to get out of here, having already made a confession. At least when it was me, they were going to do an investigation."

"I've got better lawyers than you."

Jonathan knew that was true. According to Martha, this wasn't the first time Lex had taken the fall for a murder committed by someone else. "I just don't want to see you get stuck in here."

He shrugged. "Better me than you."

He gave Lex's shoulder a light shake. "That is not your decision to make!"

Lex kept eye contact with Jonathan. "You have a family that loves you."

"So do you!" Jonathan shook him a little harder. "Get that through your head, son!"

Lex looked away and didn't say anything for a long time.

Jonathan let go of his shoulder. He was sure he hadn't hurt Lex physically, but he didn't want to start. "Try to get some sleep. I'm sure you've been up all night."

Lex nodded, and Jonathan walked away. He caught Sheriff Ethan heading out the door.

"Ethan, are you going to investigate?" Jonathan asked.

"There's nothing to investigate. He confessed."

"And you believe him?"

"You don't? I'd think you of all people would, Jonathan, considering your feelings about the Luthors."

"My problem is with Lionel. Lex is a good kid."

Ethan gave him a look. "You think he's innocent?"

Jonathan didn't want to quote Lex directly—even though he didn't agree with what Lex had done, it felt like it would be a betrayal of trust. It probably wouldn't do any good, either—and confessing himself would just land them both in jail. "I think you should find out for sure," Jonathan said finally.

"Why would he confess if he didn't do it?"

"Why would he confess if he did? I'd already been arrested, he could have gotten away with it. Like I said, it's worth the investigation."

Ethan stared at him for a moment. "We'll look into it. I don't know what good it will do, though."

Jonathan nodded and headed out to meet Martha and Clark in the car.

She sat in the passenger seat, crying hard, while Clark sat in the back, gently patting her shoulder. Jonathan slid into the driver's seat and reached over to wrap an arm around her, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair. "Sh, sh."

Her whole body was racked with sobs. "We—we tried to h-help him . . . h-his darkness . . . b-but we couldn't . . ."

"Martha, he didn't shoot his father."

She gasped, her tears stopping suddenly. "What?"

"What happened, Dad?" Clark asked.

"He confessed to get me out."

Clark's brow furrowed. "Why would he do that?"

Jonathan sighed. "It seems to be something he does for the people he cares about most."

"Like at Club Zero," Clark said.

"But he can't keep doing this." Martha wiped away her tears. "He's going to get himself into real trouble one of these days."

"I know." Jonathan sighed.

"We have to get him out of there! Talk to Sheriff Ethan, see if you can get him released!"

He just shook his head. He knew it wouldn't work, and so did she. "We're going to have to do the same thing for him that you were going to do for me."

"Find the murderer," Clark said.

Jonathan looked back at him, considering for a moment. He was sure that a year ago, he would have forbidden Clark from getting involved. Now, Clark had involved himself in so many of Smallville's murders, Jonathan couldn't imagine stopping him. Clark had grown up quite a bit.

"We'll visit him again tomorrow," Jonathan said, and Martha nodded. He reached over to wipe away her tears, kissing her again, for much longer this time.

"Daad," Clark whined.

Jonathan chuckled and pulled away. Maybe Clark hadn't grown up too much.

"I'm glad to have you back, sweetie," Martha said.

Jonathan nodded, but couldn't bring himself to smile.

There was nothing more to say, so he began the quiet drive home.