A/N: Direct quotes from 2x15, Prodigal. I own nothing.

Chapter 32 - Partial Control

Lex found his biological half-brother the next week.

At first, he was thrilled at the prospect of having Lucas as family. He'd lost most of his biological family, and having so recently broken ties with his surrogates, the thought of a fresh start with someone new was encouraging and taught him to hope. They'd made plans in a room Lex knew his father never went into. Lucas wasn't exactly the picture of sanity, but he was sharp enough, and they planned together to take over LuthorCorp.

Then Lucas had encountered their father for the first time. Lex didn't know what he was expecting to happen during the reunion, but his father embracing Lucas lovingly would have been his last guess.

Lex's father had hugged him before, but never like that. He always managed to hold any true affection back, somewhere between his hands and Lex's back and shoulders, so that Lex could see it and be taunted by it, but not feel it or receive it. The way his father held Lucas was different—a true embrace. Somehow, for some reason, his father actually loved Lucas.

And it hit him. His father wasn't incapable of love. He just didn't love Lex.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. Lex always told himself his father was incapable of love to make himself feel better, but he knew very well why his father didn't love him. Through his teenage years, it was mostly because of Julian, but it had started earlier than that. As a very young child, it was because he was weak. He'd had asthma, severe anxiety, and a strong tendency to whine and complain. But since the meteor shower, his father had always been a bit disgusted by Lex's disfiguration. Lex suspected it was one reason why his father kept his hair as long as he did—as a slight mockery, always a subtle sting.

The sting of watching his father hold Lucas in his arms was anything but subtle, as was the feeling of betrayal when Lucas sided with his father and kicked Lex out of the mansion.

Lex knew the Kents would take him in if he asked for a place to stay. They'd probably be thrilled to have him. But he couldn't go to them. Instead, he ended up draining the cash he carried on his person for a cheap motel room, and rationing the remaining small bills carefully to be able to eat until he could work things out with Lucas.

But he didn't end up having to take the initiative to reach out. Lucas came and found him in his motel room. The kid had a plan to get back at their father. It was a strange plan—definitely the work of a psychopath—but it would work.

When it was all over, Lex sat in his study looking over an article about how his father had miraculously regained his sight. In the midst of the overwhelming number of lies Lex had been fed by people he was supposed to be able to trust, this one barely fazed him. He only felt stupid for not having noticed earlier.

His father walked in as the movers were undoing Lucas's changes to the study. Lex remarked dryly about his father' deception, but his father was much more preoccupied in ensuring that Lex would keep silent about Lucas. The one good thing that came out of the whole situation was that his father gave him LexCorp back.

Lex was about to leave the study to try to sleep—it would be useless, but he could try—when his father called after him once more.

"Before Lucas called, Clark Kent dropped by the mansion. Looking for you. Asked me to tell you."

Lex's heart jumped. Clark wasn't supposed to be able to get into the mansion anymore. Lex had told security to revoke the Kents's unconditional clearance as soon as they'd had their falling out. His phone had told him that he had messages from Clark, as well as from Mr. and Mrs. Kent, but Lex deleted them, along with the emails. He didn't want to hear any more lies.

Lex did his best to sound uninterested. "Oh yeah?"

His father nodded. "You know he was the one who rescued Lucas from those shooters?"

Lucas hadn't mentioned that. "No, I didn't."

"Really. I'd have thought he would have told you, seeing as you're such good friends."

Lex looked away. He hated the fact that his father would be able to read what had happened in his facial expression, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

"Ah." His father nodded. "That explains your sullen disposition of late."

Lex set his jaw. Even though he wasn't associating with the Kents anymore, he didn't think it was safe for his father to know too much about the relationship he'd had with them. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"During her brief tenure as my assistant, Martha Kent did her best to conceal her interest, but she was all too obviously quite concerned your wellbeing. You and Clark had been inseparable. It doesn't take a genius to fill in the blanks." He smirked. "You fancied yourself a part of their family."

Lex swallowed hard. "It doesn't matter. That's all over now."

"Because you realized you couldn't trust them."

Lex squinted a little. Apparently, his father also knew something he didn't. Maybe Clark had let something slip.

"I'm . . . sorry, to hear that things ended so sourly, son. But I can't say I'm surprised. I have to wonder what drew their family to you in the first place."

"I don't know." Lex turned to start walking away.

"Or for that matter, what drew you to them."

Lex turned back to face him. "They gave me something you never did. They made me feel like I was worth something."

His father raised his eyebrows. "Then you should have realized you couldn't trust them from the beginning."

Lex flinched, his throat closing up for a moment.

His father chuckled. "Good night, Lex."

Lex left the study without replying, retreating to his room for the night.

The insinuations about Lex's worthlessness hurt a little worse than usual, since he'd come close to believing Jonathan Kent's claims to the contrary. But much more overwhelming was the sense that his father knew something he didn't. It felt more than ever like Lex's entire life was made of lies; he was completely lost as to who and what he could believe. That kind of feeling of powerlessness always worked the darkness into a state that Lex had an especially hard time controlling.

"You're out of your depth," it whispered. Its inaudible voice felt gentler than it ever had before.

He laid on his back over his covers on the bed. "Then you tell me," he whispered. "What do I do?"

It laughed. "You're asking me for advice."

"Yes." He rubbed his face. "Because you're stronger than me."

"You know why that is, don't you?"

He sighed, exhausted. For the first time, they were having a conversation rather than an argument, and it still taunted him. "Enlighten me."

"Because you feed on love, and I feed on anger. You're weak because you're starving. And you'll always be starving."

The implication seared. Lex rolled onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut.

It was quiet for a moment, and when the voice spoke again, it was gentle. "Why don't you let me drive for a bit?"

"No."

"You want the truth, don't you?"

"Y-yes."

"Then give me partial control. Just enough to do some more investigating."

Lex sat up straight, reaching for his phone. He was supposed to call Mrs. Kent when the voice told him to do something he knew was wrong, or if he wasn't sure . . .

He dropped the phone onto his bed. He couldn't trust her. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"Because I am you."

"So you say," Lex muttered.

Lex picked back up the phone and stared at it for a long time. He tried to remember what it sounded like when Mrs. Kent had told him she loved him. How he'd felt when Mr. Kent told him they'd be devastated if anything happened to him. It was all garbled in his mind, tainted by lies, cheapened by broken trust, darkened by his father's reminders. All he could hear was Clark's insults and taunts from the other day. When he closed his eyes, he couldn't feel the comfort that Mrs. Kent's arms around him had once been, but he could feel Clark's solid hand against his shoulder, shoving him hard across the barn.

"I'm not asking you to trust me," the voice said. "I'm asking for partial control. We'll drive together."

Lex took a deep breath. At least this way, he could find the truth.

"Okay," he said finally.