Lex had been going from Gotham to Metropolis almost everyday for the last two years. He continued to go to his old school. It's what his father wanted, so he did it. When he visited him in prison, Alexander Luthor would ask how school was going and Lex would ramble about whatever he was learning that week. When he stood up to leave, his father would pat him in the back and say "Don't let your mother down, Jr.. You have to make her proud." He would always say those words to him, but Lex knew he didn't mean his "mother".
Life at the Wayne Manor was steady. He got up in the morning, ate breakfast with the other kids, and went to school. At first, Alfred would drive him there, until he learned to take the train. He always preferred to go alone. Sometimes, after school, he would go to Gotham. He wasn't scared anymore, and now he knew the city as well as he knew Metropolis. When he returned home, he would study in the library with the other kids. He would often help them, especially the little ones. They liked him, or the candy he usually brought from the city. And then they wouldn't bother him anymore.
He didn't really had made any friends there. The ones closer to his age would avoid him. At first, they used to sneer at him - for his money, for his manners, for his hair… One boy named Clint tried to cut it in his sleep. He woke in time to hold the wrist that held the scissors above his head. But he always kept silent about that matter. (As always, really. All his life he had to keep his mouth shut.) But it did not go unnoticed. One day, Mr. Wayne called Clint and his gang to the library, and after that the teasing stopped. It was probably Alfred who warned him. He always seemed to know everything.
But in no way it meant Mr. Wayne and Alfred liked him or trusted him. No. He could see in the way they looked at him they thought he was a nuisance, a burden, a handful. It was true, Lex recognized that.
Over the last two years Lex developed a love for the sciences. He made his room into a laboratory. He would buy the materials he needed in the city, and with the help of a little girl called Casey, he would do any kind of experiment. At first he would replicate the simple ones they did at school. But is wasn't enough. He started reading whatever books he could find in the Wayne collection. The old ones were the most fascinating. Biology. Medicine. Chemistry. Physics. Geology. Astronomy.
His father's company relied upon technology. He would have to step up his game. The man who was in charge now was "competent" (as his father told him), but not a visionary. That was Lex's job. When he reached the age of eighteen he would have to enter LexCorp Industries with a set of revolutionary ideas, or his legacy would die.
However, experiments meant accidents - and there were a few of note - a few that would put him into trouble. A hole in a wall. Rats running around the Manor. One kid bitten. Someone's eyebrows burning off. Some skin burns. A small fire. Bunnies getting sick. The kids started to fear him.
Alfred - of course - had warned Mr. Wayne, who almost never was home. Between trips to other countries, business meetings and long nights in his office in the city, Bruce Wayne had no time for the orphans living in his house.
One night, Bruce Wayne knocked on his door and entered before he could answer.
After the "crypt incident", Mr. Wayne talked to him. Words about overcoming grief, resilience. Empty words, Lex thought. His sad, melancholic eyes betrayed him.
But now Bruce Wayne's eyes were enraged. He looked around, the rage in his eyes dissipating for a bit - he kind of looked impressed… Until his eyes rested on Lex.
"Lex, what is going on here?" His words barely concealed his anger.
He was going to speak again, but Lex intervened. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne. I'm afraid I transformed your room into a lab. See…" He gestured around him and gave him a sideways smile. "I just thought it was time I started working on something valuable to my future."
"I can see why that's important, Lex." Mr. Wayne sat on a chair next to him. His eyes had gone softer. (Lex had a way with people, he could change their minds as he wished. After all, he was just a little lonely kid.) "But you can't do that this way. You're putting in danger your friends… and the animals… You can't use them in your experiments. You have to stop. It's not right."
"Okay…" Lex looked at his shoes. "I'll get rid of everything."
"You don't have to. Just free the animals, and be more aware of safety. Your safety." Yes, no one wanted the young prodigy to be harmed. Even Bruce Wayne could have something to benefit from him.
And so he did it. He got rid of all the rabbits, bats and mouses he had in little cages. Even the insects. He freed them on to the fields. Mr. Wayne bought him a new microscope to replace his hand-me-down old one he got at an antique store. He stopped asking the kids at the Manor for help. When he had anything he wanted to test, he would go to the city with Casey, and asked the homeless kids there. They always needed the money.
In addition for his interest in science, Lex had started reading on history and religion. His mother - Lillian - was a religious woman. She always told him "God is our salvation, Lex. Pray and He will listen. Be good and He will answer." But He - whoever He was - never answered. (He probably didn't even listen.)
What he concluded from his readings was that God was inconstant. And with that he couldn't really save anyone. He sure didn't save his mother. He sure didn't save him. (And if there was a God, he had been absent from Gotham for a long time.)
A creature… A being… An entity… That held together power and goodness… Seemed unlikely. Lex had never seen those two things working together.
All he could hope for was to stand at the side that would allow him to achieve his purposes.
Rachel Dawes, future lawyer of some sort (Lex didn't really care), was Bruce Wayne's best friend. Probably his only friend. She would often visit the Wayne manor (she was the only one who did it, actually).
One afternoon, she and an agent from the Gotham P.D. arrived in a police car. Lex observed from the library window as they pulled over and entered the house. He heard them being received by Bruce Wayne, who was leading them to the library. He closed the book he was reading, grabbed it and ran to hide behind some shelves.
"We found him, Bruce. The man who killed your parents." Rachel's voice was entering through the doors, which someone closed behind them.
Lex stood on his tiptoes to look through the tops of the books in front of him. His eyes rested on Bruce Wayne, who wasn't even looking at his friend. He seemed distant, like he was staring at something no one else could see.
"Bruce, Detective Gordon is here to ask for your testimony at the trial."
"Mr. Wayne, all the help you could give will be pivotal. You were there. You are the only eye witness we got." Detective Gordon was looking at Mr. Wayne with solicitude.
Finally, Bruce Wayne got off of his lethargic state. "I already told you everything on that night, Gordon."
"Bruce, if you don't give your testimony, he won't go to jail for what he did to your parents. He'll only be prosecuted for the other crimes he committed. He'll be out in no time…"
"I wanna bury it, Rachel. I've seen how justice works here in Gotham. It failed me then, and now…" Mr. Wayne's eyes met Lex's. He stumbled backwards but managed to find balance before making any noise. "After all this time, it's just one more ghost to haunt me. And the thing about ghosts, it's that it's got to be you to destroy them." He finally looked away from him. "I can't go to the trial." And with that he left the library.
That night, Lex thought about what Mr. Wayne had said about ghosts. Lex's ghosts… His mother… His father… One dead… One alive… How could he make them rest? What would quiet them? Mr. Wayne wasn't going to do anything about his ghost, he was going to keep quiet, just like Lex did.
Maybe that was the curse of lonely boys - they had to duel with their unbeatable ghosts everyday. They would live as long as they lived.
Bruce got the gun from his father's office. It was just as he left it. It had been years since he entered that room. But not Alfred. He obviously had been there cleaning and brushing off the dust, keeping everything in its place.
He was expecting his parents murderer outside of the court house. When the police officers dragged him out he would take his shot. He was a good shot. His father and Alfred saw to that.
The murderer of his parents, who worked for the mafia, who committed crimes against the people of Gotham, was standing right in from of him. The press around him. The flashes going off. And a bang. A strident noise ringing in his ears. And the murderer fell. Blood smearing the floor. A hole in his chest. People panicking. And bruce holding the gun in his pocket.
Someone, probably sent by whoever was running the mafia currently, made the shot. And Bruce froze. A sense of horror going through his body. The sound of the shot still echoing in his brain. But not the one that killed the murderer of his parents, the one that killed his parents.
He turned his back to that scene. He walked and he walked until he reached the river. With disgust, he took the gun out of the pocket of his coat and threw in the cold, grey water.
He made a promise to himself that day. He would never kill. He was going to use his true aim at helping others. That's what his parents did. They spent their lives giving and giving to the people of Gotham, and they lost everything to it. Life was only worthy if he could help other people. Apart from that, it was hollow of meaning. And right now he was incapable of anything. What did he really know of the world? Nothing. He was raised in Gotham, but his life was one of privilege. He traveled the world, but what he experienced was the life of the privileged. If he was going to do something of meaning he had to learn the hard truths. And that wasn't going to happen where he stood.
He flew to Cairo. The backpack on his shoulder with some clothes was all he took with him. He didn't say anything to Alfred nor Rachel nor anyone. This was something he had to do alone. He needed answers. He needed to find his strength so he could do what needed to be done.