Chapter 4 - April
Lex had thought he was prepared for the lack of control over his own life that would come with having no access to the fortune that had once been his.
Of course, he'd bitten off more than he could chew.
Back when he'd first agreed to the six months of living under his parents' rules as if he were a teenager, he'd underestimated how different his situation was from Clark's. He'd still had a job, and he'd had his cars and the mansion, and the ability to buy or do anything he wanted as long as he asked permission.
Now, he had no money. He still had everything he needed—his parents let him replace his clothes that had worn out, they fed him and made sure he had the essentials. But now that his sports cars had been sold, he asked permission to buy a used car, and to his astonishment, they told him he couldn't. What's more, they couldn't give him a definite time frame of when he'd be allowed to buy one.
On some level, he guessed it was fair. He was in prison. He was paying for unimaginable crimes. But he kept thinking through unthinkable scenarios. What if Clark was hurt, and his parents weren't able to get to him in time? What if Shelby got sick, and Lex was the only one who could take her to the vet? What if one of them ended up in the hospital and Lex needed to provide transportation for the other?
He laid out his concerns to his father, who just laughed and said, "Lex, we were fine before you came along, and we'll be fine after you move out. Much as you'd like to, son, you're not going to be able to control everything. And you're not ready for a car, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop asking."
Which confirmed it. Lex was truly, now, in the same position as any other teenager. He knew he wasn't really upset with his parents—it was Clark's coldness that was was getting under his skin—but he couldn't quite control his reaction. "You mean you're not ready for me to have a car."
"That's right."
"I've done everything you've asked. I was in my room for a month, in the house for a month, and on the property for a month. I haven't been alone with Clark, I haven't disobeyed, I haven't even complained."
"And our agreement was that for a period of time after those first three months, you'd be allowed off the property only under supervision."
"How long?"
"Your mother and I were thinking three months."
Three months. Lex swallowed. "I'm not asking for a car to be able to socialize. I'm asking for emergencies. Do you think I'd defy you and take it out alone when you've asked me not to?"
"The answer is no, Lex. This is the last time I'm telling you nicely."
Lex felt ready to boil over with anger. He stormed out of the barn and went up into his room, slamming the door behind him.
There was no one in the house—Clark and his mom were out running errands—so no one came in to lecture him for slamming doors. The thought that he should ever have to even consider that chafed. This whole thing was ridiculous.
A moment later, he realized he wasn't actually the only one in the house. A soft whimpering came from outside of his door, and a light scratching.
Lex sighed and went to open it, and Shelby bolted inside, jumping and wagging her tail. He picked her up and sat down on his bed, and she relaxed in his lap as he stroked her head and back. She was almost too big for him to carry around, but he had a little time yet.
For a moment, she calmed him. Most days, she could. Today, though, he was still reeling from the exchange with his dad.
Things were never going to go back to normal. He couldn't pay for what he'd done wrong. He couldn't prove he was trustworthy. He couldn't make things up to Clark. Lex couldn't blame any of them for that. He knew he himself would never have forgiven anyone who treated him the way he'd treated Clark.
They wanted Lex to heal, but the pain was fresh every day.
Clark claimed he'd forgiven him. Lex was sure some part of him had. But Clark wasn't healing—and Lex couldn't heal until Clark did.
Well, maybe he couldn't make Clark heal, but he could even the playing field.
Lex let Shelby down from his lap, then he rummaged in his sock drawer until he found what he was looking for—a stash of bills he'd saved for emergencies. He sent a few texts to the right people, because Clark couldn't easily eavesdrop on his texts.
He'd left the house with the hour.
With each day that passed, Martha grew more worried about both of her boys—really, all three.
In many ways, Lex was healing. Time to rest had healed his body and allowed him to get used to the medication, and time with the family had made him more secure in his identity. Letting go of his company had been the right choice for him, too. For now, he was, practically speaking, a farmhand. In time, he could choose a new career path. Meanwhile, Lex's financial needs were met.
But Clark wasn't healing, which reopened Lex's wounds every day, which put even more pressure on Clark and made him feel worse.
Time had taught her patience, that time would heal many wounds if she didn't rush things. But they didn't have time. Jonathan's conditioned worsened little by little each day. Sometimes, an entire week would go by in which their sons would do all of the chores. It was tearing Jonathan to pieces, and he wasn't listening as well as he used to. He was short tempered and quicker to threaten—more like the way he'd been a couple of years before.
Martha felt in the middle of all of it. The weight of the world on her shoulders.
Today was one of Jonathan's better days physically, if not mentally. She was working in the barn with Jonathan—Clark had just gone inside for a break—when she heard a car pull up outside.
Martha frowned. "Do we have company today?"
"No," Jonathan said, and he headed out of the barn, Martha following close behind.
A black car stopped in front of the barn. Lex stumbled out of the back seat, pale, sweating, and limping, and the car pulled away.
Martha ran to support him before he could fall. "What happened?" she asked
"I donated marrow."
"Donating marrow doesn't do that."
"Without anesthetic."
Martha felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Other than a light or playful smack here and there, she had never truly struck any of her family members, but it was all she could do to hold back.
Jonathan was the one who exploded. "What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking, eye for an eye."
"How'd you even get someone to do that to you?"
"Bribery."
"You don't have money."
"I had an emergency stash."
"And you used it for this?"
"It's not up to you how I use my money."
"Yes it is!"
Lex set his jaw. "So ground me."
"Alexander..."
Martha cut in. "What were you trying to do, Lex?"
"I wanted to level the playing field."
"What does that mean?"
"I wanted to feel what Clark felt."
"Why?"
"You really have to ask that?"
"Did you ask if Clark wanted you to?"
"I—"
"Did you talk to Clark at all?"
Lex's jaw pulsed. He shifted his weight, and he winced in pain.
Martha glanced over at Jonathan, who looked lost. She sighed. "Let's get you inside," she said.
Jonathan came around on the other side of Lex, and together, they helped him up the stairs. It took a long time, since Jonathan really didn't have the strength to be supporting the weight of another person. Anger flooded through her veins, so powerful she couldn't have put words to it if she wanted to.
Clark's door was cracked. She heard a sniffle from inside his room.
Martha paused. She made sure Lex was steady on his feet, then she knocked lightly on Clark's door and peeked inside.
He sat on his bed, faced away from the door. His shoulders shook.
Martha turned to face Lex. "Go talk to your brother."
"He doesn't want to see me."
"You're exactly the person he wants to see."
Lex winced. "I don't . . . I don't want . . ."
"Then we'll consider it your punishment."
Lex bit his lip and stepped into the room.
Lex swallowed hard as he stepped into Clark's room. He'd come to dread their visits; they'd been fewer and further between since Lex had regained more of his freedom.
Clark wiped his face as Lex came to sit beside him on the bed.
"Hey," Lex said softly.
Clark didn't respond.
Lex shifted uncomfortably. He knew his mom was usually right about what they each needed, but he couldn't help question her insistence that Clark wanted to see him. Still, if this was his punishment, he wasn't getting out of it. "I guess you heard what I did."
"I heard you say it. I didn't hear you do it."
Lex frowned. "There wouldn't have been anything to hear."
"I didn't hear you scream."
"I didn't."
Clark looked away, horror filling his face.
"Clark . . ."
"I know what it feels like. How did you . . ."
"I'm . . . I'm used to pain, Clark."
"That much?"
Lex looked down at his hands. The pain was down to a dull ache now, but the memory still rang in his mind, making his insides twist. "No," he said.
"Did you think that was going to solve anything?"
"No," Lex admitted.
"Then why did you do it?"
"Because . . ." He shook his head. "I don't know, Clark. I needed you to believe I was sorry."
"I know you're sorry."
"No, you don't."
"Yes I do. And I'm not mad at you for taking my marrow. I gave that to you, I wanted to."
"Then why—"
"You put a needle in my heart, Lex."
Lex put his head down. He could have put a knife through his own heart, if he thought it would end his guilt. The trouble was, he knew exactly what it would do to his family—and if his research stopped, his father wouldn't stand a chance.
"Our father was on his death bed, and you took advantage of that. If your darkness could do that, and he's still a part of you . . ."
Lex swallowed hard. Clark wasn't going to begin to heal without knowing why Lex had done what he'd done. But Lex still didn't want to get his parents' hopes up, not without knowing for sure he could save his father's life. "Would it help if I had a good reason?"
"Did you?"
"I did."
"What reason?"
"I would tell you, but . . ." Lex glanced toward the door, where he knew his mother was listening from just outside.
"You don't want Mom and Dad to know."
Lex frowned.
"What could be that bad?"
"It's not . . ." He grimaced. "I'm sorry, Clark. I'd tell you if I could."
Clark looked gutted. "And I'd trust you if I could," he said quietly.
