Chapter 10 - October

With Clark's departure came more freedom for Lex, and that wasn't entirely a good thing. He truly didn't know what to do with it. He was allowed to go out on his own, to meet with friends, even to drink in moderation, as long as he was back by curfew. He had a small amount of spending money, an amount he and his father had negotiated—Lex had talked him down, not up.

Trouble was, Lex didn't exactly have any friends, and he wasn't sure he trusted himself to drink—and he had to be careful about when and how much, since alcohol didn't mix well with his meds. He didn't even have a job outside the farm, and his old bridges were long burned. Unfortunately, in Smallville, everyone knew who he was, so he wouldn't be able to form new connections.

But he took advantage of his freedom anyway, just so his parents would feel like they'd given him something. He took Shelby out for long walks around the neighborhood, he bought a used car and took the trek to visit Clark at his dorm, and he spent many afternoons and evenings working on his laptop in local cafes, writing his college application essays and gathering old transcripts and other paperwork.

Lex almost got himself into trouble one night when he lost track of time and snapped awake to a call on his cell phone—his dad, asking where he was in a stern voice. Lex apologized, though a part of him still chafed at the restriction and hardly held himself back from arguing. His parents were understanding and forgave him without assigning any consequences, but Lex still decided to spend the next few nights after that working on his application at home, for no reason he could have put into words.

That's why, the next day, he was working on an entrance essay at the kitchen table. It was one that had given him particular trouble—it would have been much easier if he was willing to identify himself as Lex Luthor, but his goal was to keep his identity on the down-low, at least until someone at the school recognized him. That meant he couldn't say anything that would make it obvious the role he'd played in LuthorCorp.

So instead, he was writing an essay about some dumb project he'd done in a biology class college. It had given him some trouble—he was careful not to let it be obvious that the trouble was because of the fact that he'd been drunk almost the entire time he'd been working on the project. The bigger problem was that the essay was incredibly cliché and boring. It wasn't going to impress anyone.

"Doing okay, sweetie?"

Lex almost jumped. He'd been so absorbed in his work, he hadn't heard his mom coming up behind him.

"Sorry," she said.

"It's okay. I wasn't getting anywhere, anyway."

"Can I help?"

"Not sure how."

"What are you working on?"

"Essay prompt."

"Can I read what you have so far?"

"Be my guest."

He stood from his seat, and let her take his place. She silently read for what felt like several minutes longer than it probably was, then she looked up at him, frowning. "I'm sure you have a better story to tell than this."

He shook his head. "Nothing that doesn't identify me as Lex Luthor."

"You can't tell them you were successful in a high-level corporate position?"

"They'll want to know which company."

"Well, what about growing up without a mother? Or anything that's happened with your father?"

"Those stories are personal."

"Well, sometimes that's what colleges are looking for."

"I'm not . . ." He winced. "I'm not sending in a sob story."

"You're not Lionel Luthor's son, you know."

"I know. I'm Jonathan Kent's."

She breathed in to speak, then let out a laugh. "You got me there," she said.

Lex smirked and glanced at the clock. "Ah, I think I'm gonna call it quits for the night." He might not have been planning to stay on the farm, but for now, he was still working there, and without Clark's help, there was a lot more for himself and his dad to do, and the day started early.

"Not so fast. I think you're overdue for another bedtime story."

Lex closed his laptop and turned toward her. "You finished telling me my story months ago."

"And where did I leave off?"

"Ah, I believe the young man in the story had just come home to the ass-kicking of a life time."

"Lex."

He chuckled. "But he was safe and loved. A happy ending. Well, a happy new beginning."

"And after that?"

He shook his head. "He's been stuck on that farm ever since. He's been waiting to heal enough to rejoin society."

"You and I both know he's done a lot more than that." She came to sit beside him at the table.

"Nothing worth writing about in a college essay."

"Not even that he saved his father's life?"

Lex glanced down at his laptop. "I'm not sure how I'd write about that."

"Then let me remind you what happened." She looked him in the eyes. "The young man's father—his real father, not his biological father—had a heart condition. He had no more than two years to live. The young man was so desperate to save his father that he was willing to do anything to save his life, even compromise his morals and betray his brother."

"And how did that turn out for him?"

"Well, if you remember my other stories, you know the young man was a great scientist and an incredible leader. Of course, he found that cure, just in the nick of time. And when his brother learned why he'd done what he'd done, he forgave him."

Lex smiled sadly.

"He learned a few lessons along the way."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah. He learned to never stop fighting for what mattered to him. He learned that he could rely on his family, and that he could be resourceful without having to manipulate people to get the help he needed. Most of all, he learned that where there is still life, there is always hope." She smiled. "I'd say those are good traits for a doctor."

He couldn't exactly write out those lessons the way she was phrasing him. But she'd made some good points. "I'll think about it."

Just then, his dad came down the stairs in pajamas, hair wet from the shower. "You coming to bed, Martha?"

"In just a minute."

His dad came to place his hands on his mom's shoulders, rubbing gently. "Couldn't help but overhear the last little bit of your conversation. Thought you two finished with those bedtime stories ages ago."

"Lex is having a hard time with his admissions essays. I thought I'd remind him of a few things he's done since coming home to stay."

"The story of how he saved his father's life?"

"Mmhmm."

"You tell him what happens next?"

Lex blinked. "Next?"

"Oh, Jonathan, I wasn't gonna . . ." His mom sighed. "I guess I'm the one who's always saying it's better to share hope, even if we're not sure how things will turn out."

"What's going on?"

"Your mother and I have been having some conversations with Judge Ross," his dad said. "About you."

Lex's heart started to pound, and he stood to face his father. "You said if I stayed here—"

"No, no, not about the things you did last year. About legal adoption."

"Oh." His throat began to choke up. "You, ah, mentioned it was possible. But . . ."

"It would have put us right in Lionel's line of fire. Not to mention getting you disinherited."

"Guess that's not a problem anymore," Lex said. "But . . . do you still want . . ."

His mom stepped forward and reached her hand up to gently squeeze the back of his neck. "If you even have to ask . . ."

He hung his head, and she let go.

"So you tell us, Lex." His mom smiled warmly. "How does this part of the story go?"

Lex struggled to pull in a breath against the tightness of his throat. "Ah . . . the young man tells his parents . . ." He cleared his throat. "That he considers them his family either way. But that if the judge is willing to grant an adoption . . . making it official would be his greatest honor."

His dad grinned, clapping him on back of the shoulder, and his mom's eyes filled with tears.