Four Times Lionel Didn't Feel Like a Father and One Time He Did
Four Times Lionel Didn’t Feel Like a Father and One Time He Did
I.
Lillian’s eyes were red, her long mahogany hair unkempt. Her jacket was buttoned unevenly, the top button in the second hole, and her sandals were not fitting for the temperature outside.
Lionel swallowed his embarrassment. What Fortune 500 CEO was faced with a wife of such unfocused caliber arriving at his office in the middle of the day! “Lillian,” he hissed, pulling her into the room and shutting the doors quickly, “what is the meaning of all this?”
Lillian never sat when she could stand. Her fingers quivered over the buttons of her jacket, redoing it again to little success. “Lionel,” she began, her voice quiet and shaky, “Lionel-”
“Get to the heart of the matter, Lillian. I have work to do and your behavior is unnerving.” Lionel sat at his desk, attending the files he had been studying.
“Lionel. Will you for once stop working long enough to hear me speak!” Lillian spat out, approaching him and ripping the folder and paper from his hand. “I am here to tell you that you are going to be a father and you can’t stop looking at charts and graphs!”
Lionel’s heart stopped and his jaw grew lax. He stood up slowly, but he didn’t trust his feet. “Lillian. Lillian!” He embraced her, holding her tightly, stroking her hair as her tears became dark stains on his suit. “Lillian, this is wonderful! Why are you crying?”
“Lionel, we are not ready to be parents. There is something wrong here, I can just feel it.”
Lionel shushed her, kissing the top of her head gently. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lillian. This is extraordinary news.”
But as Lillian cried on his shoulder, he could feel the weight and uncertainty of her breath shudder through him. He had dreamed of this day for years and now that it was happening he felt unprepared. To raise a child would be a grand undertaking, far grander than anything he had ever done. He would be the father his father had never been. His child would be groomed for greatness, given the best in order to be the best.
In this moment, he hoped more than he knew that his son would be everything he dreamed he would be.
II.
Julian was a wonderful child. Better than Lex. Lex was weak. He cried and clung to his mother harder than Jason Teague to Genevieve-and that was saying something. He didn’t have any interest in strategy or daring, preferring to paint or read. What a worthless child! He had no guts, no glory.
He had picked Lillian to be the mother of his children because she was passionate and insurgent and willing to be insidious: the perfect person to create cunning children to expand the Luthorcorp name. But Lillian doted on the boy and Lex defended his mother. If Lex were half as sly as his mother, Lionel would feel proud. Sons should be getting into trouble with their mothers defending them, not the other way around.
He knew Lillian didn’t want another child. But after Lex came out a mess, Lionel needed a second chance.
The night was storming. Lillian wasn’t in bed when Lionel woke up. Maybe she was with Julian. Lionel found it strange that Julian wasn’t crying; but Lillian was probably comforting him. She would learn to love Julian as the son they had always wanted. Maybe Julian would jumpstart Lex into the son he had always wanted.
Lionel got out of bed. Lillian needed to learn how to let the boy cry. It would make Julian grow character.
When Lionel entered Julian’s room, Lillian was nowhere to be found. But there was Lex over the silent, not-breathing Julian. Lex had killed his brother.
The one time Lex decided to be ruthless, the wrong son died. From that day, Lionel wasn’t just disappointed in Lex; he hated him.
III.
Lex, a man filled to the brim with historical references and biblical truths, apparently forgot one of the key commandments: honor thy father. He had betrayed his father, fed him to the FBI, and Lionel would have none of it.
Lex alternated from being a complete disappointment to a half-promising heir. But as the orange jumpsuit chaffed his skin and the life sentence loomed before him, Lionel had been pushed to the breaking point. Lex was no son of his. He had raised him, protected him, and what thanks did he get? Imprisonment. Stripped of his accomplishments by the son who dissatisfied more than he pleased.
What did Lex even think he could accomplish without him? He knew nothing about how the real world worked. Smallville, that ideal little rural town, was not the microcosm for the real world that Lex thought it was. Lex would run Luthorcorp to the ground, ruining Lionel’s legacy. And Lionel did not sacrifice everything to place it in Lex’s inexperienced hands.
Lex was the only one on the Luthorcorp payroll that Lionel could not control, even from jail. Lionel had wrapped his fingers tightly around all the higher-ups and would be nearly as successful running the company from cell as from an office on top of Luthorcorp Plaza. But Lex was in the way.
Once the plan was in motion, Lionel was shocked by how little he felt. Lex would be poisoned to death at any moment and Lionel felt the same blasé he felt when he killed his parents.
Sometimes a faulty project had to be terminated.
IV.
Lex had been shot. Again. It seemed like a Luthor tradition: getting shot at every available moment. But this time, with a bullet in the middle of his head, he most likely would never recover.
Lex’s face was passive in sleep. Or death. Or whatever he was in. Lionel touched his son’s face and it didn’t recoil to his touch. He relished in his ability to reach out to his son and not have him attack him. It had been a long time.
He leaned in closer to his son. He could hear the machines pumping his breath and his heart, a cool mechanical thump that repeated over and over.
“Lex. Lex, are you in there?” Lionel whispered into his ear. “You cannot die, Lex. You are a Luthor. You have to keep fighting. Goddamn it, Lex, you’ve got to keep fighting.” He came dangerously close to telling Lex he loved him, but held himself back. This wasn’t the time or the place.
Maybe, somewhere, Lex could hear him. But Lionel couldn’t even imagine what was going on in Lex’s mind, what terrors it produced. He didn’t, in all actuality, want to know.
As he left the room to get back on the phone with one of the best neurologists in the world, he felt a pang of regret. He had never told his son, in all honesty, that he loved him. And now it was too late.
Even if Lex woke up, it was too late.
V.
The embossed letterhead was cold and rough to the touch. Lionel swallowed. He’d received so many of these letters and he couldn’t wait anymore. His hands were trembling. He dropped the letter.
Veritas had always been a bad idea. It had been Virgil’s idea. He and the Queens had begun the organization; if they had been wise, they would have kept it between the two of them. But Genevieve Teague was one of the most powerful women in the world and had very through control on all things supernatural due to her obsession with the Countess Isobel Margaret Thoreaux. With the Swann Communications and Queen Industries satellites, they ran the skies. But without the Teagues, it would be near-impossible to get anything done on Earth.
So the Teagues, Genevieve and Edward, were added to the Veritas roster. How the Luthors got involved had more to do with coercion. Lionel had found out about their little “Astronomy Club” and offered his services through the typical Luthor blackmail: he slept with Laura Queen. Lillian was not invited to join.
But that was all in the past. He didn’t know who was sending these letters; as far as he knew, he was the only survivor. The Queens died first; then Virgil; Genevieve; and finally, Edward last year. Despite what others might assume, Lionel didn’t kill them all. The Queens, yes. He had been planning that hostile takeover for years and when it was botched he was furious. Virgil, he was sure, had been taken care of by Genevieve, who thought that Virgil had one of the stones. He would never bother to kill Genevieve. She was destined to die by Lana’s hand, so why put forth the effort? Edward was not a pleasant man (it was obvious why Jason had gravitated toward his mother) and didn’t have enough knowledge of the project to kill over. No, his suspicious suicide was more likely to be the result of disgruntled clients or coworkers.
His shallow breath rattled in his chest and for the first time in a long time he felt his age shudder through his bones. Clark was his responsibility. He was Jor-El’s emissary and he had to protect him.
But Clark. Clark was willful and occasionally vengeful, but not suspicious enough of the motives of others. He couldn’t risk whoever this person was getting his or her hands on the Last Son of Krypton. He couldn’t risk Clark going after this person. Clark would get himself into a situation he couldn’t handle and Lionel would not be responsible for the death of Clark Kent.
Clark Kent meant a lot to him. When he had waited for-anticipated-the arrival of the Traveler, he had never pictured the arrival of someone as pure and good as Clark Kent who was as honest as his Midwestern roots.
He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it all: marrying Martha and having Clark Kent as his son. He could forget about Lex and be happy. Martha made him happy. Clark made him happy.
When he was raising Lex, he had wanted to raise a general of industries-the new Alexander the Great. And he got his wish. Lex was ruthless and cunning and effective. But when he met Clark Kent, he realized that what he had raised through games and neglect was a monster. He had raised the one man who could destroy the human race.
And now, by protecting Clark, he was making sure the one man who could stop his son would survive.
He still had his kryptonite cage he had built. Clark would be safe there from whatever threat he now faced.
A glow of pride filled Lionel. This is what it feels like to be a father, he thought. This is what it feels like to protect your son.