Notes: In AIM the other night, Jenn and I discussed theories on Julian's death. Jenn didn't merely dare me to write this, she _double-dog_ dared me. Couldn't back away from that, obviously *wink*. This is the result -- As such, all thanks to Jenn for sharing with me and for doing the beta.
AN#2: The nursery rhyme quoted here comes from "Sing-Song -- A Nursery Rhyme Book" by Christina G. Rossetti, Copyright 1893
"You know how it is, being an only child, no one else around. Don't you ever wish you had a sibling?"
There are some things that should stay buried -- memories and reminders. Old sores that never quite healed but lay festering under the skin, just waiting for an opportune moment to break open again. Anticipated toxins spreading unseen, seeming inexorable, and Lex finds it difficult to pantomime a casual conversation now.
"I had one, Clark."
Truth here, as much of it as he's able to give to Clark. Not the full truth. If a $500 per-hour shrink couldn't help Lex completely resolve the death of his brother, there is no way a sixteen-year-old would understand.
Resolve. Absolve. Abhor. Revile.
Word games he could play. He'd learned how a long time ago.
Some things should stay buried, but they always leave their marks. Gravestones and cold, hard dirt that caught under the nails of clawing fingers and refused to come out until he scrubbed hard enough to bleed.
Marked by blood. Bound by it.
And he always leaves flowers on the grave.
"Shining lilies tall
and straight,
For royal state;"
-- October 1989 --
"Lionel, where are you going?"
"I have business to see to, Jocelyn. I can't sit around an intensive care unit for God knows how long until he wakes up. *If* he-"
"Don't say it! For God's sake, Lionel. This is your *son* we're talking about, not some stray cat you hit with your car. You can't drop him off at the doctor's office and wash your hands of the responsibility. Lex needs us here!"
"He'll have his mother. Just as he always does. I doubt he'll even notice my absence."
And Lex thought about it. Thought about opening his eyes and letting them know he was awake. But he didn't want attention from his dad that was merely doled out as a responsibility. He wanted so many things, so many words and gestures that never seemed to come, but maybe this time could be different. Just a little bit of love and comfort would mean so much. Just a small sign that he was more than tolerated.
So, he played possum. And he waited.
He might have even prayed a little. He wasn't sure. All his focus was on the vibrant, powerful presence of his father. Almost like he could be seen reflected on the inside of Lex's eyelids, projected there by sheer, ruthless charisma. Lex saw it all -- straight shoulders turned half out of the room, silently staring at his mother, hovering in the doorway with highly uncharacteristic indecision. And maybe that said something, though Lex couldn't be sure if the silent words were being said about him or his mother.
//Stay, please. Choose me. Just once. //
"He's our son. *Ours*, not just mine. He needs both of us."
Another pause -- tension in the air that Lex could feel pressing down on his skin and his closed eyelids. He wanted to breathe it in, but the tube in his nose was feeding him filtered, pure air.
He let his mouth drop open -- slowly, quietly -- so he could inhale the atmosphere.
"I'll be back in a few hours. Call the office if there's any change."
Silently closed his mouth and breathed the artificial air again. Felt a stinging, and he cautiously rolled his eyes back and forth behind the lids, dispersing the imminent tears.
His mother said nothing. He could guess her expression, though. He'd seen it enough times to picture it, replacing the figure of his father -- turning away; expensive shoes clacking on the tile floor as he faded -- her face flaring to life on the screen of her son's inner eyelids.
Weary disappointment in her eyes. Frustration finding an outlet in the grinding of her teeth. Sorrow in the way she worries her lip. Anger in the lines that gouge her smooth forehead into creases.
Those have become more visible every day, even when she was smiling.
He heard her move, coming back to sit by his bed, taking his hand in both of hers and lifting it. Placing a kiss there -- soft mouth, and he could tell that she was only wearing chap stick. It feels different than the creamy brush of her mouth with lipstick on it. Waxy-smooth and real. There for him and not giving a damn if she looked like a mother worried over her sick child. Appearances meaning nothing to her in the face of this.
And that was a new lesson -- It was the small things that made the difference in the big moments.
He waited a few minutes, then opened his eyes.
And he smiled.
"Dim sweet-scented heliotrope,
For
hope;"
-- Thanksgiving Day 1990 --
Lex barely waited for the limo to stop before he was out and running for the house. Upstairs in a heartbeat, and he shed the hated uniform like a dead skin, dropping it piecemeal on the floor of his room. Glared down at the pile of fabric resentfully -- he wanted to burn it after nine hours on the plane and adding a tenth at the airport and in the back of the stretch. Getting out of school had been the main focus, so he'd grabbed his bag and jumped into the car waiting to take him to Heathrow, not bothering to change first. At least it had been a direct flight, and he'd been ushered through customs on VIP status obtained by his father. Still, that uniform... he'd been wearing it nearly eighteen hours now.
He'd find the time to have a little bonfire later. He had another uniform packed in his weekender bag for the return trip.
He went to the attached bathroom in his suite and jumped into the shower, washing up quickly. He supposed that he should be jet-lagged, but he felt oddly energetic despite only taking a few fitful, short naps on the flight. Special dispensation to play hooky from school for an exclusively American holiday could do that, he supposed.
Lex dried himself off and dressed, leaving his rooms to seek out his mother, figuring Dad hadn't bothered to take the holiday off from work and would roll in around seven like he usually did. Lex wondered why his mother hadn't come with the limo to pick him up at the airport the way she usually did, but he had to believe there was a good reason.
When he finally located her in the solarium, Lex was surprised to see his father with her. Even more surprised by how relaxed and happy his dad looked. He almost appeared... content. Which was beyond weird, and Lex had to bite back a smart remark about taking the holiday off work being good for his demeanor.
No reason to start things off on the wrong foot. They'd get there fast enough on their own. They always did.
His mother noticed him first -- how very unsurprising -- and that smile she always reserved for him beamed out on her face. "Lex! Come give me a hug, baby."
Wide-open arms, and he didn't even blink. Just flew towards her like he always did, abandoned and carefree and *home*. Almost to her chair when he heard the sharply drawn breath -- his father was never there for their school-break reunions -- and an arm shot out in front of Lex, catching him across the chest before he could slow down to lessen the impact. Lost his breath a little. Lost a little more when the arm didn't move out of the way but shoved him backwards, and he stumbled a few paces in shocked imbalance.
"Lionel! Why-?"
"Lex," commanding tone, ignoring his mother's protest, "don't be so rough with your mother."
Rubbed a hand across his torso, sort of testing. The collision hadn't really hurt much, but his chest felt... tight. Dad always knew how to bruise in ways that didn't leave marks.
He looked from one to the other of them. His father was glaring at him; his mother was glaring at his father.
Happy holidays, everyone.
His mother shouldered her way past Dad and enclosed Lex in a fierce hug, dropping into a crouch so her mouth was close to his ear and whispering, "I'm sorry, Lex. You know he didn't mean to..."
He squeezed her close. "I know."
His father had imparted the ability and the necessity for acceptable lies between them.
Drawing back out of the hug, she smiled into his face for a moment. Slow, gentle caress starting at the top of his head, down across his jaw and cupping. "My handsome, bright boy. Welcome home, darling."
That got the smile he reserved only for her.
Tugging him across the room to sit on the sofa next to her and asking about how school was going. His father took a leather chair off to the side and watched them, saying nothing, asking no questions of his own. Just absorbing, and probably waiting for the chance to criticize *something*, though God knew it couldn't be Lex's grades or his performance on the polo field. Lex did his best to bask in the warmth of his mother's smile and to simultaneously ignore the cool, assessing regard of the silent parent in the room.
And apparently, Dad was bored with discussions of science experiments and the best bloodlines for polo ponies, because he cleared his throat. "Jocelyn, it's time."
"Lionel, I was going to wait until dinner to-"
"There is no time like the present for the dispersal of good news."
Her lips tightened into a thin line before she accepted the suggestion with a reluctant nod. Lex thought he saw the corners of her lips tremble a bit when she looked back at him. "Lex... we have some wonderful news. You're going to be a big brother."
So many thoughts, so many feelings, a barrage that slammed through him all at once. Shock -- because he hadn't thought it was possible after all this time, and he'd assumed that they'd stopped trying when they'd stopped hoping. Fear -- because what would this mean for his place in the family? Jealousy -- remembering that expression on his father's face when he'd walked into the room; the absolute bliss Lex had seen that suddenly made perfect sense.
"When?" Hands clasped together, but he wasn't sure if the shaking had come out in his voice.
"The baby is due in July."
And now, taking in that look on his mother's face. So desperate for Lex to accept this, to be happy about it, and he swallowed hard.
He could be happy. For her. He could find a way.
And he thought again about the way his father had looked before. Like he'd been given something precious, and maybe that was the key. This could be a new beginning for Lex, too. A new person to love him, who wouldn't look at him and see the changes, because this was the only Lex his sibling would know. Someone to look up to him for what he was now, what he would be, vision not shaded by mourning for what he'd lost and no longer was.
A second chance, and Lex smiled.
"Roses blushing red
and white,
For delight;"
-- Late June 1991 --
He heard the surprised little squeal from his mother and dropped his book on the coffee table, rushing over and kneeling next to her feet.
"Is she moving again?"
A wide grin and a nod as she grabbed his hand, placing the palm flat across her distended belly. "Right about there... Ah! Did you feel that?"
"How could I not? It feels like she's trying to punch her way out of there. Someone needs to give her lessons on the birthing process, I think."
Bright, beautiful laughter as a hand stroked across his skull, and he leaned down, removing his hand to replace it with his ear and listening. Wanted to know *everything*, and Mom shared it all with him. He'd received weekly progress calls while he was still in school, and though it wasn't the same as being here, he'd felt included every step of the way. A day trip up to Scotland one weekend had yielded a Christmas present for his soon-to-be sister or brother -- a hand-knitted lamb's wool throw that his mother had clutched close to her chest and cried over for several minutes. His father, of course, had chalked it up to pregnancy hormones, but Lex liked to believe it was more.
"She's going to be a ballerina."
He scoffed gently, teasingly. "Ballerina? I don't think so. Kick-boxer is more like it. Maybe a soccer player."
Another movement in the flesh under his cheek. More than a flutter, and Lex laughed along with his mother this time. She was still stroking a hand across his head as he listened. Sharing and comforting and loving all in one, and he loved these times when it was just the three of them. When his father wasn't there watching -- alternately looking annoyed with Lex or concerned that his first born was suddenly about to hop up and grab a croquet mallet from the set in the yard to permanently finish off the competition.
After all these months, his dad still didn't get it.
Lex slowly pulled away, grinning at her as he stood up. "I'm going to go out in the garden and pick some flowers for my two favorite ladies."
She smiled... God, yes, *that* one. The one he lived for. "We're going to have some stiff competition for your affections once you start turning that charm on the girls at school."
He began backing toward the French doors that led to the gardens, grinning back at her the whole time. "Who says I haven't been already?" And he hadn't meant that to upset her, but her smile dimmed a bit, so he added, "They don't hold a candle to you and Julia, Mom."
And the diamond-bright smile was back. He could feel it warm on his face like the sunlight through the doors warmed his back.
It wasn't difficult to locate a gardener to procure some shears for him, and Lex wandered through the formal gardens, clipping the best blooms off everything, thus assuring that the landscape architect would be putting out a contract on his life very soon after seeing the floral carnage. He didn't care much about the conniption fits of an overly repressed and hyperactive botanist in the first place. It meant less than nothing in the face of his mother's special smile.
He re-entered the house through the kitchen and had one of the staff fetch him a vase. Filled it with water and tried to do a stylistic arrangement of the flowers. Quickly gave it up as hopeless -- knowing his mother wouldn't care -- and he headed back to the conservatory with his gift.
Halted abruptly outside the open door at the sound of his father's voice. "Hello, Jocelyn. How's our boy today?"
"Lionel? What are you doing home in the middle of the day? Oh, and Lex is outside right now. He should be back soon."
And he was curious -- why *was* his father home in the middle of the day, anyway? And why would he be asking after Lex? He hadn't done anything too terrible... well, not recently. Or, more precisely, not recently that hadn't already been the target of a patriarchal lecture on responsibility and destiny. Lex edged his way to the doorjamb so he could peek into the room.
His father coming to a stop next to his mother's chair and placing his hand on her belly. "I came home to check on you and Julian."
Ah... well that explained it.
"*Julia* and I are both fine, dear."
And this was an old tease between them. Dad wanted a boy; Mom wanted a girl. Lex didn't much care one way or the other, so long as he got to be close to the baby. He'd taken to using female terms around his mother, male around his father, and very carefully avoiding pronouns when he was with both of them.
The art of compromise had been taught and learned well at his father's knee.
It was interesting, though. There was a strange edge to his mother's voice these days when this particular subject came up with his father. It seemed like the more Dad insisted on classifying the baby as a boy, the more desperate his mother became to believe it was a girl. Almost an anger in her about it now, like she thought he could change the baby's sex through sheer force of will and she wanted no part of that.
Weird.
Lex had lost track of the conversation while meandering through his thoughts. The movement of his father, bending down to kiss her on the cheek, drew him back to the matter at hand.
Don't get caught peeping, Lex.
He backed away from the door on cautious feet, making it into the side hall in time to see his father crossing to the front door. Heard it slam and headed back into the room.
She didn't look up when he entered, and that was really unusual. She was rubbing a hand slowly over her belly, little moue on her face that Lex read as worry bordering on anxiety. He walked a few steps further into the room, and her head raised, smile overtaking her expression and flooding her eyes when she saw the flowers. "Lex, they're beautiful."
And he smiled.
"Honeysuckle wreaths above,
For
love;"
-- July 1991 --
He was waiting anxiously at the front door when the limo finally pulled up. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, and he pushed lightly at the butler's arm when the servant made a movement toward the latch. Lex was going to be the one to open the door for his little brother's arrival home, and he said as much in the imperious tone his father used with all the staff.
Lex thought it was a nice touch. Dad usually got his way.
The driver was holding the door open, and his father appeared, leaning in to support his mother as she climbed out of the car. Lex stood on tiptoe, trying to get a look at the little face hidden by the swaddling blanket. He'd been allowed to visit the hospital after Julian's birth, but he'd only been able to see him through the glass partition of the nursery. Hadn't been able to touch him yet, and Lex was almost twitching with the need to hold the baby.
They were all on their way up the stone steps, now, and Lex opened the doors wide. His mother looked tired, but that was to be expected. It had been a long labor -- at least that's what he assumed since she'd been taken to the hospital nearly two days earlier. His father was almost *glowing* with happiness. It was shining off of him in rays like the anger and tension sometimes did. Faint twinge of jealousy, seeing that, but Lex was too excited about Julian's arrival to let it register.
They stopped in the foyer, and Lex closed the doors. Turning around quickly, and his father's hand was under his mother's elbow to support her as she crouched a bit. "Lex... this is Julian."
And he was... perfect. Little pug nose and chubby cheeks and a small tuft of dark hair on his head. Eyes closed, and Lex wanted to know the color so badly, but he wanted even more to just look, just absorb the utter peace and trust inside this tiny creature.
Julian. His brother. His second chance.
The skin was slightly mottled in places, but it looked so *soft*, and Lex wanted to touch. Reached out a finger without thinking and stroked it feather light across the downy cheek. Even softer than it looked -- a little bumpy in places, sure, but still...
Perfect.
Clasp of a hand on his shoulder recalled his father's presence, and Lex turned a look up, fearing what he'd see, expecting the reprimand.
Utter shock at the soft smile on that infinitely hard face. Approval shining from his father's eyes, and Lex almost wanted to cry. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"
Swallowed hard as he nodded. "He's perfect, Dad."
More approval, and there was only so much of that Lex could take from his father, so he looked down at Mom, expecting her smile. And it was there, but... different. Not the special smile at all. A little sadness and something more...
It had to be because she was tired. That's all it was.
His father ushered them all into the formal sitting room where the professional photographer was waiting. Several shots were taken of Julian alone, then with Mom, then Dad, then both of them, before it was time for the family portrait.
His mother sat down in a large wingback chair, holding Julian in her arms. Dad standing behind, and the photographer indicated that Lex should sit on the floor next to the chair. He was moving to take the indicated position when his mother said, "No."
"Jocelyn? What is-?"
"Lex is not going to sit on the floor for this portrait. I won't have it."
Lex found the commanding tone of voice his mother used to be surprising to say the least. So did Dad, based on the quick glance he took. "Darling-"
"Lionel, hold your son for a moment, please."
So... yeah. Mom was acting *really* weird, but his father complied without question, taking Julian from her carefully.
Dad obeying orders. The strangeness must be contagious. Maybe they'd picked something up at the hospital.
His mother motioned him over. "Lex, you're going to sit on my lap and hold Julian."
And his heart leapt a little at the thought. He hadn't dreamed he'd get to hold the baby this soon.
"Jocelyn, don't you think-"
"This is what I want, Lionel. Please don't make things difficult for no good reason."
And okay, he was in the Twilight Zone, but that was fine with him, because he was settled into his mother's lap and in his arms...
Julian. The noise or the jostling had woken him up, and his eyes were open. Pale blue with a darker ring of color around them, and Lex couldn't help but stare.
Those eyes. *His* eyes. In that tiny face.
It felt like flying to see that.
He knew from the baby books that his mother had given him to read that the eye color was mutable at first. Julian's eyes could end up being green or brown or hazel later on. Lex was hoping that he kept the blue. Something of him in this precious, perfect little being.
Something they could share.
Lex pulled the blanket back a little bit and worked his finger into the palm of Julian's hand. Little fingers clutched around his one -- holding him there, and Lex felt like he could never love anyone more than this little bundle of heat and softness in his arms.
// I'll be the best big brother there ever was. I promise. //
"Okay, everyone. Let's smile big for the camera."
Heeding the photographer's signal, Lex looked up.
And he smiled.
"Dusky pansies, let them
be
For memory;"
-- Early September 1991 --
Julian's christening had been announced in all the newspapers. The new Luthor would be presented to Metropolitan society in all his glory at a party following the ceremony.
It was all set for the following day, and Lex found that he was too excited to sleep. He was being made an honorary Godparent to Julian. It wouldn't be legal, obviously, but it was his chance to affirm his vow of protection over his little brother before God and everyone. He'd been nervous about asking, but his father had approved the idea immediately.
Strangely, his mother had been the one to hesitate.
But she'd consented after some persuasion on Lex's part, and now, he was nervous and almost giddy at the thought of the ceremony. This was something that would create a real bond between Julian and him -- something tangible he could point at and hold on to in the midst of any sibling rivalry that might spring up down the line.
He glanced over at the clock on his nightstand. Less than twelve hours away.
Lex couldn't take it anymore. The restlessness wasn't going away at all. He threw back the covers, deciding to take a peek at his little brother. Maybe some of the peace that shrouded the sleeping infant would transfer to him.
He made his way down the hall, careful and quiet. When he reached the door of the nursery, he heard his mother humming a lullaby, and he paused. He wasn't supposed to be out of bed this late, but the lilt of her voice was soothing, so he stayed to listen, hoping it would substitute for a peek at Julian as a sedative.
"You would have been such a lovely little girl."
The humming had stopped, and Lex caught an odd tone in his mother's voice. The words were a bit strange too, but he guessed she had not yet gotten over not having her Julia.
"Lex would have watched over you like a hawk. Your father would have doted on you too, once he got over his disappointment. It's a shame, really."
Lex was placing her tone of voice at an odd combination of wistful and just... blank. Really strange, but maybe he was just misinterpreting -- it was the middle of the night and he was listening in at a partially open door.
He couldn't leave, though. Something was holding him in place.
Not exactly "in place", because his feet had somehow moved without his consciously realizing it, and now he was looking into the room. Face pressed into the space between the jamb and the door that stood ajar.
His mother, putting Julian down in the crib and grabbing a small blanket from the end cap. She didn't cover the baby, just held the blanket in her hands and continued talking in that confusingly toneless voice.
"This is for the best. It really is. I can't allow Lex to lose any more than he already has. He's my little emperor, and he can't rule properly with a usurper to the throne waiting in the wings."
She paused for a second, her head tilting as if she was listening to something Lex couldn't hear above the pounding of his heart inside his ears. He felt ... almost panicked, and that made no sense at all. Just his mother, standing in a dimly lit room and talking to her child. Nothing to fear from that.
"I know what you would say -- that everything will work out and that I'm over reacting. But... you don't know Lionel the way I do. No one knows better than I what he is capable of doing, even to his own flesh and blood. He would take that love between you boys and twist it into something ugly and unnatural. He'd teach you both to hate, slowly and stealthily, until one day you looked at each other and didn't see a brother at all but merely an obstacle. An adversary... an enemy."
And Lex felt something cold and dark coil within him. Terror and anger and hopelessness all twisting together like a pail full of earthworms. Slimy and dirty and revolting, and God...
True. The acceptance of it making him sick. This was the way things worked. Denying it would change nothing.
She was folding up the blanket without looking. Just... staring down into the crib, and Lex looked through the crib slats, could see the rise and fall of his brother's chest as he breathed. Asleep. Peaceful. Innocent.
For now.
"Lionel will never love Lex the best. Not with you around, and I..."
Arms slowly lowering, and God, he'd guessed on some level, but somehow... he still didn't believe it was real.
A trick of light and shadows.
"I can't have that."
Blanket over that little face and pressing down. And he *still* couldn't believe it. Had to be in bed. Was having a nightmare of the most guilt-wracking kind, and he hoped he didn't remember it in the morning.
Wasn't real. Was. Not. Real.
Sensed pain in his palms and realized it was his own nails digging in. Forced the shaking fingers open as he looked down -- deep, crescent shaped cuts in the flesh, and he could feel the blood dripping down his palm now.
Real.
And he still didn't move. Couldn't. Frozen in place by something he couldn't define when his mind and heart were screaming at him to *do* something.
Anything would work. Making a sound. Walking in the room. He could stop this. He could stop this. Just move Lex. Speak. Don't just stand here watching while...
Hands rising up.
The little chest was still, viewed between the prison-like slats of the crib.
All of it so *quiet*.
Like it had never happened.
And he moved then. Quickly down the hall, before he was caught, and he slipped into his bed. Covers pulled close around him and eyes closed tight and...
Didn't happen. It never happened. It was a nightmare.
Except there was still blood on his hands.
He heard a sound at the door and caught the cry before it escaped him.
Mom... coming in. Reaching the side of his bed and sitting on the edge, running a hand over his skull.
He hoped that he wasn't shaking.
"Lex?" quiet-spoken in the dark, and he couldn't ignore it. Couldn't pretend to be sleeping. Couldn't lie.
Not here. Not in this.
"Yeah... I'm awake."
Soft hand stroking his face, brushing across cheekbone, jaw, nose, lips. "I love you, son."
"I love you too, Mom."
And Lex smiled.
"What happened?"
"The morning of his baptism, my mother went to his nursery, found him in his crib -- he had stopped breathing."
Again, as much truth as he is capable of giving.
His first promise to an innocent. The first one broken, vow to protect dropped in ashes on the ground.
Ashes to ashes.
Not the only promise he's ever broken. Just the most important one.
"My mother was never the same after that"
Another well-worded understatement. *Nothing* was the same after Julian's death.
"I'm sorry."
And Lex is, too. He'd been sorry for all of them - Julian, his dad. His mother most of all. Her motivations at least had been clear, understandable. And she'd believed in their purity completely. He'd forgiven her in the heartbeat it had taken her lips to settle on his cheek that night in the dark.
Lex has never been able to absolve himself.
"It's in the past, Clark. We would have ended up hating each other anyway. My father would have seen to that."
The truth... and Lex smiles
"With violets of fragrant breath,
For death."
~ The End ~
Here's the rhyme with the verses in order:
Roses blushing red and white,
For delight;
Honeysuckle wreaths above,
For love;
Dim sweet-scented heliotrope,
For hope;
Shining lilies tall and straight,
For royal state;
Dusky pansies,
let them be
For memory;
With violets of fragrant breath,
For death.
--- Christina G. Rossetti, from "Sing-Song -- A Nursery Rhyme
Book"