Quod Perditum est, in Venietur     Quod Perditum est, in Venietur

 by Wiccan Moonlight Faery

 This fic takes place after the end of "Vortex.” I felt really bad for Lex
after that episode, so I felt a need to make him feel better. And this is
the outcome, which I made extremely mysterious. Spoilers from anywhere in
the first season and obviously, in Vortex. If you haven't seen Vortex,
don't read this. Also, if you are wondering about the title, it is Latin
and it means "What was lost, shall be found.” I got it off an old Buffy
rerun. Fun stuff, huh? 

 

   Lex stared at his father's sleeping form. He very badly wanted to hate
the man at that moment, but it was impossible. He just couldn't. He felt
bad for his father, and on some strange level, he felt responsible. He
supposed that it had been his father's goal to create such emotional
turmoil in him. Even in his frail, and now blind, state, he still had
complex schemes to tear Lex's soul right out of his body. Lex sighed,
leaning his head onto his hand. He didn't even know why he stayed in that
hospital room. Maybe he was just hoping that Lionel would have some
strange revelation in his sleep and decide to thank him for saving his
life. Maybe even tell Lex that he was proud of him. And that he loved him.
But deep down, Lex knew that that would never happen. He didn't even know
if his father was capable of such things. But Lex also felt, somewhere
deep down, that his father was right. Maybe he should have let Lionel die.
Maybe he should have let himself die. After all, everything he did blew up
in his face. Lex tried to break away from his father and it blew up in his
face. He saved his father's life, and it blew up in his face. He just
couldn't win. Maybe he should just stop altogether. Maybe it was better
for everyone that way. And Lex still couldn't believe that he had actually
saved people's lives. In fact, he had saved two lives in like one day. But
he didn't feel happy or proud, as he should. He felt horrible. He felt
like a disgrace. He didn't even know which lives to save and which ones
not to. And was it possible that he would also eventually regret saving
Jonathan Kent? Lex doubted it, but then again, nothing seemed to be going
the way he expected it to. There was another thing on top of the many
other things already weighing down on his conscience. He had killed a man.
True, it was Roger Nixon and he had been trying to save his best friend's
father, but still, Lex had taken a life. It was no secret that Lex was no
picture of virtue; he broke the law on pretty much a regular basis. But
murder was not in his nature. At least, he hadn't thought so. Lex looked
back at his father, but the man had not moved an inch. He was still
sleeping peacefully. Well, at least one of them could be peaceful, he
thought, looking down at his hands, which were bundled in his lap. "Don't
let him do this to you, Lex." Lex's head snapped up quickly, surprised. He
hadn't known that anyone else was in the room. But there was a little boy
of about ten standing next to his father's bed. He had dark brown hair and
chocolate brown eyes. The boy seemed somewhat familiar, though Lex
couldn't recall having ever seen him before. "Who are you?" Lex demanded.
"How did you get in here?" The boy spoke again, acting as if he hadn't
even heard Lex's question. "He's going to twist it and warp it to try to
make you think that it's your fault. You can't let him do that, Lex," he
said, not making eye contact at all. He just kept his eyes fixed on
Lionel's still form. Lex looked at the boy, confused. He talked as if he
knew exactly what Lex's father would try to do. He acted as if he knew
Lionel well, and clearly understood his relationship with his son. "What
makes you think that's what he's going to do?" Lex questioned, standing
up. The boy finally looked up at Lex. His gaze was...unnerving in some
way. And Lex was still left with the strange sensation that he knew the
boy somehow. He felt it more on the inside than from seeing the boy's
appearance. "Isn't that what he always does?" Lex looked into the boy's
eyes. They made him feel as if the boy knew him. Understood him. And what
he was saying was so clearly true. Still, it seemed ridiculous. No one
actually understood Lex Luthor, not even Clark. And certainly not some
mysterious ten-year-old. The boy's unexplainable knowledge also scared him
a little. He felt a need to get the boy away, before he revealed any more
truths about Lex. "I'm sorry, but you're not allowed to be in here," Lex
said, pulling this statement from every polite fiber of his being. "I
think it's time for you to leave." Lex moved a little closer, as if to
usher the boy out of the room. "I would," the boy started, "but I'm
worried about you, Lex. Worried about what he is going to do to you. He's
already killing you inside emotionally and we both know it. What makes you
think he'll stop there?" This was equally unnerving. This boy acted a lot
smarter than his age implied. "You talk like you know me, but I have no
idea who you are. Why should I even listen to anything you say?" "Because
you know that what I'm saying is true. Because I do know you, Lex. And I
know all the pain he puts you through. I can't stand to see you do this to
yourself. Not again." "Do what to myself?" "Let him take something
wonderful that you did, and turn it into something dark and ugly," the boy
replied. "You saved his life. No matter what he wants you to believe, you
did the right thing. Don't let him make you think differently. "Don't let
him make the fact that you went through with the surgery a bad thing
either. He said himself that he would have made the same choice. If anyone
should be blamed for the outcome, it is him. If you did the same thing
that he would have done, it is only because that is what he taught you. It
was his fault only that he was even stuck in the tornado in the first
place." "What makes you think you can understand me or my family?" Lex
asked, taking a few steps closer to the boy. "Aren't brothers supposed to
understand each other?" Lex's breath caught in his throat. He felt as if a
ton of bricks had just collided with his chest. This was impossible. His
brother had died years ago from Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. This could
not be Julian. Or was it? Now that he thought about it, Julian had had his
father's coloring. And if he had lived, he would be about ten. And as
impossible as the whole thing seemed, Lex felt compelled to believe it. He
had seen stranger things in Smallville. "Julian?" Lex asked, his voice
nearly a whisper. He reached his hand out to touch the cheek of the boy he
now believed to be his brother. He expected to feel the touch of skin, but
his hand grasped only air. The place that the little boy had stood only
seconds before now was filled only with gossamer wisps of smoke, already
beginning to fade away into the air. Julian was simply gone. But had he
ever even been there in the first place? Lex wasn't sure. He was very
close to believing that he had imagined the whole thing. His dead little
brother had not just been standing it the room. It was completely
impossible and Lex knew it. But as he moved to go sit back in his chair,
his foot caught on something. There was a small scrap of paper on the
floor next to Lex's feet. Slowly, he knelt down to pick it up. He unfolded
the piece of paper, holding his breath as he did so. Written on the paper
was a short message, clearly addressed to him.	 Don't let him make you
lose hope, Lex.    
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