Everything was covered in blood. His father's clothes, his father's hair, his father's - hands. All over his hands, all over the...Lex stared but didn't see it. He fell to his knees, and could feel it, cold and heavy, seeping through his pants, and when he touched. Him. He was not cold. Or heavy. And now his own hands were red and cold and wet and there were screams. His screams. Other screams. Someone shouted "Dad!" and he wasn't sure who it was.
Then there were strong arms, warm arms, around him, and someone's hands - dry hands - stroking his back and his head, and a deep voice telling him it was okay, even though nothing was okay. And in the middle of the blood and with his father lying there, eyes blinder than ever, Lex shattered and sobbed as he hadn't sobbed in years, burying his head into Jonathan Kent's shoulder.