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VI. Equivalents
Honestly, Lex wasn’t all that surprised that the League’s envoy to the President-elect was Supergirl. She’d seemed like the type to stick her cape where it wasn’t wanted.
After they’d gone through the formalities, she sat down in front of his desk, crossing her legs. The ridiculous cheerleader-length skirt concealed even less that way. “So, here I am, your Justice League liason.”
He let that linger in the air until she turned a little pink. “I’ll be providing security on a day-to-day basis and coordinating any larger response that’s required.”
He folded his hands in front of him. “I don’t think you will.”
“What?” She gripped the arms of her chair, leaning forward. “Look, I know badmouthing the League is good politics some places –”
“According to my consultants, worth about a percentage point in the general election, net,” he said. “Though it was more helpful in the primaries. The United States doesn’t outsource its security, Supergirl. Not on my watch.”
She scowled, unprepared to have to defend her presence. “You’re a major target for metahumans, and your Secret Service can’t –”
“That’s the key word right there,” he interrupted smoothly. ‘Your.’ The League isn’t an American organization. If you’re serious about wanting to protect the President, you should be willing to swear an oath.”
“Oh, I’m willing to swear,” she began, then stopped herself with obvious effort. “Excuse me, I need to make a call.”
He nodded and stood while she left.
She was back in fifteen minutes, her face troubled. She didn’t sit down this time, choosing instead to pace his office, her hands twisting behind her back. “You know, the whole reason we’re doing this is to keep the world safer. It’s not about you. Didn’t you tell me it wasn’t personal, the second time we met?”
“I’m not sure I understand your point.”
She didn’t look at him. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, which really sucks. But: Superman said to tell you that I would never sacrifice you for the greater good. And it’s true.” She continued to talk, but the pain in his chest was too great to attend to anything else. “… So is that enough of an oath for you?”
He made himself breathe. Then, because he couldn’t stand to have this conversation, even by proxy, he made himself nod.
****
Lex passed a group of staffers watching one of the flat-screen panels that covered the hallways. An announcer was talking over a news crawl and footage of Clark talking earnestly to a group of children. “… emphasizing, as usual, the importance of learning about and empathizing with others’ differences …”
One of the assistants, a man who’d just started work in the West Wing, snorted. “Always the same damn speech.” Lex stopped in his tracks. Dwayne Morris, Lex recalled, Howard University and Harvard Law, hot up-and-comer who’d managed a difficult reelection campaign in Texas. PR genius, he’d tell you, and from what Lex had seen he wasn’t far wrong. Morris continued, caught up in making his point as only a political junkie could be, “The problem isn’t the speech, the problem is that I’ve seen it so many times I could give it. ‘Words without action are meaningless, action without words is a recipe for misunderstanding.’ ‘Understanding is the basis of respect.’ He’s really impressive in person, but you’d think he’d have learned –”
Temperance cleared her throat. Everyone froze except Morris, who turned with the air of a cat burglar who’d been caught with diamonds spilling out of his hands and thought that he’d make the best of it. Morris had an extremely charming smile, and Lex felt a stab of sympathy. Relentlessly, he smiled in return and asked, “Is there some development worth discussing here? Some policy initiative of this administration at stake?”
“No, Mr. President,” Morris said, his smile fading.
“Then I suggest you move on to a topic that *is* relevant to our work.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” everyone chorused – which still made him feel good. He moved on, confident that the others would explain to him that the administration’s no-comment policy on Superman was honored internally as well.
Morris’s sigh of relief wasn’t audible, but some of the people with him weren’t so controlled.
****
Kara entered the Oval Office ahead of Lex and gave a cursory scan around. Lex had learned that Kara often looked cavalier in performing her duties, but she usually got the job done well – after some spectacular early fuck-ups, one of which had left him limping for a month. Now she refused to look professional, but she took it seriously enough that he could relax a bit, at least with the Secret Service as backup.
"Coffee," Kara said. He went to the machine to get it for her, because having him serve her always delighted her so.
If anyone could tolerate the weird chemicals in nondairy creamer, it would be Kara, so Lex tried not to worry about her tastes despite the offense to authentic food her coffee habits represented.
She flopped down on the gold-striped couch, throwing her head back and flinging her arms out. "That was a world of no fun," she said, limp as a scarecrow down from its cross.
Lex brought the adulterated coffee over to the low table in front of the couch and put the cup down inches from her outstretched legs. "It wasn't so bad."
She made a dismissive noise.
"We got what we wanted."
"Yay," she said, looking up at the rosettes on the ceiling. "Diplomatic concessions. I live for diplomatic concessions."
"Nobody made you come to the negotiations," Lex returned, moving to pour himself a drink.
"Beg to differ," she said, still contemplating the ceiling – or possibly the sky, if she were using her broad-spectrum vision. "You have this nasty habit of nearly getting yourself killed."
"Isn't it odd?" Lex put the stopper back on the decanter, the clink of crystal relaxing him on some deep, childish level. "I can't imagine why anyone would want to do that."
At last, Kara tilted her head down and shot him an amused look. "You want my list, or should I include other people’s reasons too?"
He twitched his lip at her and sipped at his drink, watching her swallow her coffee with every appearance of caffeine-induced ecstasy, her eyes closed and her face smooth with pleasure.
“You did a good job deflecting that minister who was trying to grope you.”
Kara shrugged. “He wasn’t my type. Put it this way: When the zombies come, they won’t go for him.”
“What?” Lex asked, puzzled.
“He’s got no brains,” Kara explained.
Bad jokes aside, Lex liked to watch Kara while she wasn't looking back at him; she tended to become awkward and silent when aware of scrutiny. Her rosepetal skin, cream shading to pink at her cheeks, lips like peonies, eyes like a clear Kansas sky just after the sun dropped below the horizon –
Lex never claimed to be a poet. It was one of the reasons he liked to have other people's words memorized for appropriate occasions. She was lovely to look at, leave it there. Her figure had doubtless inspired thousands of adolescent sexual awakenings in the years since she'd joined the Justice League. Unlike Wonder Woman or Hawkgirl, she didn't show any cleavage, but that didn't detract from her appeal in the slightest measure. Lex rather preferred it, her body an obvious mystery. Anyway, her legs, which her costume kept uncovered, were superb.
And currently parked on the coffee table, her bright red boots a startling contrast to the antique wood. Primary colors were perfect for her; she never wanted to blend in to the background.
"Lex?"
"Yes?" His eyes traveled up to her face, which was unusually serious. Lex put his drink down on his desk and straightened.
"You're staring at my legs again."
So he'd have to reassess his ability to look without being noticed. "They're extraordinary legs."
She blushed, but continued to meet his gaze.
"Are you ever going to do more than stare? Because that would be okay."
Lex actually had to force himself not to step back. He'd never thought Kara would say anything, depending on her shyness about intimate emotions to keep the flirtation harmless and deniable.
He was silent too long.
"Lex?" Now she sounded uncertain, moving towards ashamed.
"Kara, I – it’s been my privilege to know you." Lex tried to project the truth of that statement over his standard mask of sincerity. "I look forward to seeing you each day. When the Justice League assigned you to me, I was as suspicious as you were. Despite our demonstrated ability to work together, I didn’t expect to enjoy it. You're headstrong, distracting, loud and otherwise impossible to ignore. I grew used to you, and then I grew fond of you, and then –"
She was beaming, as if the radiation her alien body had absorbed was being converted –
Her alien body.
She'd evidently taken his shocked pause as a signal to talk. "I've been waiting for you for, like, a year! I haven't had really good luck with men so far, but then I thought ‘maybe that sorcerer guy had it right all along,’ and –"
No, of course Kara wouldn't have had good luck with non-Kryptonian men. "Kara," he said, and the pain in his voice shocked her out of her ordinary babbling.
He'd believed that the Phosita would eventually trigger a self-sustaining reaction in Clark's body, but he'd never considered that it might have done the same to him.
It would explain why blunt, hyperactive Kara would be attracted to him. God knew it couldn't be his monomaniacal will to power, or the way he was likely to trash the office when he'd been thwarted in some desire.
He couldn't explain to her, couldn't abase himself before yet another woman whose approval he'd let matter to him. But he couldn't leave her like this – he'd never thought about her sex life, because he'd never let himself think about her in any but the most superficial, never-going-to-happen of ways. Once he gave it a moment's thought, however, it was obvious that she'd been suffering in the same way Clark had been.
All the while, Lex had possessed the solution, but never made the connections. Willfully ignorant.
There was no way that he could tell her he'd accidentally strung her along all this time.
He couldn't tell her, but he owed her better.
She had been staring him, unnaturally still, for however long it had taken him to realize all this. "Kara," he repeated. "You need -- you have to talk to Superman."
"What?" she sputtered, sitting up straight now, vibrating with tension.
He shook his head.
Kara leapt to her feet. "No. You do not get to say his name and then shut up like I'm nothing to you." With her hands on her hips and her waist-length cape flared out, she was the image of outraged justice.
Lex winced.
"He warned you off of me, didn't he? Got you a message somehow." Her voice was loud enough to fill the room; Lex had never been more grateful for the soundproofing. "All that ‘I know you know what you’re doing, just be careful’ bull and he went behind my back anyway. That sanctimonious jerk–"
"Kara," Lex said, firmly enough to break through, "please don't." What she was saying was impossible, of course.
Yes, it still hurt, even after all the years.
"I have to go," she said, her voice thick with anger.
She disappeared.
Clark would explain. Then she'd – well, he owed her some Phosita, after all this. The Justice League would assign some non-Kryptonian to Lex for his next term in office – at least he'd be done with them, decades after Krypton became his ruling planet – and Kara would find someone she could like without chemical compulsion.
If Lex had realized earlier what he was doing, he could have been honest – or, maybe not. How could he have explained developing Phosita for his worst enemy without revealing how he'd bribed that enemy to – well, "stay off his back" wouldn't be the right way to put it, now would it?
He could have told her something useful, anyway.
Why the hell hadn't Clark told her about her heritage? Lex began to feel a familiar, comforting anger. Clark had lived with Kryptonian descent. He ought to have known he needed to guide Kara to sexual maturity; he should have told her about the birds and the meteor rocks.
There were a lot of things, Lex realized as he slumped down into the couch Kara had vacated, that he had deliberately failed to think about for a long time, most of which came under the headings "Clark" and "sex." To be frank, those were basically the same topic as far as he was concerned.
That was because he was a coward.
He'd pretended to himself, when he'd let the fleeting thought tiptoe across his mind, that he was celibate because he didn't want to take the risk that Clark would make good on his threat. He didn't want to be responsible for his partner's death (at least not until the inevitable attempt to kill him, when it would become self-defense). The truth was more shameful: he didn't want to take the risk that Clark wouldn't make good on his threat. While he abstained, he could pretend that Clark might still care, even if it was just some Kryptonian mating instinct. If he slept with Kara and Clark did nothing, it would show how little he'd meant to Clark.
He didn’t let himself wonder about whether Clark had managed to acquire an alternate supply of Phosita, or what he might have done with it if he had.
****
Lex was finishing up negotiating with the Egyptian Prime Minister on antiterror protocols when Kara landed on the terrace. Because his personal life really was less important than affairs of state – hard as it was for the popular media to believe – he put her out of his mind for the next fifty minutes. She didn’t wander off, which said a lot for her emotional maturity, or at least her righteous anger.
At long last, the politicians and translators left, and he went to the door to wave her in.
“Just so you know,” she said as she swept in, her cape snapping out smartly as if it wanted to snub him too, “I’m mad at you, and what’s worse, I’m disappointed. I’m not old enough to be disappointed in someone, Lex.”
Closing the door, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry,” he said, but the bitterness rose up in his throat, all those wasted apologies to Clark choking him. He was sorry – he never wanted to hurt her – but he couldn’t stand here and be judged all over again.
Whether she saw all that in the shifting of his shoulders he couldn’t know. She did close her mouth and narrow her eyes, as if her super-vision could give her access to his thoughts. After an uncomfortable period of scrutiny, she sighed with the air of the hopelessly put-upon and went to sit down on her favorite couch.
“You know, I was going to yell, only you’re much better at punishing yourself that I ever would be, which kind of takes the fun out of it.” She crossed her arms and then her legs, one red boot dangling dangerously near a priceless Greek amphora on the table in front of her. “So when were you planning to tell me that you knew Superman’s secret identity? And moreover that your thing for Clark was not – oh my God, I am actually saying this word -- unrequited?”
At last, an easy question. “Never,” he said, moving to sit across from her. “Even if things had – changed between us, it wasn’t something I was prepared to discuss.” Also, he didn’t say, maybe your cousin could have disclosed some details about the past. But that was something to say in an argument, and he didn’t want to argue. “I realize now that I should have made the formula available to you so that you could use it with a person of your choosing –”
Kara held up a hand. “Whoa, whoa. Are you saying – you think I need some synthetic pheromone to get me hot?”
“Kryptonian biology –”
“Did it occur to you,” she said in a tone nearly as cold as her freezing breath, “that I had gone through puberty before I left Krypton?”
He looked at her. She bolted upright. “It didn’t! I guess you never heard about me and Flash, either.”
“No.” Lex thought. “You and Flash?”
“Never underestimate a man who can vibrate at any speed you want,” she said and grinned, clearly reminiscing. “Okay, that’s just sad. If I have this right, you were operating under the delusion that I was hot for you because of the physiological changes caused by your use of this pheromone back in the day.”
“It’s not a pheromone,” Lex objected, unable to tolerate the abuse of science any longer, “but, otherwise – yes.”
Kara rolled her eyes. “I refuse to feel sorry for you, because you’re filthy rich and as close to absolutely powerful as any man, but really, that’s kind of pathetic.”
“My father never loved me,” Lex said. “It leaves marks.”
Kara’s eyes lightened in the way that showed there were fires inside her. “Right. Because it’s okay to imagine me naked, but not to talk to me.”
“Forgive me if I’ve failed to be entertaining enough for you,” Lex snapped, turning away from her. “I’m thrilled you can get off with whoever takes your fancy. I’m sorry that I led you on, however that happened, but you’ve now given a good demonstration of why I resist emotional involvement.”
“And you never learned to handle ‘emotional involvement’ because your father never loved you.” He could almost feel the acid in Kara’s voice on his skin.
Might as well finish the job. “That, and I thought you might not be entirely receptive to a man who destroyed every remnant of your history and culture.” He looked at her, challenging.
She snorted derisively. "You think I don’t know I’m the last of my kind? I don't even dream in Kryptonian any more. You know what I do every time I remember a song my father used to sing to me, or a cliche my mother used? I call up this anthropologist at Met U and tell her, since that's all we've got left.
"But the thing is, Lex, I forgave you. I forgave you even before I liked you, because the people of Earth are alive and you were trying desperately to keep them that way.”
Lex tried to decipher what she wanted him to say. As if words could ever mean anything
against a vanished world –
"Don't look at me like that," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "You didn't kill the Kryptonian race. We did a fine job of that ourselves. I've moved on. And Clark, Clark was never there.”
When he didn’t react, she tried again. “He’s got this idea that Krypton was this perfect world full of ice cream and sparkling ponies – well, you know what I mean,” she said at Lex’s skeptical look. “But better than ice cream and ponies because he knows that ice cream melts and ponies crap. And I think your aphrodesiac thing is kind of mixed up in his head with that, because he said –”
“Please don’t tell me,” he said, almost despairing.
She cocked her head, anger and amusement mingled in her expression. “You twitch every time I say his name.”
“I think we’re done here,” he said, not looking at her. Already, he was reviewing the rest of the day’s schedule – Medicare reform, tax subsidies for organic farming, the renewed fighting in Cuba, a new virus in Washington state – and that was just before dinner. He wanted a drink but the political fallout from being caught with alcohol in his hand before 8 pm would just make him want to drink more. How he’d ended up in charge of a country half of whose citizens wanted to ban fun was an endless amazement to him.
Behind him, Kara was stomping around like she was auditioning for a role in the latest Godzilla movie. He hoped she wasn’t damaging the historic floor.
“You know, I changed my mind again. You and Clark are perfect for each other. You can fight about who’s responsible for more suffering. Meanwhile, I’m gonna find a good-looking, not-too-bright guy and work out some of my frustrations. If you want, you can fantasize about it.”
She left. Lex put his hand to his temple for just a second, regretting, and then headed back to work.
****
There was one powerfully effective self-punishing measure he hadn’t used in a while, so he scheduled a trip to Montana.
As far as Hope could tell from reviewing the security recordings, Lionel hadn’t managed to subvert the staff yet – it helped that they only spoke Quechua and that Lex took awfully good care of their families, but it was a mistake to relax around Lionel no matter what. Lionel didn’t look up when Lex entered his study, just kept reading his two-week-old copy of the Wall Street Journal. That was petty, and it made Lex feel better to have reduced his father to the kind of tricks he himself would have pulled, decades ago.
"I want to talk to you about Superman."
"About Clark Kent, you mean?"
Lex didn't blink, but he could feel his eyes widen. To cover, he went to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of scotch. The tumbler was plastic. He hadn’t decided on that little indignity himself, but he liked the creativity of whoever had done so.
Lionel swiveled in his chair, watching Lex move. "Of course I know, what kind of fool do you take me for?"
There were so, so many ways to answer that, but as always Lex had the feeling that the situation could easily slip out of his control.
"After all these years, you finally recognize your need for your father's wisdom? I have a number of scenarios to eliminate the threat --"
He shook his head, relieved to see that some things were eternal, like his father's inability to see anything but prey and other predators in the world with him. "That's not why I asked you here. I want to talk about what happened years ago, in Smallville." He sat. The chair was leather, comfortably worn, as if his father had sat in his place many times.
"Ah," his father said, and then stopped, waiting for Lex to play the supplicant.
Lex held on to the glass as if it were the only thing between him and the abyss. "At the time, it didn't make sense – why would he believe anything you said? Now I realize that was the wrong question. He was looking for reasons to distrust me. But why did you take every chance you could to make it worse?"
"Because you were in love, Lex."
It was a struggle to control his expression.
"You still are." His father, still caught in the drama he thought he was living, crossed the room in a few quick steps and knelt to cup his hand around Lex's chin. Lex didn't pull away. "You're too sentimental to change how you feel, but I knew it was standing in your way, and I realized that changing its behavior would be enough to put you back on the right path." His thumb dug into Lex's flesh sharply enough to throb, then he let go and stood again, turning so that Lex could only see his profile.
"You found your destiny, and no matter how much you hate me for it, I know I did the right thing. You’ve been strong for so many years now. I know you had many opportunities to submit to it, to beg its forgiveness, but it would have stopped you from reaching the heights of which you have proved capable."
Lex looked down at his drink, the amber liquid mute and unhelpful.
Denial would have been useless; Lionel would treat it like confirmation. And what was there to deny? He could say that Clark’s forgiveness, if it could have been won, would have forever been conditional, but Lionel thought that everything was conditional. Lionel had raised Lex like a greyhound, racing forever towards the mechanical rabbit of his father’s approval – never attainable and not that appetizing if it had been caught. Lionel would never understand that Lex couldn’t tolerate the same endless training from Clark. And why should Lionel understand it? Here Lex was, still running in circles on that well-worn track, long after the spectators had gone home to their families.
He put the tumbler down on the table, the soft clink like a distant gunshot. Then he stood and left, ignoring Lionel’s calls, which were first bemused, then vicious. He should have killed Lionel a long time ago.
Now, there was no benefit in it.
****
When he returned, Wonder Woman was on duty as his assigned superhuman guardian, which was fine by him. She was the most professional of the lot – Batman thought he was, but that was different than truly ignoring emotion in favor of duty – and their mutual distaste would never interfere with her protective functions.
What was a bit surprising was the message from Kara, which Wonder Woman delivered with diplomatic indifference. From what Lex could make out from Kara’s terrible scrawl, she’d decided to go off on some sort of quest to recall her Kryptonian heritage rather than just getting drunk and getting laid. As her note pointed out, the first was prohibitively difficult and the second pathetically easy, so all in all, she needed a different challenge.
It was disturbing to find out that there was another side to Kara, always Kryptonian despite the accentless English and the atrocious celebrity gossip. She hadn’t shown any signs of dynastic desires – but, as it turned out, there was a lot they hadn’t talked about at all.
Honestly, Lex wasn’t all that surprised that the League’s envoy to the President-elect was Supergirl. She’d seemed like the type to stick her cape where it wasn’t wanted.
After they’d gone through the formalities, she sat down in front of his desk, crossing her legs. The ridiculous cheerleader-length skirt concealed even less that way. “So, here I am, your Justice League liason.”
He let that linger in the air until she turned a little pink. “I’ll be providing security on a day-to-day basis and coordinating any larger response that’s required.”
He folded his hands in front of him. “I don’t think you will.”
“What?” She gripped the arms of her chair, leaning forward. “Look, I know badmouthing the League is good politics some places –”
“According to my consultants, worth about a percentage point in the general election, net,” he said. “Though it was more helpful in the primaries. The United States doesn’t outsource its security, Supergirl. Not on my watch.”
She scowled, unprepared to have to defend her presence. “You’re a major target for metahumans, and your Secret Service can’t –”
“That’s the key word right there,” he interrupted smoothly. ‘Your.’ The League isn’t an American organization. If you’re serious about wanting to protect the President, you should be willing to swear an oath.”
“Oh, I’m willing to swear,” she began, then stopped herself with obvious effort. “Excuse me, I need to make a call.”
He nodded and stood while she left.
She was back in fifteen minutes, her face troubled. She didn’t sit down this time, choosing instead to pace his office, her hands twisting behind her back. “You know, the whole reason we’re doing this is to keep the world safer. It’s not about you. Didn’t you tell me it wasn’t personal, the second time we met?”
“I’m not sure I understand your point.”
She didn’t look at him. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, which really sucks. But: Superman said to tell you that I would never sacrifice you for the greater good. And it’s true.” She continued to talk, but the pain in his chest was too great to attend to anything else. “… So is that enough of an oath for you?”
He made himself breathe. Then, because he couldn’t stand to have this conversation, even by proxy, he made himself nod.
****
Lex passed a group of staffers watching one of the flat-screen panels that covered the hallways. An announcer was talking over a news crawl and footage of Clark talking earnestly to a group of children. “… emphasizing, as usual, the importance of learning about and empathizing with others’ differences …”
One of the assistants, a man who’d just started work in the West Wing, snorted. “Always the same damn speech.” Lex stopped in his tracks. Dwayne Morris, Lex recalled, Howard University and Harvard Law, hot up-and-comer who’d managed a difficult reelection campaign in Texas. PR genius, he’d tell you, and from what Lex had seen he wasn’t far wrong. Morris continued, caught up in making his point as only a political junkie could be, “The problem isn’t the speech, the problem is that I’ve seen it so many times I could give it. ‘Words without action are meaningless, action without words is a recipe for misunderstanding.’ ‘Understanding is the basis of respect.’ He’s really impressive in person, but you’d think he’d have learned –”
Temperance cleared her throat. Everyone froze except Morris, who turned with the air of a cat burglar who’d been caught with diamonds spilling out of his hands and thought that he’d make the best of it. Morris had an extremely charming smile, and Lex felt a stab of sympathy. Relentlessly, he smiled in return and asked, “Is there some development worth discussing here? Some policy initiative of this administration at stake?”
“No, Mr. President,” Morris said, his smile fading.
“Then I suggest you move on to a topic that *is* relevant to our work.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” everyone chorused – which still made him feel good. He moved on, confident that the others would explain to him that the administration’s no-comment policy on Superman was honored internally as well.
Morris’s sigh of relief wasn’t audible, but some of the people with him weren’t so controlled.
****
Kara entered the Oval Office ahead of Lex and gave a cursory scan around. Lex had learned that Kara often looked cavalier in performing her duties, but she usually got the job done well – after some spectacular early fuck-ups, one of which had left him limping for a month. Now she refused to look professional, but she took it seriously enough that he could relax a bit, at least with the Secret Service as backup.
"Coffee," Kara said. He went to the machine to get it for her, because having him serve her always delighted her so.
If anyone could tolerate the weird chemicals in nondairy creamer, it would be Kara, so Lex tried not to worry about her tastes despite the offense to authentic food her coffee habits represented.
She flopped down on the gold-striped couch, throwing her head back and flinging her arms out. "That was a world of no fun," she said, limp as a scarecrow down from its cross.
Lex brought the adulterated coffee over to the low table in front of the couch and put the cup down inches from her outstretched legs. "It wasn't so bad."
She made a dismissive noise.
"We got what we wanted."
"Yay," she said, looking up at the rosettes on the ceiling. "Diplomatic concessions. I live for diplomatic concessions."
"Nobody made you come to the negotiations," Lex returned, moving to pour himself a drink.
"Beg to differ," she said, still contemplating the ceiling – or possibly the sky, if she were using her broad-spectrum vision. "You have this nasty habit of nearly getting yourself killed."
"Isn't it odd?" Lex put the stopper back on the decanter, the clink of crystal relaxing him on some deep, childish level. "I can't imagine why anyone would want to do that."
At last, Kara tilted her head down and shot him an amused look. "You want my list, or should I include other people’s reasons too?"
He twitched his lip at her and sipped at his drink, watching her swallow her coffee with every appearance of caffeine-induced ecstasy, her eyes closed and her face smooth with pleasure.
“You did a good job deflecting that minister who was trying to grope you.”
Kara shrugged. “He wasn’t my type. Put it this way: When the zombies come, they won’t go for him.”
“What?” Lex asked, puzzled.
“He’s got no brains,” Kara explained.
Bad jokes aside, Lex liked to watch Kara while she wasn't looking back at him; she tended to become awkward and silent when aware of scrutiny. Her rosepetal skin, cream shading to pink at her cheeks, lips like peonies, eyes like a clear Kansas sky just after the sun dropped below the horizon –
Lex never claimed to be a poet. It was one of the reasons he liked to have other people's words memorized for appropriate occasions. She was lovely to look at, leave it there. Her figure had doubtless inspired thousands of adolescent sexual awakenings in the years since she'd joined the Justice League. Unlike Wonder Woman or Hawkgirl, she didn't show any cleavage, but that didn't detract from her appeal in the slightest measure. Lex rather preferred it, her body an obvious mystery. Anyway, her legs, which her costume kept uncovered, were superb.
And currently parked on the coffee table, her bright red boots a startling contrast to the antique wood. Primary colors were perfect for her; she never wanted to blend in to the background.
"Lex?"
"Yes?" His eyes traveled up to her face, which was unusually serious. Lex put his drink down on his desk and straightened.
"You're staring at my legs again."
So he'd have to reassess his ability to look without being noticed. "They're extraordinary legs."
She blushed, but continued to meet his gaze.
"Are you ever going to do more than stare? Because that would be okay."
Lex actually had to force himself not to step back. He'd never thought Kara would say anything, depending on her shyness about intimate emotions to keep the flirtation harmless and deniable.
He was silent too long.
"Lex?" Now she sounded uncertain, moving towards ashamed.
"Kara, I – it’s been my privilege to know you." Lex tried to project the truth of that statement over his standard mask of sincerity. "I look forward to seeing you each day. When the Justice League assigned you to me, I was as suspicious as you were. Despite our demonstrated ability to work together, I didn’t expect to enjoy it. You're headstrong, distracting, loud and otherwise impossible to ignore. I grew used to you, and then I grew fond of you, and then –"
She was beaming, as if the radiation her alien body had absorbed was being converted –
Her alien body.
She'd evidently taken his shocked pause as a signal to talk. "I've been waiting for you for, like, a year! I haven't had really good luck with men so far, but then I thought ‘maybe that sorcerer guy had it right all along,’ and –"
No, of course Kara wouldn't have had good luck with non-Kryptonian men. "Kara," he said, and the pain in his voice shocked her out of her ordinary babbling.
He'd believed that the Phosita would eventually trigger a self-sustaining reaction in Clark's body, but he'd never considered that it might have done the same to him.
It would explain why blunt, hyperactive Kara would be attracted to him. God knew it couldn't be his monomaniacal will to power, or the way he was likely to trash the office when he'd been thwarted in some desire.
He couldn't explain to her, couldn't abase himself before yet another woman whose approval he'd let matter to him. But he couldn't leave her like this – he'd never thought about her sex life, because he'd never let himself think about her in any but the most superficial, never-going-to-happen of ways. Once he gave it a moment's thought, however, it was obvious that she'd been suffering in the same way Clark had been.
All the while, Lex had possessed the solution, but never made the connections. Willfully ignorant.
There was no way that he could tell her he'd accidentally strung her along all this time.
He couldn't tell her, but he owed her better.
She had been staring him, unnaturally still, for however long it had taken him to realize all this. "Kara," he repeated. "You need -- you have to talk to Superman."
"What?" she sputtered, sitting up straight now, vibrating with tension.
He shook his head.
Kara leapt to her feet. "No. You do not get to say his name and then shut up like I'm nothing to you." With her hands on her hips and her waist-length cape flared out, she was the image of outraged justice.
Lex winced.
"He warned you off of me, didn't he? Got you a message somehow." Her voice was loud enough to fill the room; Lex had never been more grateful for the soundproofing. "All that ‘I know you know what you’re doing, just be careful’ bull and he went behind my back anyway. That sanctimonious jerk–"
"Kara," Lex said, firmly enough to break through, "please don't." What she was saying was impossible, of course.
Yes, it still hurt, even after all the years.
"I have to go," she said, her voice thick with anger.
She disappeared.
Clark would explain. Then she'd – well, he owed her some Phosita, after all this. The Justice League would assign some non-Kryptonian to Lex for his next term in office – at least he'd be done with them, decades after Krypton became his ruling planet – and Kara would find someone she could like without chemical compulsion.
If Lex had realized earlier what he was doing, he could have been honest – or, maybe not. How could he have explained developing Phosita for his worst enemy without revealing how he'd bribed that enemy to – well, "stay off his back" wouldn't be the right way to put it, now would it?
He could have told her something useful, anyway.
Why the hell hadn't Clark told her about her heritage? Lex began to feel a familiar, comforting anger. Clark had lived with Kryptonian descent. He ought to have known he needed to guide Kara to sexual maturity; he should have told her about the birds and the meteor rocks.
There were a lot of things, Lex realized as he slumped down into the couch Kara had vacated, that he had deliberately failed to think about for a long time, most of which came under the headings "Clark" and "sex." To be frank, those were basically the same topic as far as he was concerned.
That was because he was a coward.
He'd pretended to himself, when he'd let the fleeting thought tiptoe across his mind, that he was celibate because he didn't want to take the risk that Clark would make good on his threat. He didn't want to be responsible for his partner's death (at least not until the inevitable attempt to kill him, when it would become self-defense). The truth was more shameful: he didn't want to take the risk that Clark wouldn't make good on his threat. While he abstained, he could pretend that Clark might still care, even if it was just some Kryptonian mating instinct. If he slept with Kara and Clark did nothing, it would show how little he'd meant to Clark.
He didn’t let himself wonder about whether Clark had managed to acquire an alternate supply of Phosita, or what he might have done with it if he had.
****
Lex was finishing up negotiating with the Egyptian Prime Minister on antiterror protocols when Kara landed on the terrace. Because his personal life really was less important than affairs of state – hard as it was for the popular media to believe – he put her out of his mind for the next fifty minutes. She didn’t wander off, which said a lot for her emotional maturity, or at least her righteous anger.
At long last, the politicians and translators left, and he went to the door to wave her in.
“Just so you know,” she said as she swept in, her cape snapping out smartly as if it wanted to snub him too, “I’m mad at you, and what’s worse, I’m disappointed. I’m not old enough to be disappointed in someone, Lex.”
Closing the door, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry,” he said, but the bitterness rose up in his throat, all those wasted apologies to Clark choking him. He was sorry – he never wanted to hurt her – but he couldn’t stand here and be judged all over again.
Whether she saw all that in the shifting of his shoulders he couldn’t know. She did close her mouth and narrow her eyes, as if her super-vision could give her access to his thoughts. After an uncomfortable period of scrutiny, she sighed with the air of the hopelessly put-upon and went to sit down on her favorite couch.
“You know, I was going to yell, only you’re much better at punishing yourself that I ever would be, which kind of takes the fun out of it.” She crossed her arms and then her legs, one red boot dangling dangerously near a priceless Greek amphora on the table in front of her. “So when were you planning to tell me that you knew Superman’s secret identity? And moreover that your thing for Clark was not – oh my God, I am actually saying this word -- unrequited?”
At last, an easy question. “Never,” he said, moving to sit across from her. “Even if things had – changed between us, it wasn’t something I was prepared to discuss.” Also, he didn’t say, maybe your cousin could have disclosed some details about the past. But that was something to say in an argument, and he didn’t want to argue. “I realize now that I should have made the formula available to you so that you could use it with a person of your choosing –”
Kara held up a hand. “Whoa, whoa. Are you saying – you think I need some synthetic pheromone to get me hot?”
“Kryptonian biology –”
“Did it occur to you,” she said in a tone nearly as cold as her freezing breath, “that I had gone through puberty before I left Krypton?”
He looked at her. She bolted upright. “It didn’t! I guess you never heard about me and Flash, either.”
“No.” Lex thought. “You and Flash?”
“Never underestimate a man who can vibrate at any speed you want,” she said and grinned, clearly reminiscing. “Okay, that’s just sad. If I have this right, you were operating under the delusion that I was hot for you because of the physiological changes caused by your use of this pheromone back in the day.”
“It’s not a pheromone,” Lex objected, unable to tolerate the abuse of science any longer, “but, otherwise – yes.”
Kara rolled her eyes. “I refuse to feel sorry for you, because you’re filthy rich and as close to absolutely powerful as any man, but really, that’s kind of pathetic.”
“My father never loved me,” Lex said. “It leaves marks.”
Kara’s eyes lightened in the way that showed there were fires inside her. “Right. Because it’s okay to imagine me naked, but not to talk to me.”
“Forgive me if I’ve failed to be entertaining enough for you,” Lex snapped, turning away from her. “I’m thrilled you can get off with whoever takes your fancy. I’m sorry that I led you on, however that happened, but you’ve now given a good demonstration of why I resist emotional involvement.”
“And you never learned to handle ‘emotional involvement’ because your father never loved you.” He could almost feel the acid in Kara’s voice on his skin.
Might as well finish the job. “That, and I thought you might not be entirely receptive to a man who destroyed every remnant of your history and culture.” He looked at her, challenging.
She snorted derisively. "You think I don’t know I’m the last of my kind? I don't even dream in Kryptonian any more. You know what I do every time I remember a song my father used to sing to me, or a cliche my mother used? I call up this anthropologist at Met U and tell her, since that's all we've got left.
"But the thing is, Lex, I forgave you. I forgave you even before I liked you, because the people of Earth are alive and you were trying desperately to keep them that way.”
Lex tried to decipher what she wanted him to say. As if words could ever mean anything
against a vanished world –
"Don't look at me like that," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "You didn't kill the Kryptonian race. We did a fine job of that ourselves. I've moved on. And Clark, Clark was never there.”
When he didn’t react, she tried again. “He’s got this idea that Krypton was this perfect world full of ice cream and sparkling ponies – well, you know what I mean,” she said at Lex’s skeptical look. “But better than ice cream and ponies because he knows that ice cream melts and ponies crap. And I think your aphrodesiac thing is kind of mixed up in his head with that, because he said –”
“Please don’t tell me,” he said, almost despairing.
She cocked her head, anger and amusement mingled in her expression. “You twitch every time I say his name.”
“I think we’re done here,” he said, not looking at her. Already, he was reviewing the rest of the day’s schedule – Medicare reform, tax subsidies for organic farming, the renewed fighting in Cuba, a new virus in Washington state – and that was just before dinner. He wanted a drink but the political fallout from being caught with alcohol in his hand before 8 pm would just make him want to drink more. How he’d ended up in charge of a country half of whose citizens wanted to ban fun was an endless amazement to him.
Behind him, Kara was stomping around like she was auditioning for a role in the latest Godzilla movie. He hoped she wasn’t damaging the historic floor.
“You know, I changed my mind again. You and Clark are perfect for each other. You can fight about who’s responsible for more suffering. Meanwhile, I’m gonna find a good-looking, not-too-bright guy and work out some of my frustrations. If you want, you can fantasize about it.”
She left. Lex put his hand to his temple for just a second, regretting, and then headed back to work.
****
There was one powerfully effective self-punishing measure he hadn’t used in a while, so he scheduled a trip to Montana.
As far as Hope could tell from reviewing the security recordings, Lionel hadn’t managed to subvert the staff yet – it helped that they only spoke Quechua and that Lex took awfully good care of their families, but it was a mistake to relax around Lionel no matter what. Lionel didn’t look up when Lex entered his study, just kept reading his two-week-old copy of the Wall Street Journal. That was petty, and it made Lex feel better to have reduced his father to the kind of tricks he himself would have pulled, decades ago.
"I want to talk to you about Superman."
"About Clark Kent, you mean?"
Lex didn't blink, but he could feel his eyes widen. To cover, he went to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of scotch. The tumbler was plastic. He hadn’t decided on that little indignity himself, but he liked the creativity of whoever had done so.
Lionel swiveled in his chair, watching Lex move. "Of course I know, what kind of fool do you take me for?"
There were so, so many ways to answer that, but as always Lex had the feeling that the situation could easily slip out of his control.
"After all these years, you finally recognize your need for your father's wisdom? I have a number of scenarios to eliminate the threat --"
He shook his head, relieved to see that some things were eternal, like his father's inability to see anything but prey and other predators in the world with him. "That's not why I asked you here. I want to talk about what happened years ago, in Smallville." He sat. The chair was leather, comfortably worn, as if his father had sat in his place many times.
"Ah," his father said, and then stopped, waiting for Lex to play the supplicant.
Lex held on to the glass as if it were the only thing between him and the abyss. "At the time, it didn't make sense – why would he believe anything you said? Now I realize that was the wrong question. He was looking for reasons to distrust me. But why did you take every chance you could to make it worse?"
"Because you were in love, Lex."
It was a struggle to control his expression.
"You still are." His father, still caught in the drama he thought he was living, crossed the room in a few quick steps and knelt to cup his hand around Lex's chin. Lex didn't pull away. "You're too sentimental to change how you feel, but I knew it was standing in your way, and I realized that changing its behavior would be enough to put you back on the right path." His thumb dug into Lex's flesh sharply enough to throb, then he let go and stood again, turning so that Lex could only see his profile.
"You found your destiny, and no matter how much you hate me for it, I know I did the right thing. You’ve been strong for so many years now. I know you had many opportunities to submit to it, to beg its forgiveness, but it would have stopped you from reaching the heights of which you have proved capable."
Lex looked down at his drink, the amber liquid mute and unhelpful.
Denial would have been useless; Lionel would treat it like confirmation. And what was there to deny? He could say that Clark’s forgiveness, if it could have been won, would have forever been conditional, but Lionel thought that everything was conditional. Lionel had raised Lex like a greyhound, racing forever towards the mechanical rabbit of his father’s approval – never attainable and not that appetizing if it had been caught. Lionel would never understand that Lex couldn’t tolerate the same endless training from Clark. And why should Lionel understand it? Here Lex was, still running in circles on that well-worn track, long after the spectators had gone home to their families.
He put the tumbler down on the table, the soft clink like a distant gunshot. Then he stood and left, ignoring Lionel’s calls, which were first bemused, then vicious. He should have killed Lionel a long time ago.
Now, there was no benefit in it.
****
When he returned, Wonder Woman was on duty as his assigned superhuman guardian, which was fine by him. She was the most professional of the lot – Batman thought he was, but that was different than truly ignoring emotion in favor of duty – and their mutual distaste would never interfere with her protective functions.
What was a bit surprising was the message from Kara, which Wonder Woman delivered with diplomatic indifference. From what Lex could make out from Kara’s terrible scrawl, she’d decided to go off on some sort of quest to recall her Kryptonian heritage rather than just getting drunk and getting laid. As her note pointed out, the first was prohibitively difficult and the second pathetically easy, so all in all, she needed a different challenge.
It was disturbing to find out that there was another side to Kara, always Kryptonian despite the accentless English and the atrocious celebrity gossip. She hadn’t shown any signs of dynastic desires – but, as it turned out, there was a lot they hadn’t talked about at all.
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Yes! And this is lovely:
He put the tumbler down on the table, the soft clink like a distant gunshot. Then he stood and left, ignoring Lionel’s calls, which were first bemused, then vicious. He should have killed Lionel a long time ago.
Now, there was no benefit in it.
I love the way your mind works - you have such a great handle on emotional details. Montana, Kara's attraction to Lex, Lex's attraction to Kara, Lionel's need to make every encounter a properly framed scene. *g*
Really enjoyed this part.
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For some reason, many people say they find me scary because of how my mind works. I can't imagine why that is.
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Because they are sad little people.
Wonder Woman has had to weather some serious bad times. I'm excited by the news that Gail Simone will be taking over her book soon.
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I am desperately amused by Morris, the black Karl Rove.
nit:
eliminate him as a threat
eliminate it
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And thanks.
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I was really surprised to see Lionel in this - I usually assume that he'll be dead by the time Lex comes to power - but you handled it well and believably. I like that even callous, manipulative Lionel knew that Lex was in love, though of course he saw it as a weakness rather than a strength.
He shook his head, relieved to see that some things were eternal, like his father's inability to see anything but prey and other predators in the world with him.
That's Lionel, spot on.
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First Clark, now Kara falls for Lex
To say nothing of Lex's weakness for the (surviving) Els, though that could be attributed to his not-at-all-subconscious obsession to have only the best (can't get a whole lot more alpha than a leadership-caste Kryptonian).
I am *so* enjoying this. Thank you for posting new chapters so often!
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Re: First Clark, now Kara falls for Lex
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She didn’t look at him. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, which really sucks. But: Superman said to tell you that I would never sacrifice you for the greater good. And it’s true.” She continued to talk, but the pain in his chest was too great to attend to anything else. “… So is that enough of an oath for you?”
He made himself breathe. Then, because he couldn’t stand to have this conversation, even by proxy, he made himself nod.
Like a dagger to the heart, and so typical of SV's Clark. (People who claim Clark Kent never tries to hurt anyone have clearly never watched SV.)
So I can see why Lex gave in and put up with Kara, though I couldn't help squeeing when he initially told her that if she wanted to protect the President, she should be willing to swear an oath. (And I can't help wanting to hear about her early mistakes -- especially the one that left Lex limping for a month. More than that, I'd like to see Clark's reaction when he first heard about those mistakes....)
But the misunderstanding between Lex and Kara about Kryptonian sexuality as it specifically applies to Kara and to Clark makes for some amazingly poignant scenes, too. *shivers happily* And that led to my second-favorite passage:
He'd pretended to himself, when he'd let the fleeting thought tiptoe across his mind, that he was celibate because he didn't want to take the risk that Clark would make good on his threat. He didn't want to be responsible for his partner's death (at least not until the inevitable attempt to kill him, when it would become self-defense). The truth was more shameful: he didn't want to take the risk that Clark wouldn't make good on his threat. While he abstained, he could pretend that Clark might still care, even if it was just some Kryptonian mating instinct. If he slept with Kara and Clark did nothing, it would show how little he'd meant to Clark.
He didn’t let himself wonder about whether Clark had managed to acquire an alternate supply of Phosita, or what he might have done with it if he had.
*wraps around Lex to hug him*
And Lionel. Lionel is...so very evil.
"You found your destiny, and no matter how much you hate me for it, I know I did the right thing. You’ve been strong for so many years now. I know you had many opportunities to submit to it, to beg its forgiveness, but it would have stopped you from reaching the heights of which you have proved capable."
Lex looked down at his drink, the amber liquid mute and unhelpful.
Denial would have been useless; Lionel would treat it like confirmation. And what was there to deny? He could say that Clark’s forgiveness, if it could have been won, would have forever been conditional, but Lionel thought that everything was conditional. Lionel had raised Lex like a greyhound, racing forever towards the mechanical rabbit of his father’s approval – never attainable and not that appetizing if it had been caught. Lionel would never understand that Lex couldn’t tolerate the same endless training from Clark. And why should Lionel understand it? Here Lex was, still running in circles on that well-worn track, long after the spectators had gone home to their families.
He put the tumbler down on the table, the soft clink like a distant gunshot. Then he stood and left, ignoring Lionel’s calls, which were first bemused, then vicious. He should have killed Lionel a long time ago.
Now, there was no benefit in it.
With a father like that, Lex never stood a chance of living a normal, healthy life. But I'm hoping he can still find some happiness, despite everything....
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One really interesting thing about posting this story serially is that I am so relentlessly contrarian that my sympathy for Clark keeps growing. Yes, he's mean, but by God Lex gave him a good reason! I mean, as far as he's concerned, he was seduced and discarded -- by a man he should have known was no good.
Now, Lionel -- there's a special hell for him, just waiting.
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And I think Lex should have killed Lionel too. My skin crawled a little when he tried to cup Lex's chin.
I love this world you built. :D
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I'm glad it's still a good ride!
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I love this as an explanation for why Lex hasn't tried to make up with Clark. And wow, Lionel is still alive in this 'verse. I kind of love that Lex didn't kill him but instead subjects him to a reduced existence (the plastic glasses were an excellent touch.)
I know I said it as a comment to the last part, but I *really* love your Kara, to the point that I can actually see Lex being attracted to her, though I also love that he hasn't slept with anyone since Clark since he's afraid Clark *wouldn't* rip them apart. Oh, Lex.
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And that you've managed to make me, if not really like, but hate this present version of Kara a little less.
Your Lex, of course, is just...wow. Not as complex and difficult to read as he would like to think himself but exquisitely layered and subtle, every glance and nuance fueled with ambiguity. And so very lonely.
And Clark a constant if not always present figure in each part.
Also, Lionel, that effusing his one line with his MB-ness. "Because you were in love, Lex." My heart might have clenched a little on reading that.
Lovely, lovely story. I am both dreading and anticipating the last part.
Cheers!
BTW, I keep expecting Kon-El to show up. But that's just me.
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Kon-El might have been enjoyable too, but not this time, I fear.
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*flails for a bit*
I love your Supergirl, and poor Lex! I really want to see Clark now and see how he's doing, I'm worried about him TT-TT Your writing really gets me into this, I'm really enjoying it.
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Thanks!
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I really love your Kara -- for me, she basically steals the show here. I would be perfectly happy if she came back to Lex in the final chapter instead of Clark. Then again, I'd also be quite happy with a final chapter exclusively focused on exploring the dynamics between Lex and Diana. Or a shocking turn of events culminating with Lex/Batman. Because I'm pretty convinced that you'd make any of those scenarios compelling and believable.
Not that I have any objections to a Clark conclusion either -- my only real objection is that this story is coming to an end, since I'm completely enthralled. But that's the bittersweet nature of stories, and I still have all of your prior art to explore.
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I'm going to revisit your other Clex work while I wait for the next Part. That should take care of any pesky plans I had for doing useful things this weekend.
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I really, really like Kara, and it's not just female solidarity from the shared acknowledgment of Lex's attractiveness. ^_^ Also, I hope she gave Clark a hard time with the "A long long time ago, in Smallville" tale in lieu of an actual birds and the meteor rocks and the sexy bald guy talk. I can't help from laughing my head off at their Oval Office conversations.
The oath and the ice cream and sparkling ponies lines were awesome.
I think whatever outraged admiration I may have for Lionel will never detract my deep-seated desire to stab him. Repeatedly. On the face. Especially if you take in the Season 6 canon and part where he knows that Lex loves Clark. *deteriorates into incoherent rage*
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I love that Lex has stayed celibate and that it's because of Clark's threat; because if Clark didn't follow through, it would break Lex's heart even more than it's already been broken. OH LEX.
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BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Love Kara in this, and Kara & Lex's relationship, their awkward understanding. It's like early Lex & Clark, minus the sexual tension. (well, some tension. But not at Clexian levels. That's difficult to achieve.)
Also, yays to Kara realizing the bonuses of Flash-sex!
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The thought of Kara and JLU Flash makes me inordinately happy.