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Part 1
Part 2
Clark was editing his latest expose of LuthorCorp shenanigans – futile, in the larger sense, as long as Lionel owned half the town, but capable of providing momentary satisfaction as the FDA or the SEC threw its weight around.
The phone was an unwelcome interruption.
"Clark Kent."
"What happened to my cars?"
Clark snorted, drawing curious glances from the desks around him.
"You got rid of them last year, when you hired your new PR chief." Lakshmi Lyons, aside from being even more stunningly, calmly beautiful than Lana Ross, had formerly run two successful senatorial campaigns and one successful mayoral campaign.
Silence on the line. "Oh," Lex said at last. "I knew there had to be a reason I was driving domestic."
He hung up, leaving Clark to grin, shake his head, and ignore Lois's "What're you smiling at, Kent?"
Of course, Governor Luthor couldn't publicly date Clark or even Superman, not in Kansas in a conservative decade. But Lex had so much to offer the world; Clark couldn't be selfish with the treasure he'd received, all unexpected.
"Let's get lunch," he said, turning to Lois with what she called his farmboy smile. He needed some time to work on Lois so she'd agree to keep hammering at Lionel instead of following up on some of Lex's more creative accounting.
Unfortunately, he had to run out on her. Forest fires in California. It was a bit annoying, how people built in these dry areas, where fires were nature's way of cleaning up. Then they suppressed the fires for years and years and when suppression worked no longer and the bill came due, they wanted protection. They had choices; they weren't poor. They just liked the views, nine years out of ten.
Nonetheless, they were people, and in need of his help, so he went. Even though it meant another editorial from Lois that made Lex blink and duck his head.
****
"Tell me about us," Lex said, drawing patterns on Clark's back as if raking sand in a Zen garden.
Clark propped his chin on his hands, looking at the handprint in the metal of the headboard from one particularly active night. "What do you mean?"
"All that lost time – I want to know what happened. I want to know everything I used to know about you. So tell me something, anything."
He closed his eyes, willing himself not to get too emotional. And remembered, going back to when they were friends.
"Once, in college," he began, "I had a paper to write about Emily Dickinson. For a week you kept calling me up and singing me her poems to the tune of the theme from 'Gilligan's Island.' 'The heart asks pleasure first – And then, excuse from pain –'" he imitated. "I was so mad at you – I couldn't take her seriously after that. I got a really bad grade, and you weren't sorry at all."
He could feel Lex smiling. "You were mad, but did you hang up when I started singing?"
Clark snorted. "Not once."
It had been his senior year in high school, really, but that was okay, since it was the truth otherwise.
****
"Superman." Lionel Luthor made the name sound like an indictment.
Clark swallowed. They'd tested the new protective suit in Lex's lab, but he was irrationally sure that Lionel had done something to juice up the natural destructiveness of Kryptonite. "Mr. Luthor, this facility is being used as a transfer point for illegal shipments of guns and drugs."
Lionel's eyes widened in a mockery of surprise. "You don't say. How terrible for the owners of this warehouse." Lionel, of course, would be ten links down the corporate chain, implausibly deniable.
"But I'm surprised," Lionel said, taking another step towards Clark. "This facility, as you call it, has been in operation for at least three years. I wonder why Superman didn't think it worth his attention until now."
Clark scanned Lionel's body and found only a ring set with several hundred carats of Kryptonite. He felt fine, even with the ring not ten feet away, and blessed Lex's ingenuity.
"Does it have anything to do with the new look, I wonder," Lionel mused, stepping closer still. "I must admit, I find this *darker* version much more appropriate for a leader of men. Thinking about politics?"
Clark shook his head. "You assume I'm like you, power-hungry and manipulative." He probably could have gotten the new suit the same colors as the old, but it wasn't worth the fight with Lex, and crimson on dark blue was, he had to admit, fairly impressive. He crossed his arms over his chest.
"You always were judgmental, Mr. Kent," Lionel said. Clark's vision flared white with shock and fear. "Oh yes, I knew. But as long as you kept out of my way, I let the matter ... slide, especially because you kept Lex on his toes. Now, however, Superman seems to have reconciled with my son." He was within neck-snapping distance by now. "Now, I think we may have to see who is the stronger."
If the Kryptonite had any residual effect, it was unnoticeable under the plain old terror. "If you hurt anyone trying to get to me, I *will* kill you."
Lionel smiled and traced the 'S' with his ring finger. "I've noticed that being your friend can be as dangerous as being your enemy, Clark. Collateral damage is part of the game, and you should have known that when you decided to take me on."
Clark grabbed Lionel's hand, tightening around the wrist until the bones ground together and Lionel couldn't suppress a wince. "This isn't a game, Luthor."
Lionel's smirk stayed in his mind long after the police had arrived to seize the contraband, long after Lionel had made a brief noncommittal statement to one of his hired hands in the force and departed.
He realized that he'd expected this, expected that choosing Lex would upset the balance of power and force Lionel to make an overt move. He had hoped that Lionel didn't know too much, but there was no solution for it but to press on. And to win.
****
With Lex helping strategize the anti-Lionel campaign, it was brutal but swift. Lex played the market like a symphony conductor. Superman and the Daily Planet rooted out anything less than fully licit, and Lionel didn't exactly know how to conduct an irregularity-free business. Lionel's resources turned to ashes. The power shift was in the air like the taste of fall, with people who once answered Lionel's calls now responding quickly to Lex.
Lionel retaliated with an enhanced version of Kryptonite, a refinement that had Clark puking on the floor of one of Lionel's covert labs. He only escaped because Lex's people came in after fifteen minutes had passed. Mercy, who had never once changed expression in his presence, rescued him with the same stoic efficiency he remembered from when she was shooting to kill him. Clark thought it highly likely that she didn't care who the target was, as long as she got to hurt people from time to time.
The sickness was worth it, because it got Lex to spend two straight days in his presence, a rarity now that they were both working so hard. By the end, Lex had compensated for Lionel's refinements, and his new suit was better than ever.
He missed Lex whenever they were apart, which was silly because he was spending more time with Lex than he had in the last ten years. He'd extend their nightly conversations with trivialities, long after real information had stopped being exchanged, until Lex laughed at his tricks and pulled him close for a kiss. Hearing Lex's stories and pronouncements made him feel like they were really together, almost more than anything physical.
Lex sent Hope to Smallville to make sure Lionel didn't try anything against the Kents. He would have sent Mercy, but they both agreed that would be a bad idea, given Mercy's provenance. Two weeks in, Hope caught three men whose escape from prison had coincidentally sent them in the direction of the Kent farm. Two of them lived to finish out their sentences.
Clark's parents never knew they'd been in danger.
The Fortress did its bit, slicing through LuthorCorp computer systems with the ease of a karate master overpowering a week-old baby. Clark had a vague suspicion that it wasn't just giving LuthorCorp information to Lex, but he really didn't want to know. At least if that was happening, it meant that the Fortress had accepted Lex's role in his life, which was what he wanted most.
Lex asked Clark not to report in such detail on LuthorCorp's fall. "My father never allowed me to have any dignity," he said, "but I want to be better than that. Let him go without a public hanging." Clark insisted, though, that he couldn't have his journalistic integrity affected more than it already was by dodging a serious news story just to save Lex's sensibilities. Lex sulked but didn't bring it up again. As a compromise, Clark refrained from writing any editorials – Lois was more than willing to take up the slack.
The victory was, like many of Clark's victories, not very flashy. LuthorCorp was chopped up and digested by many other companies, with LexCorp only taking choice bits. Lionel was left with a good pension and a token executive vice presidency. With his toys taken away, Clark worried that he might try to get his revenge by exposing Clark's secret to the world, but apparently Lionel thought it would be too humiliating to go begging to journalists he'd owned last year.
Lex refused all his father's attempts to meet. After Mercy carried Lionel physically out of the LexCorp building, he stopped trying.
Clark couldn't help but feel smug. Lionel had destroyed months of Lex's memory and had only bought himself a few years of Lex's trust. But Lionel hadn't been able to change his habits to take advantage of the opportunity. (Insanity, he'd heard, was doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results next time.) Clark wasn't devious the way Lionel was, but he loved Lex more, enough to change for him.
****
Clark's parents hadn't said anything about Superman's new detente with Lex, though he did catch them in a few uncertain and worried looks.
It was kinder not to tell them the full story, he thought. God knew they should be used to that reasoning.
He asked his mom to make him a sour cream apple walnut pie, the kind Lex always loved, and she agreed. "Lois likes the peach strawberry," she said when Clark came to pick it up. She was busy shelling peas as she sat at the kitchen table.
"I know, Mom."
He stood in silence in the kitchen, still his home, still warm and cheerful after a hundred years of hearty farm cooking. Over the years, he'd replaced more than a few of the beams holding the ceiling up, not even counting the one he'd broken himself. The farmhouse was likely to outlast his parents.
"Clark –" His mother didn't look up from her bowl of peas.
"Yes?" He almost wanted to have someone to whom he could confess everything. Lex knew all about the present and the future, and his parents knew about the past; telling Lex more was out of the question, but maybe his mother –
"Are you sure you're doing the right thing?"
Clark stared at the yellow floral curtains over the sink. They were new, but they were just like the old ones. Things didn't change much at the Kent farm. Maybe that was for the best.
"I'm sure, Mom. Thanks for the pie."
Lex ate three slices that night, with the coffee ice cream he insisted was a better accompaniment than vanilla. Clark's mom would have approved, he was sure; she'd always thought Lex was too thin. Lex asked after Clark's parents, but he didn't suggest a visit. Lex was a pragmatist.
****
Clark dodged the missile, sped to the ground, tied up the guerrillas, destroyed the launcher, darted back into the air to wrestle the missile to the ground, and punched through metal to detach the trigger from the fissionable material.
Just another one of those days, he thought, glad that he'd had the Fortress tutor him in bomb-dismantling techniques.
Sometimes he thought that America relied too much on his protection. Lex was definitely of that opinion. Clark hadn't considered it much before, but maybe some sort of speech was in order.
As he delivered the guerrillas to local law enforcement, he pondered his options. The problem was that he couldn't credibly say he'd let terrorists do what they wanted if American foreign policy continued pissing people off. Also, he pretty much agreed with American foreign policy – not that the President needed his approval or anything – and fundamentalist anger didn't seem like a good reason to refrain from acting.
He was looking forward to Lex's entrance into politics. Lex was smart enough to figure some of this out, and he wouldn't want to rely on Superman to clean up his messes. He'd hated it before, and showed no signs of change on that front.
When he got back to the Planet, Lois had already given up on him and was off talking to State Senator Gordon on her own, leaving him to tramp around Metropolis's Dead Zone – Superman really ought to clean that up for good one of these days – looking for the thugs who'd been working with the Russian mob on a complicated insurance scam. They hadn't been deterred by the failure of their first approach to Metropolis. It was a sad commentary on modern life, but the mobsters had a better work ethic than most legitimate people he knew.
Lois would rattle Gordon with the evidence of the payoffs he'd been receiving, and Clark would find someone on the bottom of the scheme to explain it. And then he'd go to the penthouse and Lex would be there.
Clark whistled as he walked towards the bad part of town, as happy as he'd been since he learned what he was.
****
When Clark touched down on the penthouse balcony, Lex didn't look up from his desk, even though it was positioned so that Lex could always watch him land.
"What's wrong?" he asked as soon as he was through the glass doors.
Lex stared at the papers on his desk. His fingers were clenched around a fountain pen, though he wasn't writing anything.
"Lex?" What if he'd had a stroke? The Fortress had said there'd be a lingering weakness in the blood vessels in his brain. Clark hurried to kneel beside Lex, prepared to sweep him back to Antarctica for treatment.
Lex dropped the pen, swiveled in his chair, and examined Clark's pose as if he were evaluating a sculpture for possible purchase. "Is something the matter, Clark?"
"Yes," he said, trying not to sound annoyed. "You're acting weird."
Lex laughed, a short angry sound. "Define 'weird' for us. You and I aren't exactly bastions of normalcy, are we?" His eyes kept moving, refusing to fix on Clark's face or anywhere else.
"You had a visit from your father, didn't you? And he gave you some crap about living up to expectations."
That got him a closed-mouth smile. "Not in so many words."
Clark threw up his hands. "What a jerk! I mean, I didn't exactly see him running the world when he was your age. It's ridiculous. He's trying to grind you down because he doesn't want to admit that you've already become a better, more important man than he'll ever be."
Lex closed his eyes. "Thanks to you."
He didn't need a hazmat sign to know that there was danger here. "No. You've always made your own way, Lex. I'm just glad to be by your side."
"Are you."
"Did Lionel – did he say something about us?"
Lex made a small, contemplative sound. "No, but I find it interesting that you think he would." He turned back to the papers on his desk, and Clark finally looked at them closely enough to see the LuthorCorp logo on the folders. "Apparently Dr. Morris, the man who gave me my most recent concussion, got a little further with his story at LuthorCorp than he did at LexCorp. According to my father, these are files he took with him when his experiments were terminated."
"He's making it all up, elaborating on that poor man's delusions."
Lex's elegant artificial lashes hid his lowered eyes. "I see."
That didn't seem to follow, until the penny dropped. Clark's heart stuttered in his chest, and it was all he could do not to clutch at it.
He really should have asked what the files said before declaring them to be delusions.
His mind flashed in all directions, like a lightning storm, trying to find some branching path that would get them back to where they ought to be. "When was the last time your father told you the truth?"
Lex swept a hand over the papers on his desk as if his touch could erase them. "Oh, my father always uses a heavy dose of truth. All the most successful liars do. It's just the – context – that he manipulates."
Clark's pulse was calming as Lex failed to launch into a series of accusations. He could deal with Lionel's poison, to which Lex was already supplying his own antidotes. "He's trying to play you again. What did he want?"
"He *said* he wanted to keep LexCorp at the forefront of the field of genetic manipulation. He gave me a rather long list of projects that, he assured me, LexCorp was already deeply involved in. Unfortunately, the list could also have functioned as a guide to violating every precept of the Nuremberg Code. Of course, I told him I didn't know what he was talking about. The funny thing is, for once, I meant it." Lex still wasn't looking at Clark. Instead, he was examining his hands, the palms and then the backs, as if wondering whether he was really Lex Luthor.
"What did you do?" Clark felt confident enough now to put his hand on Lex's forearm reassuringly.
"Kicked him out, naturally. But he still won, since I've been looking at these files for hours, wondering."
"You shouldn't let him –"
Lex turned his head. His eyes were like twin stars, blazing blue light that negated Clark's powers. "The truth, Clark. Were those real projects? Did I intend to remake the world in my image? Were we really allies, behind a facade of enmity? Or did you just take your chance to change the story until it read the way you wanted?"
He met Lex's eyes without hesitation. "What do you want me to say, Lex?" There was no proof, one way or another. That was the wonderful thing about conspiracy theories, and conspiracies: they were unfalsifiable, unscientific, exactly the kinds of things Lex could not abide.
"If the situation were reversed, what would you want me to tell you?" The skin underneath Lex's eyes was bruised with worry. Clark could tell that his answer would be dispositive, either wrenching history onto another track or keeping it in place.
He reached out and took Lex's hands in his, his thumbs rubbing gently at Lex's smooth skin.
With a tug, Lex was only inches away, and he leaned in to whisper the words into the curve of Lex's ear.
"What you believe – that's the truth."
Lex sucked in a breath, almost a gasp. He turned his head, and his eyes burned like Kryptonite, making Clark's heart lose its beat again. His expression was unreadable at first, until it resolved into something unexpected and welcome.
Gratitude.
He had to struggle to control his own reaction, shock and delight. Lex knew. Lex knew and he didn't care. He liked Clark's version of reality better than his own, and he was never going to mention it again.
"We're going to change the world," he promised Lex, giddy with triumph.
Lex's eyes shone. His hands were on Clark's wrists, pulling until they were wrapped around each other, not an atom between them. He could feel the universe's center of gravity shifting, resettling itself around them. Clark had lied, and not for his own safety. Lex had let him lie.
They'd sacrificed the truth to one another, and it had been pleasing.
After this, destiny would be easy.
end
So I'm thinking: new summary, either "If you love enough, you lie a lot," or "Clark never makes the same mistake twice." Any thoughts?
Part 2
Clark was editing his latest expose of LuthorCorp shenanigans – futile, in the larger sense, as long as Lionel owned half the town, but capable of providing momentary satisfaction as the FDA or the SEC threw its weight around.
The phone was an unwelcome interruption.
"Clark Kent."
"What happened to my cars?"
Clark snorted, drawing curious glances from the desks around him.
"You got rid of them last year, when you hired your new PR chief." Lakshmi Lyons, aside from being even more stunningly, calmly beautiful than Lana Ross, had formerly run two successful senatorial campaigns and one successful mayoral campaign.
Silence on the line. "Oh," Lex said at last. "I knew there had to be a reason I was driving domestic."
He hung up, leaving Clark to grin, shake his head, and ignore Lois's "What're you smiling at, Kent?"
Of course, Governor Luthor couldn't publicly date Clark or even Superman, not in Kansas in a conservative decade. But Lex had so much to offer the world; Clark couldn't be selfish with the treasure he'd received, all unexpected.
"Let's get lunch," he said, turning to Lois with what she called his farmboy smile. He needed some time to work on Lois so she'd agree to keep hammering at Lionel instead of following up on some of Lex's more creative accounting.
Unfortunately, he had to run out on her. Forest fires in California. It was a bit annoying, how people built in these dry areas, where fires were nature's way of cleaning up. Then they suppressed the fires for years and years and when suppression worked no longer and the bill came due, they wanted protection. They had choices; they weren't poor. They just liked the views, nine years out of ten.
Nonetheless, they were people, and in need of his help, so he went. Even though it meant another editorial from Lois that made Lex blink and duck his head.
****
"Tell me about us," Lex said, drawing patterns on Clark's back as if raking sand in a Zen garden.
Clark propped his chin on his hands, looking at the handprint in the metal of the headboard from one particularly active night. "What do you mean?"
"All that lost time – I want to know what happened. I want to know everything I used to know about you. So tell me something, anything."
He closed his eyes, willing himself not to get too emotional. And remembered, going back to when they were friends.
"Once, in college," he began, "I had a paper to write about Emily Dickinson. For a week you kept calling me up and singing me her poems to the tune of the theme from 'Gilligan's Island.' 'The heart asks pleasure first – And then, excuse from pain –'" he imitated. "I was so mad at you – I couldn't take her seriously after that. I got a really bad grade, and you weren't sorry at all."
He could feel Lex smiling. "You were mad, but did you hang up when I started singing?"
Clark snorted. "Not once."
It had been his senior year in high school, really, but that was okay, since it was the truth otherwise.
****
"Superman." Lionel Luthor made the name sound like an indictment.
Clark swallowed. They'd tested the new protective suit in Lex's lab, but he was irrationally sure that Lionel had done something to juice up the natural destructiveness of Kryptonite. "Mr. Luthor, this facility is being used as a transfer point for illegal shipments of guns and drugs."
Lionel's eyes widened in a mockery of surprise. "You don't say. How terrible for the owners of this warehouse." Lionel, of course, would be ten links down the corporate chain, implausibly deniable.
"But I'm surprised," Lionel said, taking another step towards Clark. "This facility, as you call it, has been in operation for at least three years. I wonder why Superman didn't think it worth his attention until now."
Clark scanned Lionel's body and found only a ring set with several hundred carats of Kryptonite. He felt fine, even with the ring not ten feet away, and blessed Lex's ingenuity.
"Does it have anything to do with the new look, I wonder," Lionel mused, stepping closer still. "I must admit, I find this *darker* version much more appropriate for a leader of men. Thinking about politics?"
Clark shook his head. "You assume I'm like you, power-hungry and manipulative." He probably could have gotten the new suit the same colors as the old, but it wasn't worth the fight with Lex, and crimson on dark blue was, he had to admit, fairly impressive. He crossed his arms over his chest.
"You always were judgmental, Mr. Kent," Lionel said. Clark's vision flared white with shock and fear. "Oh yes, I knew. But as long as you kept out of my way, I let the matter ... slide, especially because you kept Lex on his toes. Now, however, Superman seems to have reconciled with my son." He was within neck-snapping distance by now. "Now, I think we may have to see who is the stronger."
If the Kryptonite had any residual effect, it was unnoticeable under the plain old terror. "If you hurt anyone trying to get to me, I *will* kill you."
Lionel smiled and traced the 'S' with his ring finger. "I've noticed that being your friend can be as dangerous as being your enemy, Clark. Collateral damage is part of the game, and you should have known that when you decided to take me on."
Clark grabbed Lionel's hand, tightening around the wrist until the bones ground together and Lionel couldn't suppress a wince. "This isn't a game, Luthor."
Lionel's smirk stayed in his mind long after the police had arrived to seize the contraband, long after Lionel had made a brief noncommittal statement to one of his hired hands in the force and departed.
He realized that he'd expected this, expected that choosing Lex would upset the balance of power and force Lionel to make an overt move. He had hoped that Lionel didn't know too much, but there was no solution for it but to press on. And to win.
****
With Lex helping strategize the anti-Lionel campaign, it was brutal but swift. Lex played the market like a symphony conductor. Superman and the Daily Planet rooted out anything less than fully licit, and Lionel didn't exactly know how to conduct an irregularity-free business. Lionel's resources turned to ashes. The power shift was in the air like the taste of fall, with people who once answered Lionel's calls now responding quickly to Lex.
Lionel retaliated with an enhanced version of Kryptonite, a refinement that had Clark puking on the floor of one of Lionel's covert labs. He only escaped because Lex's people came in after fifteen minutes had passed. Mercy, who had never once changed expression in his presence, rescued him with the same stoic efficiency he remembered from when she was shooting to kill him. Clark thought it highly likely that she didn't care who the target was, as long as she got to hurt people from time to time.
The sickness was worth it, because it got Lex to spend two straight days in his presence, a rarity now that they were both working so hard. By the end, Lex had compensated for Lionel's refinements, and his new suit was better than ever.
He missed Lex whenever they were apart, which was silly because he was spending more time with Lex than he had in the last ten years. He'd extend their nightly conversations with trivialities, long after real information had stopped being exchanged, until Lex laughed at his tricks and pulled him close for a kiss. Hearing Lex's stories and pronouncements made him feel like they were really together, almost more than anything physical.
Lex sent Hope to Smallville to make sure Lionel didn't try anything against the Kents. He would have sent Mercy, but they both agreed that would be a bad idea, given Mercy's provenance. Two weeks in, Hope caught three men whose escape from prison had coincidentally sent them in the direction of the Kent farm. Two of them lived to finish out their sentences.
Clark's parents never knew they'd been in danger.
The Fortress did its bit, slicing through LuthorCorp computer systems with the ease of a karate master overpowering a week-old baby. Clark had a vague suspicion that it wasn't just giving LuthorCorp information to Lex, but he really didn't want to know. At least if that was happening, it meant that the Fortress had accepted Lex's role in his life, which was what he wanted most.
Lex asked Clark not to report in such detail on LuthorCorp's fall. "My father never allowed me to have any dignity," he said, "but I want to be better than that. Let him go without a public hanging." Clark insisted, though, that he couldn't have his journalistic integrity affected more than it already was by dodging a serious news story just to save Lex's sensibilities. Lex sulked but didn't bring it up again. As a compromise, Clark refrained from writing any editorials – Lois was more than willing to take up the slack.
The victory was, like many of Clark's victories, not very flashy. LuthorCorp was chopped up and digested by many other companies, with LexCorp only taking choice bits. Lionel was left with a good pension and a token executive vice presidency. With his toys taken away, Clark worried that he might try to get his revenge by exposing Clark's secret to the world, but apparently Lionel thought it would be too humiliating to go begging to journalists he'd owned last year.
Lex refused all his father's attempts to meet. After Mercy carried Lionel physically out of the LexCorp building, he stopped trying.
Clark couldn't help but feel smug. Lionel had destroyed months of Lex's memory and had only bought himself a few years of Lex's trust. But Lionel hadn't been able to change his habits to take advantage of the opportunity. (Insanity, he'd heard, was doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results next time.) Clark wasn't devious the way Lionel was, but he loved Lex more, enough to change for him.
****
Clark's parents hadn't said anything about Superman's new detente with Lex, though he did catch them in a few uncertain and worried looks.
It was kinder not to tell them the full story, he thought. God knew they should be used to that reasoning.
He asked his mom to make him a sour cream apple walnut pie, the kind Lex always loved, and she agreed. "Lois likes the peach strawberry," she said when Clark came to pick it up. She was busy shelling peas as she sat at the kitchen table.
"I know, Mom."
He stood in silence in the kitchen, still his home, still warm and cheerful after a hundred years of hearty farm cooking. Over the years, he'd replaced more than a few of the beams holding the ceiling up, not even counting the one he'd broken himself. The farmhouse was likely to outlast his parents.
"Clark –" His mother didn't look up from her bowl of peas.
"Yes?" He almost wanted to have someone to whom he could confess everything. Lex knew all about the present and the future, and his parents knew about the past; telling Lex more was out of the question, but maybe his mother –
"Are you sure you're doing the right thing?"
Clark stared at the yellow floral curtains over the sink. They were new, but they were just like the old ones. Things didn't change much at the Kent farm. Maybe that was for the best.
"I'm sure, Mom. Thanks for the pie."
Lex ate three slices that night, with the coffee ice cream he insisted was a better accompaniment than vanilla. Clark's mom would have approved, he was sure; she'd always thought Lex was too thin. Lex asked after Clark's parents, but he didn't suggest a visit. Lex was a pragmatist.
****
Clark dodged the missile, sped to the ground, tied up the guerrillas, destroyed the launcher, darted back into the air to wrestle the missile to the ground, and punched through metal to detach the trigger from the fissionable material.
Just another one of those days, he thought, glad that he'd had the Fortress tutor him in bomb-dismantling techniques.
Sometimes he thought that America relied too much on his protection. Lex was definitely of that opinion. Clark hadn't considered it much before, but maybe some sort of speech was in order.
As he delivered the guerrillas to local law enforcement, he pondered his options. The problem was that he couldn't credibly say he'd let terrorists do what they wanted if American foreign policy continued pissing people off. Also, he pretty much agreed with American foreign policy – not that the President needed his approval or anything – and fundamentalist anger didn't seem like a good reason to refrain from acting.
He was looking forward to Lex's entrance into politics. Lex was smart enough to figure some of this out, and he wouldn't want to rely on Superman to clean up his messes. He'd hated it before, and showed no signs of change on that front.
When he got back to the Planet, Lois had already given up on him and was off talking to State Senator Gordon on her own, leaving him to tramp around Metropolis's Dead Zone – Superman really ought to clean that up for good one of these days – looking for the thugs who'd been working with the Russian mob on a complicated insurance scam. They hadn't been deterred by the failure of their first approach to Metropolis. It was a sad commentary on modern life, but the mobsters had a better work ethic than most legitimate people he knew.
Lois would rattle Gordon with the evidence of the payoffs he'd been receiving, and Clark would find someone on the bottom of the scheme to explain it. And then he'd go to the penthouse and Lex would be there.
Clark whistled as he walked towards the bad part of town, as happy as he'd been since he learned what he was.
****
When Clark touched down on the penthouse balcony, Lex didn't look up from his desk, even though it was positioned so that Lex could always watch him land.
"What's wrong?" he asked as soon as he was through the glass doors.
Lex stared at the papers on his desk. His fingers were clenched around a fountain pen, though he wasn't writing anything.
"Lex?" What if he'd had a stroke? The Fortress had said there'd be a lingering weakness in the blood vessels in his brain. Clark hurried to kneel beside Lex, prepared to sweep him back to Antarctica for treatment.
Lex dropped the pen, swiveled in his chair, and examined Clark's pose as if he were evaluating a sculpture for possible purchase. "Is something the matter, Clark?"
"Yes," he said, trying not to sound annoyed. "You're acting weird."
Lex laughed, a short angry sound. "Define 'weird' for us. You and I aren't exactly bastions of normalcy, are we?" His eyes kept moving, refusing to fix on Clark's face or anywhere else.
"You had a visit from your father, didn't you? And he gave you some crap about living up to expectations."
That got him a closed-mouth smile. "Not in so many words."
Clark threw up his hands. "What a jerk! I mean, I didn't exactly see him running the world when he was your age. It's ridiculous. He's trying to grind you down because he doesn't want to admit that you've already become a better, more important man than he'll ever be."
Lex closed his eyes. "Thanks to you."
He didn't need a hazmat sign to know that there was danger here. "No. You've always made your own way, Lex. I'm just glad to be by your side."
"Are you."
"Did Lionel – did he say something about us?"
Lex made a small, contemplative sound. "No, but I find it interesting that you think he would." He turned back to the papers on his desk, and Clark finally looked at them closely enough to see the LuthorCorp logo on the folders. "Apparently Dr. Morris, the man who gave me my most recent concussion, got a little further with his story at LuthorCorp than he did at LexCorp. According to my father, these are files he took with him when his experiments were terminated."
"He's making it all up, elaborating on that poor man's delusions."
Lex's elegant artificial lashes hid his lowered eyes. "I see."
That didn't seem to follow, until the penny dropped. Clark's heart stuttered in his chest, and it was all he could do not to clutch at it.
He really should have asked what the files said before declaring them to be delusions.
His mind flashed in all directions, like a lightning storm, trying to find some branching path that would get them back to where they ought to be. "When was the last time your father told you the truth?"
Lex swept a hand over the papers on his desk as if his touch could erase them. "Oh, my father always uses a heavy dose of truth. All the most successful liars do. It's just the – context – that he manipulates."
Clark's pulse was calming as Lex failed to launch into a series of accusations. He could deal with Lionel's poison, to which Lex was already supplying his own antidotes. "He's trying to play you again. What did he want?"
"He *said* he wanted to keep LexCorp at the forefront of the field of genetic manipulation. He gave me a rather long list of projects that, he assured me, LexCorp was already deeply involved in. Unfortunately, the list could also have functioned as a guide to violating every precept of the Nuremberg Code. Of course, I told him I didn't know what he was talking about. The funny thing is, for once, I meant it." Lex still wasn't looking at Clark. Instead, he was examining his hands, the palms and then the backs, as if wondering whether he was really Lex Luthor.
"What did you do?" Clark felt confident enough now to put his hand on Lex's forearm reassuringly.
"Kicked him out, naturally. But he still won, since I've been looking at these files for hours, wondering."
"You shouldn't let him –"
Lex turned his head. His eyes were like twin stars, blazing blue light that negated Clark's powers. "The truth, Clark. Were those real projects? Did I intend to remake the world in my image? Were we really allies, behind a facade of enmity? Or did you just take your chance to change the story until it read the way you wanted?"
He met Lex's eyes without hesitation. "What do you want me to say, Lex?" There was no proof, one way or another. That was the wonderful thing about conspiracy theories, and conspiracies: they were unfalsifiable, unscientific, exactly the kinds of things Lex could not abide.
"If the situation were reversed, what would you want me to tell you?" The skin underneath Lex's eyes was bruised with worry. Clark could tell that his answer would be dispositive, either wrenching history onto another track or keeping it in place.
He reached out and took Lex's hands in his, his thumbs rubbing gently at Lex's smooth skin.
With a tug, Lex was only inches away, and he leaned in to whisper the words into the curve of Lex's ear.
"What you believe – that's the truth."
Lex sucked in a breath, almost a gasp. He turned his head, and his eyes burned like Kryptonite, making Clark's heart lose its beat again. His expression was unreadable at first, until it resolved into something unexpected and welcome.
Gratitude.
He had to struggle to control his own reaction, shock and delight. Lex knew. Lex knew and he didn't care. He liked Clark's version of reality better than his own, and he was never going to mention it again.
"We're going to change the world," he promised Lex, giddy with triumph.
Lex's eyes shone. His hands were on Clark's wrists, pulling until they were wrapped around each other, not an atom between them. He could feel the universe's center of gravity shifting, resettling itself around them. Clark had lied, and not for his own safety. Lex had let him lie.
They'd sacrificed the truth to one another, and it had been pleasing.
After this, destiny would be easy.
end
So I'm thinking: new summary, either "If you love enough, you lie a lot," or "Clark never makes the same mistake twice." Any thoughts?
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And incidentally, I'd go with "If you love enough, you lie a lot." It just seems more thematically related to the story than the more generic "Clark never makes the same mistake twice."
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How about "Do you love enough to learn to lie?"
Great story, thanks for doing it.
~
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There was so much of this entire work that was beautiful, I don't even know where to begin. From Lex finding his way back to the world in the first part, to he and Clark exploding in raw need in the second part, to this delicious conclusion which contains my favorite moments:
Lex knew and he didn't care.
...
Clark had lied, and not for his own safety. Lex had let him lie.
Artistic, unexpected, emotional, and so true. I loved it. Thank you so much for it.
(as to the summary: I like either one of the lines I quoted, they really work for me. Of course, either of your summaries work. And then there's the obvious: "do unto others" or something along the lines of "forgetting is sometimes the easiest way to remember the truth." But whatever you pick, oh man, you rock!)
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So I'm thinking: new summary, either "If you love enough, you lie a lot," or "Clark never makes the same mistake twice." Any thoughts?I like the first better than the socond, but I'm nost sure it entirely captures the ontological aspect--Lex believing in Clark's lies so that they became truth. Or on the flip side, that Clark needed reality changed so badly he made it happen.
Ah. It's 2 a.m. and I am probably not making much sense. Sorry.
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Perfect ending.
I really enjoyed this story and the post-rift reconciliation!
Fantastic job!
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It's also an outgrowth of Lex's upbringing - there have been holes in his memory for years which he's had to fill in as best he could - history is what he can construct from existing patterns.
This time when he woke up, Clark was there instead of Lionel. Clark set the patterns, and thus changed Lex's history.
I loved it!
I like the first summary best of the two you mentioned. I was also thinking of this: "When you're in love, truth is what you make it."
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A couple of factual nitpicks of the whole thing --
1. The Tractatus is actually the easier, logically-laid-out one; I'd say "Wittgenstein's 'Investigations'."
2. Reporters are not generally allowed to write editorials on the story they are covering while they are covering them. The editorial writers are generally, on a large paper like the Planet, not the same people as the regular journalists -- at the NYT, for example, their offices are on an entirely different floor.
3. Using Lukacs and Huyssen as names was freaking me out, but in a good way.
This was a fun story, and I loved the resolution. They are going to change the world, and, uh, I'm actually a little nervous about that!
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1. I had troubles with anything written by Wittgenstein, but then Lex is smarter than I am, so I'll upgrade.
2. Hmm. Good point, but I may go with poetic license anyway.
3. What freaked you out about the names? I may have gotten them subconsciously from somewhere, but I don't know it.
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I thought for sure you'd just turned to Z's bookshelves or someone's syllabus for names...
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This story is, like all the rest, fantastic. I love how you always manage to grey Clark up far more satisfyingly than the series, but still make him absolutely sympathetic.
And your Lex, well, words fail me. Except to say, that he's even sexier than series Lex, which is actually saying a helluva lot.
Favorite bit? Lex's skewering of "Truth, Justice, and The American Way." Hee.
Oh, btw, I like "Clark never makes the same mistake twice."
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<3
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This is the most complicated and ambiguous Clark that I can remember reading, and I really like him that way. The ending was a big surprise, but it made sense. I'm happy for the boys, but watch out world. Great story!
*friending*
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Wow. That was...really good. Yes. *nods head emphatically*
Don't really have words right now, but yes. God.
Um, and just my opinion, but I like "Clark never makes..." It's more serious and fits the tone of the story better. Again, that's just me. :)
Loved this.
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Whee!
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