Fic: All the Difference, part 2
Mar. 1st, 2007 04:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xparrotYou know you've been living in Japan too long when eggs and mayo over rice with a little soy sauce for brunch is delicious. (It so is!)
Got great feedback (thank you!) to the first part of this, so I'm gonna go ahead and put up the next. (After a decade of posting fic online, one would think I'd get over the butterflies in my stomach every time I start sharing a new story, but...) Hope y'all enjoy!
Smallville: All the Difference, 2/? {2,428 words}
PG, Clark/Lex, futurefic, AU (in a manner of speaking)
Lex Luthor wakes up in his own bed, in his own penthouse, infinitely far from home.
All the Difference (2/?)
Lex Luthor awoke in his own bed, alone. "Clark?" he asked, rubbing his face as he sat up, listening for the shower.
But the bathroom was silent and dark behind the closed door, when he looked. And the nightstand clock showed five past nine. Lex frowned. He never set the alarm, but never slept in this late on a weekday. Clark always woke him before leaving for work, if he wasn't up already.
Clark never left in the morning without kissing him goodbye. It was a Clark thing, a perk that Lex quite enjoyed and never would have argued against anyway. He put great stock in the Jonathan & Martha Kent Guide to Marital Bliss, as related to him by their son. But Clark did on occasion follow the letter rather than the spirit of that law, if he had to leave early for an emergency, and superspeed pecks didn't always wake Lex.
His appointment with the EPA wasn't until eleven; he could afford a few minutes' leisure. Lex reached for the remote on the nightstand, clicked on the projection screen on the opposite wall. The television came on, tuned to CNN, but there was no breaking story on Superman, and the AI program which audited local TV and radio broadcasts for superhero keywords had nothing new to offer. No emergency, then.
That was a relief. Still, Lex tapped the remote thoughtfully as he switched off the screen. Maybe Clark had simply decided to let him sleep in. He had been concerned lately that Lex hadn't been sleeping well, and neither his own minimal sleep requirements, nor the fact that Lex hadn't himself required more than three hours a night since his adolescence, had convinced him not to worry.
Lex never should have mentioned the dreams. It wasn't as if he hadn't long experience with nightmares, and these were hardly night terrors. Just alternate perspectives, his mind playing with possibilities. Things had been going so well; of course his perverse subconscious would bring some excitement into the mix. He didn't function without a challenge. Of all people Clark should understand that. He always needed something to set his own power against himself.
If Lex had dreamed last night, though, he didn't remember it. And it wouldn't do to let Clark's unrequested heroism go unchecked. Not to mention, given the day's schedule, this might have been their only chance together, and they hadn't had enough time lately as it was. He looked forward to his mornings, and would not suffer a few dreams or Clark Kent's overactive caretaking disrupting them. Lex picked up his cell phone on the nightstand, hit the speed dial on two. It rang once, then, "Yes, Lex?"
Lex frowned. "Mercy?"
"Yeah?"
"Never mind," Lex said, and hung up. He eyed the phone for a moment, evaluating the possibility that it had been hacked and possibly bugged, versus the chance of a simple electronic glitch. Deciding it wasn't worth the trouble, he got out of bed, shrugged into his bathrobe and went to the landline hookup by the telescreen. Absently shaking pins and needles out of his right hand, he dialed Clark's cell phone.
After two rings he picked up. "Hello, this is Clark Kent?"
"Clark," Lex said, "are you going to tell me what this is about?"
"Excuse me?"
"If you had a legitimate reason then by all means, enlighten me; but if this was a rampant display of unchecked mother-hen-ism, there may be consequences."
There was a momentary pause, perhaps Clark arranging his argument, then--"Who is this?" Clark demanded.
"Clark, Clark, I expect better of you than that." Lex shook his head. "And I expected better of you earlier, too." He dropped his voice, just the pitch to inspire an embarrassing blush on those classic cheekbones. He hoped Lois was already in. And watching her partner. "Those few minutes before work would have been well worth your while. But I guess now you'll never know."
Another pause, longer, before Clark said, his tone not reproachful but vastly, oddly, suspicious, "...Luthor? Is that you?"
That weirdly spoken question was like cold water on his libido, though Lex didn't let it shake his own voice. If Clark was upping the stakes of the game then he ultimately would just end up deeper in debt. "Who else?" Lex purred, all seduction.
"Luthor?" If Clark had sounded suspicious before then now he was downright incredulous. "What are you up to?"
Lex grinned, slowly, and let it sound in his voice. "Stop by on your lunch break and maybe I'll show you. Unless something more important...comes up."
On the other end of the line he heard Clark take a breath, then lower his voice. "Lex, have you been drinking?"
Mother-henning was one thing but that was just ridiculous. "It's nine o'clock in the morning, Clark," Lex said coolly.
"I know."
Clark sounded confused. Honestly confused, not playful, not teasing. Lex abruptly lost interest in the game. "What happened? Was there an urgent story? Or did Superman have an emergency that didn't make it on the news?"
"Superman?" Clark said, in a bizarre fast hiss that could have been scared anger, or something else. Something that was gone the next moment, though his chill composure was no more encouraging or comprehensible. "I don't know what your game is, Luthor, but you're just wasting your time. Whatever you're on about, I'm not going to help you."
"Clark, what--Clark?" The dial tone answered. He had hung up. Lex hit redial.
"I just told you," Clark answered, "I'm not--"
"Whatever you're thinking, can't it wait?" Lex asked, stalling for time as he considered what possibly might have Clark this upset. The blowup over Senator Skorski had been weeks ago, and even if they hadn't come to an agreement it was on hold for the moment. And Clark still didn't approve of Sao Paulo lab, but the League had voted. There was the Caribbean purchase, of course, but how Clark could have found out about that--"If it's the island, I can tell you--" It wouldn't be spoiling too much; he could always just claim it as a tax break for now. He needed to get to the bottom of this. Clark was sincerely angry, and if there was someone Lex needed to wreak vengeance on it would be best to handle it before he got home tonight.
"This doesn't have anything to do with me, Luthor," Clark said. "Leave me alone."
"What?" Lex said, beyond confused now and well into alarmed. Maybe it wasn't anything to do with him. There might be a crisis he didn't know about, something that was keeping Clark from answering him honestly. The potential bug on his own cell phone--if Clark suspected someone might be listening to the call--"Clark, does this have any bearing on our mutual friend in red and blue? We can talk about it later, if you've got company now."
"No one is listening to this call, Luthor," Clark said. Not a deliberate hinting lie, but hostile honesty. "Except whatever you've got going on your end. And I'm not Superman's answering service--if you want to talk to him, try throwing yourself off your building. Maybe he'll swing by in time, if he doesn't have something better to do."
The phone beeped as he hung up. Lex hit redial once more, counted four rings before Clark picked up again.
"Luthor, this is harassment--"
"Clark, just tell me what the hell is going on. Please."
Clark almost hung up. Lex could hear it in his hesitation. He sounded tired when he did reply, like he was giving up. Surrendering. "You tell me."
"No games now. If you're genuinely angry with me, I want to know. I need to know why."
"I..." Clark's voice was shaky. "I--I don't even know where to begin with that."
Surrender in those words, a bleak hopelessness that sent a frisson of dread down Lex's spine. This was big. Bigger than anything he could account for. Bigger than him, or them. Perhaps involving Krypton? Or some other interplanetary, galactic, even universal concern--Clark did have a terrible tendency to take on more than even his extraordinary shoulders could support. Lex kept his voice calm, that practiced confidence that said he could handle anything. Clark knew him well enough to see through the image, but sometimes he would lean on it all the same, when he needed to. "Begin anywhere. Just tell me what matters most now, and we can figure out the rest later."
"Lex..."
At least it was his name. "If it'd be easier for you," Lex said, "wait until tonight. I'll clear my schedule. Your meeting shouldn't go too late--will it? There aren't any intra-galactic calamities brewing on the horizon, are there?" The bimonthly League meetings usually were just a couple hours of organizational formalities and touching base, but if whatever had Clark so shaken was potentially League business...maybe he should ask for a visitor's pass tonight. J'onn would be willing to give him a head's up, if LexCorp resources would be needed.
Clark didn't answer. He stayed silent for so long that Lex, tensing with every second passed, began to wonder if interference had cut the call short instead. But then he heard Clark breathe. "I...don't know what the hell you're talking about," Clark said, and he wanted to sound angry, but he was scared. Or shocked. Or something violent that stretched his voice almost to cracking, and that antagonism was directed at Lex.
And it didn't make sense. No matter how big it was--that Clark couldn't talk about it; that even with no one listening, Clark would act as if he knew nothing of the League--as if he knew nothing of Superman; and good God, what if this wasn't really Clark?
Or was Clark, but changed, somehow. Amnesia--no, he knew Lex, but almost sounded afraid of him. Paranoia, schizophrenia...perhaps some manner of kryptonite poisoning, or a disease. Or else a deliberate attack. Against Clark, or against Lex? There was the unproven bug in his cell phone. Brainwashing; subliminal stimulation; psychic or magic manipulation. Clark's body was generally invulnerable but his mind was not so impenetrable.
Lex flipped through his options, navigating a mental flowchart like he was rafting whitewater. Going to see Clark in person might help, or might equally exacerbate the situation. He could send a team to the Daily Planet, escort him back home, but there was not enough evidence to predict what Clark might do in this state if he perceived himself attacked, and he couldn't risk exposing Superman.
Martha and Jonathan--but if Clark were turning on him, his reaction to other loved ones might be the same. Was he acting normally at the Planet? Lex could try calling Lois to ask, though by the time they sorted through their differences Clark might well have flown off into the sun or to the Andromeda Galaxy.
The League, then, was his best bet. With luck they might already be aware of the problem. Lex kept his voice calm. "I'm sorry, Clark," he said. "I won't bother you again. Goodbye." He waited a moment and then broke the connection, absurdly hurt not to get an answering farewell. Not Clark's fault. Right.
Lex took a breath and dialed the number followed by the ten digit passcode that would connect him through to the League Watchtower. J'onn's surface mental scan could possibly pick up the problem, perhaps even identify it; otherwise their resources, surveillance and research alike, would be helpful. They were Clark's friends and he could trust them. Besides, if Superman was in danger of going rogue, the League would find out about it sooner or later anyway; better not to antagonize them by withholding vital information...
He waited nearly a minute before he concluded that the call was not connecting. Frowning, he punched in the number and code again, to no avail. When he tried the auxiliary JL number given to major city police departments and law enforcement agencies, he was summarily disconnected without even reaching the AI answering service.
Lex opened the intercom instead. "Mercy?"
"Yes, Lex?"
"Can you reach the Watchtower from the office?" As one of his only employees fully privy to his arrangements with the League, Mercy had her own contact code.
"What?"
"The League. Can you get hold of them for me," Lex requested impatiently.
"I can...try," Mercy said. "Do you want me to try going through official channels, or should I get their attention more directly?"
"Oh, certainly, carve their names into the moon with the orbital debris laser canon."
"Um. If you say so, Lex..."
"Just use your code, Mercy."
"My code?"
"Give them a direct call."
"Lex, why would I have the number for those Justice League freaks?"
Mercy was not one for jokes. One case was an aberration. Two--a contagion, or a conspiracy. Or worse.
His own code to the Watchtower hadn't worked. As if it didn't even exist in the system.
Lex knew he was gripping the phone tightly. He didn't realize how tightly until the handset cracked open, spitting sparks.
He threw it to the floor, staring at the broken plastic case, spilling microcircuitry and wires. Stared at his own right hand, flexing his fingers. Too strong, and they moved too stiffly. They were numb, still prickling with pins and needles though he had been up for this long.
With his left hand he felt along his wrist, found the ridge of a seam and slid his nail under. The skin of the palm peeled back easily. It was appropriately warm but strangely smooth to the touch, plasticky. Must be those new chameleon dyes, to match the skintone so exactly. And underneath was--impressive, he had to admit, studying the array of servos and processors, set on the jointed metal and plastic structure that echoed without slavishly replicating the skeleton. He could only theorize about the complexity of the neural interface, that it felt this natural. This was beyond any bionics technology he was conversant with.
He folded the skin back over, smoothed it down and felt it reseal in place. Practically natural. Almost convincing.
Then he sat down on his bed, holding his hand up before his eyes and watching his artificial fingers wiggle, while in the back of his head, a little voice that sounded a lot like Clark--the real Clark, the Clark he had fallen asleep beside five hours ago--was saying, "Lex, I don't think you're in Kansas anymore..."
tbc...
Notes:
The Justice League: The League's role in this story should be minor, with the exception, naturally, of its flagship hero Superman, plus one more. JL references are drawn from the animated series, though following no specific timeline; think of it as a JL AU if you're getting confused.
The Watchtower: The JL's homebase, an orbiting space-station.
J'onn: JL founding member J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter, as late of SV canon as well. A telepath.
Lex's hand: He never lost it in JL, but as his visions of the future in SV show him with one black glove, I'm crying artistic license for symbolic purposes. Either that or I have a Luke Skywalker complex.
Got great feedback (thank you!) to the first part of this, so I'm gonna go ahead and put up the next. (After a decade of posting fic online, one would think I'd get over the butterflies in my stomach every time I start sharing a new story, but...) Hope y'all enjoy!
Smallville: All the Difference, 2/? {2,428 words}
PG, Clark/Lex, futurefic, AU (in a manner of speaking)
Lex Luthor wakes up in his own bed, in his own penthouse, infinitely far from home.
All the Difference (2/?)
Lex Luthor awoke in his own bed, alone. "Clark?" he asked, rubbing his face as he sat up, listening for the shower.
But the bathroom was silent and dark behind the closed door, when he looked. And the nightstand clock showed five past nine. Lex frowned. He never set the alarm, but never slept in this late on a weekday. Clark always woke him before leaving for work, if he wasn't up already.
Clark never left in the morning without kissing him goodbye. It was a Clark thing, a perk that Lex quite enjoyed and never would have argued against anyway. He put great stock in the Jonathan & Martha Kent Guide to Marital Bliss, as related to him by their son. But Clark did on occasion follow the letter rather than the spirit of that law, if he had to leave early for an emergency, and superspeed pecks didn't always wake Lex.
His appointment with the EPA wasn't until eleven; he could afford a few minutes' leisure. Lex reached for the remote on the nightstand, clicked on the projection screen on the opposite wall. The television came on, tuned to CNN, but there was no breaking story on Superman, and the AI program which audited local TV and radio broadcasts for superhero keywords had nothing new to offer. No emergency, then.
That was a relief. Still, Lex tapped the remote thoughtfully as he switched off the screen. Maybe Clark had simply decided to let him sleep in. He had been concerned lately that Lex hadn't been sleeping well, and neither his own minimal sleep requirements, nor the fact that Lex hadn't himself required more than three hours a night since his adolescence, had convinced him not to worry.
Lex never should have mentioned the dreams. It wasn't as if he hadn't long experience with nightmares, and these were hardly night terrors. Just alternate perspectives, his mind playing with possibilities. Things had been going so well; of course his perverse subconscious would bring some excitement into the mix. He didn't function without a challenge. Of all people Clark should understand that. He always needed something to set his own power against himself.
If Lex had dreamed last night, though, he didn't remember it. And it wouldn't do to let Clark's unrequested heroism go unchecked. Not to mention, given the day's schedule, this might have been their only chance together, and they hadn't had enough time lately as it was. He looked forward to his mornings, and would not suffer a few dreams or Clark Kent's overactive caretaking disrupting them. Lex picked up his cell phone on the nightstand, hit the speed dial on two. It rang once, then, "Yes, Lex?"
Lex frowned. "Mercy?"
"Yeah?"
"Never mind," Lex said, and hung up. He eyed the phone for a moment, evaluating the possibility that it had been hacked and possibly bugged, versus the chance of a simple electronic glitch. Deciding it wasn't worth the trouble, he got out of bed, shrugged into his bathrobe and went to the landline hookup by the telescreen. Absently shaking pins and needles out of his right hand, he dialed Clark's cell phone.
After two rings he picked up. "Hello, this is Clark Kent?"
"Clark," Lex said, "are you going to tell me what this is about?"
"Excuse me?"
"If you had a legitimate reason then by all means, enlighten me; but if this was a rampant display of unchecked mother-hen-ism, there may be consequences."
There was a momentary pause, perhaps Clark arranging his argument, then--"Who is this?" Clark demanded.
"Clark, Clark, I expect better of you than that." Lex shook his head. "And I expected better of you earlier, too." He dropped his voice, just the pitch to inspire an embarrassing blush on those classic cheekbones. He hoped Lois was already in. And watching her partner. "Those few minutes before work would have been well worth your while. But I guess now you'll never know."
Another pause, longer, before Clark said, his tone not reproachful but vastly, oddly, suspicious, "...Luthor? Is that you?"
That weirdly spoken question was like cold water on his libido, though Lex didn't let it shake his own voice. If Clark was upping the stakes of the game then he ultimately would just end up deeper in debt. "Who else?" Lex purred, all seduction.
"Luthor?" If Clark had sounded suspicious before then now he was downright incredulous. "What are you up to?"
Lex grinned, slowly, and let it sound in his voice. "Stop by on your lunch break and maybe I'll show you. Unless something more important...comes up."
On the other end of the line he heard Clark take a breath, then lower his voice. "Lex, have you been drinking?"
Mother-henning was one thing but that was just ridiculous. "It's nine o'clock in the morning, Clark," Lex said coolly.
"I know."
Clark sounded confused. Honestly confused, not playful, not teasing. Lex abruptly lost interest in the game. "What happened? Was there an urgent story? Or did Superman have an emergency that didn't make it on the news?"
"Superman?" Clark said, in a bizarre fast hiss that could have been scared anger, or something else. Something that was gone the next moment, though his chill composure was no more encouraging or comprehensible. "I don't know what your game is, Luthor, but you're just wasting your time. Whatever you're on about, I'm not going to help you."
"Clark, what--Clark?" The dial tone answered. He had hung up. Lex hit redial.
"I just told you," Clark answered, "I'm not--"
"Whatever you're thinking, can't it wait?" Lex asked, stalling for time as he considered what possibly might have Clark this upset. The blowup over Senator Skorski had been weeks ago, and even if they hadn't come to an agreement it was on hold for the moment. And Clark still didn't approve of Sao Paulo lab, but the League had voted. There was the Caribbean purchase, of course, but how Clark could have found out about that--"If it's the island, I can tell you--" It wouldn't be spoiling too much; he could always just claim it as a tax break for now. He needed to get to the bottom of this. Clark was sincerely angry, and if there was someone Lex needed to wreak vengeance on it would be best to handle it before he got home tonight.
"This doesn't have anything to do with me, Luthor," Clark said. "Leave me alone."
"What?" Lex said, beyond confused now and well into alarmed. Maybe it wasn't anything to do with him. There might be a crisis he didn't know about, something that was keeping Clark from answering him honestly. The potential bug on his own cell phone--if Clark suspected someone might be listening to the call--"Clark, does this have any bearing on our mutual friend in red and blue? We can talk about it later, if you've got company now."
"No one is listening to this call, Luthor," Clark said. Not a deliberate hinting lie, but hostile honesty. "Except whatever you've got going on your end. And I'm not Superman's answering service--if you want to talk to him, try throwing yourself off your building. Maybe he'll swing by in time, if he doesn't have something better to do."
The phone beeped as he hung up. Lex hit redial once more, counted four rings before Clark picked up again.
"Luthor, this is harassment--"
"Clark, just tell me what the hell is going on. Please."
Clark almost hung up. Lex could hear it in his hesitation. He sounded tired when he did reply, like he was giving up. Surrendering. "You tell me."
"No games now. If you're genuinely angry with me, I want to know. I need to know why."
"I..." Clark's voice was shaky. "I--I don't even know where to begin with that."
Surrender in those words, a bleak hopelessness that sent a frisson of dread down Lex's spine. This was big. Bigger than anything he could account for. Bigger than him, or them. Perhaps involving Krypton? Or some other interplanetary, galactic, even universal concern--Clark did have a terrible tendency to take on more than even his extraordinary shoulders could support. Lex kept his voice calm, that practiced confidence that said he could handle anything. Clark knew him well enough to see through the image, but sometimes he would lean on it all the same, when he needed to. "Begin anywhere. Just tell me what matters most now, and we can figure out the rest later."
"Lex..."
At least it was his name. "If it'd be easier for you," Lex said, "wait until tonight. I'll clear my schedule. Your meeting shouldn't go too late--will it? There aren't any intra-galactic calamities brewing on the horizon, are there?" The bimonthly League meetings usually were just a couple hours of organizational formalities and touching base, but if whatever had Clark so shaken was potentially League business...maybe he should ask for a visitor's pass tonight. J'onn would be willing to give him a head's up, if LexCorp resources would be needed.
Clark didn't answer. He stayed silent for so long that Lex, tensing with every second passed, began to wonder if interference had cut the call short instead. But then he heard Clark breathe. "I...don't know what the hell you're talking about," Clark said, and he wanted to sound angry, but he was scared. Or shocked. Or something violent that stretched his voice almost to cracking, and that antagonism was directed at Lex.
And it didn't make sense. No matter how big it was--that Clark couldn't talk about it; that even with no one listening, Clark would act as if he knew nothing of the League--as if he knew nothing of Superman; and good God, what if this wasn't really Clark?
Or was Clark, but changed, somehow. Amnesia--no, he knew Lex, but almost sounded afraid of him. Paranoia, schizophrenia...perhaps some manner of kryptonite poisoning, or a disease. Or else a deliberate attack. Against Clark, or against Lex? There was the unproven bug in his cell phone. Brainwashing; subliminal stimulation; psychic or magic manipulation. Clark's body was generally invulnerable but his mind was not so impenetrable.
Lex flipped through his options, navigating a mental flowchart like he was rafting whitewater. Going to see Clark in person might help, or might equally exacerbate the situation. He could send a team to the Daily Planet, escort him back home, but there was not enough evidence to predict what Clark might do in this state if he perceived himself attacked, and he couldn't risk exposing Superman.
Martha and Jonathan--but if Clark were turning on him, his reaction to other loved ones might be the same. Was he acting normally at the Planet? Lex could try calling Lois to ask, though by the time they sorted through their differences Clark might well have flown off into the sun or to the Andromeda Galaxy.
The League, then, was his best bet. With luck they might already be aware of the problem. Lex kept his voice calm. "I'm sorry, Clark," he said. "I won't bother you again. Goodbye." He waited a moment and then broke the connection, absurdly hurt not to get an answering farewell. Not Clark's fault. Right.
Lex took a breath and dialed the number followed by the ten digit passcode that would connect him through to the League Watchtower. J'onn's surface mental scan could possibly pick up the problem, perhaps even identify it; otherwise their resources, surveillance and research alike, would be helpful. They were Clark's friends and he could trust them. Besides, if Superman was in danger of going rogue, the League would find out about it sooner or later anyway; better not to antagonize them by withholding vital information...
He waited nearly a minute before he concluded that the call was not connecting. Frowning, he punched in the number and code again, to no avail. When he tried the auxiliary JL number given to major city police departments and law enforcement agencies, he was summarily disconnected without even reaching the AI answering service.
Lex opened the intercom instead. "Mercy?"
"Yes, Lex?"
"Can you reach the Watchtower from the office?" As one of his only employees fully privy to his arrangements with the League, Mercy had her own contact code.
"What?"
"The League. Can you get hold of them for me," Lex requested impatiently.
"I can...try," Mercy said. "Do you want me to try going through official channels, or should I get their attention more directly?"
"Oh, certainly, carve their names into the moon with the orbital debris laser canon."
"Um. If you say so, Lex..."
"Just use your code, Mercy."
"My code?"
"Give them a direct call."
"Lex, why would I have the number for those Justice League freaks?"
Mercy was not one for jokes. One case was an aberration. Two--a contagion, or a conspiracy. Or worse.
His own code to the Watchtower hadn't worked. As if it didn't even exist in the system.
Lex knew he was gripping the phone tightly. He didn't realize how tightly until the handset cracked open, spitting sparks.
He threw it to the floor, staring at the broken plastic case, spilling microcircuitry and wires. Stared at his own right hand, flexing his fingers. Too strong, and they moved too stiffly. They were numb, still prickling with pins and needles though he had been up for this long.
With his left hand he felt along his wrist, found the ridge of a seam and slid his nail under. The skin of the palm peeled back easily. It was appropriately warm but strangely smooth to the touch, plasticky. Must be those new chameleon dyes, to match the skintone so exactly. And underneath was--impressive, he had to admit, studying the array of servos and processors, set on the jointed metal and plastic structure that echoed without slavishly replicating the skeleton. He could only theorize about the complexity of the neural interface, that it felt this natural. This was beyond any bionics technology he was conversant with.
He folded the skin back over, smoothed it down and felt it reseal in place. Practically natural. Almost convincing.
Then he sat down on his bed, holding his hand up before his eyes and watching his artificial fingers wiggle, while in the back of his head, a little voice that sounded a lot like Clark--the real Clark, the Clark he had fallen asleep beside five hours ago--was saying, "Lex, I don't think you're in Kansas anymore..."
tbc...
Notes:
The Justice League: The League's role in this story should be minor, with the exception, naturally, of its flagship hero Superman, plus one more. JL references are drawn from the animated series, though following no specific timeline; think of it as a JL AU if you're getting confused.
The Watchtower: The JL's homebase, an orbiting space-station.
J'onn: JL founding member J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter, as late of SV canon as well. A telepath.
Lex's hand: He never lost it in JL, but as his visions of the future in SV show him with one black glove, I'm crying artistic license for symbolic purposes. Either that or I have a Luke Skywalker complex.
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Date: 2007-03-02 05:43 am (UTC)