Crossroads - Chapter 15

by a campbell

Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, PG-13

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Lex had paid attention in his Excelsior writing class.

An author, when crafting a story, revises, eliminating unnecessary phrases, sentences, paragraphs. In order to achieve a clearer focus and enable the real intent to shine through, rather than bogging it down with too much verbiage.

Musing, he sat sprawled in the study, shirt unbuttoned, his customary glass of Scotch at his elbow, untouched.

Gardeners have to thin and prune as well, clearing out excess. Cutting the number of plants down to a fraction of what was originally sown. Only thus can the ones left grow strong.

Even great planners had to make changes. Changes that improved the final product. In shaping one’s life, cutting one’s losses was sometimes mandatory, even for collectors like him. When relationships became unwieldy stories, unweeded gardens, it was time to edit, to revise. Prune ruthlessly. Remove the clutter.

True, for a time, he’d thought he loved her. But he now knew his brief attraction for what it was: a complex blend of delight at achieving the hitherto unattainable--Lana Lang, always surrounded by an admiring gaggle of young men, and finally of age--at connection with someone who knew some of the same losses and loneliness that had beset his life. Someone who knew pain and desolation, had been the victim of Clark Kent’s dishonesty just as he had.

And, most important: mean pleasure at snagging something, someone Clark wanted. The days were long gone when his love for Clark was pure, simple and unreserved, when his deepest desire was to enable Clark to have whatever, with the untried taste of a highschooler, he thought he wanted. Back then, his aim was to snare Lana for Clark. Only later, after the problems grew too great, after his feelings for Clark were more hate and anger than love and admiration, had he set his sights on claiming Lana for himself.

Bitterness? Undoubtedly. Revenge? Perhaps. Practicality? Undoubtedly. As a couple, Lex Luthor and Lana Lang won everyone’s attention, captured every eye around. Lana dressed up nicely, a possession to be proud of. Lana would be a wife everyone would admire, a woman anyone would want.

Anyone but him.

Love no longer factored in. On his part, anyway. Winning her love was a triumph. But a thing of the moment, transient, a temporary amusement. Lana, lovely as an exotic blossom, with the dark hair he preferred and slim, trim form. She was young. She was sweet and callow, and so invested in the relationship, with eyes for no one, now, but him. He could mold her…

He was bored already.

He no longer found her simpering cute, her self-absorption amusing. Once gained, her devotion was of little value. He wanted stronger stuff.

Stronger stuff. Clark’s strong arms around him, Clark back in his life, at his side day and night.

Thinning out possessions was hard for someone like him. But he would do it.

**

Focused and determined, Lex had tried for weeks to resist any pull toward sentimentality. With Clark in residence at the mansion, he had endeavored to keep some uniform distance, balance his life between the two of them, keep either of them from having an excess of power over his affections, over him. He prided himself on being a master of control, and he could control them, would control them to his advantage.

Neither of them, he vowed, would get too tight a grip on his heart.

Now, with Clark gone, the balance no longer mattered.

Clark had come to him. Clark wanted him. Clark, man and superman, bearing his child and incredible secrets, finally disclosed. The future, with all its promises and wonders from that long-ago day at the bridge, was not lost forever. The future was now attainable after all.

He wanted Clark. Wanted him near every day. Wanted him with a white-hot desire so intense that it left him breathless. Clark was incomparable. He was everything. Together, they could subdue the world.

There was no longer a place, no longer a need, an excuse, no longer a reason for Lana Lang.

Much as he’d wanted to have everything, it was time to prune, to revise. Lana had no further role in the saga of his life.

**

"Lex." She went to his arms in response to his raised eyebrow and patronizing smile.

He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the almond scent of her hair as he murmured, "Lana Lang...always accusing everyone else of lies, but she’s the biggest liar of all."

For a moment, she was motionless in his arms, then drew back, gaze darkening. "What are you talking about?" she said, with a little laugh, yet clearly unamused.

"You spoke with Clark recently." Lex's bland voice was the only sound in the quiet room.

Lana’s face changed, and she responded with a self-deprecating smile and a shrug, seeming to know denial was pointless. "A couple of weeks ago. How did you know?" She sank down on the couch, squared her jaw and regarded him steadily.

"Lana," he said with exaggerated patience, as though she were a naughty child. He stepped closer to the couch and looked down at her, hands behind his back. "Surely you remember that this place is wired inside and out. Draw your own conclusions."

His scrutiny was clearly making her uncomfortable. "Lex. I didn’t think of that at the time." She spread her hands. "And even afterward, I didn’t know you knew."

How could you not know? he wondered, bemused. After those conversations, disagreements, about the cameras and their placement, after his ultimatum: You’re free to make other arrangements, but the rest of them stay. This is how I live.

"All right. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I saw him, and I just got so angry. All the memories, all the lies came flooding back. You should know how that feels."

He regarded her for a long moment, then stepped over to the drink stand and fiddled with the spoon beside the bowl of limes, keeping his voice casual and smooth. "So you took it upon yourself to drive him away?"

"No," she stammered. “I didn't. I just--"

"You drove him away," he repeated, as though she hadn’t spoken, an edge of anger in his voice. "With your meanness, your lies. After he finally came to me, trusted me. After I’d waited for years."

She was shaking her head, bemused. "Lex, I don’t understand. I thought you--"

"You thought about yourself, as usual."

He raised his head, somehow unable to subdue the naked desolation in his gaze. Their eyes connected. Lana stared at him for a long moment, realization dawning. "It’s Clark," she said, dazed. "It’s him, isn’t it? He’s the one you love."

Lex didn’t answer. He no longer cared if she saw through him, divined the secret. It no longer mattered if she knew. They both loved Clark, and he was determined to come out the victor, even if it meant trimming his possessions, giving up control, bidding Lana goodbye.

She waited for his answer, her inner shock and struggle evident on her face. "Don’t lie to me." Lex noted the tremble in her voice as the sentence trailed off. "I've had enough of lies."

He had no intention of lying, so he said nothing, watching as any lingering shreds of hope abandoned her. He beat down any weak stirrings of pity. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was finding Clark. Getting him back. Keeping him safe.

"I can’t stay here." Lana gathered up her purse, knelt and fumbled for the two pairs of shoes under the couch. He watched, willing himself not to see her pain in her gaze. Hurt again. If only she didn’t make herself such a willing target, easy victim.

She rose to her feet and strode to the door, where she paused, as though waiting for him to stop her. When he said nothing, she squared her shoulder and spat the words over her shoulder.

"Goodbye, Lex. I should have known better than to ever have gotten involved with you in the first place."

He shot her the most bored look he could muster, though, headed out of the room, she couldn’t see. "Goodbye."

Soft click of metal meeting wood and she was gone, more slowly, quietly and easily than he would have expected.

He knew it was cliché, but indulged himself nonetheless.

"Don’t let the door hit you on the way out," he said dispassionately to the empty air.

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