Crossroads - Chapter 20

by a campbell

Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, PG-13

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"You’ve barely eaten," Lionel dabbed at his moustache and mouth with a fine linen napkin and a nod at his companion’s dinner plate. The chit's first time at Le Vendome, and one would have thought her enjoyment of the experience would have been more pronounced. Instead, her poulet au vinaigre de framboise remained virtually untouched, as did her salade de fenouil and her glass of wine. The girl was underage, but Lionel was fully capable of pulling whatever strings were necessary to ensure her compliance with what he was about to propose. "Drink some wine. It will relax you."

Lana pushed her plate away, sepia hair glossy in the candlelight, eyes dark and troubled as she gazed across the table at him. "It feels--strange. Being here with you. I'm guess I'm still getting adjusted." Her slim fingers curled around the stem of her goblet but she still did not drink.

Lionel raised a candid eyebrow. "Adjusted. To me?"

A hesitant nod, an uneasy glance right, then left. But Lionel had chosen well. The secluded corner offered a view of the restaurant while keeping them largely concealed behind stained glass and potted greenery.

A faint rose stained Lana’s cheekbones. "What happened the last time we were together--shouldn’t have."

"Shouldn’t it have?" He used his lowest, crispest, most sensual voice and reached for her hand. A sapphire on her ring finger, a gift from whom? The Teague boy? Lex? Clark?

“No.” She looked down at his hand on hers. "These past few months have been difficult. I wasn’t myself that afternoon."

Ah, the overused excuse again, the one that did duty for virtually every bizarre happening in Smallville. Lionel feigned acceptance by a nod.

Lana eased her hand out from under his and Lionel noted trembling fingers as she began to fold her napkin. "And I’ve had some trouble coming to terms with what you told me last time we--were together."

"Miss Lang--Lana--I suppose we’re on reasonably familiar terms?" and a wince from her showed him the dart had struck its target "Thus far, you've been ill-served by life."

Aha, Lionel thought, that’s piqued her interest. Lana raised her head and gazed steadily at him. He paused for effect, one moment, two, before proceeding.

"Both your parents, dead so young, and in such a tragic manner. How devastating for you."

Slowly, she nodded, and settled back in her chair, her gaze growing thoughtful and far-off. "I keep wondering what my life would have been like if it hadn’t happened. If I’d been able to grow up with my mother and father and have a normal life."

"Of course," Lionel agreed. "Abandoned. And not only due to a terrible tragedy. By those who purported to be not only your friends, but your loved ones as well. My son. Clark Kent."

Lana looked away, and Lionel’s keen vision detected the tremble of her lower lip. "Neither of them wanted me. Even though I loved them both."

Lionel shrugged and looked away. "Could that possibly have been the problem?" He released her hand and leaned back in his chair. Yes, he imagined it was difficult for her, bitter the knowledge that she was the one left outside the circle, lonely, alone. Abandoned.

And it was about to get worse.

"At least you have one good friend. Miss Sullivan."

He studied her, waiting for her reaction, saw the brief flinch. "Yes."

He cleared his throat, then slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket and drew forth a small manila envelope.

"These photographs were taken last week in Montague Park." Lionel held them out to her. He waited while she slid them from the envelope into her palm and studied, flipping from one photo to the next, then back once or twice to study again.

"Lies. Such a sad thing, between friends. Both of them lied to you. All three of them lied. To you, the best of friends. Now I just wonder, why and how the three of them were able to forge such strong bonds--and yet not include you." An empathetic shake of his head, a tap of his ring finger at the top photo, Lex, hand on Clark’s shoulder, leaning over the park bench, Chloe looking on with a smile. All three standing together by the fountain, sunset shining through the trees, Clark holding Lex's hand, the small mound of his belly clearly visible in that particular shot.

Lana laid the pictures down on the tablecloth, raised her glass to her lips and began to sip. One swallow after another, till the glass was nearly empty.

Lionel watched and waited. He was in no hurry. He had all evening.

He could be patient.

Lana set down her glass. "They trust her," she commented bitterly, staring straight ahead, and for a moment, Lionel almost thought he discerned hatred in her gaze. "She’s always come between Clark and me. He always confided in her, and now--"

"So it appears."

She turned to stare straight at him, and Lionel felt transparent for a brief, uncharacteristically uneasy moment. Steadily, he held her gaze until she faltered and looked away.

Time to move in for the proverbial kill.

Lana was again studying the fountain photo, and shaking her head in dismal amazement. "I can’t believe Clark’s... pregnant." A small shudder, and the hint of disgust in her tone was not lost on Lionel. "That’s one of the strangest things ever."

Lionel pursed his lips. "Well, in Smallville--we should all be used to it now. Deformities, mutations. Happenings beyond one’s wildest imaginations. This is just one more."

"But he's a man. How can this be?"

An elaborate shrug from Lionel. "If I had all the answers, Miss Lang..."

She continued as though he hadn’t spoken. "I always knew he was different. But I thought at first it was a lie. That you’d deliberately lied to me, a sick, crazy lie. But...then—I realized you were right. More things made sense. Now--I’d just like to go away somewhere and forget I ever knew either of them." And you, she didn’t say, but Lionel could read her thoughts as effectively as if he were Kreskin or someone similar.

"My son--a father. Not quite in the manner I was expecting, but a father, nonetheless."

Lana looked beseechingly at him, apparently a wordless plea for him to cease talking. No chance.

"He seems ready to settle down at last. I understand he’s appointed himself in charge of decorating the nursery and quite possibly selecting a name."

Lana shifted in obvious discomfort at his words. Lionel's sharpened senses divined her unhappiness with ease. How much more would it take to make her crack?

Not as long as he would have expected.

She drew a deep breath, making a visible effort to keep her voice steady. "I thought, a few months ago, that I was pregnant."

Lionel let a beat or two go by before he waved at the waiter. "Sazerac. Double." He turned back to Lana. "By whom?"

"By Lex," she whispered, dropping her gaze, and Lionel could have sworn he saw a tear drop down onto the satin napkin.

"And how did you feel about that?"

"Stunned. Scared. Frantic. Hopeful. Excited. Proud and amazed, all at once."

"Typical." Lionel turned as the waiter set a frosted tumbler in front of him on the table. He stirred his beverage with the swizzle stick, plucked the slice of lime from the rim and sucked the fruit from the rind.

Her gaze flashed as she raised her chin in defiance. "How would you know?" Her voice quivered as she spoke. "I told Lex."

Lionel sipped. "And what did he say?"

Lana dropped her gaze to examine the tablecloth. "He told me...he said, 'Lana, I don’t want children.'"

Lionel shook his head, tsking low under his breath.

She swallowed hard, then choked, her voice nearly a whisper. "I have to be sure my wife doesn't want them, either."

Lionel picked up his glass, then set it down again. "And then?"

"He suggested I get it 'fixed'." Lana drew a deep breath. “He handed me a wallet full of bills and a slip of paper with an address. He told me he’d order the limo for me the next Wednesday morning, and to be ready."

"Monstrous," Lionel’s voice a murmur, his hand crept across the tablecloth to grasp hers again.

She bowed her head. "It turned out to be a false alarm. When I told him, he pretended to try to comfort me, but I knew how he really felt." A bitter smile. "Relieved."

"Poor child."

Lionel’s keen hearing picked up on the quiver in her voice. "I know I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I was nineteen, not finished with college, in a new relationship I wasn’t sure of yet. And yet I was devastated. I felt even more alone than before. He couldn’t have cared less. And I’m left with nothing now. I’m alone. With a baby, at least I’d have had something. Someone to love, and to love me." She looked up, her eyes dark, bleak wells of misery. "All I’ve ever wanted was someone who would be honest with me. Who would stay with me. That’s all I wanted."

The longing evident in her tone, she fixed her gaze on Lionel. Expecting him to fill her request, he supposed. He knew better than to try. Nothing would ever be enough for her, that much was clear. But if she thought for a time that there was a chance, so much the better for his plans.

Lionel lifted the wine bottle from the cooler, peeled off the white napkin, and tipped it to fill Lana’s glass with the pale golden vintage once again. "Miss Lang, if you will be guided by me, I promise you that you will have everything you want."

A bitter smile, a cynical shake of her head. "I don’t trust you."

Her remark didn’t trouble Lionel in the least. Wary, yet intrigued, Miss Lang was the last person who could resist the promise of all her dearest wishes come true.

**

Green-yellow street lights glinted through the rain-soaked limo windows as the vehicle coasted down the side streets of Metropolis.

Lana was kneading her light jacket into a wrinkled ball on her lap. "Drop me off at the university. Please."

"Patience," Lionel advised. "First, we have a mission."

He moved closer to her on the seat. She drew ever so slightly away. "The child---" he began.

He could feel her tense. She turned to look out the window at the rain-soaked streets. "Has nothing to do with me."

"Not yet. But it will."

He knew she wouldn’t be able to resist that. And he was correct. She turned back, clearly wrestling inwardly with herself, curiosity ultimately getting the upper hand.

"What do you mean?"

He favored her with a paternal smile. "Patience, please, Miss Lang. May I continue?"

"I doubt my son and his partner will understand what their child will need in order to achieve the greatness that is its destiny."

Lana waited. "And that is--?"

Lionel’s bland voice was the only sound in the limo. "The most important? The love and support of a family. And, most important, of a mother."

Lionel could tell she was trying to affect disinterest, but that, in spite of her efforts, she was intrigued. "Go on."

"Clark Kent. Lex Luthor. You know them both well. Too well, perhaps." Lionel paused to let that sink in. "Lex’s involvement in schemes, projects, expensive ventures—is constant. Too constant to allow him to be a good father, or even a present father. While Clark--well, Clark is unreliable, changeable. No one know that, from experience, better than you. Not to be counted on in many cases. Certainly not fit to be a parent."

Lana, burned many times if Lionel’s powers of recall were correct, nodded slowly.

"There is more for you to consider. Even if things turn out better than we suppose, if the child is left in their hands, at best it will grow up cared for by live-in staff. Left alone on holidays, rattling around in the mansion or in the penthouse here in the city. Growing up without parents, alone and desolate. Just as you did."

Lionel was perceptive enough to divine that, while she might feel some pity for the yet-unborn child, the bulk of her sympathy was reserved for herself. But still, he was confident of some amount of surplus that he could utilize--

"You could ensure that the child is spared that fate. A mother’s love is of paramount importance, and it will take a very special woman to assume that responsibility. If you give that child love, there is hope."

Lana was silent for a moment. Lionel almost fancied briefly that her mind had wandered. But then: "You mean--"

"We could raise the child. You and I. Ensure that it receives what Clark and Lex will never be able to give."

For a moment, he fancied she wasn’t listening, or that she was and would momentarily shrink away in a combination of disgust and fear. But her next words proved him wrong.

"We could be a family."

"We could." Lionel reached out to trail a finger over the fine bone of her wrist, toy with the thin silver bracelet that graced her slender arm. "And, more important, you might have a hand in saving the world, Miss Lang, and everyone on it. Yes, you. If we band together, you and I."

A moment to consider, then a skeptical twist of her mouth. Undeterred, Lionel continued.

"Lana, you’ve seen the visitors. Looked upon the carnage, gazed into their steely, merciless eyes. This child: it's a harbinger, a bequest: and, quite possibly, a weapon It will be strong, powerful--destiny, I’m convinced of it. If you...and I... could get that child, and raise him, we could do so much good. My son is, quite frankly, not to be trusted. Lex is hungry for power, and his obsessive curiosity will one day be his undoing. We could not only keep the child safe, but raise him with care, ensuring he embraces the proper values. By doing so, we can protect the world."

She was listening, intent. Doubtful at first, and then gradually, her eyes began to shine, her mouth curving up into a smile. When Lionel reached out to draw her to him, she didn’t draw back.

"You think Clark--and Lex--will let us just--"

"Not likely. That is where you come in. We must take control, you and I."

"But how?"

He held up his hand. "First: will you be guided by me?"

A slow nod.

"And, second, will you keep in mind that whatever we plan and execute is for the greater good?"

Lana drew a shaky breath. "I will. More than anything, I want to help others. I’ve always wanted that. I just lost sight of it for a while."

Even easier than he'd hoped.

Lionel rapped on the window separating them from the driver. "Edward, take us to the penthouse."

Lana stared straight ahead, voicing no objection. Instead, she said. "What should I do?"

Lionel reached out to draw her in to his side, smiling when she didn’t resist.

"Trust me." Lionel bent to kiss the top of her raven head as she nestled close. "Shortly, it will all be clear. Now, listen."

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