Echoes, Part Five (5/5) -- Lost Footing
Disclaimer: 'Smallville' and certain characters belong to Miller-Gough et al. No profit is gained from this writing-only, hopefully, enjoyment.
*** Smallville - Lost Footing
It wasn't the same Lex; of course it wasn't. When Clark told Lois, she believed him. Maybe that shouldn't have surprised him, but it had. He was still getting used to the idea that Lois knew, that she could know The Truth and still- that she would stick around.
That didn't really happen, ever, at least not in Clark's experience. So far, Lois was the only one. Well, she and Ollie were the longest-running, but Oliver wasn't-in any way, shape, or form-in the same category. Oliver was a friend and a comrade. Lois was both and so much more.
"He's some sort of clone," Clark had confided to her. He'd been leaning forward, and she was sitting back. At the time, the thought had crossed his mind that it was a reversal of their usual roles. Lois' face after Clark told her-it was funny, but he couldn't laugh. He just couldn't laugh about Lex anymore, no matter how absurdly funny it got, and it did get pretty damn funny sometimes.
Lex was kind of a sore spot. Clark didn't think he'd ever really be able to just brush talk of him aside, and a part of him was glad for it. All he had left of Lex were the memories. This clone might have those too, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same person, no matter what it looked like to the general public. The guy could spin his tall tales and schmooze everyone he liked. It wouldn't change the fact that this Lex Luthor was not Clark's Le- wasn't the real Lex Luthor.
The fact that the guy was walking around with Lex's things in a copy of Lex's body-that of course didn't help matters any, but it didn't fool Clark. It didn't fool Superman or the League. When he sat Lois down and told her, it didn't fool Lois, either, and Clark remembered right then everything that he loved about her. Lois was a godsend.
She just 'got' things, even before Clark did himself most of the time. This was no different.
It really wasn't.
Later, at a big hoorah birthday party, they danced, Clark gently pinching Lois' arm whenever her language took a turn for the gutter. He spun her around in proper circles for most of the night-slow, gentlemanly-like, son-of-a-senator-don't-mind-me dancing-but, later on, after she'd had a few too many drinks and the room had cleared quite a bit, Clark gave in and pulled her closer. Lois wrapped both her arms all the way around him. She laid her head on his shoulder, and eventually he got her to step onto his feet and leave them there, if only to keep her from continually tripping over him. Lois was a terrible dancer, but whenever he tried to discreetly call her on it and suggest some other diversion of a Friday night, she'd get that look on her face.
"Takes one to know one, Smallville," she'd once tartly said, and then had promptly followed that up with a drunken shimmy that made even Clark look like Fred Astaire.
"You look good together," his mom always told him. He'd laughed once afterward, and she'd swatted him on the arm. "You do," she'd insisted, reaching over to squeeze the spot on his arm she'd just smacked. "You look so happy together, honey." His mom didn't cry much anymore, not with tears, but Clark knew her expressions. He knew her, and he'd known what she'd really meant.
"I love you too, Mom," he'd reminded her quietly.
Oliver had given Clark a curt nod before he'd left the ballroom earlier, his eyes flickering pointedly over to Lois at the bar and back. Clark had caught the smirk on Ollie's face, and rolled his eyes in response. Lois was Lois. She talked to everyone, and to her mind introductions were nothing more than antiquated ritual. Clark's mom could have introduced Lois to Bruce Wayne, just as Oliver and Tess could've-but Lois hadn't waited. She'd just barreled right over to the guy, leaving Clark standing there in a corner of the room, shaking his head in exasperation and watching it all play out.
Wayne looked to have a good poker face overall, but every once in awhile he'd given himself away. There were tiny, fleeting expressions that crossed his face at times, each barely lasting for a second, but always long enough for Clark to spot. Lois had been talking and gesturing wildly about animal rights and testing in WayneTech labs-and Bruce Wayne? He'd looked bewildered most of the time, and in small doses amused. Clark had chuckled, knowing that was most people's reaction to Lois.
Now he held Lois close, and she held him. He'd made it a habit to tell her everything he could, almost everything she asked, and almost everything she'd want to know but didn't know to ask about in the first place. Clark knew she did the same for him. He trusted her, with more than his life. He loved Lois, loved her so much, with every fiber of his being. She kept some secrets, and Clark kept one too, but he didn't love anyone alive more than he loved Lois Lane.
This new Lex Luthor's name popped up often, at the paper and in discussions at Watchtower, and at those times, Clark would meet Tess' eyes across the room, and know just from looking at her that this new Lex Luthor, this clone, it wasn't the same Lex. It never would be. The clone was only the worst parts of Lex, boiled down, distilled. He was the result of everything, the final outcome, the finished product. His very existence was a constant reminder to Clark that he'd failed, and every fleeting glimpse of the real Lex that Clark caught in this new one was- it was just false hope.
And that's why he couldn't laugh about it all, couldn't make fun of it. Clark's biggest secret these days wasn't that he was an alien, or that he went around trying to help people while wearing a bright costume. It was that no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, tried to talk himself into not feeling it, into not believing it-Lois wasn't the only one he had feelings for.
But, the reality was, he was in love with a ghost, a memory, the flash of someone he would never really see again, never talk to, never make it up to, never forgive-never save. His feelings were false hope. They never went away, and there would never be anything he could do about them. There would never be any closure.
There was no second chance this time, no possibility of ever truly setting things right. He couldn't rewrite history.
And so Clark held Lois as close to himself as he could, and tried to block out everything else in existence but her.
And he prayed that wasn't a false hope, too.
***
I climbed up a mountain, and looked off the edge
At all of the lives that I never have led.
There's one where I stayed with you across the sea.
I wonder, do you still think of me?
I carry your image always in my head,
Folded and yellowed and torn at the edge,
And I've looked upon it for so many years.
Slowly, I am losing your face.
Oh, the ocean rolls us away, away, away.
The ocean rolls us away.
Sixes and sevens, we live on jet planes.
So many faces, I don't know the names.
So many friends now and none of them mine,
Forgotten as soon as we meet.
All of these moments are lost in time,
But you're caught in my head like a thorn on a vine,
To Forever torment me and I wonder why.
Do I wish I'd never known you at all?
Oh, the ocean rolls us away, away, away.
The ocean rolls us away.
The sun and the moon,
An ocean of air,
So many voices,
But nothing is there,
The ghost of you asking me why,
Why did I leave?
Oh, the ocean rolls us away, away, away.
And I lose your hand through those waves. ~ "The Ocean" by The Bravery
***
The End.
30
*** Smallville - Lost Footing
It wasn't the same Lex; of course it wasn't. When Clark told Lois, she believed him. Maybe that shouldn't have surprised him, but it had. He was still getting used to the idea that Lois knew, that she could know The Truth and still- that she would stick around.
That didn't really happen, ever, at least not in Clark's experience. So far, Lois was the only one. Well, she and Ollie were the longest-running, but Oliver wasn't-in any way, shape, or form-in the same category. Oliver was a friend and a comrade. Lois was both and so much more.
"He's some sort of clone," Clark had confided to her. He'd been leaning forward, and she was sitting back. At the time, the thought had crossed his mind that it was a reversal of their usual roles. Lois' face after Clark told her-it was funny, but he couldn't laugh. He just couldn't laugh about Lex anymore, no matter how absurdly funny it got, and it did get pretty damn funny sometimes.
Lex was kind of a sore spot. Clark didn't think he'd ever really be able to just brush talk of him aside, and a part of him was glad for it. All he had left of Lex were the memories. This clone might have those too, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same person, no matter what it looked like to the general public. The guy could spin his tall tales and schmooze everyone he liked. It wouldn't change the fact that this Lex Luthor was not Clark's Le- wasn't the real Lex Luthor.
The fact that the guy was walking around with Lex's things in a copy of Lex's body-that of course didn't help matters any, but it didn't fool Clark. It didn't fool Superman or the League. When he sat Lois down and told her, it didn't fool Lois, either, and Clark remembered right then everything that he loved about her. Lois was a godsend.
She just 'got' things, even before Clark did himself most of the time. This was no different.
It really wasn't.
Later, at a big hoorah birthday party, they danced, Clark gently pinching Lois' arm whenever her language took a turn for the gutter. He spun her around in proper circles for most of the night-slow, gentlemanly-like, son-of-a-senator-don't-mind-me dancing-but, later on, after she'd had a few too many drinks and the room had cleared quite a bit, Clark gave in and pulled her closer. Lois wrapped both her arms all the way around him. She laid her head on his shoulder, and eventually he got her to step onto his feet and leave them there, if only to keep her from continually tripping over him. Lois was a terrible dancer, but whenever he tried to discreetly call her on it and suggest some other diversion of a Friday night, she'd get that look on her face.
"Takes one to know one, Smallville," she'd once tartly said, and then had promptly followed that up with a drunken shimmy that made even Clark look like Fred Astaire.
"You look good together," his mom always told him. He'd laughed once afterward, and she'd swatted him on the arm. "You do," she'd insisted, reaching over to squeeze the spot on his arm she'd just smacked. "You look so happy together, honey." His mom didn't cry much anymore, not with tears, but Clark knew her expressions. He knew her, and he'd known what she'd really meant.
"I love you too, Mom," he'd reminded her quietly.
Oliver had given Clark a curt nod before he'd left the ballroom earlier, his eyes flickering pointedly over to Lois at the bar and back. Clark had caught the smirk on Ollie's face, and rolled his eyes in response. Lois was Lois. She talked to everyone, and to her mind introductions were nothing more than antiquated ritual. Clark's mom could have introduced Lois to Bruce Wayne, just as Oliver and Tess could've-but Lois hadn't waited. She'd just barreled right over to the guy, leaving Clark standing there in a corner of the room, shaking his head in exasperation and watching it all play out.
Wayne looked to have a good poker face overall, but every once in awhile he'd given himself away. There were tiny, fleeting expressions that crossed his face at times, each barely lasting for a second, but always long enough for Clark to spot. Lois had been talking and gesturing wildly about animal rights and testing in WayneTech labs-and Bruce Wayne? He'd looked bewildered most of the time, and in small doses amused. Clark had chuckled, knowing that was most people's reaction to Lois.
Now he held Lois close, and she held him. He'd made it a habit to tell her everything he could, almost everything she asked, and almost everything she'd want to know but didn't know to ask about in the first place. Clark knew she did the same for him. He trusted her, with more than his life. He loved Lois, loved her so much, with every fiber of his being. She kept some secrets, and Clark kept one too, but he didn't love anyone alive more than he loved Lois Lane.
This new Lex Luthor's name popped up often, at the paper and in discussions at Watchtower, and at those times, Clark would meet Tess' eyes across the room, and know just from looking at her that this new Lex Luthor, this clone, it wasn't the same Lex. It never would be. The clone was only the worst parts of Lex, boiled down, distilled. He was the result of everything, the final outcome, the finished product. His very existence was a constant reminder to Clark that he'd failed, and every fleeting glimpse of the real Lex that Clark caught in this new one was- it was just false hope.
And that's why he couldn't laugh about it all, couldn't make fun of it. Clark's biggest secret these days wasn't that he was an alien, or that he went around trying to help people while wearing a bright costume. It was that no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, tried to talk himself into not feeling it, into not believing it-Lois wasn't the only one he had feelings for.
But, the reality was, he was in love with a ghost, a memory, the flash of someone he would never really see again, never talk to, never make it up to, never forgive-never save. His feelings were false hope. They never went away, and there would never be anything he could do about them. There would never be any closure.
There was no second chance this time, no possibility of ever truly setting things right. He couldn't rewrite history.
And so Clark held Lois as close to himself as he could, and tried to block out everything else in existence but her.
And he prayed that wasn't a false hope, too.
***
I climbed up a mountain, and looked off the edge
At all of the lives that I never have led.
There's one where I stayed with you across the sea.
I wonder, do you still think of me?
I carry your image always in my head,
Folded and yellowed and torn at the edge,
And I've looked upon it for so many years.
Slowly, I am losing your face.
Oh, the ocean rolls us away, away, away.
The ocean rolls us away.
Sixes and sevens, we live on jet planes.
So many faces, I don't know the names.
So many friends now and none of them mine,
Forgotten as soon as we meet.
All of these moments are lost in time,
But you're caught in my head like a thorn on a vine,
To Forever torment me and I wonder why.
Do I wish I'd never known you at all?
Oh, the ocean rolls us away, away, away.
The ocean rolls us away.
The sun and the moon,
An ocean of air,
So many voices,
But nothing is there,
The ghost of you asking me why,
Why did I leave?
Oh, the ocean rolls us away, away, away.
And I lose your hand through those waves. ~ "The Ocean" by The Bravery
***
The End.
30