(no subject)
Who: Lex Luthor, Clark Kent
What: the truth
Where: home
The flight back from the Fortress had been comfortably quiet. They'd made it back to the penthouse balcony before noon, and looking through the plate glass, it looked like the furniture had been spared Caesar's wrath.
This was it.
Part of Clark wished that this wasn't all going according to plan. It had been so easy to decide upon his course of action. He had lost his powers because he had wanted to; he had wanted to, because he had become distracted. He had lost sight of what he was destined to do, entertaining thoughts of a world where the zee-zee-zee of Jimmy Olsen's watch didn't intrude upon his consciousness, where he could settle down and spend the entirety of his life with someone; a white picket fence type of world, admittedly. All the same, he had wanted it so badly that the wish had intruded upon reality.
The reality of it was everything the white picket fence world had promised, and more. More being the obvious and immediate loss of his powers; his inability to step in, when he observed injustice; the closing-off of all the wonders of the universe, as his world shrunk to become work, Lex, coffee, and sleep.
Everything had got too close for comfort. There was nothing else he could do. This was it.
Clark slid the doors open and stepped inside.
What: the truth
Where: home
The flight back from the Fortress had been comfortably quiet. They'd made it back to the penthouse balcony before noon, and looking through the plate glass, it looked like the furniture had been spared Caesar's wrath.
This was it.
Part of Clark wished that this wasn't all going according to plan. It had been so easy to decide upon his course of action. He had lost his powers because he had wanted to; he had wanted to, because he had become distracted. He had lost sight of what he was destined to do, entertaining thoughts of a world where the zee-zee-zee of Jimmy Olsen's watch didn't intrude upon his consciousness, where he could settle down and spend the entirety of his life with someone; a white picket fence type of world, admittedly. All the same, he had wanted it so badly that the wish had intruded upon reality.
The reality of it was everything the white picket fence world had promised, and more. More being the obvious and immediate loss of his powers; his inability to step in, when he observed injustice; the closing-off of all the wonders of the universe, as his world shrunk to become work, Lex, coffee, and sleep.
Everything had got too close for comfort. There was nothing else he could do. This was it.
Clark slid the doors open and stepped inside.