Title: Check and Inevitable Balance
Author: SC182
Fandom: SV/Heroes X-over
Summary: We laid the bricks and the mortar, all that's left is to walk the path.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters mentioned in this story. They belong to the CW and NBC.
The brilliant gold and diamond encrusted watch offers him a face of glassy indifference. The minute hand moves an imperceptibly small distance while the second hand thunders away. Only two minutes have passed since his first glance, and that merely pisses Lionel off. Yet, the appearance of him, sitting alone, waiting with a falsified mask of eternal calm is more grating than the simple observation to curious insignificant onlookers that he, Lionel Luthor, CEO of LuthorCorp, Supreme Head of Metropolis Society, and distant relations to some muckity-muck in Scotland—in his own mind, is being stood up.
He hears that laugh. Particular and familiar to his ears; it's velvety, rich, and dark. Like chocolate, it offers the right amount of sweet and in corners a perfect weight of darkness and bitterness.
For that laugh to come from anyone else would lead to a full display of Lionel's sharp and acutely maintained teeth—a full shark grin, that stretches and bites off promises of retribution with calculated and brutal precision. But this time, he waits. His rests his hands on the pristine white tablecloth and waits for his guest to make her way to his table. He knows it will take longer than he likes, because she's a sparkling society jewel after all.
He breathes, girding himself internally. Standing smoothly, he smiles and says, "My Dear," before taking her hand. Her hands are dainty, yet her handshake is firm. In a restaurant such as this, where appearances mean everything, it would seem polite to kiss her hands. But, the sheen off her blood red nails makes him think otherwise.
"Angela." At best, she may be the closest thing to a best friend that he has. But when the end comes, she will without a doubt be his greatest adversary. He shall relish that day when it comes.
Angela Petrelli.
The only woman that he fears, respects, loathes, and lusts after, all within the same breath. She wears a dark suit, cut perfectly for her frame. It enhances her beauty and compliments her graceful sensuality.
There's something about her. A force, a dark presence that makes him not want to sleep with her. Though, he has imagined it countless times. The imagination is far better than reality, because she might very well chew him up and spit him out, gnarled and torn, and he would be willing to have more.
She busses his cheek. "Lionel." He can feel warm breath tickling his earlobe during their brief moment of contact. "Pardon my tardiness."
He pulled back, looking her in the eye with a tamed smile and eyes that crinkled knowingly. The game was on. "Think nothing of it, My Dear."
They sit and order, make conversation about the generalities of life for people like them. Lionel isn't too abreast of the latest society trends, galas, and revolutions in New York, but he knows all that he needs to where it pertains to his business.
Whereas Angela Petrelli keeps her smiles bright, eyes sharp. She's the only person he knew of to make being a socialite a profession, but she, like him, never limits herself to any particular circle. She's like the person that throws a pebble against the still surface of water and counts all the ripples.
Her eyes focus on many circles.
Before she sips her wine, Angela looks at him. Her dark eyes glowing dark with a fierce intelligence that makes a knot uncurl low in his belly. "So tell me, how long has it been, hum? Since the two of us have had one of our little luncheons."
"My Dear, you know how long it has been, I'm sure." In the years that have passed, those memories of that night are coated somewhat, aged with the timeless varnish of inevitability.
They met at a dinner party. The night Lionel made his first real introduction into the inner circle of power that governs the country. That night he squashes many toes, burns potential bridges, and embarrasses his fiancé enough to make her pallid cheeks stain a flushed pink all night long. From across the room, Angela watches him, and his spectacle she believes at first. Later, realizing it's all a game to him, batting away the little fish for the much bigger ones. Her husband mingles in the right circles, and she and Linderman share a look.
By the end of the night, Lionel knows that from that moment on, everything is building towards destiny. Who leads the future is up to himself and Angela Petrelli. To think otherwise would have grave consequences for all mankind.
"You could never be old, just more refined." Lionel toasts her and takes a sip of his wine.
She gives him a look that probably arrested many men in the past, and quite a few in the present. "And you could never have a tongue more slippery." She snaps back. If he were thirty years younger, he'd say that his tongue could be many things, least of all slippery.
"Well, I have to ensure that I stay in everyone's social graces." He deadpans. They share a laugh.
"Lionel, Lionel, Lionel. I have missed your humor. Like old times." Angela extends her palm across the table. "Now, let's have some candor? As we used to say the future is right around the corner, the future is now."
He takes her hand and squeezes ever so gently. "I couldn't agree more."
They'd named their sons so appropriately, such strong names Alexander and Nathan. One is the prophet and the other is the conqueror. "Things have changed largely from our last meeting. You sent Alexander into exile and were keeping your eye on the spare." Angela shook her head with mocking disapproval. "The heir and the spare. It sounds so…so medieval when you put what you did into terms."
"Think hardly anything of it. It's strategy. How is Nathaniel doing? I heard he may have been in a bit of a predicament." It's not a question, just a statement of fact. She knows he has his sources.
Angela doesn't contest. She allows disinterest to seep into her face, forcing her features to be schooled and still. "For a while there, Nathan forgot what was good for him. He's on the right path again, and on the road to becoming a Senator."
She manages to look contrite when she apologizes in the next breath. "It was unfortunate that Alexander lost his bid for Kansas State Senate." She gives the rest of the room a withering look. One that would make any sane person shrink back a hundred miles. "It's too small for him anyway."
"My thoughts exactly. Lex-- " Lionel begins and sighs. "—Is at a crossroads. He's still fighting." With her, Lionel can show his pride, allow those normal tones of paternal warmth and affection to seep into his voice. She understands. Angela Petrelli knows what is at stake. "Lex doesn't know how to give up, even when it's good for him. His spirit truly is indomitable."
"Does it ever become tiresome? All your battles and his rebellion?"
Lionel throws his head back and laughs, large guffaws erupt from deep within. "Never! My battles are training him for the war. The day he finally wrenches LuthorCorp from my hands--"
Angel rolls her eyes and snort. "Do you realize how much you sound like Charlton Hesston? Your cold dead hands, huh?"
"Nothing would make me prouder."
They eat sparingly, because they did not meet for that purpose.
Lionel broaches the subject of impediments over coffee. "How is Peter? Still a nurse?"
"It seems the more tabs I try to keep on him, the farther he moves from my hands. Between the hospital and his trips," She hisses lowly. Angela Petrelli is not a woman who should ever be put into a position of being displeased. The consequences would be too dire. "He's too close to Nathan. It feels like a struggle, because he very well could unravel it all. Years of work wasted, because he's weak and makes Nathan to a point weak as well."
It's ironic that Lionel feels a bit of sympathy for the boy. "But he's your son."
Dark eyes turn on him radiating cold fury. "That's the worst part." He can concede the point, because he understands. "Does Lex--" She begins then stops.
"Have distractions?" Lionel finishes. "I do believe Lex's greatest adversary is himself. His curiosity is only tempered by the notion that he can still change. A leopard can not change its spots and Lex can not fight who he is. Years of programming can be fought with idealism and a hero complex."
"Are there influences?"
"Of course." Lionel says with a shrug. His fingers twine forming a bridge. It's a true look of consternation. "One in particular that has haunted him like a spirit for the past six years." Thinking of the past five years makes Lionel anything but wistful. Incredulously, he jokes, "My son has survived two homicidal wives, a plane crash, poisoning, institutionalization, and almost weekly assaults, but this boy—now, a man, has the power to rollercoaster his emotions like I never could."
"Isn't that the nature of love? It's a game that tests the mind, body and spirit. For some, it attacks in waves; others, it's a direct and brutal assault. Romantic or familial, it's the emotional stranglehold which truly does you in."
Of all that he has seen in Smallville alone, the possibilities lying beyond are truly astonishing. And their impact would be even greater. "Pyrokinesis--"
"A flying man--"
"Shape shifting--"
"Time travel--"
"…None will stop the future." He believes, and that's why he drives his son.
"But, emotional attachment will." Other parties have come and gone, and the flow of traffic continues in and out of the restaurant. No one would dare interrupt. The tension around their table is thicker than stagnated honey. An interceding would bring the wrath of a thousand stings on whomever's head.
"Tell me about this boy…this man as you said that keeps Alexander so infatuated."
"I see Lex's attraction. He's quite attractive—beautiful or stunning in a masculine way. Aside from his charming physical characteristics, he is kind, an optimist, I suspect the rescuer of abandoned kittens and wounded animals. They are polar opposites, as contrary as two people could seem. And he's special."
Angela's brows arch in interest. "As in our brand of peculiarity?"
"I would say much more special." She nods in understanding.
"He saved Lex's life the first time they met. He's done it many more times since then, as if he's been appointed Lex's official guardian angel." His hand control becomes more liberal as his bemusement grows.
"I hate his influence, but I feel he's making Lex stronger. Lex is still fighting me, and he's making inroads. I know Clark is responsible for that. Sure, there are things about the young man that I wish to know, but I have a feeling, a hunch, that if Lex were to be without him—deprived let's say, Lex would lead to his own undoing."
Her red lips curl in a smile and her eyes are sympathetic. No doubt, she's thinking about Nathan and Peter. "And the lesson here is that we keep our enemies close and our children and their distractions closer."
These are the times where he wonders about his decision to marry Lillian. His wife had had a gentle constitution, one of the things he wishes she'd hadn't passed to their son. Angela symbolizes a challenge, one where he would have willingly lost, just so he could win later. He has to know.
"Do you ever think about your husband?" As long as Lionel has known Angela, he's never known too much about her husband.
"Do you ever think about your wife?" Touché. He leaves old wounds alone, and again, reminds himself of all the reasons why he has never slept with her.
"I try to justify my actions to my son. I make allusions the future, and hope they sink in. But you, you tether Nathan to you. He reminds me of Lex when he was younger, so pliant, and seeking approval. How do you justify it all?"
"By telling him, that people will need him. That nothing is stronger than him or the love that I give him. I'm his mother after all, if the things I say aren't true, then what is?"
"You wouldn't want him to be too malleable. He might just bend to the opposite side."
She laughs and snorts, because the idea of her son being malleable to anyone other than her is absurd. "There's no such thing as being too malleable, especially to one's mother."
Her eyes sparkle and her brows arch subtly, as she moves to make a point. "Nathan has a daughter. She's sixteen and the most adorable little girl next door that you can imagine. Until a few months ago, Nathan believed she was dead. When he found out that I had arranged for his first child to be 'killed off', hidden away, and raised by contacts of Linderman, do you know how long he stayed mad with me? …Five minutes. He had to understand that what I do is for his own good. It's for the future."
Lionel thinks about his liver, and how despite his turn of luck, he shouldn't be drinking. "I hope we live to see this future."
She smiles coyly. "Of course, we will. We laid the bricks and the mortar, all that's left is to walk the path."
They could be sure of how it would be exactly in the future. One or two, Luthor and Petrelli would one day rule the world. They shouldn't worry, because this was how it was written.
To anyone else, this is a meeting between two of the most powerful people in the country. To them, it's just a meeting between old friends. They're just a pair of parents proudly waiting for the future, who happen to be Angela Petrelli and Lionel Luthor.
It's the future they hope to ensure. In the end, isn't what we all want?
The End