A/N:
Yet another story where I'm wondering if this is really the ending. You tell me!
***
I was feeling increasing frustration with the situation. Each day he spent as my petted, indulged guest created new bonds, but even these bonds of habit and comfort weren't strong enough. To follow the metaphor further, while I was looping and coiling more rope around him, it was still rope that he could break.
He believes in obligations. In promises.
Unfortunately, I disliked the plan that I knew would create those obligations and promises.
But then, business is often about doing things one doesn't find tasteful.
***
"Did you hear me? Bad idea. I repeat, bad idea. And just in case you were distracted, once more. Bad idea." She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring.
"Mercy."
"Look, I hate compromises, too. But you know perfectly well that if you take all that to the authorities, your life expectancy goes to something that looks like the temperature in Siberia in winter. Minus plenty. You've gotten them out of operations, call that a good deed, get your little boy scout patch, and move on."
"No."
"Lex, you know, you don't have to keep the words spoken ratio so much in my favor."
Good. Clark had obviously heard Mercy's yelling. People in the next four buildings probably heard it. He was coming forward, cautiously.
I smiled briefly. "No?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm your bodyguard. That means I get a pre-emptive voice in anything that will mean your body will get pulverized and possibly encased in cement for posterity. You want to found an empire, Lex, not end up as part of the foundation of a parking lot somewhere."
"Preventing that's your job, Mercy."
"What's going on?" Clark looked puzzled and worried.
"Dorkhead here-" Mercy started, while I began, "It's nothing to worry-"
"Like hell it's nothing to worry about! Dorkhead here isn't just happy with getting rid of all the organized crime that got into LuthorCorp, he wants to hand over anything that could be evidence. That means he'll have not just the regular mafia, but the Russian mafia, the Hong Kong mafia, and the Japanese mafia all fighting to be the prince who puts the concrete shoes on Cinderella here."
"I'm running the kind of clean operation my father never did. That's what I'm going to hand down to my family."
"You'd better start either meeting more girls or putting deposits in the freezer, because once the shit hits the fan, you won't have a fucking chance of having a family, and I'm using the word in full awareness of all the possible senses."
"You're exaggerating, Mercy."
"Boss. Trust me? Not exaggerating. Understating. If you do this, they will go for your life." By the last sentence, her voice and eyes were serious. Even pleading. "Lex, just think it over, okay? Give it a day. Keep in mind what you stand to lose. You don't have to save the world, you know. Remember what happened to the last guy who went around like God's son on earth and told people to clean up their acts." She blinked a few times, then left.
Clark looked at me and I smiled at him with an air of confidence. "It'll be fine. I pay her to look on the gloomy side."
"Are you sure?"
"Am I ever not sure?" I paused as though a thought had struck me. "Why don't you go talk to her a bit? She, well, she practically idolizes you. Me, she just yells at." I smiled wryly.
"Uhm, talk to her about what?"
"I might as well tell you now. You're the first." Clark grinned nervously. "I'm seriously thinking of running for Governor." I looked sideways at him. "Maybe you can give me some campaign tips."
"Like how to lose gracefully?"
"Touche. I've got to have a clean house before then." I lowered my eyes. "Besides. I do want a family. One of these days. I don't want to have to explain anything away." I looked out the window briefly. "Anyway. Talk to Mercy, would you? See if you can explain it any better than I can."
"I'll give it a try." He went out reluctantly.
I imagined to myself the scene that would take place. She'd shout at him, too, for a few sentences, then sit down and talk seriously, fixing him with her enormous eyes. "He's risking his life for this, Clark. He's got to understand that he's not up against civilized people. They will try to kill him for this. They'll have to get past me, but that won't stop them trying."
"He's got to do the right thing." That, or some other platitude. Who says that Clark Kent didn't inherit anything from his father? A collection of platitudes that any museum would be proud to display, even if everyone who tried to catalog it died of boredom or nausea.
She'd shoot him a suspicious look. "Stop sounding like him. You're not bald and it's creepy when people who don't look like him sound like him." Then she'd put one of her hands on his arm. "Clark, I meant it when I said that they'd have to get past me. If they do get to me first, Clark, will you take care of him? I don't mean just the bodyguard bit. You can give him what he really needs. Somebody who sees his mother's soul in him, too, not just his father's. Someone who knows that there's darkness in him, but believes in the incredible light he has, too. Somebody who believes that he's a good man. Somebody who believes in him.
"Don't just promise me to protect him from outsiders. He'll face all kinds of temptations if he makes it through this and makes it into politics. You can be the one there who believes that he'll make the right choices. Or who will yell at him when he makes the wrong ones. Promise me--Superman?"
I checked the productivity figures from Malasia while I waited for them to come back.
Clark looked embarassed and Mercy shot me a triumphant look. "Okay, boss. I agree to shut up about it if you agree to let him help keep an eye on you."
"Mercy, that's out of line. Clark isn't well and you know it. You aren't going to-"
"She didn't ask, Lex. I offered."
***
It was a week later. I had delivered huge amounts of information to the FBI and to Interpol, and with Clark and Mercy, was returning after another trip to Washington to discuss it with two senators, whom I assumed really wanted tips on cashing in. Of course, I had covertly warned selected people in the various syndicates and the Triad, and so they were well-prepared for their own takeovers during the chaos. Most of them barely had to do a thing, just watch as the evidence against their former leaders mounted up. The new leaders of those organizations all owed me a huge debt of gratitude--which if it paid off, would be useful, if it disappeared, no great loss--and more importantly, knew that we could further one another's interests.
Mercy and Clark had hovered over me like two hens with one chick, a simile I used often in conversation with them.
"Two words, Lex. Death threats."
"A few more words, Lex." Clark continued where Mercy had left off. "Burnt factory in Manila. Bomb in Madrid. Garotted employee in Hong Kong."
"Let's forget about it for one moment. I'm going to make my public announcement of the candidacy in April. I'm hoping to make another kind of announcement soon." I smirked. "Mercy, will you go into my office? There's something there I want you to see."
She looked at me suspiciously, "Is this another one of your little surprises?"
I bent slightly to brush her cheek with my lips. "Go on, love." She looked even more started at the endearment and not taking her eyes off me, put her hand on the knob and opened the door.
Clark was just a second too late. I knew that he'd be eager, still like a high schooler who knows it's cheating but can't resist, to look inside and see what the surprise was. They'd done good work. My office was filled with sunflowers, and right in the middle of the table was a box with a ring. Next to the ring was a note, which he'd be too shy to read. He'd done exactly as I expected, looked at these things and grinned to himself.
The timing was so close it was hard to tell if the bomb went off first or if he saw it first and started to shout his warning just as it exploded. In any case, most of the ceiling came down on top of her and several hundred packing nails were driven into her body. She died as close to immediately as is possible. Just as I had hoped.
He threw me behind himself as the room continued to shake, and then rushed to her. I followed him, knowing he would shield me from anything else that might fall, and we crouched next to her.
"Those bastards. Oh, those bastards," I whispered. I touched her hand, which had been almost entirely severed by the explosion. "They timed it just right. It would kill me or her--and they even knew that I'd rather be the one who died..."
I buried my face in his chest, though I was certain that my features held nothing but horror and grief.
That night, as he tried to be sympathetic company, I feigned numbness, and then pretended to break down. I raved about the poisonous legacy I'd received, that left me alive but destroyed those around me. I begged him to promise to stay with me. Not to leave me. I couldn't bear having nobody any longer, and he was the only person I could feel it was safe to have in my life. No family, no love, no other friends. Just him.
He promised.
That was four years ago.
This isn't the age of overt conquest, where captives are paraded in chains as a tribute to the victor's military prowess. Instead, Superman appears to walk willingly with me--he even thinks it was his free choice--and the gullible public sees it as a tribute to my many civic virtues.
I look around and smile, eyes raised to the sky.
Yet another story where I'm wondering if this is really the ending. You tell me!
***
I was feeling increasing frustration with the situation. Each day he spent as my petted, indulged guest created new bonds, but even these bonds of habit and comfort weren't strong enough. To follow the metaphor further, while I was looping and coiling more rope around him, it was still rope that he could break.
He believes in obligations. In promises.
Unfortunately, I disliked the plan that I knew would create those obligations and promises.
But then, business is often about doing things one doesn't find tasteful.
***
"Did you hear me? Bad idea. I repeat, bad idea. And just in case you were distracted, once more. Bad idea." She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring.
"Mercy."
"Look, I hate compromises, too. But you know perfectly well that if you take all that to the authorities, your life expectancy goes to something that looks like the temperature in Siberia in winter. Minus plenty. You've gotten them out of operations, call that a good deed, get your little boy scout patch, and move on."
"No."
"Lex, you know, you don't have to keep the words spoken ratio so much in my favor."
Good. Clark had obviously heard Mercy's yelling. People in the next four buildings probably heard it. He was coming forward, cautiously.
I smiled briefly. "No?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm your bodyguard. That means I get a pre-emptive voice in anything that will mean your body will get pulverized and possibly encased in cement for posterity. You want to found an empire, Lex, not end up as part of the foundation of a parking lot somewhere."
"Preventing that's your job, Mercy."
"What's going on?" Clark looked puzzled and worried.
"Dorkhead here-" Mercy started, while I began, "It's nothing to worry-"
"Like hell it's nothing to worry about! Dorkhead here isn't just happy with getting rid of all the organized crime that got into LuthorCorp, he wants to hand over anything that could be evidence. That means he'll have not just the regular mafia, but the Russian mafia, the Hong Kong mafia, and the Japanese mafia all fighting to be the prince who puts the concrete shoes on Cinderella here."
"I'm running the kind of clean operation my father never did. That's what I'm going to hand down to my family."
"You'd better start either meeting more girls or putting deposits in the freezer, because once the shit hits the fan, you won't have a fucking chance of having a family, and I'm using the word in full awareness of all the possible senses."
"You're exaggerating, Mercy."
"Boss. Trust me? Not exaggerating. Understating. If you do this, they will go for your life." By the last sentence, her voice and eyes were serious. Even pleading. "Lex, just think it over, okay? Give it a day. Keep in mind what you stand to lose. You don't have to save the world, you know. Remember what happened to the last guy who went around like God's son on earth and told people to clean up their acts." She blinked a few times, then left.
Clark looked at me and I smiled at him with an air of confidence. "It'll be fine. I pay her to look on the gloomy side."
"Are you sure?"
"Am I ever not sure?" I paused as though a thought had struck me. "Why don't you go talk to her a bit? She, well, she practically idolizes you. Me, she just yells at." I smiled wryly.
"Uhm, talk to her about what?"
"I might as well tell you now. You're the first." Clark grinned nervously. "I'm seriously thinking of running for Governor." I looked sideways at him. "Maybe you can give me some campaign tips."
"Like how to lose gracefully?"
"Touche. I've got to have a clean house before then." I lowered my eyes. "Besides. I do want a family. One of these days. I don't want to have to explain anything away." I looked out the window briefly. "Anyway. Talk to Mercy, would you? See if you can explain it any better than I can."
"I'll give it a try." He went out reluctantly.
I imagined to myself the scene that would take place. She'd shout at him, too, for a few sentences, then sit down and talk seriously, fixing him with her enormous eyes. "He's risking his life for this, Clark. He's got to understand that he's not up against civilized people. They will try to kill him for this. They'll have to get past me, but that won't stop them trying."
"He's got to do the right thing." That, or some other platitude. Who says that Clark Kent didn't inherit anything from his father? A collection of platitudes that any museum would be proud to display, even if everyone who tried to catalog it died of boredom or nausea.
She'd shoot him a suspicious look. "Stop sounding like him. You're not bald and it's creepy when people who don't look like him sound like him." Then she'd put one of her hands on his arm. "Clark, I meant it when I said that they'd have to get past me. If they do get to me first, Clark, will you take care of him? I don't mean just the bodyguard bit. You can give him what he really needs. Somebody who sees his mother's soul in him, too, not just his father's. Someone who knows that there's darkness in him, but believes in the incredible light he has, too. Somebody who believes that he's a good man. Somebody who believes in him.
"Don't just promise me to protect him from outsiders. He'll face all kinds of temptations if he makes it through this and makes it into politics. You can be the one there who believes that he'll make the right choices. Or who will yell at him when he makes the wrong ones. Promise me--Superman?"
I checked the productivity figures from Malasia while I waited for them to come back.
Clark looked embarassed and Mercy shot me a triumphant look. "Okay, boss. I agree to shut up about it if you agree to let him help keep an eye on you."
"Mercy, that's out of line. Clark isn't well and you know it. You aren't going to-"
"She didn't ask, Lex. I offered."
***
It was a week later. I had delivered huge amounts of information to the FBI and to Interpol, and with Clark and Mercy, was returning after another trip to Washington to discuss it with two senators, whom I assumed really wanted tips on cashing in. Of course, I had covertly warned selected people in the various syndicates and the Triad, and so they were well-prepared for their own takeovers during the chaos. Most of them barely had to do a thing, just watch as the evidence against their former leaders mounted up. The new leaders of those organizations all owed me a huge debt of gratitude--which if it paid off, would be useful, if it disappeared, no great loss--and more importantly, knew that we could further one another's interests.
Mercy and Clark had hovered over me like two hens with one chick, a simile I used often in conversation with them.
"Two words, Lex. Death threats."
"A few more words, Lex." Clark continued where Mercy had left off. "Burnt factory in Manila. Bomb in Madrid. Garotted employee in Hong Kong."
"Let's forget about it for one moment. I'm going to make my public announcement of the candidacy in April. I'm hoping to make another kind of announcement soon." I smirked. "Mercy, will you go into my office? There's something there I want you to see."
She looked at me suspiciously, "Is this another one of your little surprises?"
I bent slightly to brush her cheek with my lips. "Go on, love." She looked even more started at the endearment and not taking her eyes off me, put her hand on the knob and opened the door.
Clark was just a second too late. I knew that he'd be eager, still like a high schooler who knows it's cheating but can't resist, to look inside and see what the surprise was. They'd done good work. My office was filled with sunflowers, and right in the middle of the table was a box with a ring. Next to the ring was a note, which he'd be too shy to read. He'd done exactly as I expected, looked at these things and grinned to himself.
The timing was so close it was hard to tell if the bomb went off first or if he saw it first and started to shout his warning just as it exploded. In any case, most of the ceiling came down on top of her and several hundred packing nails were driven into her body. She died as close to immediately as is possible. Just as I had hoped.
He threw me behind himself as the room continued to shake, and then rushed to her. I followed him, knowing he would shield me from anything else that might fall, and we crouched next to her.
"Those bastards. Oh, those bastards," I whispered. I touched her hand, which had been almost entirely severed by the explosion. "They timed it just right. It would kill me or her--and they even knew that I'd rather be the one who died..."
I buried my face in his chest, though I was certain that my features held nothing but horror and grief.
That night, as he tried to be sympathetic company, I feigned numbness, and then pretended to break down. I raved about the poisonous legacy I'd received, that left me alive but destroyed those around me. I begged him to promise to stay with me. Not to leave me. I couldn't bear having nobody any longer, and he was the only person I could feel it was safe to have in my life. No family, no love, no other friends. Just him.
He promised.
That was four years ago.
This isn't the age of overt conquest, where captives are paraded in chains as a tribute to the victor's military prowess. Instead, Superman appears to walk willingly with me--he even thinks it was his free choice--and the gullible public sees it as a tribute to my many civic virtues.
I look around and smile, eyes raised to the sky.