Title: Favorite

by: Satine16

Disclaimer: None of the characters in this belong to me, they are all the property of DC comics. I am not making any money off this, so please don't sue me!

Chapter 1: Whole

The deep red lights consistently cast wicked shadows across the darkroom where Jimmy Olson stood developing his latest roll of film. Images of diplomats as they attended the UN Summit. His second solo assignment. It was his image of Superman that had finally won him some acclaim in the eyes of Perry White. He had even won a photographic excellence award.

He had taken the image after the chemical plant explosion in the spring. The event was gruesome and the memory was as vivid as if it had been merely yesterday. The west wing of the building had crumbled underneath the weight of the falling cinderblocks and collapsing steel. A chemical fire raged within the plant, burning crimson in the background. He crouched in the middle, his red cape tattered and blowing in the wind, and the blue of his body emblazoned against the white of the falling walls and the red of the terrible flames. With his right arm and back he braced the steel beams which continued to press against him in an attempt to fall to the ground, taking away the lives of everyone below it. At his feet there were scattered bits of shattered cinderblocks, stained red with the blood of the victims. Over his left forearm lay an unconscious woman of about sixty. Her white hair was matted against her head with blood and there were chemical burns along the side of her body. Many of the plant's employees could be seen running from the wreckage in the background, escaping to the firemen and police. Superman's eyes were closed in the image, but in his face resided the most important part of the photo. He was crying. His cheeks were stained with tears. Upon closer inspection on the image one noticed that his eyes were in fact, not closed, but looking below him, at all the bodies lying lifeless, at all the souls he couldn't save.

Using a pair of wooden tongs Jimmy removed an image of the some elegant royals and hung it to drip dry. At nineteen he was a young man, but he already knew that he had taken the picture of a lifetime. He also knew that there could be others to take its place as his most acclaimed. But none could ever replace it as his favorite.

Lana Lang-Luthor gazed out the large glass walls of her penthouse apartment. Most of Metropolis was visible through her bedroom window. Lex made it very clear that each pane of glass was to be six feet wide and to reach all the way to the twelve-foot ceilings. His engineers had created a new method in which each pane of glass simply lined up with the next, leaving the illusion that the three thousand square foot apartment simply floated on the one hundred and forty fifth story of the LexCorp Hotel, which stood at the very center of the city.

Standing for a moment with her right hand resting against the cold glass, Lana's jade green eyes seemed to gaze off endlessly into the cloudless sky. Languidly, she stepped away from the glass, and moved throughout the greatly stylized, immensely expensive grandeur of her apartment. Her footsteps resonated against the hard wood flooring, only stopping when she reached the very center.

"Mrs. Luthor? Will you be needing anything else?" a small, heavy-set woman with dark hair entered the room.

"No, Melinda, go to lunch. Lex will be home at eight. Dinner needs to be ready then. Make the duck. He'll appreciate the duck."

With that the diminutive woman exited the room as soundlessly as she entered, leaving Lana once again alone in the vast expanses of hollow space. Her auburn hair fell to her ribcage in long, chemically straightened layers, and she had seemed to learn Bobbi Brown's secrets to invisible make-up, which made her already beautiful face even more striking. Her full lips, high cheekbones and sharp jaw gave way to a long slender neck and sleek body. A figure that she kept in great shape by exercising two hours a day with a personal trainer named Michael Crawford. She wore a pair of royal blue, crushed velvet, Christian Louboughton boots, which ended just above her knees, leaving room for mere inches of skin below her tight, tailored black pencil dress. The dress was custom made and hugged her curves in all the right places. The slit ran up her left thigh and revealed just enough of her toned leg to be sexy without being trashy. Her small shoulders and strong physique were further accentuated by the boat neck of the bodice, which further built upon her muscular, but petite build. Lana still only stood at five foot four.

A large, platinum framed image of her wedding resided above the fireplace in the sitting room. Her dress was Bagley Mishka: crisp white and full of beadwork. She was about five years younger in the image. Lex was holding her in his arms, the deep black of his Armani offering the Yang to her tender white Yin. Lana remembered laughing when the original photograph had been taken. Her face still looked hopeful in the picture. Excited about what possibilities the future might carry. Even more appealing was Lex's smile. He rarely looked that elated, hell he rarely even smiled. Lana always wondered why they insisted on leaving this here, where everyone could see their vulnerability, their affection, their youth. But time and time again, every guest to the extensive Luthor residence claimed that very photo as his or her favorite.

"I'm gonna be late!" Lois Lane Kent checked her watch again while the Subway lurched back to life. The bright white fluorescent lights gleamed and shimmered as it passed from station to station. As the train made its halt in the station Lois pushed her way out of the car. Her black patent leather stilettos clicked against the cement as she vaulted up the stairs and out towards the taxi cabs.

"God damn it!" she swore under her breath at the sight of the traffic. "Two cabs and a friggin' train ride to get across the city. And they still want to expand…TAXI!" she stuck her right arm and leg out off of the curb and into the street. The little yellow car slowed towards her, and she hopped in.

"Luthor Tower. And hurry," the wheels of the cab squealed as it pulled away from the curb and rocketed off towards the tall golden tower that stood about ten blocks away amidst an endless sea of traffic.

In the backseat Lois began to fine-tune her appearance. Combing through her sleek, chestnut brown bob with her right hand she dug for her brick red lipstick from her black Kate Spade purse with her left. After reapplying both her powder and lipstick, the cab had arrived at its destination. Lois was out of the cab in a single motion, and dropping the money through the open passenger's window, had darted towards the tall revolving door.

The floors were all champagne colored marble, and all the trim was done in gold and brass. A blonde in a tight red sweater sat at the front desk wearing a black headset and writing in a day planner.

"Lois Lane here to see Mr. Luthor."

"One moment, please," her voice was sweet and melodic. "Mr. Luthor is expecting you. Take this key card. Use the last elevator…"

"I know," Lois grabbed the grey card from the woman and headed off down the hallway. There was only one elevator that could reach the penthouse, and it was private. Lex's guests had to be registered and he had to approve their admittance. If one didn't try for an appointment first it was more than likely that they would show up to the wrong complex. He never stayed in the same place for long, too much going on, and too much money to make. And once one finally got into the penthouse, they returned the key card. It wasn't needed for the ride back down.

Swiping the card through the slot, Lois entered the elevator and began the mile high ascension. Luthor Tower was a marvel. Lex had taken plans from Frank Lloyd Wright and tweaked them to make what was once Wright's dream into a possibility. Triple checking her appearance in the shiny door of the elevator, she readjusted her stone grey miniskirt and matching blazer over her voluptuous curves. Lex Luthor didn't give her exclusives because she was sloppy.

She smoothly stepped off the spacious elevator and into the familiar office. It was wide, spacious and decorated entirely in white. Four of his offices were decorated in monochromatic themes. He felt it gave it a type of individuality as well as authority. His back was turned to her and he was sitting in his high backed chair, hidden from view. From behind the high wall of white leather came a deep, strong, but smiling voice, "My favorite reporter."

Lex Luthor owned half of Metropolis, and most of its surrounding cities. LexCorp was the government's largest supplier of weapons, the hotels were thriving, the chemical plants were booming (especially after his competitor's accident), and he was receiving massive amounts of positive publicity. And to expand even further, approximately a year ago Lex had taken on the world of real estate, adding fuel to the fire.

He stood in his penthouse office, one of twelve, on top of Luthor Tower, gazing out his window and smiling to himself. He had a surprise for his blessed wife, and Lois Lane would be arriving soon. Everyone in the city was buzzing as to whether or not he would be running for the Presidency. Lois was the only one granted an interview. Most of the time, when it came to Lex, Lois was given the exclusive.

Even after two years Lex still resented Clark. Lois was the only thing Lex had ever lost. To anyone. The fact that she refrained from using her married name, of her own accord, elated Lex Luthor. One of his greatest pleasures in life was the intrigued look on Lois Lane's face during their interviews. Lois was never puzzled or dumbfounded by anything he shared with her. And she wasn't naïve or all too innocent. Lois was independent and self-determining, which is what made her so damn sexy.

Slowly Lex sank into the high backed, white leather chair behind his desk. Against the white backdrop of the office his inky blue suit and strong profile were highlighted. His full lips, square jaw, and Roman nose made his face powerful but not oppressive. He had thick, dark eyebrows and a small flat spot at the top of his nose, where he had broken it playing rugby at age sixteen. Through his dark brown eyes leaked his kindness, his power and his cruelty. Lex was a brilliant man, a loving man and an unforgiving man. Pressing his hands together and his two index fingers against his lips, he gazed beyond the commotion far beneath him.

"Mr. Luthor. Ms. Lane…"

"Yes, I know. I've been looking forward to her visit. Send her up immediately."

Before long the familiar soft ding of the elevator pierced the silence and a memorable clicking sound resonated across the white marble floor.

"My favorite reporter. Right on time for her appointments as always," he pivoted his chair to see her standing in the doorway, the dark color of her suit brilliant against the room. "And looking fantastic as usual."

"Good afternoon, Lex."

"Shall we?" he stood from his seat and lifted his left arm towards a large couch. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"No. Thank you," she followed him closely and dug in her purse for her tape recorder. Clark constantly wondered why it was so hard to find things in such a small purse, and time and again asked how she managed to fit anything in it in the first place. "So, Lex, everyone's wondering, will you be running?" she asked pressing the red record button.

"So forward Ms. Lane," he always played her game and called her by her penname. To Lex she would never be Mrs. Kent.

"No."

"No? Well, why not?"

"I don't want to discuss the Presidency Ms. Lane. Politics bore me. However," he rose from the couch and walked towards the bookcase, where he pressed a well-concealed button, "I would like to discuss LexCorp and our latest endeavor."

The lights in the room dimmed and a deep blue light turned on from behind the wall revealing the blueprints for yet another skyscraper.

Both faces burned in the deep colored light and Lex said only one thing, "It's my new favorite."

Clark Kent sat at his desk eating a bright red apple, and staring at the blinking cursor on his computer monitor. He had to write. His job was to write. And yet…

Ever since Lois had written an article on a mass murder, Clark had been unable to sleep or think straight. He had been in Argentina, aiding a small village, (which Lois always said was an awesome cause) when the homicides took place. Upon hearing the news the breath had escaped from him lungs and his heart plummeted. Perry always said that Superman was fantastic, but still hadn't managed the feat of being located in two places at once. He joked that once Superman could tackle that, only then would he be REAL news.

To top it off Lois was now sitting with Lex Luthor in his magnificent tower, chatting it up and drinking champagne. No one and nothing bothered Clark more than Lex Luthor. There was something slimy and untrustworthy about the man. There were many wars that he had started, competitors that he had eliminated and crimes that had gone unpunished. Something in the back of Clark's mind kept calling to him. Saying that Lex was responsible for the chemical plant's absolute annihilation last spring.

To add insult to injury Lana had married Lex. Lana was possibly the sweetest and most generous woman Clark had ever met. While his own wife was fantastic in her own right, Lana was just childlike and inexperienced. Lois had seen her fair share of the world, whereas Lana believed in the inherent good in people. It was the trait lana possessed that made Clark love her so much. She saw mankind as what it could be, never as what it was.

Loosening the burgundy tie fastened around his neck, Clark tried to push Lana Lang, now Lana Lang Luthor, out of his mind. He stood up from his desk, and walked over to the coffee machine, towering above the cubicles around him. Standing at six foot three with broad shoulders and a muscular build, Clark always looked extremely sturdy in his suits. The sleeves of his cream-colored dress shirt were rolled up, so that his biceps seemed to pour and burst from within them. Running his left index finger over his square jaw, and pouring his coffee with his free hand Clark watched as one of the interns entered the break room. She was about twenty, with blonde hair and brown eyes, and a cute figure. With a fast glance he reheated his cold coffee and turned to head back to his desk.

"I really like your suit," she softly called out after him.

"Excuse me?" Clark asked baffled.

"I like your suit. It really brings out the blue in your eyes."

"Umm, thanks," Clark coughed and muttered and left the room.

Sitting back down at his desk he looked at his watch and towards the elevator door. Maybe pastitsio for dinner? The cursor was blinking at him again. A three thousand pound weight seemed to rest on his shoulders now, and he thought to himself that, sometimes, it was hard being everybody's favorite.