The Best Men Don't Run For President, They Run For Their Lives
The Oval Office was quiet at last, emptied of excited athletes. Lex poured himself a drink from the same wet bar that used to be in his study back at the Luthor mansion. To his amusement, visiting heads of state and other dignitaries were served drinks out of the same decanters that his father had once drugged to make people think Lex had gone insane. He smiled wryly at the memory--that had been one of the old man's better plots. He sat down and stared into space for minute or two. Then he reached out and opened a desk drawer, pulling out a framed photograph. He was feeling sentimental all of sudden, and somewhat contemptuous of himself for feeling that way. The picture was a shot of himself, Lana, Clark, and Chloe at the Talon, taken more than twenty years earlier, by a reluctant Pete Ross. They hadn't gotten along very well in those days, he and Pete, but they had a fine working relationship now--they might even be friends. Someone had once said, famously, that "the Vice-Presidency isn't worth a pitcher of warm spit" but that hadn't been the case these past six years.
The last time he had been in Smallville was during the re-election campaign--Pete was campaigning separately on the east coast, at the time. Lex had insisted on spending a day and a night in town--ostensibly to deliver a speech and firm up his support, but really just to see the place. He hardly needed to bother with Kansas, politically; he'd taken it in a landslide the first time around. It was October, the town was ablaze with color, his motorcade had rolled through the streets to the auditorium, and on his way up to the podium he had spotted her...
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He nodded at her in recognition, pleased and surprised, as he continued smiling and waving to the arena full of cheering Smallville residents. They loved him--he truly was their favorite son now, which was so different from when he first arrived here. When the applause died down, he delivered a variation on his standard speech, with a few hometown references thrown in to connect with the crowd--they ate it up, of course. He departed to further rapturous applause and when he got backstage, immediately told one of his agents to find the grey-haired woman and ask her if she'd meet with him, here in the back.
He was sitting on a folding chair, drinking from a water bottle and mopping his brow with a handkerchief when she came in. He rose to greet her.
"Hello, Martha."
"It's good to see you, Lex--I mean, Mr. President." She smiled.
He waved his hand in dismissal of the formality. "Please; no titles. And sit down, won't you?" She did. He continued, "I'm surprised to see you here--your son is one of my biggest critics."
"Yes, he is," she said with a sad smile. "And I've just finished his book." Clark and Chloe had gotten a book deal and published a highly critical examination of his first three years as President, which had come out now, at the height of the campaign. He'd been cruising to what looked like an easy win over weak opposition, but that had changed with its publication. "I still wanted to see you," she finished. Clark must not have told her everything he knew about him, he thought, the things they couldn't put in the book because there was no hard evidence. Perhaps he'd wanted to spare her feelings.
"Well, I'm glad you came," he said.
"How is Lana?" she asked. "I don't get to see her anymore."
"Lana's fine; I'll tell her you asked about her, she'll be pleased." He actually didn't know what would please Lana, but this likely wouldn't do it. "Are you still at the farm?" he asked, knowing that she was; he kept close tabs on the few remaining people he cared about.
"Yes; I sold off most of the land to a neighbour but I still live in the house--it's the same as you would remember it." Lex wished he could come and see it, but that was quite impossible. "Now, how are you, Lex? You look tired." He was tired. She had real concern in her eyes, and he felt something loosen inside. He clamped down hard on it and put on a confident, relaxed smile.
"I'm great. I've got everything I ever wanted, Martha--my life turned out exactly the way I hoped it would. And how are you? I hope you don't get lonely here by yourself."
"No--I have friends, and I keep busy. And Clark and Chloe come down every other weekend or so." Yes, of course they do. Why wouldn't they?
She reached into her large handbag, and the Secret Service agents took a few steps forward before Lex halted them with a gesture. She pulled out a tinfoil-wrapped bundle and handed it to him.
"I hoped I'd be able to get in and see you today--I made you some cookies. Oatmeal raisin. With the finest chefs attending to your meals, I thought you might like something a bit homelier, and made with love." She stood up to go, and he rose as well. "Take care of yourself, Lex," she said, and hugged him. She turned and departed without a look back. Lex watched her go, then unwrapped the cookies and ate one. It was still a little warm.
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The candidate stopping at the small-town diner or coffee shop to meet the electorate up close is a classic scene in any campaign. It's an even more natural move when it's the candidate's own cafe, albeit one that's currently held in a blind trust. Lex's limousine pulled up outside the Talon following the rally; he stepped out onto the sidewalk, flanked by agents, and looked up at the old marquee, which read, "WE WELCOME SMALLVILLE'S OWN PRESIDENT LUTHOR!" Well, that was nice of her, if a touch unexpected, he thought as he walked in.
Same old Talon, he mused. People in Smallville liked continuity, and the decor was still the same scheme Lana had dreamed up more than two decades before. If they were waiting for her to come back and change it, they were out of luck--"Why would I want to visit that dungheap?" was her response when he'd asked her if she wanted to come with him on this visit to her hometown. He shook hands with coffee-drinking patrons while spreading some of his still-formidable charm about.
After a little while he approached the counter. "Hello, Lois," he said to the long-time manager.of his most-prized piece of the Luthor business empire.
"Hello, Lex." she replied. No 'Mr. President' for her.
"I appreciate your support--the marquee was your doing, yes?"
"Oh, that's just good business--Smallville loves its President Lex. Me, I'm still an undecided voter."
He leaned in and said softly, "Well, I'd love to catch up later--perhaps you could come by the hotel tonight? And I'd certainly appreciate the chance to convince you of my merits--as a candidate."
Lois laughed.
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Lex sat on the edge of the king-sized bed in his hotel suite, watching the late newscast, which had just begun.
"We begin tonight with Superman, who potentially saved hundreds of lives earlier today when he caught a plunging jumbo-jet whose engines had failed shortly after takeoff from Metropolis International." The anchorwoman continued to describe the heroics as the picture changed to some shaky footage of the incident, the massive red-and-white airplane veering toward the ground, then straightening out and coming to rest in a field as a small figure appeared beneath it.
"Nice save, Clark," Lex said to the television, raising his glass. "Way to go." He took a sip of whisky and waited patiently for the campaign coverage to begin, and eventually it did, with a story on the mounting pressure on the President over the revelations brought to light by the Daily Planet's top two reporters. Impeachment was even being whispered about in some quarters, the newscaster informed. "Good luck with that," said Lex.
He switched off the set and walked to the window. It looked out over all of Smallville, as he was in the penthouse of the town's tallest building. He took it all in, his town. Voices could be heard in the hallway, then there was a knock at the door before it opened and she came in, Lois.
"Hello there," he said.
"Hello yourself." She shut the door and hung up her coat. "I remember this suite."
"Well, I hope so." he said, working up his best smirk for her. "Now come here, you muffin-peddling college dropout."
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Afterward, when she had gone and he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he thought about it. Oh, it was risky, this affair--but, if anything got out into the press he'd just say it was a cheap attempt to smear him. The press was easily cowed, anyways, and the reporters most likely to find the proof that would really hurt him would be the least likely to use it--he chuckled at that. Would Chloe drag her cousin through the mud for a juicy story? That would be an interesting dilemma for her to chew over.
Ah, Lois... She was unfocused, sardonic, resigned to her fate in this backwater. She reminded him of his past; in some ways she was Smallville to him, and sleeping with her was like sleeping with the town. He rolled onto his side and went to sleep, as satisfied as he ever was.
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President Lex Luthor finished off his drink, and put down the glass. Lois Lane; he had called her two weeks ago to offer his sympathies on the death of her sister Lucy, whose bullet-riddled body had been pulled out of the harbor in Marseilles. The sisters had not been close for some time, but Lois was broken up; she had no family left now save Chloe. General Lane had been Chairman of the Joint Chiefs during Lex's first term, before dying of a heart attack.
Lex looked at the photo again. What had happened to him? He had made a conscious decision to focus on amassing all the power there was, at whatever the cost--that would keep him from getting hurt. Well, it had worked to a certain extent. He could protect the people he cared about. But he felt more and more that he had taken the wrong lesson away from that strangely vivid dream he'd had in the hospital on December 24, 2005.