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The Best Men Don't Run For President, They Run For Their Lives
Lex made his way through the corridors of the White House to the private office where he did most of his real work, a small nondescript room at the end of a hallway. He unlocked the door and entered, shutting it behind him, leaving an aide and two agents posted outside. He sat down at the always-running computer and looked at a list of the surveillance files that had been routed here. Lex had a network of people within the CIA and FBI whose first loyalty was to the White House, and they were excellent snoopers. He opened a file from yesterday, putting on a pair of headphones to listen to it. He skipped ahead through some footage of an empty room, then he slowed it down and watched the screen as the door opened and two people entered an apartment that was completely wired for sound and video. There was some chit-chat between them about what to order in for dinner, as they put their things away, then:
"Our piece on government misappropriation runs tomorrow--it came out well. I don't think you saw the final draft," said Clark.
"Good, glad to hear it. In a perfect world, that article would drop Lex in scalding-hot water," replied Chloe. "Although in this one he'll find a way to lower the temperature, I'm sure."
"'You cannot stop Lex Luthor; you can only hope to contain him,'" Clark intoned mock-gravely, getting a laugh from Chloe, and a smile from Lex.
Chloe went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, while Clark telephoned out for Chinese food. When he was done, he continued on the same topic.
"You know, I was thinking today--Lex hasn't really been as bad of a President as I feared." That's the nicest thing Clark's said about me in years, thought Lex.. "I mean, as President he's everything he was in Smallville, only more so--manipulative, ruthless, secretive." Secretive? That's rich, coming from you. "But his abuses of power have been pretty small-time, haven't they?"
"I guess so--he hasn't instituted martial law or caused a nuclear war or anything." said Chloe. They went through into the living room and sat down on the sofa. The apartment was a tidy, unpretentious one-bedroom in the heart of the city, close to the Daily Planet and the LuthorCorp building.
She continued, "There are plenty of weird, off-the-books, projects going on, some crooked deals here, some dirty tricks there, and he's broken no end of laws against domestic surveillance..." Lex snorted at the irony. They thought they were free from bugs, what with Clark's periodic scanning of the apartment, but the devices had been designed to be undetectable to him; they were disguised as nails and wires and other things one would expect to see in the walls--assuming one had the ability to look through them. "...but the economy's booming, and his foreign policy's been undeniably successful." How nice of you to say so, Chloe.
Clark nodded. "Really, he's been no worse than someone like Nixon."
"Or Harding--he was quite a weasel." Hm--now this was starting to sting a little bit, being lumped in with U.S. history's greatest failures.
"Or...who was the one that killed someone in a duel while in office?"
"That was Burr, and he was only Vice-President--how could I have married a man who didn't know that?"
He grinned. "Cut me some slack--I'm not from around here, remember? How many Presidents of Krypton can you name?" Heh--nice comeback, Clark. Half the reason he spied on them was for the banter, though it reminded him of something he lacked.
Chloe laughed. "Exactly zero. But I didn't have to pass Kryptonian history to graduate high school."
Clark returned to his subject. "Lex...I thought he'd be worse. More dangerous; more...well, just worse. The Kawatchee prophecy--I thought it meant that he would be my nemesis." Well, sorry to disappoint you, Clark--maybe I just don't have the time or energy to be a proper arch-enemy for you. Am I supposed to conjure up diabolical plots for you to foil just so you'll feel fulfilled?
"They were just paintings on a cave wall--you and he always did read too much into them."
"Maybe." You don't sound convinced, Clark. Neither am I, really.
"I know Lex isn't as bad as you are good--but how could he be?"
Clark shook his head. "That isn't what I'm saying. But maybe he's worse than we know--maybe there's stuff we're missing."
"We find out as much as we can. We can't do more than that."
"I guess not." He looked pained for a moment, then shook his head slightly as if to dispel an unhappy thought. Then he looked out through the sliding glass door that opened on to a small balcony. He assumed a shocked expression and said, "Wow, Chloe, look at that!" She turned, startled, and he darted beside her and began kissing her neck. She giggled, realizing she'd been had, said, "That's so lame," turned and put her arms around him, pulling him down--and at that point Lex stopped the playback.
He took off his headphones. There was spying on Clark and Chloe, and then there was spying. Or peeping, if you like. They were entitled to some privacy, after all, though it was Lex who would decide how much that was.
He looked at his watch. Lana will be at the hotel in Los Angeles now, he thought--time for some adorable banter with my own wife. He picked up the phone and dialed. Her assistant came on, followed shortly by the First Lady.
"Lex? What is it--is something wrong?"
"No, everything's fine. I just wanted to hear your voice."
She seemed incredulous. "Lex, I don't have time for this..."
"You've got places to go and people to see, I know."
"That's right. I'm out here on your behalf, working to maintain your popularity and effectiveness. Keep that in mind."
"Well, you'll be pleased to hear that I've taken steps to improve my own image--I've invited Chloe Sullivan-Kent over tomorrow for a no-holds-barred interview."
Stunned silence. "You what--"
"Like it or not, the media's our conduit to the people, and Chloe's tough but fair. Best way to defuse a problem is to meet it head on, right?"
"Are you deranged?"
"Am I having a 'psychotic break', do you mean? Lana, that's a low blow." That term had always amused him. 'I'll return to sanity right after this psychotic break,' he imagined himself saying.
"Lex--you--I demand--" She seemed to be choking on her own rage. Lex broke in.
"Oh, and there's a situation brewing in Nevada I'm keeping an eye on--it should be okay, but you may have to fly back to D.C. sooner than expected. I'll keep you posted."
"Out of the question--there's too much to do here." She was suddenly back in command. "Now, what I need you to do is--"
"Sorry, what did you say, Lana? You're breaking up, I can't hear you--the White House is going through a tunnel." He hung up, laughing quietly.
One or two of Lana's personal effects had micro-transmitters in them; he quickly put the headphones back on and switched to a live feed to see if he'd provoked her into saying anything of note.
He heard her raging at her assistant when he tuned in. "...invited Chloe Sullivan into the White House--unbelievable,"
"Yes, Mrs. Luthor, it certainly is."
"He knows how I'll feel about this, too--doesn't he care?" She sounded hurt. No, no--I never stopped caring, Lex thought.
Lana continued, "Go away, will you--I need to think." Lex heard a door shut, and then nothing for a couple minutes. Listening to someone think wasn't very stimulating, and he was about to switch off when he heard her speak.
"Hello. I need to speak with Mr. Randall." Evidently she was placing a phone call. A pause. "Of course he is--tell him that Lisa Ryder needs to speak with him." Another, longer, pause, as this information was presumably relayed.
Lex grimaced, as he knew entirely too much about this 'Mr. Randall'-- Ian to his friends, if there were any. He known about this for some time, and he couldn't be too angry at Lana's infidelity, considering his own track record, but her choice of lover appalled him. Smallville's Ian Randall, who could divide himself in two at will, who had tried to drop both Chloe and Lana off a bridge, and who had been in Belle Reve at the same time as Lex himself. It beggared belief.
"Hello, darling," she said. Pity he couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, but Lana's phone had a scrambler that made it secure, and Randall was the sort of shadowy character who would take similar precautions.
"I'm thinking about you, too. I wish we could see each other more often." Randall ran some sort of ill-defined business in Metropolis--he billed himself as a consultant, though it was hard to find out whom he consulted for. Lex unbuttoned his shirt--the heating in this office was erratic and had kicked into overdrive.
"Oh, you," she said, and giggled. Come on, Lana--please tell me you're manipulating this jerk. I can't bear to hear much more cooing and simpering.
"Are you sure your phone is free of bugs? Yes, mine is too--besides, Lex trusts me." She didn't believe that, did she?
"That thing we talked about before, that favor you were going to do for me--yes, her. I know, but you've done it before--you're good at it. I need it done now." Was this what it sounded like? Randall had been a cold-blooded killer in Smallville--Belle Reve had earmarked him as a classic sociopath. How had he gotten out, and fallen off Lex's radar? That had been sloppy.
"Because I say so. There's no limit to what we can do together, darling, but you have to do this for me. I don't understand your reluctance--you tried to do it before, and in the unlikely event that anyone connects you with it, you'll have an ironclad alibi." Oh, no. No, no, no. This couldn't be allowed to happen. For one thing, Clark would almost certainly blame him for it--and might well kill him.
"Do it. Do it tonight."
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Notes: I took the line "The house is going through a tunnel" from an episode of Gilmore Girls.