The first family of dysfunctional living.
Mar. 3rd, 2003 08:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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serrico beta’d ‘Year of the Dragon’ for me, and in return she asked for my soul. However, my soul isn’t worth more than a buck-fifty (due to depreciation, illegal activity, and random acts of violence and debauchery) so instead she got this. Smallville
La Mano de Dios
“Why do you make me do this?” Lillian had asked in the car on the way to the charity banquet for the Metropolis Society for the Preservation of the Docklands. In response Lionel had given her the sort of look that he reserved for Alexander when he misbehaved. Considering Lillian’s upbringing, Lionel had great trouble with her recent reticence in attending to their social calendar
They had been having the exact same conversation for the past week, and frankly, Lionel was tired of the games. Yes, Julian was still young, and yes, Lillian was still recovering from giving birth, but there were companies to be bought and deals to be made. The world hadn’t yet learned to stop when a new Luthor was born, and it was Lionel’s job to make sure there was a proper legacy for the new heir to assume when the time came.
Business never stopped just because someone needed a break.
“Because we have a name to maintain,” he answered, as though that were the deciding factor in all matters at hand.
Turning away, signaling the end of the conversation, Lionel poured himself a drink and mentally reviewed his proposal for Wayne Tech.
For a company that was technically still in trust, Wayne Tech was growing at an alarming rate. Bruce Wayne was young, but he was proving to be a formidable force in Gotham, and Lionel was going to have to show him that age meant something in the business world. Good looks and charm weren’t everything, and as Lionel swirled his drink and ignored the view from the window, he pretended not to see the grim look cross his wife’s face.
He’d always been good at choosing what he would see.
That night, when they returned home from the dinner, all the lights were on in the mansion. Pamela opened the door before Lionel could, leaving Lionel’s hand wavering in mid air. Her face was drawn, and before Lionel could demand an explanation, Lillian pushed past them both and dashed into the house.
Her heels clattered on the marble stairs and her voice echoed in the foyer, the sound of her calling for Alexander and Julian ringing in Lionel’s ears. Unthinkingly, Lionel shed his overcoat and pushed it towards Pamela who let it fall onto the floor. Glancing down at his discarded coat and back up at the hired help, Lionel opened his mouth to say something but paused for no reason he could explain.
Pamela‘s eyes were red, and the accusation in her voice was clear. “He’s dead,” she said, before turning to follow in Lillian’s footsteps.
*
The papers were signed but the ink was still damp, and long after the lawyers and lackeys had left the conference room, Lionel remained sitting at the head of the table as though it still meant something.
He didn’t start when the door opened, and was anything but surprised when he saws the bald scalp flickering in the periphery of his left eye. The motions were made but there was no noise behind them, and Lionel refused to flinch when Lex appeared at his elbow, briefcase in one hand.
“What, no congratulations, Dad?”
Lionel’s chair swiveled with a groan, and he made a mental note to make sure Marie had it oiled before his next meeting. “Don’t you think all your celebrations are a bit premature, Lex? There’s nothing to congratulate you on.”
The laugh that followed reminded Lionel of Lillian, and for the life of him he wasn‘t sure why. It wasn‘t full of mirth or amusement. On the contrary it seemed rather lifeless and dry. “Don’t be a sore loser, it’s that what you taught me, Dad?”
“I taught you quite a few things, Lex, like don’t underestimate your competitors.” Lionel leaned back in the chair and steepled his fingers together, an action he had only recently acquired.
“I am what you made me.” Lex’s face gave away nothing, but for a second Lionel could have sworn that he smiled.
“If you think this is over, then I’ve taught you nothing,” Lionel declared, rocking forward in his chair and getting to his feet. He wound up practically stepping on top of Lex, and despite their proximity, Lex refused to budge. He actually seemed comfortable with the closeness.
It was a change.
“I’d beg to differ,” Lex replied, shifting his briefcase into his other hand in order to pull car keys out his pocket. “The most important thing I’ve learned from you is how not to conduct my life. Now, I’d appreciate it if you would clean out your office before Monday, and if you’ll excuse me, I have someone waiting for me at home.”
*
Lionel’s death was a natural occurrence of sorts, meaning that it occurred in the natural course of patricide. Lionel had always known that Lex would never be the one to take his life, despite the obvious Oedipal angle, but he had never seriously pondered the wildcard known as Lucas. Lucas’s mother was no Jocasta, and Lionel always considered everything. Perhaps looking back on it, had he ever given it any thought, he would have realized that when he tried to pump two bullets into his son’s body it was bound to come back to him some how. But when Lucas appeared one night at his bedside in Metropolis General, he was still taken aback.
The stroke had left him infirmed but not inattentive, and he had seen that gleam somewhere before. Perhaps on Lillian’s face the first time she slighted him for another suitor before they were married, or on Rachel's face when she said Lucas was dead. It might have been on Lex’s face when he announced that Luthor Corp was becoming a Lex Corp subsidiary, or quite possibly it was when Lucas walked out of the Luthor Corp offices hot on Lex’s heels.
And yet, Lionel still opened his mouth to ask why, but the only sound he made was muffled by the hospital pillow being held over his mouth.
The last words Lionel Luthor heard were from his son chanting rather snidely, “You made me do this.”
-finis-
Notes: El Mano de Dios translates as ‘The Hand of God,’ and in soccer it’s used to describe a goal that has no other sort of possible explanation. It was famously coined in 1986 by Diego Maradona at the World Cup. Considering I was writing Lionel I probably should have called it La Mano del Diablo.
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no subject
Date: 2003-03-03 09:43 am (UTC)I especially liked Lex's "I have someone waiting for me at home."
I didn't even think 'Oh, it must be Clark,' I just thought 'Aaaah! Take that, you creepy, magnificent bastard! Go Lex! W00t!!'
I love it, Zahra. Lionel fic is so rarely written well - this was an intriguing piece. Like a collection of snapshots of a bad but fascinating man, over time. And the whole thing feels so inevitable, like of *course* that's the way it's going to be. And the bit about Lillian's expression when she passed him up for another suitor - this whole story was basically just me going 'Yeah! Everybody piss off Lionel! Woo!'
Also? Lucas!!! This we like. *g*
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Date: 2003-03-03 12:28 pm (UTC)Dude! Me too! I wasn't thinking of Clark, just of Lex being happy. We are one with the Lex happiness.
And the bit about Lillian's expression when she passed him up for another suitor - this whole story was basically just me going 'Yeah! Everybody piss off Lionel! Woo!'
That's what I'm talking about. He may be magnificent, but damnit, he should have to pay just like everybody else.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-03 09:44 am (UTC)Possibly, but the title rolls off the tongue more easily.^^ My first thought was, "Oops, your son killed you. Who's surprised? Anybody?" I like the pov - it's cold and convincing, and I feel sorry for the rest of his family.
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Date: 2003-03-03 12:29 pm (UTC)I'm sensing a Ferris Buller moment here, you know? Anybody? Anybody? Bueller? Buller?
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Date: 2003-03-03 10:15 am (UTC)Wonderful piece.
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Date: 2003-03-03 12:32 pm (UTC)Yes, Lionel will reap when he sows some day. One day. Hopefully.
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Date: 2003-03-03 10:39 am (UTC)Yay for Lionel!fic! And Lucas!fic!
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Date: 2003-03-03 12:34 pm (UTC)Yay for Lionel!fic! And Lucas!fic!
Oh, I'm a great whore for Lucas!Fic. Wven with the catepillars on his forehead he makes me very happy. He's no Lex, but he's a Luthor and that's what's important. I'm glad you liked this, thank you.
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Date: 2003-03-03 09:24 pm (UTC)Maybe not. But he's still hot.
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Date: 2003-03-03 12:10 pm (UTC)Creeeeepy. And a good sense of the inevitable throughout, and some very nice ways of seeing the less-successful sides of Lionel. Yay!
Thank you. :).
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Date: 2003-03-03 12:35 pm (UTC)Creepy is good. I can work well with creepy. Someone mentioned earlier the 'reap what you sow' axiom and I just kept thinking, 'Ha! That is so Lionel.' They are what he made them out to be, he shouldn't be surprised by the way things turn out, you know?
no subject
Date: 2003-03-03 12:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-03 12:37 pm (UTC)That's exactly what I'm talking about, I'm a huge fan of football and Maradona (bless, he was brilliant before the drugs took over).
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Date: 2003-03-03 01:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-03 02:48 pm (UTC)::dances::
i did creepy, and I didn't even try! this makes me very happy, but I'm also a bit *eccentric* so you know, no big surprise. i would love to read more lionel fic, but the man is sick.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-03 03:01 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2003-03-03 03:40 pm (UTC)Bollocks. You would think after eight years of study I would remember something small like a bloody article, but alas no. It's the Italian what done me in. After two languages, things either get easier or impossibly convoluted. Either that or I was so caught up with Lionel I just forgot.
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Date: 2003-03-04 08:55 am (UTC)I forgot to say 'thank you' didn't I? Bugger. Thanks!
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Date: 2003-03-03 10:03 pm (UTC)Lionel’s death was a natural occurrence of sorts, meaning that it occurred in the natural course of patricide.
Bwa. Exxxxxxcellent, as usual, darling. *loves*
no subject
Date: 2003-03-04 08:56 am (UTC)::sighs:: what did I tell you about the porno pictures?
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Date: 2003-03-04 09:57 am (UTC)I don't know what you mean.
:-D
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Date: 2003-03-04 06:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-04 08:57 am (UTC)You are so adorable, even when you are sick. I'm sorry you're feeling poorly, you know, but I am glad that you liked this. Yay me!