Supermanfic: Apotheosis (Part 6: Resolutions) (Clark/Oliver)

[lady_bug_kay]

Title: Apotheosis (Part Six: Resolutions)
Author: ladybugkay
Fandom: DCU and Smallville
Pairing: Clark/Oliver
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4478
Summary: Clark is going to become Superman. In this part, a difficult decision is made, Batman is angry, and Clark and Oliver talk things out. (Epilogue in next post.)
Disclaimer: DC and Gough & Millar and people like that are the owners. I write for entertainment, receive no money, and intend no copyright infringement.
Note: This fic was part of the An Arrow to a Quiver contest at

ollieville. It won Moderator's Choice for Best Story.
A/N: Italicized lines are actual dialogue taken from episodes of Smallville. I didn't write them, and I don't own them, but I am quoting them, with all due respect for the writers who do own them. This story is finally finished, and I hope it's an acceptable conclusion for everyone who's still reading it. (The epilogue is in the next post because it's too big to include in one LJ post.)



Part One: Nadir
Part Two: Genesis
Part Three: Repercussions, or What Oliver Did
Part Four: Dissatisfaction
Part Five: Zenith
 

 

 Part Six: Resolutions

 

“…Clark fucking Kent is Superman, and I know what it takes to bring him to his knees.”

 

Oliver is already pulling an arrow from his quiver when Lex says Clark’s name, and he barely notices Batman and Wonder Woman react to the information.

 

Batman’s skills had gotten them through the lead door, but none of them expected the scene that is before them, now. Clark is on his knees, prevented from total collapse by the hand around his neck, a hand wearing a ring with a large green stone glowing ominously. A similar green glow is everywhere throughout the room, in beakers and test tubes and stacked on shelves in solid bars.

 

Everyone seems to move at once. A meticulously-thrown batarang knocks the stone loose from Lex’s ring, a lasso pulls Lex’s arms against his body, an arrow slices through the rope around Clark’s hands, and Bart catches Clark before he hits the floor.

 

It’s over almost before it begins, but only because Lex likes to visit his pet projects alone at night, to gloat or masturbate or whatever it is he does when he enjoys his villainy.

 

Batman takes control quickly, even as Lex begins to rage. “Wonder Woman, you take Lex out of here until we figure out whether we have enough on him to take him to the police. Flash, Cyborg, Aquaman, search the lab for all the evidence pertaining to the experiments being performed here, and Green Arrow, grab Clark and follow me; there are a few things we need to discuss.”

 

“No, wait.” Clark’s voice is hoarse, but firm. “Help me out of the room, but I have to deal with Lex, here and now.”

 

“Oh, you’re going to deal with me. How exactly do you plan to do that? Superman doesn’t kill. Although, there were an awful lot of mysterious deaths of meteor-infected people back in the day. Maybe that’s something else you’ve lied about, huh, Clark?”

 

Clark looks at him wearily. “Shut up, Lex.”

 

Oliver interrupts before anyone else can respond. “Superman, let’s get you out of here so you can do whatever it is you intend to do.”

 

The look of gratitude Clark gives him is tinged with desire in spite of how ill he appears, and Oliver thinks he should be ashamed of the near-instantaneous hardening of his cock. He tries to shake it off, because this is neither the time nor the place, and he is certainly capable of controlling himself in the line of duty. He wraps an arm around Clark and helps him walk out of the room, thankful that he is conscious and capable of moving, because Clark is a very tall, very well-muscled man.

 

They move into an adjacent room and Clark motions to Bruce to shut the door. The moment it’s closed, Clark takes a deep breath and straightens up, moving away from Oliver’s support.

 

“What are you going to do, Superman?”

 

“Your lasso compels people to tell the truth, right, Diana?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. Lex, do you still have files and evidence on me or on anything you suspect about me? About Clark Kent?”

 

Lex speaks through clenched teeth, but his answer is clearly audible. “Yes.”

 

“Where are they? All of them?”

 

“I have a collection of flash drives hidden in a safe in the leg of the pool table in the Smallville mansion.”

 

A wistful expression crosses Clark’s face for a moment, before he asks, “Is that it? That’s the only place you have anything written down or recorded in any way?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good.” Clark turns to Bart and Victor. “Flash, you know where the pool table is. I need you to retrieve the flash drives, then give them to Cyborg. Cyborg, I need you to make sure the information on those drives is completely eradicated, then use the lab’s resources to tap into the Lexcorp system and search for anything that implies suspicion about Clark Kent and get rid of that, too.”

 

Bart leaves in a blur of red and a gust of displaced air, blowing Oliver’s hood back, but Oliver ignores it and looks over at Bruce, instead, who doesn’t seem to know whether to be impressed or irritated with Clark’s temporary assumption of command.

 

“Meanwhile, you’ll be…taking care of Lex,” Bruce says.

 

There is a brief silence, then Clark sighs and turns back to Lex. “Yes.”

 

*          *          *

 

He wishes there were another way, but when Clark thinks about what it means that Lex knows who he is, especially now that he and Oliver are…whatever it is that they are, he knows what he has to do. Clark can feel everyone watching as he walks over to Lex, but he pushes that knowledge out of his mind. It’s as if he can think only along one track, and the wheels don’t even have the option of escaping the rut. All his emotions, his ecstasy and giddy joy from being with Oliver, are locked away somewhere bright and far away, while he’s here in the dark, doing what must be done.

 

Everything seems to be happening so fast, rushing toward a conclusion he doesn’t want to reach, but even if he could slow it down, it wouldn’t change what has to happen. Clark knows that.

 

He moves in so that he’s standing right next to Lex, and even as he leans in, he can feel his body flinching away from contact with the ring on Lex’s hand.

 

“…I’m sorry,” he says, quietly, because what he has to say is for the man in front of him and no one else. “I hate that I have to do this, Lex. You were my best friend for three years, a very good friend, and I won’t forget that. I’m sorry things turned out this way.”

 

And then he places his hands on Lex’s shoulders, watching as Lex’s eyes go wide and suddenly uncertain, and his lips touch Lex’s.

 

The part of him that’s Superman and never stops paying attention to the world around him hears the gasps of the other people in the room, but Clark is lost in Lex’s memories. This power is nothing like he thought it would be. It’s terrible and terrifying, and as pieces of his past rush by him, Clark hopes like hell he never has to do something like this again.

 

For the first time in his life, he sees himself as a monster, an evil alien invader, and it makes him sick to his stomach.

 

“We all need to believe in heroes, Clark. But even the best ones are far from perfect.”

 

“You know, when I asked you to stay out of trouble, I kind of thought that might include being caught underage at a strip club using my membership while I’m gearing up for  a political campaign.”

 

“It’s a complicated world, Clark. Only the naïve view it in black and white.” “The other day, a professor of mine accused Luthorcorp of being evil, and you just short of being the devil.” “Well, you didn’t tell him about my pitchfork, did you?” “I defended you. I guess I am naïve.”

 

“Clark, the days of you barging into my home and giving me sage advice are over.”   “Lex, whatever our differences, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

 

“I thought we could start over, Lex. But you’re too obsessed with the past. With me. But I’m different, now, and I’m through playing games. You want to test me? You want to see what I’m really made of? Do it yourself, you coward.”

 

“Ever since I met you, I’ve been defending you, to people like Pete, like my parents. Telling them you can trust Lex Luthor; he’s a good guy. He’s nothing like his father. I was wrong.”

 

“Clark. Did it ever occur to you that maybe the hero of the story…is Segeth?”

 

“You’re always telling me how you don’t want to turn into your father, and I truly believe that. But the more you two go at it, the more like him you become. And the more people get hurt.” “I will never become my father. I would never sacrifice you or anybody I cared about to bring him down.”

 

“You’re either with me or against me, Clark. Choose right now.”

 

“Three months on a deserted island was almost worth it to see the look on your face right now.”

“So what do you think, Clark? Is there a chance we could be brothers?” “As cool as that would be, Lex, we’re not.”

 

“Clark Kent and Lex Luthor. I like the sound of that.”

 

“I know it’s short notice, but I was hoping you’d be my best man.”

 

“The truth is, I’m just a guy who tried to do the right thing. Isn’t that enough?”

 

“Trust me, Clark. Our friendship is going to be the stuff of legend.”

 

“You were tied to a stake in the middle of a field. Even the Romans saved that for special occasions. You could have died out there.”

 

“I could have sworn I hit you.” “If you did, I’d be…I’d be dead.”

 

Clark pulls back gasping and barely manages to catch Lex as he falls, unconscious.

 

“What the hell was that?” Clark can hear the hurt and anger in Oliver’s voice, and he knows what that kiss must have looked like, but he can’t explain until he has Lex safely back at home. And he needs a few minutes to recover from all those memories, things he hasn’t thought about in years.

 

“I’ll explain everything later. I have to take Lex back, first, and then I’ll meet up with all of you.”

 

“But--”

 

“Please. Just give me a couple of minutes. Ten minutes,” he amends. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be back. We can destroy the lab and then I’ll tell you everything.”

 

As Oliver starts to object again, Batman interjects. “That’s fine, Superman. We’ll see you back here in ten minutes, precisely.”

 

Clark manages a slight grin. “Yes, Batman. Precisely ten minutes. I’ll be here.”

 

Then, with an apologetic glance at Oliver, Clark asks Diana to remove the lasso, and he pulls Lex into his arms and flies off in the direction of Lex’s loft.

 

After arranging Lex carefully on his bed, Clark returns to the lab to find Cyborg still searching for any references to Clark Kent in Lex’s files, and the rest of the team waiting rather impatiently for him to return and explain himself.

 

He manages to catch Oliver’s eye and give a small smile of apology, but he is tired and almost defeated. He feels old again. If he could, Clark would really rather not have to think about what he’s done, but he owes all of them, especially Oliver, an explanation for what he has done.  

 

More than anything, Clark wants to go back to earlier in the day, when he’d skipped out on work and spent hours memorizing the feel of Oliver’s skin under his fingers. If someone were to give him a piece of clay or a slab of marble, Clark knows he could easily recreate Oliver’s body, even though he’s never been an artist. He knows Oliver’s body, now, knows it better and more thoroughly than he’s ever known anyone or anything, and he thinks if he could just have a few hours to do nothing but touch Oliver, he might not feel so old and tired.

 

He just has to make it through this damned meeting, first.

 

Before he even has the chance to open his mouth, however, Batman brings up the kryptonite, and anger is obvious. Clark is reminded of one of his father’s more vehement lectures, and he has to force himself back from nostalgia and into the present when Batman speaks.

 

“Do you want to explain to me why there’s something out there that renders you helpless and I don’t know about it? We don’t know about it? You don’t think that might be useful information for your teammates to possess, Superman?”

 

That makes him wince. “I don’t make it a habit of telling people about the one thing that can hurt me. In my experience, people use that kind of knowledge against me.”

 

Diana looks stunned. “Are you saying you don’t trust us? We’re all responsible for each other’s lives, and you think we’re going to try to harm you?” Her shock turns to anger, and Clark has seen enough of Amazonian strength not to want to throw down with her over this, so he tries to defend himself.

 

“It’s just--.” He looks at Oliver for help, but Oliver seems offended by him kissing Lex and refuses to look at him. “It’s instinct. Habit of a lifetime. I don’t tell people more about myself than I have to, because it’s safer that way. I’ve had people I care about, people who care about me, take advantage of that knowledge, anyway. Good friends, who, through whatever circumstances, have used what they know to manipulate me or to hurt me.” Chloe. Pete. Alicia. His father. Even his mother.

 

Smallville is not a good breeding ground for trust.

 

“Fine. Now what’s with the rock, and why does it hurt you?”

 

“It’s called kryptonite. More commonly known as meteor rock. It’s everywhere in Smallville, from the two meteor showers. After my birth planet, Krypton, exploded, these fragments were what was left. The problem is that they’re radioactive, now. Kryptonite weakens me, causes me pain,” and that’s the fucking understatement of the century, “takes away my powers, and allows me to be hurt. It acts a bit like a poison and, although I’ve never actually tested this theory, is deadly to me.”

 

Batman nods, acknowledging and processing the information, filing it away for future reference, but his face is pale. Diana looks concerned, and Oliver stops avoiding his gaze.

 

“Why are you alright, now?” Bart asks. “We’re still close to it. Shouldn’t we, like, be getting you the hell out of here before you kick the bucket?”

 

It feels wrong to laugh, after what he’s just done, but it also makes him feel a little better. “Lead shields me from the effects. It’s why I didn’t know the kryptonite was here in the first place and how I ended up walking right into that situation like an idiot, because I can’t see through lead, either.”

 

Batman nods again, and Oliver catches Clark’s eye. “…And what the hell did you do to Lex?”

 

There is a focused stillness to the air as they wait for his answer, and Clark swallows painfully against his own self-loathing. He takes a deep breath.

 

*          *          *

 

Clark looks like he’s going to be sick, and Oliver doesn’t blame him; after all, he just kissed Lex Luthor.

 

Except that Oliver does blame him, because he just kissed Lex Luthor. After fucking Oliver a half dozen times earlier in the day. This had better be one damned good explanation.

 

“I--. One of my powers is the ability to—well, to…erase m-memories.” Clark’s head is down and he doesn’t look anyone in the eye as he speaks to a room that’s too quiet for the number of people present. “I’ve never used it before, and I hope I never have to use it again, because it’s…repugnant. It’s not something I enjoyed doing, although in this instance, I have to admit that I’d do it again.”

 

Clark looks up. “I took away Lex’s knowledge that Clark Kent is Superman. I altered his memories of certain events so that he doesn’t remember me, as Clark Kent, doing anything out of the ordinary; and I took away his memories of everything that happened between us after I stopped talking to him during his father’s trial. He no longer has any knowledge of interacting with me after I graduated high school.”

 

“You knew Lex Luthor in high school?” Diana is shocked, and Victor seems a little surprised, but Bart just nods, and judging by Bruce’s expression, he has done enough research on Lex Luthor to be aware of his association with Clark Kent.

 

“It was a long time ago,” Clark says slowly, and Oliver can see how much Clark regrets what he has done tonight.

 

“Can we get back to the brain-sucking for a minute, here?” Bart’s question makes Clark flinch, and now that Oliver knows the reasons for Clark’s actions, he wants to take Clark home and just hold him for awhile.

 

“I didn’t…suck Lex’s brains. I just--. I--. I made him forget. I made him forget certain things so that he can’t hurt the people in my life,” Clark’s eyes flicker in Oliver’s direction, “in order to hurt me or control me. I didn’t take anything more than I had to, but there was no other choice. Nothing else would stop him.”

 

“I don’t know about that,” A.C. says suddenly. “I think killing him would stop him pretty effectively.”

 

“That’s not funny.”

 

“I’m not laughing. I’m serious. It would make the world a hell of a lot safer, and our jobs a hell of a lot easier, if Lex Luthor were dead.”

 

“We don’t kill,” Bruce growls.

 

“We don’t kill,” Clark says at the same time. “I don’t kill. No matter what Lex has done, no matter what he does in the future, I will never kill him. Or anyone else. But I had to do something, and making him forget was what I did.”

 

“Did you have to kiss him to do it?” Oliver asks before he can help himself.

 

Clark looks at him, and Oliver can read the apology behind his impossibly blue eyes. “It’s how it works. The kiss establishes an emotional connection, and I’m able to read the person’s memories and…erase the ones I choose.”

 

“I thought you didn’t have telepathic abilities,” Oliver says, because he’s terrified now that Clark can read his mind and might make him forget something, and he’d never even know it.

 

“I can’t read minds. It’s not like that. It’s not unconscious or unintentional. I have to make an effort to do it. I don’t know how to explain, but I have to access a certain part of myself, consciously, and I have to exert my will and--. It doesn’t make any sense. I know that. I really can’t explain it, but it’s not something I’ve ever done before, and I don’t intend to use it again for anything short of an apocalypse.” Clark is trying desperately to make them understand, to make Oliver believe that he would never do that to him. “It doesn’t just happen whenever I kiss someone.”

 

Oliver finds it unexpectedly easy to believe him. He trusts Clark because he has to, because he always has.

 

Besides, he tells himself in an effort to stop thinking about Clark kissing Lex, this way they can get right to the sex once they’re alone, without having some overwrought discussion about trust and guilt.

 

He can hear the others asking Clark more questions, trying to understand this bizarre ability, while Clark struggles to give coherent answers, but the whole time, Clark is looking at Oliver, and Oliver is looking at Clark.

 

And sex is in the air, desire thickening the space between them and making Oliver’s mouth dry and his palms wet.

 

Until Clark interrupts Bart to stand up and say, “I’m sorry, but that’s all I know. And I really don’t want to talk about this, anymore. It’s been a long day and a terrible night, and I just want to destroy this lab and go home.”

 

Bruce stands up, as well. “I agree. Cyborg, are you finished with the computer systems here?”

 

“Yes,” Victor says. “I’ve deleted everything I found pertaining to Clark Kent and any mysterious behaviour, and the flash drives Bart found are history.”

 

“Good. Superman, what do you want us to do with the kryptonite?”

 

“The entire room is lined in lead, so I can cut it out from the earth around it and lift it out of here.” Oliver looks at Clark and raises his eyebrow. “The lead protects me from the kryptonite,” Clark explains, “and I can just throw it into the sun. If we keep it anywhere on earth, someone is bound to find it, eventually.”

 

“That seems the most effective plan.” Bruce addresses the rest of the team, “We’ll destroy the other areas of the lab, and when we’re clear of the building and aboveground, Superman will take care of the kryptonite.”

 

*          *          *

 

“Clark.”

They’re back in his apartment, just him and Oliver, again, and he’s afraid to look too closely at Oliver’s eyes. He doesn’t want to see the same disappointment and revulsion he feels. He just wants to sit here and not think. And maybe kiss Oliver.

 

“Clark. You said yourself you didn’t have any other choice. We both know what Lex would have done once he found out you were Superman. Hurting me would be the least of it.”

 

The relief Clark feels is almost devastating in its intensity: Oliver doesn’t hate him. There was a chance Oliver just didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but there is no reason for him to pretend, now, and no reason for him to lie.

 

“So, you don’t hate me for it?”

 

“What? No. Clark,” Oliver’s hand is on his chin, forcing him to look into those eyes that no one else on earth has, and Clark thinks it feels like home. “You did the right thing.”

 

Something burns behind his eyes, and Clark blinks rapidly to ease the stinging.

 

Oliver’s face softens. “You’re not one of the bad guys, Clark. You’re Superman, for crying out loud. You are the good side.”

 

Clark thinks about this last power that he never wanted and never wants to use again. He thinks about decisions that aren’t simple or innocent or entirely unselfish. “I became Lionel.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I played with Lex’s brain the same way Lionel did. I made him forget things about me that I didn’t want him to know, and it’s not even as straightforward as that; losing some memories and having others altered will mess with Lex’s emotions. I raped his mind, Oliver.”

 

“Look at me, Clark.” Oliver places his hands on either side of his face and holds Clark’s eyes with his own, an intensity in them Clark has rarely seen. “Do you actually think anyone, any hero or saint, Galahad or Ghandi or fucking Mother Theresa, is as perfect and faultless as people have made them out to be? That they haven’t done any harm to any person, whether they meant to or not? Do you honestly believe that anyone’s actions are completely untainted by negative consequences?”

 

He stops for a moment, but when Clark says nothing, he brushes Clark’s hair from his forehead and continues. “You have done so much good by preventing all the evil Lex would have done with that information and those memories. Think of all the good you wouldn’t be able to do, all the people you wouldn’t be able to save, if he killed you or kept you locked up and experimented on you. And he would do that. You took only specific memories, the ones of you, and not even all of those, just the dangerous ones. And not taking all of them will probably come back to bite you in the ass, some day, anyway, you know.”

 

Clark laughs weakly. “Probably. But I couldn’t violate him any more than was absolutely necessary. And if he still hates me, as Clark or as Superman, I can live with that. At least it’ll balance out all the hero worship from people like Lois.”

 

It makes Oliver smile—a quick, bright smile that makes everything seem less bleak—and he kisses Clark hard and fast.

 

When he pulls back, Clark forces a smile of his own. He hates it when people take his idealism for naïveté, and he wants to make it clear that he can acknowledge the truth of what Oliver has said. “I know the world is not a nice place. I don’t like that fact, and I’m going to do what I can to change it, but my X-ray vision sees right through rose-coloured lenses, Oliver. I’m not fifteen, anymore, and I know better than to think there are no shades of grey. But thank you.”

 

Oliver nods thoughtfully, then leans in to kiss Clark, again. This time, the kiss is longer, and when they break apart, Clark is breathing more heavily than he should be when he doesn’t even require oxygen. The pupils of Oliver’s eyes are dilated, and there is a flush in his cheeks that is driving Clark a little bit crazy. He wants to keep kissing Oliver and let it turn into other things he’s already addicted to, but there’s something he needs to know, first.

 

“Oliver.” The tongue on his neck is very distracting, though, and Clark is struggling to recall why he wanted to call even a temporary halt. “Um, Oliver.” Now there are teeth, and Clark’s hips jerk against Oliver involuntarily. “Oh, fuck. Um. Oliver. God, that feels good. Shit. Oliver!”

 

Oliver pulls away, and even though it’s what Clark wanted, it’s also so far from what he wants right now it’s almost painful. “What?”

 

“I--. What are we doing here?”

 

Okay, so maybe he deserves that look. It is rather obvious what they’re doing here. “I mean…us. What exactly is this? Because if all you want is a fuck buddy, well, I can do that, I suppose, but--”

 

“Clark,” Oliver laughs. “I looked for you for five years. Every night, for five years, I had dreams about you. Very explicit dreams that left me with very stained sheets. If all I wanted was a ‘fuck buddy,’ I wouldn’t have kept looking for you past the first month.”

 

It makes Clark smile, and the answering smile that spreads across Oliver’s face is edged with sex and makes Clark’s heart beat a little faster.

 

Oliver can’t make the bad things go away, but he does make them more bearable. He stops Clark from brooding for too long, and he makes Clark feel happy for the first time in over half a decade, the first time since Chloe died, or maybe even further back; maybe for the first time since his relationship with Lana came to a messy, painful end.

 

And he gives Clark really fucking amazing orgasms.

 

So as he pulls Oliver close and kisses him as thoroughly as he knows how, Clark thinks for the first time that he might be able to have his life as Superman and enjoy it, too. He doesn’t know where this thing with Oliver will go, but he has it, for now, and he intends to fight for it and hang on to it as long as he can.

Concluded in Epilogue: The Fine Print

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