CathrynJ
30th November 2004, 01:04
Worlds Apart
Author: CathrynJ
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story was written for entertainment purposes only. All recognizable characters and settings belong to the WB and various other companies whose names I don’t even know. All spelling mistakes are mine, though. This disclaimer was shamelessly stolen from my previous story.
Author’s notes: Sorry for relurking; I meant to write and post this story weeks ago. Thanks again for all the comments on my first story; they made my day. By the way, I live in blissful ignorance of Season 4 (which seems to be horrible judging from what I’ve heard), so it doesn’t factor into my story. I really don’t do well with dialogue, so I use it sparingly. On a completely different note, this story is rather disjointed—probably due to the fact that it’s late and I should have been in bed three hours ago.
~~~
“Go,” she said, “Spin the globe.”
And now he’s reading that fucked-up book he picked up a few hours ago. It figures that her words would come back to haunt him. Things always seem to do that for him. He didn’t think it might ever happen in a way like this, though.
Lex had heard about the book years ago from a distinguished connoisseur of Roman literature, but found himself unable to acquire a copy. Only a few hundred had been printed in the first place, and almost all had been lost over the years. Some old woman from Grenoble had one of the small leather-bound books in her possession, but declined selling it—even for the most outrageous amount of money. Unwilling to be refused, Lex had sent a few men of questionable reputation to obtain the book, to no avail. The lady’s security had kindly asked them to leave, guns at the ready. All other efforts to somehow get hold of a copy had been in vain as well.
But then, only three hours before, on his way to the penthouse, his Ferrari had broken down. Lex did not want to wait for the repair people to show up and left the car. He’d wandered through the streets; content to remain anonymous (thanks to that ridiculous baseball cap Bruce had presented him with). He’d stumbled upon a little antiquarian bookstore that was squeezed between a rather loud pub and a coffee shop. The idea to go in and ask for the book had struck him out of the blue, and nostalgia of a time when he’d been more spontaneous made him go along with it. Most unbelievably, they actually did have the book; locked away in the owner’s safe. Lex had handed the man his credit card and left the store with the book tucked safely into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
There was little he enjoyed in his life nowadays, so he resolved to take his time appreciating the book. When he got back to his penthouse, he slowly unwrapped it to trace the letters embossed on the front. They had probably been golden once, but had faded over time, fortunately remaining recognizable. Decimus Iunius Iuvenalis — Saturae, the title said. Satires by a man who was considered one of the best satirists of the Roman Empire. The entire book was written in Latin though, and for once he was glad it had been en vogue to learn the language back in boarding school. Impatient despite his resolution, Lex had flipped past the introductory note by some British scholar and begun reading the poems. The sardonic humour had appealed to him—until he’d encountered the particular line he’s been staring at for the last few minutes.
“One globe seemed all too small for the youthful Alexander,” the words say.
The book might as well have slapped him in the face. No, the world certainly isn’t conspiring against him as the media seem to hope; it’s only his fiancée (former fiancée, to be truthful) and a fucking satirist from over two thousand years ago who are out to get him. It almost seems like they’re collaborating– and for all the years he spent in Smallville, Lex might almost believe that they actually are aligning their words.
Back then, before they’d broken up, she’d told him to do what he yearned to, to conquer the world in his own way, on an economic scale, and receive the recognition and power he craved, and today, he is told that it would never be enough.
But unlike Alexander the Great, he does not want another world to conquer, but one woman to love. And this time, he’d make it work—he’d apologize, he’d explain (even though she probably understood years before him) and he’d change.
When he gets to her apartment thirty minutes later, Chloe is standing in the doorway with a lopsided smile on her face, eyes sleepy but sparkling with wit. She looks him over, and says, “Well Lex, how’s the world been treating you?”. Lex can’t do anything but grin and replies: “Spinning the globe isn’t quite what it’s made out to be.”
He hopes she’ll let him in again.
Author: CathrynJ
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story was written for entertainment purposes only. All recognizable characters and settings belong to the WB and various other companies whose names I don’t even know. All spelling mistakes are mine, though. This disclaimer was shamelessly stolen from my previous story.
Author’s notes: Sorry for relurking; I meant to write and post this story weeks ago. Thanks again for all the comments on my first story; they made my day. By the way, I live in blissful ignorance of Season 4 (which seems to be horrible judging from what I’ve heard), so it doesn’t factor into my story. I really don’t do well with dialogue, so I use it sparingly. On a completely different note, this story is rather disjointed—probably due to the fact that it’s late and I should have been in bed three hours ago.
~~~
“Go,” she said, “Spin the globe.”
And now he’s reading that fucked-up book he picked up a few hours ago. It figures that her words would come back to haunt him. Things always seem to do that for him. He didn’t think it might ever happen in a way like this, though.
Lex had heard about the book years ago from a distinguished connoisseur of Roman literature, but found himself unable to acquire a copy. Only a few hundred had been printed in the first place, and almost all had been lost over the years. Some old woman from Grenoble had one of the small leather-bound books in her possession, but declined selling it—even for the most outrageous amount of money. Unwilling to be refused, Lex had sent a few men of questionable reputation to obtain the book, to no avail. The lady’s security had kindly asked them to leave, guns at the ready. All other efforts to somehow get hold of a copy had been in vain as well.
But then, only three hours before, on his way to the penthouse, his Ferrari had broken down. Lex did not want to wait for the repair people to show up and left the car. He’d wandered through the streets; content to remain anonymous (thanks to that ridiculous baseball cap Bruce had presented him with). He’d stumbled upon a little antiquarian bookstore that was squeezed between a rather loud pub and a coffee shop. The idea to go in and ask for the book had struck him out of the blue, and nostalgia of a time when he’d been more spontaneous made him go along with it. Most unbelievably, they actually did have the book; locked away in the owner’s safe. Lex had handed the man his credit card and left the store with the book tucked safely into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
There was little he enjoyed in his life nowadays, so he resolved to take his time appreciating the book. When he got back to his penthouse, he slowly unwrapped it to trace the letters embossed on the front. They had probably been golden once, but had faded over time, fortunately remaining recognizable. Decimus Iunius Iuvenalis — Saturae, the title said. Satires by a man who was considered one of the best satirists of the Roman Empire. The entire book was written in Latin though, and for once he was glad it had been en vogue to learn the language back in boarding school. Impatient despite his resolution, Lex had flipped past the introductory note by some British scholar and begun reading the poems. The sardonic humour had appealed to him—until he’d encountered the particular line he’s been staring at for the last few minutes.
“One globe seemed all too small for the youthful Alexander,” the words say.
The book might as well have slapped him in the face. No, the world certainly isn’t conspiring against him as the media seem to hope; it’s only his fiancée (former fiancée, to be truthful) and a fucking satirist from over two thousand years ago who are out to get him. It almost seems like they’re collaborating– and for all the years he spent in Smallville, Lex might almost believe that they actually are aligning their words.
Back then, before they’d broken up, she’d told him to do what he yearned to, to conquer the world in his own way, on an economic scale, and receive the recognition and power he craved, and today, he is told that it would never be enough.
But unlike Alexander the Great, he does not want another world to conquer, but one woman to love. And this time, he’d make it work—he’d apologize, he’d explain (even though she probably understood years before him) and he’d change.
When he gets to her apartment thirty minutes later, Chloe is standing in the doorway with a lopsided smile on her face, eyes sleepy but sparkling with wit. She looks him over, and says, “Well Lex, how’s the world been treating you?”. Lex can’t do anything but grin and replies: “Spinning the globe isn’t quite what it’s made out to be.”
He hopes she’ll let him in again.