achy feet

The Hands of the Future - Smallville/Superman

�

��������������� PG-13, maybe R. Slash: Clex.

Disclaimer: I do not own Superman, the JLU, or Smallville. They belong to DC Comics and co. This idea, however, does belong to me.�I will ask you not to archive, distribute, or copy my work without my express permission. Thank you.

Spoilers: SV season 1 with bits of all added in. Basic knowledge of Superman and JLU.

Pairings: CLex, brief mentions of CLana and CLois... Very briefhellip;

Summary: Years after that fateful prophecy, Cassandrarsquo;s vision has come to pass; Clark Kent is the last of

his loved ones left alive, the last man on Earth. Now, with knowledge of the future and a machine built by his mortal enemy and friend, Superman will go back to the beginning, where it all began, Smallville: 2001. Can he prevent the Flood?

�

The Hands of the Future

Chapter Zero : All the Choices that You Chose

�

ldquo;the hundredth hand of the past glides by

broken

never to be seen through the same pane again

the hands of the future will write the past.rdquo;

��������������� Edward West

�������������������������������

His hands will right the past.

�

��������������� They came without warning, the ships. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Each with hundreds of thousands of ravenous beasts within the hold. They came swiftly, and silently, and with no mercy. An unimaginable evil, an unstoppable force, whose name struck fear into the hearts of all worlds, within all galaxies. A fleet of demons that move from one planet to the next, devouring all life, killing until their target world resembles nothing more than a barren wasteland, then moving on.

��������������� The Plague had come, and it wanted Earth.

But the people of Earth, human kind, were not known to go down without a fight. Even when faced with overwhelming odds, they never gave up. With no ability to hide an invasion from the public and no planetary central government, country after country staged a defense of their respective borders. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, National Guard and their equivalents all stood against the flood of the first siege. They all stood, and they all died.

��������������� No matter how expert they were at war, mankind was just not ready for an invasion of such magnitude. In one fell swoop, the plague managed to take out all of Earths first line defenses. In one night, the worldrsquo;s greatest cities were shipped out, its governments dissolved, its herorsquo;s defeated. No surrender was necessary in this war; the Plague was assured of their victory.

��������������� That is, until they came across the League. Comprised of members of extraordinary honor and power, the Justice League, joined together with the Titans and other, smaller, groups of hers, staged their own offensive. The battle was fought long and hard, but in the end, it just wasnrsquo;t enough. The Plague was so many, and the League so few. Each member rose to the challenge as either a representative of Earth or her allies, and each one fell to a force greater than their own. Until only one remained.

��������������� But for all of Earths countries, and all of the might of the Justice League, they only managed to slow the invaders. It was hard, nearly impossible, to fight, to kill, something so immaterial. An enemy not made of flesh or bone or steal, but of nightmares and darkness and a fearsome, terrible hunger. They were an unstoppable force, and even humanities tenacity was no match.

��������������� So now, a scant three months after the first contact, there was nothing. No man, no woman, no plants, animals, even the last bacterium. The Earth was baron. Nothing left but the remnants of a once grand civilization. The skeletons of sprawling cities were now nothing more than a silent tribute, a warning, for all. The Plague had come.

��������������� Superman stood atop his ruined city, looking down at the place it all ended. This, the final testament to manrsquo;s fearsome will. After all, it was not the Plague that finally finished Earth, but Earth itself. One man, in particular, with the power, the influence, and the conviction to end a war on HIS terms, and not theirs. This city, this tower, this exact spot�was where Alexander Joseph Luthor, President of the United States of America, let souse a virus that killed every last life form on Earth. A virus that starved and killed the Plague itself, ensuring that they would never again devastate another planet.

��������������� All that was left was he, once again the last survivor of a dead world.

��������������� In a blink, Superman left his vigil and found himself on his familyrsquo;s farm. It hurt to be here, in a place that once made him so happy, but it hurt worse still to leave. To turn his back on the small yellow house and the barren desert lands that had once been lush fields of green and gold. He would be here, he supposed, day after day, night after night, eon upon eon, with nothing but the hope that something had survived. That there was even one microorganism that one day would grow and evolve into new life.

��������������� When next he awoke, Superman started the morning in a way that was quickly becoming routine. He got up, removed the sand and dust that had accumulated within the house during the night, then began his vigil, starting in Gotham and working his way around the globe, always to finish in Metropolis. Finally, as he went home, he visited the grave-yard. Hundreds of graves lie here, all in neat rows. Martha and Jonathan Kent, Pete, Chloe, Lana, Lois, Jimmy. John, Diana, Bruce, Tim, Dick, Wally, Jrsquo;onn, Oliver, Shayera. hellip; Connerhellip; So, so many. All empty, there was never anything left to burry.

��������������� He remembered, years before, the kind old lady who saw the future. Cassandra had shown him a vision of him, all there was, was him, anywhere. And here he was, living her vision.

��������������� He looked away.

��������������� Only to look upon another grave, this one unmarked, set away from the close knit cluster he stood among. But he didnrsquo;t need a name upon the grave to know who it was for. He already had the name, forever engraved upon his mind, his soul. How could he forget? The man had alternately been his greatest friend, and his greatest enemy.

��������������� Lex Luthor may have been a criminal, he may have been one of the most morally questionable men in the world, he may have been the one who pushed the button, releasing the virus, but he was also the one to take matters into his own hands. He gave release to millions, a quick, painless death, to those who would have suffered unspeakable agony. And to Superman, that made all the difference.

��������������� To Superman, Lex Luthor was a Hero.

��������������� And with that in mind, Superman finally decided to visit the one place he had been avoiding, like the plague, so to speak.

��������������� With a thought, he was there, standing before the building that had been such a staple in his young life. Made of wood and mortar and stone, this building once cowed courageous men, housed a great secret, forbade the curious and thrill-seekers, and welcomed one lonely boy.

��������������� Luthor Castle had changed very little in the years sense he had last been here. There was some obvious maintenance problems; there was no longer any one to keep it up to its old standards. There was also the over abundance of sand and dust that had begun to take over now that there were no trees or other plants to hold them at bay. But all in all, the manor was still the intimidating, awe inspiring monolith it had always been.

��������������� As he stepped through the front door, he could almost pretend that he was in the past, that he was just there for a visit or to drop off the weekly supply of produce. Any moment now, Lex would come storming by, foil in hand, Hilde right at his heals. Or maybe he was in his office, engrossed in another deal that may make LexCorprsquo;s stocks double in a single night. Either way, when he notices him standing there, watching, hersquo;ll inevitably put away everything he was working on and welcome him in with a smile.

��������������� But that could never happen, as Superman well knew. The years were he and Lex were the best�of friends had long past, well before the Plague. Lexrsquo;s actions, and his own, the endless lies, had put a permanent rift between them. A rift that grew to hate, and later, a personal war between the two. The stuff of legends, he had called it. Obviously, Lex had not paid enough attention to his Greek tragedies. Secrets and Lies.

��������������� One such secret was here, before him now. The Room. That one, hideous place that managed to turn a rift into a chasm. It, too, had not changed. It still held stands and glass cases, exhibits of Superman and all the oddities that had surrounded his life, like the worldrsquo;s most obscure museum.������� And there, in the middle, that which had started it all. The small, blue Porsche still sat in the center of the room, the focal point. It shined in the little light that fell through the door. Here, in this air tight, sealed room, no dust nor sand had entered to sully the meticulously well kept wreckage.

��������������� Then he saw it, the note. Sitting so unassuming on the hood of the car, as if it had been waiting. For him. On it was only one word, his name. A name no one had called him by in a very long time. A name no one would call him again. And there, underneath it, a single disk.

��������������� His hands shook as he picked them up. He didnrsquo;t quite know what to think. It could be a trap. It wouldnrsquo;t be the first. But then, a trap for what? The world was gone. Lex would have known that by the time he found this, everything would have long sense died, himself included. Then what? One last attempt to one-up Superman? An evil manrsquo;s final desire to go out with a bang, taking his nemesis with him? Or was it something completely different? Something he couldnrsquo;t predict?

��������������� Did it really even matter?��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������

��������������� No.

��������������� No, it didnrsquo;t matter at all.

��������������� Two quick steps led him to the computer console showing repeated images of the car crash. With swift movements and deft fingers, he slid the disk into the computerrsquo;s drive, interrupting the computer generated images mid crash. It was simple to bring up the information on the disk. There were no security measures, no code, inscription, no passwords. Just one file, no title or name to give him a clue as to what was within it. A simple click of a button, and it was open.

��������������� It was a video feed. Pristine, perfect, like he was looking through a pane of glass instead of a recording of something that no longer existed. The room he was looking into was one any American would have recognized just a few short weeks ago. The Oval Office. A symbol of power and prestige. And then someone walked in front of the camera and sat down at the desk.

Even though he should have expected it, had, in fact, on some subconscious level, he still couldnrsquo;t stop the shock from running through him at seeing Lex Luthor, alive and well, before him. It was just a recording. He knew this. But after so long alone, even a recording of another person, much less someone that had been so central within his life for so long, was something he could barely stand. Everything, from the way he moved, to the way he held himself, with dignity and self-satisfied superiority, was so familiar, so real. Like a dream he didnrsquo;t know he had had. Like a truth that was just beyond his reach. �

The recording started to speak. What he heard would forever haunt him.

ldquo;Clark,

��������������� I know that by the time you see this, I will already be dead. Long dead, perhaps. And if you are getting this, then my calculations were correct. You are immune to my virus.

��������������� If my plan succeeded, everything in Earth is dead, including, I hope, the Plague. The death of the Plague is not worth our defeat.�It is, however, worth our lives.�So do not mourn for what could not be stopped, Clark. There was nothing you could have done to change our fate. Not then.

��������������� I hope you will be able to forgive me for what I have done. Not just against the Plague, but everything. I know I donrsquo;t disserve your forgiveness. The things I have done, against you and against so many others, innocents, are unforgiveable. Savage. Inhumane. I know this, and yet still I ask your forgiveness.

��������������� Maybe now, after the destruction of our world, you can see why I took the actions that I had. For all the sin, for all the laws broken, the lives lost, everything bad and wrong I have ever done, I always had the best intentions at heart. I have always known, feared even, that a force stronger than us, stronger than all the Earthrsquo;s might, would come. Everything I have done, illegal and immoral as they may have been, I did because I wanted to be prepared. I wanted to protect this world, my world, in the only way I knew how. ldquo;

��������������� Lex closed his eyes for a moment, pausing in his dialog to gather his thoughts. And then he began again.

ldquo;I hope you will believe me when I say, I never meant to hurt you. Nor anyone else, for that matter. But when faced with the possibility of the defeat of Earth, I was willing to be the villain, the ultimate evil, and sacrifice some lives, if it meant the possibility of the majority of my people surviving. �Maybe I could have gone about it in a better way. Maybe I hadnrsquo;t needed to act so rashly. Maybe. I will never know.

��������������� All I know was that when I was young, I was faced with a supremely powerful being, was used by such a being, and was nearly destroyed by it. The thought of more of them, more creatures like Zod, coming to Earth. It terrified me. Because I knew we would be helpless against them. Even one of you Kryptonians could rule the world; a full army would leave us with no chance. And I couldnrsquo;t allow that.

��������������� So I took steps. And by the time I realized that there were no more like you, other, equally as powerful enemyrsquo;s had made themselves known, so I continued with my plans. All the experiments, the weapons, the biological enhancements, everything you have condemned me for, everything you have taken from me, it was all created with the single purpose of serving humanity. Protecting Earth.

I hated the thought of leaving our safety up to a single group of people, half of which were not even natives of this planet. I hated the Justice League.

��������������� I hated you.rdquo;

He glowered at the screen, gray eyes sharp as razors, and they cut just as deep. Then he sighted, and Superman had never seen his foe to wary, so beaten.

��������������� ldquo;No, not hate. Resentment. I resented you. I resented you because for years I had tried to gain your trust, to be granted the knowledge that had driven me to obsession, and you denied me that gift. You denied me, then turned around and announced it to the world. Do you know how that felt? To be condemned because of my curiosity only days before everything I had ever wanted to know was announced on national television?

��������������� Why did you not tell me? Did you think I would have used that knowledge against you? Betrayed you? Have I ever? For the last twenty years, I have known the identity of Earthrsquo;s greatest super hero, I have fought against him, yet I never used that knowledge, Clark. It was never Clark Kent I had any problems with. It was Superman. Superman: a physical reminder of a trust I tried so hard to gain, and then had taken from me just as fast.

��������������� I would have kept your secret, Clark. I would have guarded it better than any of my own. At one point, I honestly would have done anything for you. Anything you asked. You were my best friend. The only friend I have ever had.rdquo;

��������������� And oh, his eyes. Soulful. Beseeching.

��������������� ldquo;. . . But that is not the reason for this message. The reason is, I found a cure. Never mind the immoral means I used to acquire it, I found it. A means to end the Plague once and for all. And I donrsquo;t mean the virus. That was never a final solution. Sacrifices are to be made only if there is a chance at winning, and I have found our Check Mate.

��������������� Unfortunately, I found this cure too late to be of any use here. There was not enough time to refine and manufacture it in the quantities needed for the scale of our evasion. They came so quickly, silently. They destroyed so much, so fast, that all I could do was end human suffering in the only way I available to me. I just didnrsquo;t have enough time, Clark. The resources I needed. The number of people already infected. Itrsquo;s like everything was set up to make me fail. So I ended it. Everything.rdquo;

��������������� And right before his eyes, Superman saw his nemesis come alive. It was like years before, when Lex would explain something ndash; a bit of history, some new discovery he made ndash; him. He was all earnest passion and joy.

��������������� ldquo;This is where you come in, donrsquo;t you see? Thatrsquo;s the beauty of it. It doesnrsquo;t have to be like this. It doesnrsquo;t have to end I knew when I launched Exodus, that you would not be affected. That you would live on where no others could. Thatrsquo;s why yoursquo;re here, Clark. This is your destiny. To save people, like you always have. But not just a few. Everyone You can do what no one else has ever done. You can beat them, Clark You can prevent the Flood And I can show you howrdquo;

��������������� Lex Luthor had not allowed himself to show this much emotion in years. His eyes were alight with passion, his face eager, his hands moving before him, fast and bold, as if he could sketch his thoughts into the very air itself.

��������������� ldquo;Situated beneath you, in a lead-lined room, is everything you will need to save the world; my two greatest inventions, the Cure and MATT. The MATT, Multi-Alternate-Temporal-Transistor, �is a trans-spatial time dilation device made from bits and pieces of different Mother Boxes I have acquired over the years. In laymenrsquo;s terms, it is a time machine. One I built specifically to take you back.

Now, I know you have dealt with time travel before, but this is not like any other time machine you may know of. With all the others, you went, you saw, you conquered, you came back. Simple and clean. You have never spent a prolonged amount of time in another time-scape for extended amounts of time, so you have never had to deal with Entropic Cascade Failure.

��������������� Entropic Cascade Failure is the effect inter-dimensional travel can have on the body. It is caused by the increased entropy created by multiple versions of the same person in one reality. According to Dr. Mallozzi, ldquo;The Multiverse theory of quantum physics posits the existence of endless alternate realities co-existing with our own. Some hold that the proximity of these realities is dependent upon the similarities between various universes ndash; i.e. The more similar the realities, the closer together/easier to access via an inter-universal bridge, while more dissimilar, the further apart/more difficult to access. Some theorize that the temporal effects of entropic cascade failure are directly proportional to the proximity of the lsquo;universe of originrsquo; from which a given element is introduced, ranging from dangerously high impact in distant, off-setting cases where the elements are more likely to be lsquo;out of syncrsquo; to negligible in closer, more attuned elements.rdquo; ¹As every choice made by every person in the universe creates a new dimension, or alternate reality, then time travel is, in essence, inter-dimensional travel but set back to a particular time, a particular choice, as it were. So those who participate in time travel are subject to ECF.

��������������� Basically, anyone who spends an extend amount of time in a time or universe where there are two of them (the native and the new-comer), the new-comer will suffer great pain and then die. As you will be going to a time where you already exist, and as there will be no way to return here ndash; �not that I would let you to begin with ndash; �then I have had to come up with some particularly ingenious ways around any nasty side effects, it I may say so myself.rdquo;
��������������� Here, his grin was perfectly Luthorian. Self-satisfied and superior.

��������������� ldquo;The MATT creates a Boom Tube that will then draw the MATT itself into the trans-dimensional portal. That is, MATT and nothing else. I know, you are probably wondering what the point of all this is if my time machine wonrsquo;t take you to the past, but thatrsquo;s why itrsquo;s so special. It doesnrsquo;t have to. MATT is a very special Mother Box in that it doesnrsquo;t take people to the past, it takes data. It is specially designed to download a personrsquo;s psyche, their memories, their personality, their very being, into its memory banks, and then reload it into the mind of the counterpart upon arriving in the past. That way, you can live in the past, and not have to worry about ECF.

��������������� But For this to work, you would have to consciously know everything needed to know. You will have to know and understand everything about the Cure, from its effects down to its molecular structure, perfectly. Backwards and forwards. Otherwise, you will arrive in the future with incomplete knowledge and no way to recreate the Cure for when the Plague itself arrives. �I have left everything you need in that room. Documents, records, even my own personal notes and journals. Read them, study them, save the world. Fulfill your destiny.rdquo;

��������������� And suddenly the happy and young scientist-Lex was gone, replaced with a man who had seen too much. A man haunted by his past, and defeated by his future.

��������������� ldquo;. . .Look, Clark. I know we have had our differences. Hell, we have fought a war between ourselves. But I ask of you, donrsquo;t hold what I have done in the past, the present, against who I was then. My sins are not his to bear. He is innocent of the atrocities I have committed in the name of science. Please, release the animosity we have forged. Lead me, guide me. Allow me to be a better man than I have been. To be the friend I should have been. The friend I wanted to be. I know this is much to ask. And maybe I donrsquo;t deserve a second chance. But I have to ask. Please, Clark. I never wanted to lose you.rdquo;

��������������� He looked straight into the camera, and Superman could see his soul.

ldquo;No matter what happens between us, know that I always loved you. . . Now, then, and �forever. You were my first and only friend. You where what kept me sane for so, so long. You were everything to me. . . I love you, Clark . . .rdquo;

Superman stood, stunned. He could never have guessed, never have even imagined, what was on that disk. It was all so outlandish. Lex wanted his forgiveness? He did what he did out of altruism? He wanted Superman, his number one enemy, to use his inventions to go back into time? He loved him? It didnrsquo;t follow with everything he knew about Lex Luthor. It didnrsquo;t make any sense.

Only, it did make sense. Even when they were younger, Lex always asked him to forgive him, to give him another chance. And the experiments? If Lex truly thought Earth was about to be invaded by a race of super beings, of course he would do anything within his power to stop them. Everything he did, even those things that ultimately led to his personal gain, was rooted in a desire to do good. Many of his efforts turned out horribly wrong, but that wasnrsquo;t always his fault. After all, his last days alive were spent coming up with a way to save everyone. Save them from suffering. Save them from death.

He loved him. . . That, out of all he had learned, should not have surprised him as it had. Of course he loved him. He always had. Lex never did anything with less than one hundred percent of his everything. He put all of his effort, his passion, his heart and soul, into every endeavor he had ever made. He was one of the most passionate men Superman had ever met. That passion sometimes led him down the wrong path, it sometimes led him astray, but not everything he was passionate about led down the wrong path. Other times it led him to the greatest joys he had ever known. And the greatest sorrow. After all, it had led him to befriend an odd little boy who would one day break his heart. His passion led him to love, his love led him to hate. And he had been too blind to it for all these years.

It was all his fault. Everything. While claiming to be his best friend, Superman had shut him out. He had created the Lex Luthor, the heartless bastard that everyone knew, through his actions, his inactions, his inability to see what was right in front of him. If he had just trusted him, followed his gut instead of listening to his father and so many others spread poison about his friend, if he had just listened, all of the hurt, the hate, he had endured for so long would have been avoided. It was his fault. And now he couldnrsquo;t even say he was sorry, he couldnrsquo;t ask for his own forgiveness, because the only one who could bring him absolution was dead. He couldnrsquo;t, and Lex had died loving someone who hated him.

He couldnrsquo;t save him. . .

But he could That was what all this was about. Changing the past. Fixing the future. Lex had given him the knowledge and the means to go back, to do it all over again. He could do it, go back, save the world. Moreover, he could do everything over, everything he had ever done wrong. He could stop the Plague, yes, but more importantly, he could stop himself. Stop himself from turning the best friend he had ever had into a vile, hateful beast. He could ndash;

No.

He would.

But first ndash; looking down, down, through the ground. There a hidden elevator. �ndash; �First, he had work to do.

�

�

�

--������������

1.������ Joseph Mallozzi is a writer for Stargate: SG1 and he is the one who created and defined the Theory of Entropic Cascade Failure.

--

ConCrit is much appreciated. This has not been betarsquo;d, so I would like to know if there were any glairing mistakes, continuity issues, or questions concerning this chapter. Irsquo;d love to hear your thoughts. What was good? What was bad? What made you jump up and scream lsquo;Hallelujahrsquo; Or, you know, not.

�

Oh, and I have only seen the first season of Smallville, and would like to avoid spoilers. So anyone who wants to say ldquo;This couldnrsquo;t happen because this -> ___________ happened in season Xrdquo; Please refrain. I intend to take quite a few liberties with the show, and the comic for that matter, so there will be some things that wonrsquo;t quite mesh with the cannon, but I hope to be able to explain that off.
There is Madness to my Method

I hope you enjoyed

�

achy feet, achy feeling, achy cause leg, achy breast.