In the Details
by
Anaphalis
Summary: Young Lionel Luthor learns something important. Just maybe not what he expected to learn. Smallville X Phantom of the Opera crossover. Drama/Horror. One Shot.
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Distribution: My site. All others please ask before taking.
Feedback: Much appreciated at [email protected]
Disclaimer: Not mine. Brushes on this page courtesy of Pure Anodyne.
A/N: For Niamh - Because I got a meteor-sized plot bunny that I worked out while running my computations. Sorry it's short, but this just wouldn't let go...
A/N2: "Tu" is a very familiar form of "you", originally used with close family, friends and lovers, particularly at the time this story is set. To use it with a stranger would be considered an insult on several levels. And if I've somehow screwed that up, please let me know! And apologies in advance for my French- I haven't written in awhile...
Lionel Luthor kept his smile until the overly helpful stagehand had vanished around the corner. He had no intention of finding Director Marchand's office. And he certainly had no intention of auditioning as a company member.
Ah! There it was- the panel he had been looking for before that idiot had interrupted him. He made a mental note to fire his source when he returned home- the layout of the Opera House was nothing like the diagram in his hand.
Half an hour later and he was planning to not only fire the source but to slowly tear off his fingers while finding creative places to use a branding iron. But in spite of the incompetence, he knew that he had found the right place. This subterranean pile of debris and rubble would give him the man he wanted.
"Je sais que tu es ici, Phantom."
He could hear the torturously slow drip of water resound in the silence.
"Ne joue pas ce jeu. Je suis tr�s press�."
Then, so faint that he almost didn't hear it, there was the sound of movement on the far side of the rubble.
"Tu me connais?"
He nearly laughed out loud. That was far easier than he had expected. Although he supposed that the man wouldn't have had much opportunity for conversation in the years since the incident.
"Oui. Et je pr�f�re l'anglais...Erik."
The sound that followed was somewhere between a laugh and a dry sob.
"So you do know me then... Do not worry, mon petit b�tard, I will communicate in your precious English."
"You're a hard man to track down, Erik. It took a lot of work to determine that you were indeed still alive- you've gotten careless over the years, you know."
"Is there a point to this?"
"You know things Erik. From those... people you lived with, you learned things that have been lost to everyone but you. And we both know how much use you get out of it down here. I could do so much more with that knowledge, the power of those old cultures, the methods that increased your lifespan. I want your secret, Erik."
"You want power? Immortality? How... original."
Lionel smiled. It was time to play his cards.
"I know who and what you are. They think that you are dead or a legend. They may not have been able to find you then, but now- do you really think that you could hide from them? I can make your life hell, Phantom. Tell me what I want to know."
Lionel was not a man who knew fear. But there was something about the heavy silence that followed his ultimatum that made his skin crawl.
"Don't play with me, Erik. I don't have the patience."
The silence that followed was even heavier than the first.
"But it's all about patience."
Suddenly, something cold was digging into the skin of his neck.
For the first time in his twenty-five years, Lionel Luthor knew the taste of panic. Clawing at his neck did nothing to relieve the increasing pressure and he collapsed to his knees, black spots in front of his eyes.
Then there was a faint whisper of air beside his ear.
"Did your source forget to tell you to keep your hand at the level of your neck?"
"My secret, petit b�tard? It's the details that make the difference."
And suddenly the pressure was gone and Lionel was pulling deep breaths into his lungs.
"Go, little man."
And Lionel went, scrambling over the debris, blindly making his way back to the corridor. When he finally stumbled out of the opera house into the blinding daylight, he suppressed a shiver.
Even then, surrounded by the cheerful hustle of the busy Parisian street, he could still feel the pressure of the tightening noose. But it was a cheap price to learn to keep his hand at the level of his neck.
And Lionel smiled.
-End-
French Translations
Most of these are determinable from context, but here they are anyways.
Le bureau de Directeur Marchand est pr�s de l'entrance. Bonne chance, monsieur! = Director Marchand�s office is near the entrance. Good luck, sir!
Je sais que tu es ici, Phantom. = I know that you are here, Phantom.
Ne joue pas ce jeu. Je suis tr�s press�.= Don't play this game. I'm in a rush.
Tu me connais? = You know me?
Oui. Et je pr�f�re l'anglais�Erik. = Yes. And I prefer English... Erik.
Mon petit b�tard. = My little bastard. And yes, this is a reference to the popular fanon name :)
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