Fic: Phantom of the (Rock) Opera
Jun. 2nd, 2010 09:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serafina20Title: Phantom of the (Rock) Opera
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Clark/Lex, Clark/Lucas, Whiteny/Victoria, (possibly Chloe/Lana... and remember the title of my journal). (probably Damien/Dominic... the heart is weak, y'all)
Summary: Clark is an up and coming musical theater star who has a (possibly) murderous phantom on his side.
Notes: A lot of dialogue is taken from the Phantom of the Opera (I has the libretto). Songs are from Jesus Christ, Superstar. I don't own anything, so... if you sue, you have to help me publish my novel so I can pay you.
Notes 2: I'm totally not expecting people to read as I post this, since I'm writing so many things and it'll take forever. However, I want a dramatic pause between the end of this and the beginning of the next, so the only good place to post this is either LJ or fanfiction.net. So....
Part 1
The performance was a blur. From the moment Clark set his foot on stage until the final curtain call, he knew nothing but the music. The audience faded away, the lights seemed dimmer. Even the rest of the cast seemed transformed somehow, no longer Chloe and Pete and Lana, but apostles and followers.
It was everything he'd always loved about the stage. A chance to leave his life and become not just someone else, but live in a world alive with music.
The applause continued to thunder after the curtain fell. He stood there, staring it, unable to quite believe what had just happened. He'd just performed in front of all Metropolis. To a standing ovation.
"Oh my God!" Chloe's familiar squeal breaks through Clark's paralysis. She threw her arms around Clark, practically bowling him off his feet. "You were so good!"
"You really were, Clark. Just amazing." Lana stood on her toes and pressed a kiss against his cheek.
When she pulled back, Pete took her place. "You were good, Clark," he said, lightly punching him on the shoulder. "Totally owned the part."
He gave Pete a lopsided smile. "Thanks, Pete."
Nell came onstage, clapping her hands. "Come on, everyone, this isn’t time to stand around gawking. I should make you stay and rehearse. Your dancing during the Simon Zealot scene was a disgrace!" She walked up to Clark and put her hand under his chin. "Except for you. You were perfect all the way through." She leaned in and said softly, "He will be pleased." Then she turned again. "Come now, chorus. We have some notes to discuss. Come!"
Lana and Pete gave Clark a few final kisses and smacks before following the rest of the chorus with Nell.
Chloe, however, stayed. "So," she said, linking her arm through his. "This teacher of yours. Who is he? Truth time now."
Clark let out a rush of air, the butterflies in his stomach slowly fading away. "I told you, I don't know his name. He's just…" He shook his head and dragged her into his dressing room. Shut the door and turned to face her. "When I was little, before I learned to talk, the only thing I understood was music. Mom and Dad would talk to me, but none of it made any sense. Just music. I listened to whatever I could get my hands on: classical, country, Broadway, rock. Everything.
"Anyway, about a year after I landed, Mom took me with her on deliveries. We were at Mrs. McKinley's house, you know, the one right next to the Luthor property? This was before the castle got moved there. It was just a normal farmhouse then. Anyway, I got bored and wandered away. I made it to the house, and there was this music inside. It was beautiful. I just… it drew, Chloe, like nothing had before. I finally found the room the music came from and climbed a tree to look inside. I'd just caught the barest glimpse of a figure seated at the piano, playing and singing in the most heartbreakingly beautiful voice I'd ever heard when I was yanked out of the tree."
"By who?" Chloe asked, eyes wide as saucers.
"Mr. Walters. Remember him? Lucas's handler."
"What was he doing there?"
Clark shrugged. "Checking out the place, I guess. He took me back to Mom. That was the first time I spoke. I said, 'Music, Momma.' She almost started crying. When she finally understood what I was trying to say, she said that it was impossible that I'd seen anyone. No one lived there. I told her I saw someone, but she still said it was impossible." He shrugged. "That night, I overheard her and Dad talking about it. Mom mentioned the Luthor boy killed in the meteor strike, how he was music prodigy. How it's almost like I heard his angel." He licked his lips, the butterflies back in his stomach as he admitted, "Sometimes, I think that maybe… maybe it's his angel that's here with me. "
Chloe raised her eyebrows. "You think… the ghost of Alexander Luthor is teaching you how to sing?"
He flushed. "It's stupid, I know. But sometimes… " He shrugged. "My entire life, I've had this fantasy of an angel. An angel of music, the one I heard that day. I know what I heard. What I felt that day. When I'm here, I feel it again. Something is here. Someone is teaching me how to sing. I'm choosing to believe it's my angel."
Chloe smiled softly and squeezed his hands. "As long as you're careful. Between the Ghost and your Angel, there's a little too much supernatural stuff going on around here."
There was a sudden knock at the door. "Chloe, I know you're in there!" Nell said. "Get out here for notes. And, Clark, you have a visitor."
"Gotta go. Wait for me so we can go to the after party together, okay?"
"Yeah, sure." He turned to the mirror, reaching for something to wipe off his make-up with.
"Wow, Kent. Still have a set of pipes on you, even after all these years."
He stiffened, then let out a breath. "Lucas." Clark turned around and offered a bright smile. "Hi."
Lucas Luthor, looking dashing in his tux, stepped into Clark's dressing room and shut the door. Immediately, the small room felt cramped as Lucas's larger than life personality took up every space. He smiled that insincere-looking smirk that was his trademark and ran his eyes over Clark's half-naked body. "You still look as good as ever. You know, I was surprised when Nixon and Senatori said that you were playing the lead. You came really far in just a few years."
"Well, uh. There were extenuating circumstances," Clark said, shrugging into his robe.
"Is that your coy way of telling me you took a ride on the casting couch?" At Clark's heated blush, Luca's grin widened. "Relax, Clark. I know your honor wouldn't allow it." He leaned in, lips close to Clark's ear. "Not that it'd tarnish your virtue or anything. Already took care of that." He nipped at Clark's ear.
Clark blushed harder. "Lucas."
"Relax, baby. I'm just teasing you." Lucas sat back. Put his hand on Clark's knee. "I've missed you. Ever since Dad pulled me out of Smallville and you went off to college, I've missed you. I thought we were better friends, you know?"
"I tried to keep in touch," Clark said, trying to keep his voice non-accusing. He hadn't just tried; he'd actually gone to Lucas's penthouse several times. Each time, Lucas had been entertaining. The first couple times, he'd sent flowers and apologies and offers to get together that never came to fruition. Finally, they'd both stopped pretending.
"I know this doesn't excuse my behavior, but I just was really screwed up back then. My mother broke out of the institution she was in and tried to force herself into my life. There were attempts on my life and, I don't know. Access to stuff that fucked me up. But I've changed." He looked up into Clark's eyes. "I have. I've given up drinking, drugs, partying, all of it. I'm working, I'm trying to improve myself. That's why I'm investing in the theater, Clark. You always went on how noble and beautiful this crap was, and I want, I know. I want it to rub off on me." He pressed against Clark's knee. "I want you to rub off on me. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I just threw you away. I want to make things right."
Clark let out a long breath. Everything he always wanted to hear, in a sincere tone, from the person he'd wanted to hear it from. But he couldn't trust it. He'd learned not to. "It's not that easy, Lucas."
"I know. I don't expect it to be. But I'll work for you, Clark. I'll win you back. Starting tonight." Lucas stood. Smile. "Get cleaned up. I'm going to take you out to dinner."
Clark started. Glanced back at the huge mirror the Angel spoke to him through. "I can't. Not tonight."
"Don't be silly. This is your night! We're going out to celebrate. You change, I'll get the car. You have two minutes, okay?"
"Lucas," he protested, but Lucas wasn't listening.
"Two minutes." Lucas pressed a kiss to Clark's lips, then left.
The door had barely closed when the Angel spoke.
"That ignorant brat!" The Angel's voice thundered in the room, making the costumes hanging on every available surface and the make-up scattered across the dressing table tremble. "How dare he think he can order you around. Make insinuations about your virtue as if you're some common… trash."
Clark turned to the mirror the Angel spoke behind. "Don't worry about Lucas, Angel," he said softly, soothingly. "He can say what he wants to me, it doesn't matter."
"You know him?" There was something very much like betrayal in his voice, a sort of trembling quality to the smooth perfection.
"I do. He used to live in the same town as me. We were… close."
There was only silence from behind the mirror.
Clark resisted the urge to look behind it. He'd been resisting for weeks now, not wanting to upset the almost magical relationship that had sprung up between him and the Angel. No matter how badly he wanted to see the Angel, he knew that there must be a reason the Angel kept himself hidden. So, Clark respected that wish and didn't look.
But he wanted to.
He rose and went to the mirror. Pressed his hand on the cold surface. "Angel," he said, "please, don't be angry. I thought Lucas was my friend, but after so many years away from him, I know he wasn't. He treated me really badly. Because he was rich and I was poor. Because he was confident and I was shy. Because… because…"
"Because he's a Luthor," came the murmured reply.
Clark imagined the Angel on the other side, hand pressed against Clark's, only separated by the glass. "Maybe. That's what my father thinks. But I don't believe that someone's name means they're good or bad. It's the choices we make in life. Lucas choose to be cruel to me. To push me away. Maybe he's changed, but I'm not going to accept him back into my life on his word alone. He'll have to prove it to me."
"And if he does prove that he's changed?"
The sorrow in the Angel's voice made Clark's stomach clench. He rested his head against the glass and whispered, "You will still come first, Angel. You are my inspiration. I sing for you."
The silence lingered between them, Clark's words hanging in the air.
And then, a whisper, "Then sing for me."
The mirror moved under Clark's hands, pivoting. A hand extended from behind the mirror.
Clark's breath caught. He stared at the hand, heart pounding.
"Clark?" Lucas called from outside his dressing room. "Clark, your two minutes are up! Clark?" The doorknob turned.
Clark took the Angel's hand and stepped through the mirror.
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Clark/Lex, Clark/Lucas, Whiteny/Victoria, (possibly Chloe/Lana... and remember the title of my journal). (probably Damien/Dominic... the heart is weak, y'all)
Summary: Clark is an up and coming musical theater star who has a (possibly) murderous phantom on his side.
Notes: A lot of dialogue is taken from the Phantom of the Opera (I has the libretto). Songs are from Jesus Christ, Superstar. I don't own anything, so... if you sue, you have to help me publish my novel so I can pay you.
Notes 2: I'm totally not expecting people to read as I post this, since I'm writing so many things and it'll take forever. However, I want a dramatic pause between the end of this and the beginning of the next, so the only good place to post this is either LJ or fanfiction.net. So....
Part 1
The performance was a blur. From the moment Clark set his foot on stage until the final curtain call, he knew nothing but the music. The audience faded away, the lights seemed dimmer. Even the rest of the cast seemed transformed somehow, no longer Chloe and Pete and Lana, but apostles and followers.
It was everything he'd always loved about the stage. A chance to leave his life and become not just someone else, but live in a world alive with music.
The applause continued to thunder after the curtain fell. He stood there, staring it, unable to quite believe what had just happened. He'd just performed in front of all Metropolis. To a standing ovation.
"Oh my God!" Chloe's familiar squeal breaks through Clark's paralysis. She threw her arms around Clark, practically bowling him off his feet. "You were so good!"
"You really were, Clark. Just amazing." Lana stood on her toes and pressed a kiss against his cheek.
When she pulled back, Pete took her place. "You were good, Clark," he said, lightly punching him on the shoulder. "Totally owned the part."
He gave Pete a lopsided smile. "Thanks, Pete."
Nell came onstage, clapping her hands. "Come on, everyone, this isn’t time to stand around gawking. I should make you stay and rehearse. Your dancing during the Simon Zealot scene was a disgrace!" She walked up to Clark and put her hand under his chin. "Except for you. You were perfect all the way through." She leaned in and said softly, "He will be pleased." Then she turned again. "Come now, chorus. We have some notes to discuss. Come!"
Lana and Pete gave Clark a few final kisses and smacks before following the rest of the chorus with Nell.
Chloe, however, stayed. "So," she said, linking her arm through his. "This teacher of yours. Who is he? Truth time now."
Clark let out a rush of air, the butterflies in his stomach slowly fading away. "I told you, I don't know his name. He's just…" He shook his head and dragged her into his dressing room. Shut the door and turned to face her. "When I was little, before I learned to talk, the only thing I understood was music. Mom and Dad would talk to me, but none of it made any sense. Just music. I listened to whatever I could get my hands on: classical, country, Broadway, rock. Everything.
"Anyway, about a year after I landed, Mom took me with her on deliveries. We were at Mrs. McKinley's house, you know, the one right next to the Luthor property? This was before the castle got moved there. It was just a normal farmhouse then. Anyway, I got bored and wandered away. I made it to the house, and there was this music inside. It was beautiful. I just… it drew, Chloe, like nothing had before. I finally found the room the music came from and climbed a tree to look inside. I'd just caught the barest glimpse of a figure seated at the piano, playing and singing in the most heartbreakingly beautiful voice I'd ever heard when I was yanked out of the tree."
"By who?" Chloe asked, eyes wide as saucers.
"Mr. Walters. Remember him? Lucas's handler."
"What was he doing there?"
Clark shrugged. "Checking out the place, I guess. He took me back to Mom. That was the first time I spoke. I said, 'Music, Momma.' She almost started crying. When she finally understood what I was trying to say, she said that it was impossible that I'd seen anyone. No one lived there. I told her I saw someone, but she still said it was impossible." He shrugged. "That night, I overheard her and Dad talking about it. Mom mentioned the Luthor boy killed in the meteor strike, how he was music prodigy. How it's almost like I heard his angel." He licked his lips, the butterflies back in his stomach as he admitted, "Sometimes, I think that maybe… maybe it's his angel that's here with me. "
Chloe raised her eyebrows. "You think… the ghost of Alexander Luthor is teaching you how to sing?"
He flushed. "It's stupid, I know. But sometimes… " He shrugged. "My entire life, I've had this fantasy of an angel. An angel of music, the one I heard that day. I know what I heard. What I felt that day. When I'm here, I feel it again. Something is here. Someone is teaching me how to sing. I'm choosing to believe it's my angel."
Chloe smiled softly and squeezed his hands. "As long as you're careful. Between the Ghost and your Angel, there's a little too much supernatural stuff going on around here."
There was a sudden knock at the door. "Chloe, I know you're in there!" Nell said. "Get out here for notes. And, Clark, you have a visitor."
"Gotta go. Wait for me so we can go to the after party together, okay?"
"Yeah, sure." He turned to the mirror, reaching for something to wipe off his make-up with.
"Wow, Kent. Still have a set of pipes on you, even after all these years."
He stiffened, then let out a breath. "Lucas." Clark turned around and offered a bright smile. "Hi."
Lucas Luthor, looking dashing in his tux, stepped into Clark's dressing room and shut the door. Immediately, the small room felt cramped as Lucas's larger than life personality took up every space. He smiled that insincere-looking smirk that was his trademark and ran his eyes over Clark's half-naked body. "You still look as good as ever. You know, I was surprised when Nixon and Senatori said that you were playing the lead. You came really far in just a few years."
"Well, uh. There were extenuating circumstances," Clark said, shrugging into his robe.
"Is that your coy way of telling me you took a ride on the casting couch?" At Clark's heated blush, Luca's grin widened. "Relax, Clark. I know your honor wouldn't allow it." He leaned in, lips close to Clark's ear. "Not that it'd tarnish your virtue or anything. Already took care of that." He nipped at Clark's ear.
Clark blushed harder. "Lucas."
"Relax, baby. I'm just teasing you." Lucas sat back. Put his hand on Clark's knee. "I've missed you. Ever since Dad pulled me out of Smallville and you went off to college, I've missed you. I thought we were better friends, you know?"
"I tried to keep in touch," Clark said, trying to keep his voice non-accusing. He hadn't just tried; he'd actually gone to Lucas's penthouse several times. Each time, Lucas had been entertaining. The first couple times, he'd sent flowers and apologies and offers to get together that never came to fruition. Finally, they'd both stopped pretending.
"I know this doesn't excuse my behavior, but I just was really screwed up back then. My mother broke out of the institution she was in and tried to force herself into my life. There were attempts on my life and, I don't know. Access to stuff that fucked me up. But I've changed." He looked up into Clark's eyes. "I have. I've given up drinking, drugs, partying, all of it. I'm working, I'm trying to improve myself. That's why I'm investing in the theater, Clark. You always went on how noble and beautiful this crap was, and I want, I know. I want it to rub off on me." He pressed against Clark's knee. "I want you to rub off on me. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I just threw you away. I want to make things right."
Clark let out a long breath. Everything he always wanted to hear, in a sincere tone, from the person he'd wanted to hear it from. But he couldn't trust it. He'd learned not to. "It's not that easy, Lucas."
"I know. I don't expect it to be. But I'll work for you, Clark. I'll win you back. Starting tonight." Lucas stood. Smile. "Get cleaned up. I'm going to take you out to dinner."
Clark started. Glanced back at the huge mirror the Angel spoke to him through. "I can't. Not tonight."
"Don't be silly. This is your night! We're going out to celebrate. You change, I'll get the car. You have two minutes, okay?"
"Lucas," he protested, but Lucas wasn't listening.
"Two minutes." Lucas pressed a kiss to Clark's lips, then left.
The door had barely closed when the Angel spoke.
"That ignorant brat!" The Angel's voice thundered in the room, making the costumes hanging on every available surface and the make-up scattered across the dressing table tremble. "How dare he think he can order you around. Make insinuations about your virtue as if you're some common… trash."
Clark turned to the mirror the Angel spoke behind. "Don't worry about Lucas, Angel," he said softly, soothingly. "He can say what he wants to me, it doesn't matter."
"You know him?" There was something very much like betrayal in his voice, a sort of trembling quality to the smooth perfection.
"I do. He used to live in the same town as me. We were… close."
There was only silence from behind the mirror.
Clark resisted the urge to look behind it. He'd been resisting for weeks now, not wanting to upset the almost magical relationship that had sprung up between him and the Angel. No matter how badly he wanted to see the Angel, he knew that there must be a reason the Angel kept himself hidden. So, Clark respected that wish and didn't look.
But he wanted to.
He rose and went to the mirror. Pressed his hand on the cold surface. "Angel," he said, "please, don't be angry. I thought Lucas was my friend, but after so many years away from him, I know he wasn't. He treated me really badly. Because he was rich and I was poor. Because he was confident and I was shy. Because… because…"
"Because he's a Luthor," came the murmured reply.
Clark imagined the Angel on the other side, hand pressed against Clark's, only separated by the glass. "Maybe. That's what my father thinks. But I don't believe that someone's name means they're good or bad. It's the choices we make in life. Lucas choose to be cruel to me. To push me away. Maybe he's changed, but I'm not going to accept him back into my life on his word alone. He'll have to prove it to me."
"And if he does prove that he's changed?"
The sorrow in the Angel's voice made Clark's stomach clench. He rested his head against the glass and whispered, "You will still come first, Angel. You are my inspiration. I sing for you."
The silence lingered between them, Clark's words hanging in the air.
And then, a whisper, "Then sing for me."
The mirror moved under Clark's hands, pivoting. A hand extended from behind the mirror.
Clark's breath caught. He stared at the hand, heart pounding.
"Clark?" Lucas called from outside his dressing room. "Clark, your two minutes are up! Clark?" The doorknob turned.
Clark took the Angel's hand and stepped through the mirror.
