Chapter Text
“There are no time-continuum mix-ups to avoid?” Clark asks, trying to just pin this down one final time. “No, uh, dire warnings against messing with the way things might, someday, eventually play out but only if the stars align and I make sure to do the specific series of movements after you’ve gone or say the magic Kryptonian phrase or yada yada yada. . . ?”
Colin kind of smiles in response, that Mona Lisa smile that says absolutely nothing about what the guy is thinking or feeling, and Clark is going to wind up practicing that look in the mirror when he gets home because it’s so amazingly aggravating not to be able to tell if this Clark, well, this Colin, this other version of him is smiling because he actually gets the Seinfeld reference and that he even maybe, odd enough as it is to picture with the clothes and hair and housing upgrade this guy had over Clark, had loved that show as much as Clark had when he was young, too young to be watching it and not getting all the jokes, back when– when he and Pete would sneak into one of Pete’s sister’s rooms, usually Cleo’s, to watch reruns after school. . .
Or maybe he gets the reference, just without the emotional attachment. This guy had never been best friends with Pete Ross, after all.
Or maybe Colin doesn’t get the reference at all and is simply trying to speed things along by not overanalyzing every single thing his doppelganger says—unlike said doppelganger, who can’t get over the surreal changes because Clark’s met other versions of himself, has met and tangled with other versions who were raised, more or less, by Lionel, yet this guy is still so unimaginably weird. And that’s saying a lot because Clark Luthor is one weird son of a bitch.
Colin’s smile has shifted a bit, digging in deeper into the corners of his mouth and higher up into his eyes, which makes Clark wonder what his own face has been doing in the few seconds his mind wandered away down scary, Chloe-like paths of in-depth contemplation.
Does this technically count as an out of body experience?
“This will still be your world,” Colin says, and that reassuring tone of voice is familiar, although Clark’s always been on the other side of it, “not mine, and it’s still your own time, your own—reality.”
“And yours?” Clark asks, carefully. “It’ll be yours you go to, right? Not some other version of, uh, us?”
Clark tries to imagine Colin in Clark Luthor’s world and grimaces. No one deserves that shithole, not even Clark fucking Luthor, honestly.
Colin’s smile vanishes, like his face has been factory-reset, and the nod he gives is underwhelming. And while Clark’s 100% sure Colin’s still hiding something from him, and knowing or kind of knowing himself, it’s undoubtedly something that will cause bigger problems further down the line, and he’s still dubious about the efficacy of this whole improvised reversal process in the first place, they’re also not looking at a whole lot of better options, and at least this version of himself isn’t homicidal and so far hasn’t seemed interested in replacing Clark or making more of a mess of Clark’s life than Clark himself already does just by getting up in the morning.
And this version does dress really, really well, even if Clark’s not a huge fan of the long hair.
It occurs to Clark that Colin is kind of who Clark Luthor wishes he were.
Colin is also probably, and Clark immediately regrets thinking this but it’s so true, the guy Clark’s own version of Lex probably wishes Clark were. And that’s pretty skeazy because Colin probably considers Lex, well, his own respective version of Lex, to be his brother or something, but Clark never thought of Lex that way. Clark and Lex are and have been a lot of things, but Clark doesn’t think they ever quite managed to successfully pull off brotherly.
“It's not 100% a done deal,” Colin says eventually, and the phrasing kind of makes Clark smile a little, “but I think I’ve got it. And I’m confident enough,” he says, with a conspiratorial look, “to actually jump through the damn thing, which has to count for something, right?”
“Right,” Clark says. “You know what they say: another day, another cross-dimensional portal-jump.”
“Return trip through alternate realities: better than the Spears Street Bridge, my old man used to say.” Colin’s face is wholly serious for just long enough that Clark almost catches himself wondering if Lionel actually would say something like that.
Colin smirks.