The Apple Never Falls Far
By: Lexalot

Summary: Life is full of trees, apples, and serpents.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Once you've crossed the line onto someone else's property, you might as well trample a few flowerbeds ;)

Pairings: Lionel/Jonathan, Jonathan/m, Lex/Clark

Inspiration and Reference: The mention of the character named Luke is a blatant "Dukes of Hazard" allusion.

Spoilers: Lineage

Notes: Written [July 3, 2003] for Sarah/KormanFan's Smallville Flash Fic Challenge! I received ScribblinLenore as my match and the first fic I tackled was her Pairing #2, which I simply could not resist (I just love a creative challenge!)-Lionel/Jonathan; the real reason they don't get along.

WARNINGS: May squick! (Due to pairings and what could very well be considered "Dukes" blasphemy, readers proceed at their own risk!)

The weight of it was cumbersome, more than he could stand to bear. It wasn't the bale of hay he carried in his hands from the truck to the barn; this was something completely different. This was a burden that anchored his very soul in guilt and regret, the same he expected his conscience would suffer for the rest of his life. He had consciously sacrificed someone else's happiness and prosperity for the good of his own family, for the sake of keeping the new addition to their household from being torn away from them.

The stress of what he had done, the consequences of the choice he had made of his own volition, had been suffocating him ever since he had sold his morality short to a corporate snake in the name of a fraudulent adoption that would cement the place of a lost little boy in their lives and loving hearts forever. He was having a difficult time reconciling the decision, though he was convinced he had done the right thing. The good should have canceled out the evil, but that balance was unstable at best, as far as he was concerned. It was not fair that such selfish motives, both for him and his wife, should force him to serve such a reprehensible purpose and such a despicable clandestine agenda.

The only redeeming quality was that he had not acted solely with their best interests in mind, but he had primarily done so out of compassion for a child stranded helpless and alone on this earth. He did not even want to imagine the horrors that could be visited by an uncaring and ununderstaning world upon their dear mysterious little Clark, especially considering the circumstances of his discovery.

Jonathan was beginning to smile as his thoughts ventured into the more pleasant realm of knowing the joys of fatherhood and the fulfillment of saving someone so young and innocent from all the potential trauma he could scarcely fathom, and then a black stretch limousine pulled onto the gravel of the driveway. Any expression of his dawning contentment drained and his bitterness and self-loathing was all that was left. He nonchalantly continued on his way back to the pick-up, grabbed another bale, and disappeared into the barn, just as the door to the limo opened and Lionel Luthor, the man he least wanted to see at that moment, stepped out, following after him.

He set the bale down on the stack of them he was building, and stood perfectly still, keeping his back to the figure that approached him so full of smug and satisfied airs. A dozen questions filled his head as to why this detestable businessman had come back. The last time he was there he had made a veiled threat, and Jonathan had begrudgingly conceded to his will; that had been the precise cause of his grief lately, and he wondered what adverse result this unwelcome encounter would yield. He had learned the hard way that there was a price in dealing with Lionel Luthor and the cost was appearing much less acceptable.

"Mr. Kent... Jonathan," he amended, as if somehow they had become associates, or partners in crime. His tone was irritatingly cheerful. "I wanted to stop by and thank you personally." With his back still turned to his uninvited guest, Lionel couldn't see Jonathan wince at that sickening display of gratitude. Jonathan's eyes shut tight for a moment, and unaware of the internal conflict eating at Jonathan with every word, Lionel continued in a disgustingly proud manner. "The Rosses finally agreed to sell to me. As of this morning, that factory is an acquisition of LuthorCorp."

Jonathan was silent. He was being ripped apart by this grotesque charade of pleasantries.

"I couldn't have done this without you, and I'm very appreciative that you returned my favor with such efficiency."

Everything Lionel said grated on him like sandpaper against his skin. He had to end this intrusive meeting. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

Lionel felt the coldness of those words, Jonathan's will to deny and deject his presence, as he still refused to turn and look him in the eye. That did not discourage him in the slightest, however. "Don't misunderstand me. I'm merely trying to congratulate you on a job well done. In fact, I could use your help setting up my corporate relations with the community here in Smallville, especially when it comes to gaining the cooperation of the local farmers."

"I'm sorry, but my answer is no." Jonathan cast a rigid glare over his shoulder at Lionel. "I did what you asked me to do. They sold, and I'm finished." Something in him recoiled when Lionel's stare hardened, and attempting to settle back on the better side of caution, he glanced away again and added, "You have what you want. Just leave me and my family in peace."

"Oh," he spoke with a mock injury about his voice that lasted for a fleeting second, "Jonathan, now don't tell me you're rejecting my generous offer."

Jonathan could hardly contain his urge to scoff. "And what exactly is it you're offering? Money? Power? Security?"

"I'm offering you friendship, Jonathan. My friendship. Nothing more. Nothing less." He made it sound so simple, so harmless, and yet so vile.

"I don't need or want your friendship, Mr. Luthor, and there's nothing you could do or threaten that would make me want it."

Instead of taking offense at Jonathan's rebellious nerve, Lionel's countenance was overcome with a seedy, predatory satisfaction, as if he were reminiscing fondly with an old acquaintance, though not without a vicious intent that registered in his low, suggestive timbre. "Ahh, but in your teens, you wanted the friendship of that young maan, that boy you knew in highschool, didn't you. You and he were rather close, if I have my information correct, even becoming lovers for a brief time until you drifted apart after you began seeing Martha." Lionel grinned wickedly in sly vindication when Jonathan's poker face slipped and shattered.

"How do you..." Jonathan was stunned at the mention of this most private part of his past, but instead of letting loose his secrets, he fell quiet.

"What was his name... Luke, wasn't it?" Lionel had asked the question with all the deceit of it actually being one, but Lionel knew beyond a doubt what the name was and his mockery only reinforced the fact that he was playing a cruel game with the power of knowledge in his treacherous hands.

Jonathan's eyes narrowed and a fiery scorn blazed inside his muted blue eyes and the rage swept across his ruggedly handsome features. Luke. Hearing Lionel speak the name in and of itself was infuriating and revolting enough as it was, but it was doubly appalling to have him dangle this over his head like a sacred treasure stolen and flaunted by the thief. His shock wrestled with his anger, rendering him paralyzed in the mix.

"Yes, I'm certain that was it." Lionel brazenly encroached upon Jonathan's personal space from behind, halting mere inches from him, and then leaning in obscenely close. He whispered over Jonathan's shoulder and into his ear. "It seems to me your friend Luke's absence left an empty place that has never been filled. I could be a good friend to you, a very important friend. I could fill that void and more."

The lewd contact of brushing lips against the side of his neck ruptured Jonathan's controlled temper. He shot a hateful and fierce look at Lionel, and with conviction and volume amplifying each word as his inflection slammed into the syllables, he snapped at the serpent bargaining for his soul. "Get out!"

Lionel slowly withdrew with an irritatingly refined composure about him that roused Jonathan's wrath to heights that were as dangerous as they were alien to his nearly pacifistic character. "My gracious proposition will be open if you happen to reconsider. Otherwise, you really are right; we have nothing else to say to each other. It's a shame because if we were to work together, our friendship could be quite mutually beneficial." He watched with burning delight as the cooling embers of Jonathan's rage stoked high again at that insidious remark. "Well, give my best wishes to little Clark, would you."

With those disturbing words of parting uttered, Lionel left Jonathan seething in his contempt for all that had transpired in their concluding rendezvous.

He remembered being on the riverbank trying to lead Clark away from Lex Luthor immediately following the accident at the bridge. Then, he recalled how he had tried to force Clark to sever all ties of contact or gratitude or supposed friendship with Lex. When their paths had collided, it was like a nightmare revisited upon him, and he was determined to protect Clark from getting entangled in the Luthor world, but his warnings had proved to be in vain. Fate had brought the two of them together, and Clark was decisively blind to the risk he ran in consorting with the Luthor heir.

After all his efforts at keeping Clark and Lex apart, their bond and attachment seemed to grow stronger and continue down a road that worried him greatly. But after all his ambiguous experience of Lex, it had become clear that there was a question, a reasonable doubt, as to whether or not he was being incredibly rational or unfairly biased. He only knew for sure that he had regrets and he never wanted Clark to have any of the same kind.

Jonathan watched out the kitchen window as the Porsche rolled off the asphalt and parked in wait. Before Martha could even call upstairs to announce Lex's arrival, Clark bounced down the steps with an excitement and genuine happiness possessing him of an unusually good mood. Grabbing his red jacket off the hook on the wall, he hastily bid his parents good-bye, and hurried out the door. Clark hopped into the passenger's side of the extravagant sports car, and Lex regarded him with a mischievous smirk before shifting gears and rapidly reversing back onto the pavement.

As Jonathan watched them pull away, he wondered how far the apple really did fall from the tree, and he hoped it was a greater distance than he feared.