He had replaced the drugged scotch with 30 year old single malt from his private stock. He sat down in the leather recliner by the fireplace, leaned back as the amber liquid went down his throat and rushed heat through his limbs.
This wasn't what he wanted. Why Lex couldn't leave well enough alone was beyond him. No, actually it wasn't. Ever since he was a boy Lex had always searched things out, pondered and analyzed; craving to see every angle of the picture. It's what Lionel thought would make him the perfect heir. But Lex always rebelled, even down to the microscopic level, because the drugs should have effected him a lot quicker then they had. He would have upped the dosage but the fear of losing him stayed his hand. He only wanted Lex out of the picture, not dead.
Lionel took another sip of scotch as heavy footfalls from the hall gradually grew louder. He had a good guess on who owned them and debated between calling security or just ignoring them until they ultimately went away.
The stained glass doors opened and Jonathan Kent walked inside, poured himself a glass of scotch and sat across from him. He could count how many times he'd seen Jonathan on one hand since their days at Metropolis University and it never ceased to amaze him how handsome and warm he still looked.
"I suppose I'm going to hear how vile and heartless I'm being?" He asked.
"I don't have to tell you what you already know," Jonathan answered, sitting back.
"Lex is getting the best doctors, the best care for his illness Jonathan. What more do you want?"
"How about you treating me like someone who knows you well enough to see through the shit you're always shoveling?"
"You don't know me, you never did."
"I tried to," Jonathan whispered. Lionel wanted to slap the look of pity of his face for those words. He wondered for a second whether he could hit the man hard enough to knock those annoying morals out of him.
"I don't need your pity, platitudes or whatever else it is you came here to offer," and as he said it he couldn't help look at the worn, faded zipper of the other man's crotch and for an instant slip back into memories of secluded bushes in city parks with golden skin that matched equally golden hair at his fingertips.
Jonathan sat a little straighter under Lionel's assessing eyes. He remembered all those years ago too and he also remembered which one of them had ended it.
"You left remember."
"I know, I shouldn't have ended it the way I did."
Jonathan laughing in his scotch was a sight he never expected to see. Put the man in Armani and he would have looked like a businessman plotting corporate ruin.
"You're not sorry. I doubt you even know what the word means. You're son is committed and you killed your parents. Sorry is something you know nothing about, neither is regret".
"Farmboys raised on cornfields and fresh apples have no idea how harsh the world of Suicide Alley could be."
It was all about your pecking order on the food chain; an order that changed every second of every brutal minute. Lionel worked multiple jobs to save enough to get out. All he'd wanted was to leave his drunk mother and his out of work father who blamed him for things, real or imagined with backhands and fists to the gut until finally he'd had enough and decided that since their lives weren't worth anything to him then maybe their deaths could be.
"You may be right about that," Jonathan said, draining his scotch. "But I can't see how they deserved what they ended up with."
"You never answered my question, what do you want?"
"I don't know. To know if it was worth but I guess I'll never get answer," he said and headed for the door but stopped holding it open. "Is this really the way you wanted things?"
Lionel didn't watch him leave and thinks, as he sips more scotch, that his way would have included having Jonathan at his side throughout the years, a nice surrogate to have Lex and a couple of politicians on payroll so that one day he could make an honest man out of his smalltown boy. Because even though he'd loved Lillian no one had gotten in his blood the way Jonathan or a good scotch could. Which was a blessing or a curse, depending one the kind of day he was having.
But aside from securing your place at that top of the food chain, Suicide Alley had drilled home the lesson that how you wanted things didn't matter and wanting too much always got you one way or another in the end.
Fin
This wasn't what he wanted. Why Lex couldn't leave well enough alone was beyond him. No, actually it wasn't. Ever since he was a boy Lex had always searched things out, pondered and analyzed; craving to see every angle of the picture. It's what Lionel thought would make him the perfect heir. But Lex always rebelled, even down to the microscopic level, because the drugs should have effected him a lot quicker then they had. He would have upped the dosage but the fear of losing him stayed his hand. He only wanted Lex out of the picture, not dead.
Lionel took another sip of scotch as heavy footfalls from the hall gradually grew louder. He had a good guess on who owned them and debated between calling security or just ignoring them until they ultimately went away.
The stained glass doors opened and Jonathan Kent walked inside, poured himself a glass of scotch and sat across from him. He could count how many times he'd seen Jonathan on one hand since their days at Metropolis University and it never ceased to amaze him how handsome and warm he still looked.
"I suppose I'm going to hear how vile and heartless I'm being?" He asked.
"I don't have to tell you what you already know," Jonathan answered, sitting back.
"Lex is getting the best doctors, the best care for his illness Jonathan. What more do you want?"
"How about you treating me like someone who knows you well enough to see through the shit you're always shoveling?"
"You don't know me, you never did."
"I tried to," Jonathan whispered. Lionel wanted to slap the look of pity of his face for those words. He wondered for a second whether he could hit the man hard enough to knock those annoying morals out of him.
"I don't need your pity, platitudes or whatever else it is you came here to offer," and as he said it he couldn't help look at the worn, faded zipper of the other man's crotch and for an instant slip back into memories of secluded bushes in city parks with golden skin that matched equally golden hair at his fingertips.
Jonathan sat a little straighter under Lionel's assessing eyes. He remembered all those years ago too and he also remembered which one of them had ended it.
"You left remember."
"I know, I shouldn't have ended it the way I did."
Jonathan laughing in his scotch was a sight he never expected to see. Put the man in Armani and he would have looked like a businessman plotting corporate ruin.
"You're not sorry. I doubt you even know what the word means. You're son is committed and you killed your parents. Sorry is something you know nothing about, neither is regret".
"Farmboys raised on cornfields and fresh apples have no idea how harsh the world of Suicide Alley could be."
It was all about your pecking order on the food chain; an order that changed every second of every brutal minute. Lionel worked multiple jobs to save enough to get out. All he'd wanted was to leave his drunk mother and his out of work father who blamed him for things, real or imagined with backhands and fists to the gut until finally he'd had enough and decided that since their lives weren't worth anything to him then maybe their deaths could be.
"You may be right about that," Jonathan said, draining his scotch. "But I can't see how they deserved what they ended up with."
"You never answered my question, what do you want?"
"I don't know. To know if it was worth but I guess I'll never get answer," he said and headed for the door but stopped holding it open. "Is this really the way you wanted things?"
Lionel didn't watch him leave and thinks, as he sips more scotch, that his way would have included having Jonathan at his side throughout the years, a nice surrogate to have Lex and a couple of politicians on payroll so that one day he could make an honest man out of his smalltown boy. Because even though he'd loved Lillian no one had gotten in his blood the way Jonathan or a good scotch could. Which was a blessing or a curse, depending one the kind of day he was having.
But aside from securing your place at that top of the food chain, Suicide Alley had drilled home the lesson that how you wanted things didn't matter and wanting too much always got you one way or another in the end.
Fin