Chapter One alternate endings for Smallville: season two, episode Insurgence. This is a Lex/Lionel slash piece, completely consensual on both parts. Rated M for langue and later chapters. Warning this chapter contains spoilers from Insurgence, and all of the episodes of season two that came before it.

"I didn't mean to hurt you,
I'm sorry that I mad you cry,
I didn't want to hurt you,
I'm just a jealous guy,
I was feeling insecure,
You night not love me any more," John Lennon

A million thoughts went racing through my mind as my father stood there, his eyes starting at me, as if he could actually see anything. His face was just as expressive as always, he looked at me angrily, silently judging me, trying to find the exact right way to get back at me for this, the right way to punish me. Tell him how sorry you are, my mind came up with first, but I knew it would never work.

What if I tell him the truth? He wasn't supposed to be there, and if he hadn't been trying to seduce a married woman, none of this would have happened. As soon as I came up with that one I could almost hear my father's voice chastising the very thought. 'Don't be stupid, Son. If you say something along those lines, you'll lose me for sure. What's the matter, Lex? Don't you know what to tell me?'

Even my own brain hated me by that point. I considered pledging my undying love and loyalty, instantly realizing he would only laugh at me, call me a sentimental fool, and leave nonetheless. I closed my eyes, trying to come up with one last plan, one more idea, a good one this time. I waited, and I waited, and I waited, but nothing came. What is your problem, you idiot? You're supposed to be a genius and you can't even handle a simple apology!

"Lex?" my father's actual voice called out to me, shattering every thought I had into tiny pieces. "I'll send someone by the mansion to pick up my things," he said, with absolutely no emotion whatsoever. Tell him you're sorry; this is your last chance, a voice screamed out in my mind, but I didn't listen. I never listen, not to Dad, or Clark, not even to myself.

"I'll help them pack," I told him, glad to have been able to make such a quick come back, but hating myself for pushing him away. Then I started to cry, just as he began walking toward the limo, taking someone else's hand. I ran to catch up with him, dropping to my knees in front of my father, and pulling his hands down to tear-streaked face. "Please, Dad. Please, don't walk away again. I need you. I love you. I'm sorry, please." I stayed in the same position, looking up into his eyes, through the tinted sunglasses, searching for a sense that he was feeling anything at all, but I was never able to read Dad the way he could read me, especially not at times like those.

"Get up you fool! Do you want the picture on the front page of ever paper around the world showing you on your knees, with your face pressed against the front of my trousers, in the middle of a street?" he growled, and grabbed my arm, practically throwing me into the car.

"Well at least you don't have to worry about seeing it," I automatically spat out, with a small chuckle. He didn't seem to find my comment the least bit entertaining. "Okay, I'm sorry for that it was stupid and childish. If you forgive me for that joke, I let you get a way with my baldness—just one."

"I have no interest in that right now, Son," he explained to me, stressing the word son, as though he might never be able to think of me as being his child again. "Considering your other transgressions, a 'joke' as you call it, isn't the issue we ought to be working on right now."

"If you're not interested in making jokes, then what are you interested in? Do you want me to suck your cock? Should I let you treat me like dirt, stick a gun in my face, threaten me?" I asked, sliding away from him, afraid of which one he might chose.

"All crudeness aside, I doubt a simple apology is going to be enough to fix this. Oh relax, Lex. I'm not going to shoot at you. There's a good possibility I might miss, and I could damage or destroy something important, something of actual value," he said, stroking his beard. In the following five minutes, seconds dragged on and on, as though time were molasses trickling out of a jar.

The longer I waited for him to laugh, put his arm around me, or just say something, the worse it seemed to get. Everything was so quiet I could actually hear my watch ticking all the way from my pocket, but there was at lest an hour between each tick. "What, suddenly you can make jokes but I can't?" It was only then, I realized I hadn't taken a breath the entire time I was waiting for him to speak to me. I hated my father, and at the same exact time I wanted to laugh hysterically. "Lex, it's your turn, come on, really let me have it." Throwing insults back and forth was the only way my father, and I knew how to really communicate. It might seem weird to the rest of the world, perhaps even cruel, but for us it was normal, it felt good.

"I'd be careful saying something like that if I were you, Dad. Weren't you the one who told me I had the biggest cock you'd ever seen?" "I highly doubt those were my exact words, Son, but we do have to consider the fact that I haven't seen nearly as many of those as you have." "At least I can see," I said, completely unable to come up with any more comebacks. I felt completely destroyed after the day's events. Dad grabbed me again, pulling my body towards his, kissing the top of my head. He was still laughing at me, although not as heartily as before. Then he leaned over me, whispering in my ear.

"We both know you can do better than that. Are you holding back because of what happened this afternoon? If so you are going to be extremely disappointed very soon. The only reason I entered this verbal sparing match was because it is the closest either one of us can come to apologizing."

"You're a perverted old man, who has fallen in love with a married woman who can't stand to be in the same room as you, not to mention the fact that you fucked me—your goddamn son—for the first time when I was still in elementary school."

"That is pathetic. You were nearly thirteen, and smarter than most adults by then," he shot back, the glow from the highway light-poles illuminating in his face in eerie white flashes. "And you'd been begging for it, since the first time I ever changed your diaper, you dirty little faggot."

I pretend not to be effected by his comment, as if it had simply rolled off my shoulders like the other ones, but my father had never called me that word before. He'd never said anything to suggest he thought of me as sick, disgusting, or ill. He had never hurt me by using my sexuality as cannon fodder.

"Please don't fuck Martha Kent," I suddenly blurted out, practically begging. Then I looked away, trying to pull as far apart from him as possible, but he had a death grip on my shoulders. "And please, Daddy—I mean Dad—don't ever leave me again. I need you. I need you so badly."

"Shush, easy there. Okay, just relax; take it easy. Are you all right, Lex? I'm sorry if I pushed you too far hurt you. I love you, Son. There we go, don't worry, I've got you. You just relax, and we'll figure out how to fix this the right way, you'll see."

"Why are you being nice to me all of the sudden? I mean you're never nice, not to me, not to anybody. You weren't even nice to Mom, and she was your wife." That was when he hit me—well not so much hit as slapped, but it was the first time in years, and this time I hadn't actually done anything, he just thought I had. "See, that is exactly the sort of thing I'm talking about," I sobbed, beginning to cry. Even then he pulled me closer. Dad put his lips, delicately, to the sport on my cheek were a faint, red impression of his fingers still remained, and kissed the, soon to be bruised, area.

"Lex, I don't know why I just did that to you. I do know that I'll never make up for it, but I am sorry. I promise you, it will never happen again. Now there were a few things I wanted to discuss with you, some important decisions I wanted us to make together. Do you think you can do that for me, Kiddo?"

"If you can just swear you'll never, ever call me 'Kiddo' again, I'll do absolutely anything you ask of my for as long as I live," I said, which stupid not just because I'd promised lifelong obedience, but for the other reason as well.

"Lex, you are going to live a lot longer than I will, and it terrifies me to hear my own son suggest the possibility that I might out live him! Don't you ever say something horrible like that again, you hear me? I don't know what to do with you sometimes." My father was yelling at me, and he had hit me, both within fifteen minutes of each other. I looked out the car window to try and gain some sort of an idea as to where we were, but all I could see was the moon, a spattering of stars, and cornfields.

"I hate living in Smallville. There are maybe two people who don't wish I was dead, and one who likes me even a tiny, little bit, but he's only fifteen-years-old."

"You want to have sex with Clark Kent? Well, I guess I can't say I'm all that surprised. I'm just amazed he hasn't noticed, considering the fact that he follows after you like a puppy-dog. Lex, the boy wants you just as badly as you want him, but you're both too scared to admit to it."

"I'd much rather be with you." I grabbed onto his body then, wrapping both my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in his chest. "God you smell good. How in the Hell do you manage that after a couple of lunatics, who were hired by your own kid no less, held you hostage and nearly killed you?" Dad responded by sniffing my neck, and chest.

"You don't smell too horrible either," he chuckled. "Although, knowing you, I'm guessing that you reapplied your antiperspirant three times since you woke up this morning."

"Four, but I took a shower after I smashed my office to bits, looking for these damn bugs you had planted. And if you're going to ask me to come back to Luthorcorp, I'll do it, but I get an office as big as yours, and I get to be your full partner," I told him, staring into his eyes, even though he couldn't tell the difference. "And I get to design my new office which ever way I like, no limits in any way, not even money wise." Dad nodded, kissing me again. "And you gotta promise me you're never, ever going to sleep with Maratha Kent, even if she begs you to.

"Didn't we just discuss this?"

"No. You avoided the conversation by holding me, and kissing me, and promising never to let me go. Then you hit me, apologized for it, and asked me to come and work with you at Luthorcorp. But you never said anything about Mrs. Kent."

"All right. If that's what you want to hear, I'll say it. However, it should be mentioned that you were the one who asked to be brought back to the company, not that I wasn't planning to do the same, you just jumped the gun a little. I love you Lex, and I will never sleep with Martha," he said flatly. I knew he meant the first part, but I couldn't tell about the second. And yet I knew better than to confront him about it.

"I don't believe you," I finally said, regretting it instantly, hating myself, hating him, and even hating her some. "I don't know if I can trust you with that woman. I think you're gonna hafta fire her."

"After today, I doubt that will be necessary, Son. At some point tomorrow I'll most receive her resignation letter, through the mail not in person of course, and then you and I will pack up our things and we'll go home. How does that sound, hmm?"

"It sounds like you're speaking to a five-year-old, which I am not. As weak as I am, as pathetic, and petty, and insecure I might be, and as much as you may hate me, I'm not five-years-old!"

"I don't—Lex are you looking at me, I want you look at me while I say this, okay, now listen to me very carefully. Lex, I do not hate you. You are not weak. You're sensitive, and we have both been through a long, difficult, stress-filled day, and I don't think it is the right time for us to be dissecting our relationship. You are my son, Lex, my wonderful, beautiful, amazing, brilliant, creative, sweet, and loveable son, and I do love you. I do." And then my dad held me in his arms, rocking slowly back and forth, carefully kissing the top of my head every so often.

When we got back to Smallville, I used up every bit of my strengh helping Dad to his room, and the two of us held each other, crying and talking all night long, and while we had just barely scratched the surface of our problems, I was starting to feel good for the first time in years.

In the morning Dad held me in his arms, kissed my face, told me he loved me, and then he asked, "So are you coming back to Luthorcorp with me, or not?"