This chapter ran away with itself, so most of the episode Lineage will be in the next installement. Thanks for the reviews, hope you enjoy and thoughts are alway welcome.

The house was in darkness when Martha arrived home and as she crept up the stairs, she could hear Clark's soft snores floating out of his bedroom. Tiptoing to the ajar door, she peeked through and smiled at her sleeping son, it was still relatively early but she knew how exhausted he was from all the extra work he had been taking on. A soft smile curved Martha's lips, he was such a wonderful boy, he had brought so much joy into her life and she couldn't imagine her world without him in it. She itched to smooth his ruffled hair off his forehead, just as she'd done when he had been little, but she knew he would wake up if she tried it. So instead she turned, closing the door gently and headed down the hallway to her own bedroom.

Sitting on her bed, Martha kicked her shoes off, sending them skiffing across the slightly threadworn carpet with a muffled thud, she really needed to replace that at somepoint, but then it was hardly a priority. Her eyes connected with the picture on her nightstand of herself and Jonathan. Reaching across she picked it up and felt her eyes start to water, her jaw tightening as she tried not to burst into tears. They had been so happy, it had never mattered that some parts of the house had seen better days, that Jonathan had ached at the end of everyday from all the heavy work he'd done and that if it wasn't for their ailien son and his abilities, they may have went under years before. She let out a shaky breath, with hindsight she wished that things had been slightly easier, that they had spent slightly less time having to work and more time enjoying their time together, without the looming spectre of the farm. It wasn't enough for her to regret her life, but she was now slightly resentful of the farm, of the constant stream of work that never seemed to abate, the way it had cut into their lives. She wished they had had that time, but then she supposed that even if they'd had it, she would find something else to lament. There would never have been enough time together.

Martha looked at her husband's smile, she remembered that day so clearly and yet sometimes she was afraid of forgetting him, forgetting his goodness, the deep timber of his laugh, the strength of his calm guidance, and his touch. She put the frame carefully back into place, the guilt creeping over her. How could she have been so stupid? To allow herself to fall into the arms of Lionel Luthor was the height of foolishness. Never mind that he was the one man that her husband couldn't stand, that he had critisized without restraint, he was also her goddamn boss! What had she been thinking? Well, she hadn't been, clearly. She had allowed herself to be swept along in the moment, even now she couldn't quite explain why she had so easily moved towards him, why she had kissed him back.

The last few weeks she had seen a different side to Lionel Luthor, she had seen that shred of vulnarability that ran through him. She wasn't foolish enough to think that she could change him, that all he needed was love and understanding and he would miraculously become a different man, a better man. But, he could be kind, and he was clever, his wit sharp, almost scathing at times and he made her laugh. That she found him strangely attractive didn't help her either. Martha dropped onto her pillows with a deep sigh, apparantly at the age of forty-two she was back into the badboy phase. The guilt constricted her chest again, it had been 5 months since Jonathan's death, and already she was thrown for a loop by another man, his sworn enemy for that matter. Not that Lionel would have held Jonathan in the same regard, she doubted that he gave them any thought after he'd got what he'd wanted from them. How could she let herself fall into the arms of that man?

Because she was lonely and that man was showing her affection, she reminded herself. She loved Jonathan, that would never change, and she would be mortified if anyone ever discovered what she had done, but surely she could move on from it, surely Jonathan would forgive her that momentary slip. Martha took in a deep, shaky breath, surely it wasn't the worst thing to crave human affection, no matter the source. Actually on second thought if Jonathan had seen that then she could probably expect a lightening bolt to be along in a moment, or more likely, Lionel could.

Suddenly an inexplainable rush of irrational rage swept over her. She wished fervantly that Johnathan was here, that she could scream at him for leaving her, for running out of that cellar, for having to always take action without thinking it through. He was gone, leaving her with a farm she hadn't been able to run without him, with mounting bills and a ramshackle farmhouse with no means to make anything better. One bloody week! He'd missed his insurance payment for one week, no doubt thinking he could pick it up again with no issues, that it wouldn't matter. It was all his fault, she thought wildly, he couldn't possibly be irritated with her because she needed that job, and she had no choice about taking it. She could work three jobs elsewhere and not come close to that pay packet, never mind being able to afford help on the farm, so wherever Jonathan was he could lump it, was a moment of sheer stupidity and God knows she should be allowed it given everything she had been through.

Martha closed her eyes, her brow furrowing as she thought through her options, she could quit but then that felt like an odd overreaction, and she did need the job. No, she would better brazening through it. She had no doubt that Lionel was mortified at her slip, that he was sitting wondering just how to let the frumpy little farmwife down gently. She had seen the women who graced his bedroom - not literally - they were glamourous, their hair and nails immaculate, their clothing expensive and she had no doubt they fawned over him. Well he could rest easy, when she saw him tomorrow she would either pretend that this had never happened or put his mind at rest that she wouldn't be throwing herself at him again.

"Clark, get a move on!" Martha scolded her son as she watched him rush clumsily down the stairs.

She pressed a slice of toast into his hand, causing him to grin as he said, "Thanks, I didn't realise the time."

Rolling her eyes good naturedly, she told him, "I can't believe you can be as quick as a flash and as slow as molasses all at the same time."

"It's a skill."

"Do you want a lift?"

"Nah." He hauled his jacket on as he crammed his toast into his mouth, telling her through a mouthful of crumbs, "I don't want to make you late, you go ahead."

"I will, but make sure you get yourself to school," she warned him.

"Will do."

Martha smiled as she ran out to the truck, relieved as always when it started on the first try. Her mind too busy running through if and how she was going to broach last night with Lionel to notice the red-headed woman standing in the shadows of the barn.

Lionel hadn't slept well, he'd spent long spells imagining Martha Kent and what she would be like in his bed. He'd wondered if her skin was as pale and perfect everywhere, if she was as fiery in bed as she could be in the office. His mind had ran away with itself as he'd thought about her under him, over him, as he ran his hands and mouth across her. Would she moan? Or it would it be breathy gasps? He took a deep breath, he couldn't think about this again, she was due in any minute and if he didn't get a hold of himself then it could lead to a rather awkward moment.

His office door opened and Martha stepped through, her head bowed and he could already see the faint blush creeping across her face, he wondered if she always coloured so easily. "Good morning," she greeted him after a moment.

"Martha, how are you this morning?"

"I'm fine," she replied after a moment, her voice slightly strained, and he could see her fingers knot together somewhat anxiously. "You?"

"As well as ever."

"Good," she muttered distractedly. Did she mention it or not? She hadn't missed this part of being single, that awkwardness that could tinge so many moments.

The decision was made for her as he decided to put her out of her misery. "About last night," he started calmly, watching carefully behind his darkened lenses as she winced at his words. He would need to manage this carefully, he didn't want her to leave her role here and he could sense her nerves and her tension.

"It shouldn't have happened," she told him quickly. "It was a moment of foolishness and it won't happen again, you don't need to worry."

"I wasn't," he admitted. "I just wanted to ensure that you weren't"

"More embarrassed, it was hardly professional behaviour."

"From either of us." Perhaps it would be best to play the long game, he thought casually. If he pressed ahead she was likely to bolt, he could see it in her. Lionel didn't doubt that she had spent last night in a maelstrom of guilt, concerned that she would be judged for moving on so quickly. It was fine, he was willing to wait for her. "You have my apologies."

"You don't need to apologise."

Lionel got to his feet, grabbing his stick as he made to move closer to her with just the right amount of slow awkwardness that would be expected of him. "I do, I'm your employer, I should never have taken advantage."

"You didn't," she assured him, her voice slightly tight.

"We've both been through large changes in our lives, had to make adjustments, these things happen."

"Yes," her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. "They do. Although I'm not used to them."

He chuckled. "Yes I suppose I would have the monopoly on making spur of the moment romantic overtures."

Martha raised her eyebrow, the hint of a smile suddenly on her features. "Are you trying to say you come on to all your staff? Is that why I had to sign a non disclosure," she teased.

"Hmph," he made a noise of amusement. "I can assure you I don't make a habit out of this"

"Habit, so it has happened before?"

Lionel silently cursed himself for his choice of words. He should dimiss it, deny it and yet there was something about her that loosened his tongue, she had a dangerous effect on him, and yet still he couldn't bring himself to pull away. "Once," he admitted. "It was a mistake." He wanted to reach for her, to touch her arm or hand but could see no way of doing it without giving himself away.

"Well you don't need to worry about repeating it," she told him.

"Do you regret it?" he asked quietly, inclining his head towards hers. She shivered at his closeness and he felt gratified to see the effect he clearly had on her.

"Regret is a strong word," she admitted. "It shouldn't have happened though."

"I don't regret it," he told her firmly, seeing her eyes widen as she looked up at him and he forced himself to avert his gaze. "We both needed comfort, people have done a lot worse. I don't meant to make you uncomfortable, I have no intention of forcing this further, I just want to reassure you. You have no need to be embarrassed, or worried in anyway about your position here."

"Thank you, that's a relief." She gave a soft sigh, "So shall we get back to work? After all that's what you pay me for."

"It is, and I do like to get my money's worth."

Lionel let her slip her arm through his and lead him to his chair, he should really let her know that he could see, everytime he misled her he was starting to feel a slight tinge of...surely not remorse? Lionel Luthor didn't do remorse.