Note: This story is made of multiple parts, and was started over the summer between Season Two and Three.

Life was idyllic.

Her father had promised her that being a farmer's wife would be hellishly hard work; that she was wasting her schooling by using it to manage a failing farm; that she was wasting her life by marrying a stubborn man like Jonathan Kent.

If they still talked often, she would've had to show him her beautiful son, who was entirely hers and Jonathan's thanks to the adoption records, and the freak occurrence that brought him from God only knew where. But they didn't talk, so she wasn't afforded the chance to show him that he was wrong, that farm life was happy for her and Jonathan, full of everything she felt anyone had a right to expect from life.

Jonathan smiled over at her, swallowing a mouthful of steaming mashed potatoes, keeping a watchful eye on Clark. Clark had an airplane spoon that he almost tried to chew on every time Jonathan brought a spoonful of anything to his mouth.

Martha watched them both, amused, as they ate dinner. The early sunset slanted a warm glow through the window of the kitchen, and gilded the simple food she had dished out with a tinge of gold, touching Clark with an angelic haze. She sometimes wondered if Jonathan weren't more smitten by the idea of being a father than she was about being a mother. Considering how it felt to finally have what she had yearned for, that was hard to believe. It wasn't just a case of wanting what you couldn't have; ever since Clark came into their lives there was a feeling of rightness about it, of completion. Just like that, she was doing what she always wanted to do in being his mother, as well as Jonathan's wife. She suspected that between the two of them they would keep her challenged; the intelligence her father mourned as dead and buried in the farmland of Smallville would be kept alive and prospering.

Clark was starting to make proper noises now, syllables that were faintly recognizable -- which was a relief considering they had been worried he was mute in the first days after they had found him. Then when he had made noises that appeared very alien in origin, they had worried that he wouldn't understand or learn English. There were kids from their own planet who couldn't manage that, so there had been no reason to suspect that Clark would have the ability.

She ate a fork full of the casserole, musing a moment on the flavoring and decided a fraction more herbs might be in order next time. She glanced towards the cupboard as she ran through her mental inventory of herbs and spices, catching sight of a propped up envelope and recalled a vague feeling of unquiet. "Jonathan, did you open that letter this morning? I left it on the side for you."

"No, haven't touched it yet. Why didn't you get it, hon?" Jonathan swallowed a sip of milk, and watched with prideful eyes as Clark reached for his spill proof cup to mimic the motion. "It's not from the bank, is it?"

"It looked official. Addressed to Mr. and Mrs. J. Kent," Martha replied, with a tinge of apprehension. "I don't think it's from the bank, but... I did worry that it might be some agency about Clark."

That, of course, was her real reason for shying away from opening the letter, as if not knowing could make things not happen. There were so many things, scenarios that played through her mind about someone somewhere finding out that the adoption had not been legal, that any official letter was avoided as if until it was read, the consequences couldn't occur.

Ignorance might've been bliss, but it was also nerve-wracking.

"Mrs. Luthor said the adoption was air-tight." Jonathan put down his glass, and pushed away from the table. "But considering what they're doing to the Ross's land..."

It had been part of the deal, that Jonathan would talk with the farmers in that area to convince them to sell to Luthorcorp; just three sly months later, it was starting to become obvious that Lionel Luthor might've been a snake in his business deals, but his wife was a viper. She'd moved in and struck deals with a speed and ferocity that had done nothing to the Luthor reputation in Smallville -- where given a choice between the Devil and Lionel Luthor, most would choose Lucifer as a drinking buddy without a second's hesitation.

"That's not your fault Jonathan," Martha said automatically and firmly. "You know that."

She looked at Clark briefly, smiling as he seemed to peek up at her with bright eyes. It might be selfish, but what was land compared to him? "It's over there, against the letter rack," she pointed out.

Jonathan stalked towards it as if it were a wild animal that he was hunting down, or a cow that needed to be corralled and fast. "Where's it from?" he asked, even as he reached for it.

"Metropolis. It looks like... lawyers or something," Martha replied, watching him carefully, while mentally rebuking herself for not grabbing the bull by the horns. "You don't think someone is contesting the adoption, do you?"

"Who would? There's nothing to contest, and it isn't like... his parents are going to come and get him," Jonathan said a little tensely as he picked it up and then started to rip along the top edge.

A sheet of what looked almost like parchment paper was what Jonathan pulled out of the envelope, unfolding it carefully. There was a long pause as his eyes scanned over the text and a frown materialized. "It's from the executors of... the Luthor Estate."

Martha blinked and then as the realization of what Jonathan had just said sank in, her hand rose instinctively to her mouth in shock. "Not Lillian Luthor, surely?" she said, concern evident in her voice. "So soon after Lionel?"

Somehow the fact they had had some contact with the Luthors, no matter that it had been comparatively little, tweaked at a fragile bond of empathy. Lionel Luthor had staggered out in front of their truck on the day of the meteors, disorientated and in shock. It was tragically ironic that his son, who seemed so ill when they had rescued them both, went on to make a rapid recovery -- but while Martha had been having the nasty cut on her forehead stitched up, she had seen Lionel rushed past in a state of collapse.

Aneurysm, they said.

He was a prime candidate with a stressful lifestyle and spiking high blood pressure that he seemed to ignore. That day had proved to contain one too many traumas for his system to cope with and resulted in a terminal collapse.

Jonathan didn't answer right away, just read the letter from top to bottom in silence, tucking the envelope under his arm as he half-paced towards the table. "They're reading the will on Friday, Martha -- we're being asked... well, told to be there," he said, and then looked up at her with a glance that begged assurance.

"It could be..." Martha tried to think of an explanation that might fit this bizarre turn of events, "It could be to do with you... well, us rescuing her son. She was very grateful, and maybe felt the need to make note of it somehow?"

Who knew what a billionaire's widow would have thought of as a token of her gratitude? She thought that any recompense or debt had been cleared with the assistance with the adoption of Clark, even if Lillian had come back and emotionally blackmailed them afterwards. Martha had found it hard to reconcile the woman she had spoken to at the hospital as she stayed with young Lex after his father was rushed into emergency surgery, with the same woman that had manipulated Jonathan into talking to his friends to persuade them to sell their land.

If there was one thing Martha had recognized in Lillian, it was that she was a mother fierce in her concern for her child. Whatever the general opinion was, she had to believe that a woman who loved her son could not be evil incarnate. Unfortunately, she knew now that her opinion was very much in the minority in Smallville. She and Lillian had spoken enough to make an explanation of Martha's need to adopt Clark unnecessary, or at least without requiring very many details. Perhaps she assumed they had 'acquired' Clark illegally and needed it to be dealt with without too many questions. Lillian had understood that at least and the papers had come through in an unbelievably short period of time.

And now she was gone, too? Her poor son! Orphaned at such a vulnerable age.

"You might be right," Jonathan said agreeably, handing her the letter and envelope, accepting her suggestion. "We'll have to head into Metropolis pretty early on Friday morning, and we'll have to bring Clark with us."

Martha nodded, looking over the letter herself, the stilted legalese at odds with the mood of their comfortable family meal. "It's not like we can let anyone baby-sit for him," she agreed and then smiled at Clark. "A trip to Metropolis, Clark -- somewhere different. You'll like that won't you?"

Clarks looked at her rather brightly and much to her amazement, he nodded his tousled head, and then beamed at her.

"Jonathan! Did you see that?" Martha was as excited as if he had taken his first step. "He understood me!"

Jonathan probably felt as wide-eyed as he looked as he stooped down beside Clark's chair, grinning like a mad man. "You're darn right he did. Come on, Clark -- how about some dessert? Your mom's made brownies."

Clark's smile got even wider, " 'nies!" came the awkward syllable that made Martha laugh out loud.

"He's definitely a Kent at heart. His first word is about food!"

"Yep. Yep, Clark, you're getting brownies." Jonathan moved to sit back down in his chair, but not before pressing a kiss to Clark's forehead when he thought Martha wasn't looking. "I'll have to go into town and get him something dressy."

"Get something for a four year old," Martha replied, still smiling to herself over Jonathan as well as Clark. She was just grateful the young boy was showing signs of being able to speak and understand them, as she'd begun to wonder if he was too alien to adapt. She was avoiding being the one going into town with him until he could speak and be a little more normal, instead concentrating on being in contact with him as much as possible. Jonathan was doing the job of priming people's expectations, but they weren't ready yet and the gossip mill was already wondering how they had managed to adopt a son in their financial situation. "And I'll get your suit out."

He nodded as he stood again to gather up their dinner plates, leaving Clark with his spoon and cup. "I bet they already buried her. There's probably something about it in the paper..." Or all over the papers, but they'd been occupied with the duel stress of Clark and running the farm. Trying to get ready for the winter and the extra bills that were undoubtedly going to hit them with the latest addition to the family.

"Her poor son, losing his father and his mother," Martha contemplated, feeling a definite pang of sympathy for the orphaned boy; never mind that he inherited the billions of the Luthor Empire, she knew enough to know that money would mean nothing if she lost either Jonathan or Clark. She considered what she remembered of -- Alexander, yes, that was his name -- in their brief contact even as she got up to cut and serve the fresh brownies.

The first press of the knife released their chocolate-moist smell. "He's only nine I think. It must be awful for him."

Jonathan gave a shrug, noisily putting dishes into the dishwasher. "I'm sure he has family, Martha. And money."

"I don't think Luthors have any other connections... not family at least," Martha answered, efficiently slicing the brownies into generous squares, levering them out still warmly steaming and moist. She put one on a plate for Clark getting used to her new son's appetite. "Help yourself, Jonathan... but try and leave me one, hmm?" she teased as she leaned over to her new son. "Here we are sweetheart. A brownie just for you."

Obviously the way to an alien son's heart was through his stomach as well, as that earned her a spontaneous hug before Clark settled in rather messily to tackle his prize.

Fingers first.

"Come on, Clark -- use a fork, or your spoon," Jonathan chided firmly, and reached to gently place the spoon in Clark's hand. "Use this. Now, what were you saying, Martha?"

"That I didn't think the Luthors had any other direct family. Lionel was a late and only son, and Lillian had an older sister who died of breast cancer -- I remember her saying that at the hospital." Martha frowned a little. For the life of her, she couldn't remember how that subject had come up; she just remembered Lillian being very interested in Martha's life and uncharacteristically frank about her own.

"I'm sure she had some contingency plan," Jonathan said with a hint of storminess in his voice, the resentment palpable in the tension of his body. "She certainly had everything else planned out."

Martha sighed, "Honey, what's done is done. There's nothing that can be done about it now. They were meeting with the Luthors before you were involved."

Meaning that though no one in the town ever would admit it, Smallville was slowly dying as its farmers were unable to compete with imports for price. The lifeblood of the area seemed to be slowing and stagnating. The fact they agreed to meet him at all was a sign that all was not as small town perfect as the surface story seemed. Even so, the ruthless moves of the Luthors seemed as personal and violating as rape to many in the farming community.

It was for the best that she distracted him, because he'd been well on his way to massacring the entire dish of brownies, cutting them into not-quite square chunks. "But I pushed them the final step to agreeing. I vouched for her."

"And the Ross-es were on the verge of losing everything -- not just the land -- before they were bought out," Martha replied, repeating what she had said many times over the last month or so. Undoubtedly she would have to repeat it many times over the course of their married life.

"You did this for me Jonathan," she murmured in his ear, even if she had to stretch a little to do it. "Don't try and bear the responsibility all alone. Whatever else Lillian Luthor did, she helped us become a family. At least a part of me has to be grateful for that."

Jonathan sighed, nodding and relaxing a little. "I knew I loved you for some reason Martha... Here, let's eat these... uh. What's left of them."

"I think you killed my brownies," Martha half laughed, relieved his mood had shifted even if his opinion was much more durable. "They'll taste the same, if nothing else. Sit, eat... I'll bake another batch for the shop later and you are not to touch those."

"Won't lay a finger on them, Martha." He pulled away to scrape brownie remains onto a plate, and cast Clark a glance over his shoulder to make sure he was still doing okay.

He was, except for his empty plate.

"You like your brownie, Clark?" Martha asked smiling as she turned to study her son, who had still managed to get chocolate everywhere despite using a spoon. He turned and grinned, a brilliant smile that seemed innocent and carefree even as Martha wiped at the worse of the chocolate smears with a paper towel. That brought a vigorous nod and a spirited effort to get down from his chair to see if he could get anything out of his father.

Jonathan laughed, and set his plate down on the table -- close to Clark but not close enough -- and picked him up with a laughing whoop. "Not on your life, Tiger -- you need a bath!"

For all that Clark was not expressive with words yet, he certainly was physically, communicating by uninhibited touch. He giggled and limpeted onto Jonathan's neck and torso, snuggling in against him happily. "Daa," came a muffled sound against his 'father's' shirt even as he wiped the rest of the chocolate from his face onto the material.

"Martha, did you hear that!? That's right, Clark, I'm your Dad," Jonathan all but chortled, bouncing Clark a little -- gently, as he started towards the stairs. That was part of their routine. Dinner, dessert, wash Clark up and let him play in the tub, then read to him downstairs and then bed.

It was a new routine, but Martha was finding that it was quickly growing on her.

"I'm starting to feel left out," Martha called after them with a smile. She was just hoping that today signaled the break through in Clark's ability to speak and communicate. "I'll be up in a minute!" she called out as she cleaned. She couldn't begrudge Jonathan his alone time with Clark. After all, she had him to herself most of the day so she tended to let him get the bath, and usually came in to find him as wet as Clark from all the splashing and excitement involving the rubber duck.

It just seemed that everything was working out for them finally, after the crushing disappointment of being told she couldn't have children, and knowing how important it was to Jonathan to have a family, and yes, to herself as well. She had wondered whether the strain that knowledge had put upon their relationship might have torn them apart. But then Clark came, and she counted herself the luckiest person on earth. Not everyone got his or her own personal miracle, but they had, and they were going to keep him safe, come what may.

Their replacement truck stuck out like an eyesore amidst the loud gleam and polish of Metropolis, no matter how new it was in comparison to the old truck that they'd been driving the day of the meteor crash.

Metropolis was the city of life, the city of noise, an impossible utopia and a believable hell, all stirred together and placed in Kansas. It was another New York City, only with more gleam and less of an aged cultural background. It had once been a boomtown -- a boomtown from the frontier days that never went bust. It boomed and boomed, and was still booming, drawing as much attention away from Topeka as New York City did from Albany.

Jonathan had been relieved to get their truck off of the streets and into the law office's parking garage.

"Clark, sweetheart, sit still," Martha was trying to stop the little boy from wriggling as he tried to see everything that was new and different -- which was basically almost everything. "You're going to have to be quiet and still when we go inside, okay?"

Another tousled nod and a faint "'es," reassured her. Clark was picking up more and more words every day and had expanded his vocabulary to include yes, no, Ma and Da as well as a few scattered random strange words like 'nies for brownies. That he understood what was being said was no longer in any doubt.

It was like a stress had been lifted from their shoulders. His babble of words that probably meant a lot to him but not to anyone on earth was starting to trickle off. Now that he was starting to speak English... It was going to work. It could work.

"Come on. Martha, should I carry him?" Jonathan asked as he put the truck into park.

"He'll probably settle if you do," Martha agreed, unbuckling her seat belt and freeing them both as she checked the time. They had about fifteen minutes by the looks of it which would be enough not to appear too early or too late. "Besides, it will be the first time he's really seen many strangers. I don't want him getting upset. Hopefully we won't to be there too long."

"Come on, Clark... Up we go." Jonathan popped open the door, and hefted Clark into his arms. "We'll get you an ice cream if you're good, but only if you're very good today."

Clark accepted that as a sufficient bribe and settled comfortably in his father's arms, looking around with curious green eyes. This was very different than Smallville and the farm. His expression reflected his amazement at the glittering glass, the tall, tall buildings and constant movement of people and cars all around him. It was more than enough to keep him occupied.

Martha looked around the truck, and straightened the simple but business-like dress that she used when they needed to speak to the bank. Then, taking out the letter, she lead the way into the imposing building that glittered with steel and glass in the sun.

Their best suits were crisp and clean, but lacked that... that look, that feel that the people they were walking past had, a look that was deeply rooted in a double, triple and more difference in annual earnings.

"Any idea why we're being asked to be here, Martha? Guesses?" Jonathan was trying to prepare himself for whatever it could be, trailing a half step behind Martha as he let her plough the way. She'd grown up in Metropolis, among the elite that were surrounding them just then, and looked more at home here than he did. They'd been over it several times in the past few days, and had come up with a variety of ideas ranging from the simple token bequest to something to do with passing over the records of Clark's adoption. Either way, it still remained a puzzle as to exactly why they were there and why they had to attend.

"I still think it's something to do with us saving young Alexander," Martha said, not having been able to come up with a different answer for all her mulling over things. "Still, even a token thank you from a billionairess might be enough to help out. Whether it's a big or little bequest, you have to be present... so we'll probably be rubbing shoulders with some of the movers and shakers of Metropolis up there."

She showed the letter briefly to the receptionist and was mildly surprised to be buzzed through immediately. They were escorted into a very plush, large room that was scattered with groups of the impeccably dressed elite, all talking in muted tones with each other. She crowded back against Jonathan.

"I thought we'd have to wait," she murmured, glancing around the richly furnished room, noting several rather impressive works of art tastefully decorating the walls.

"Any reason why you thought we'd have to wait?" Jonathan whispered, leaning into her. There were at least twenty other people there, and it wasn't noon yet. More would come; among those there already was the Vice CEO of LuthorCorp, the heads of four or five charity foundations, and the Mayor of Metropolis.

"A will reading isn't the sort of thing I would have thought would have had complimentary refreshments," Martha said in a low voice, glancing over at the side table well stocked with a variety of terribly elaborate hors d'oeuvres, fine wine and mineral water. "I was imagining we'd wait and then be called in, I guess you don't do that to the rich of Metropolis."

"Should we sit down?" He visibly scanned the room, glancing from one murmuring group to another. There were quite a few glances cast towards them, some questioning, but most curious or dismissive.

"Might as well, we're scarcely in a position to use this as a networking opportunity," Martha replied in a quiet, dry tone. "I suspect few of them will be interested in us unless they're wondering if we've walked into the wrong room."

"I like it better that way," Jonathan walked towards one of the many clusters of plush seats, twisting back towards Martha. "Do you want to hold Clark?"

"Of course." Martha smiled at him, reaching to take Clark from her husband, "Come on, sweetheart... You're being very good, aren't you?" she murmured to her son. Clark nodded and settled easily against her, taking everything in with wide eyes. Martha just thanked her lucky stars that Clark just didn't seem to be prone to crying, or tantrums. The embarrassment factor of all those notable people being drowned out by a wailing child would have been a bit much to bear.

"Recognize anyone?" Martha asked Jonathan as he straightened out his suit self-consciously.

"Only half a dozen people from the nightly news. I hope this starts soon." He glanced to the clock, and then settled down into a seat, looking positively startled when the seat sank in its plushness.

"Me too," Martha smiled at his expression. "Dad used to called them 'lawyer seats'... when you're charging by the minute, if it takes a good couple of minutes to get out of the chair, that could be worth an extra fifty bucks. I think he was joking."

"I don't," Jonathan groused quietly.

There was the sound of the far door opening, and a sudden drop in conversation. A sharp-looking man who moved like he owned the room -- and very likely did -- strode in, trailed by a crisp-looking woman, and a neatly dressed little boy. He didn't look much like a little boy, dressed in a three-piece suit, with flat eyes, and not a speck of hair on his head. He was fidgeting with the cuff of his jacket, not even overtly looking around at anyone present. But there was a great deal of attention focused on him.

"Everyone, I'm Erich Long. Please take your seats, we'll begin in a moment," the man said as he walked towards a wall unit and pulled it open. There was a TV set beneath it.

As they were already seated, Martha was in a position to look at the others getting into position. She heard a small sound from Clark and looked down to see his eyes fixed on the older boy as if he was mesmerized. Funny, he'd done that when they were in the truck as well. For a moment she was worried that he might try to get away, or make a disturbance, but he seemed content to watch the other boy while the adults took their seats around them.

"Lillian Luthor left a video will," Mr. Long told them all, "And after this plays I'll read the official will, however they don't contradict each other." There was no VCR, but he pointed a slim remote up towards a spot on the far wall, and the screen jumped to life.

The first thing Martha noted about Lillian was that she looked wan, marked with the translucent thinness to her skin that indicated a serious illness. It had obviously been recorded not long before her death, but there was still a determination in the woman's eyes, a burning desire not to let go, not until she had accomplished whatever needed to be done.

"I thank all of you for attending the reading of my last will and testament." Her voice was still strong and educated, just as Martha remembered from the hospital. "If this is being played, then I have finally succumbed to the illness that has pursued my family remorselessly. I have been aware that my condition will be terminal for some time and had proved the doctors wrong three times in their prognosis, but finally my time is due to run out."

The woman on the screen seemed to pause a moment, blue eyes pale with exhaustion. "I had thought that when my time came, my husband Lionel would survive me to care for my son, Alexander. The fickle finger of fate decided this was not to be and my activity since my husband's death has been focused on preparing things for the ever present threat of my own. To those I ran roughshod over in my haste to accomplish a future for my son, I extend my heartfelt apologies. Desperation can make monsters of the best of us."

"But the fate of LuthorCorp is now a solid one. When Alexander turns eighteen, he will become the major stockholder as his father was; until then, I'm entrusting Samuel Davies to be CEO. I'm sure the board will agree that the Vice CEO is in the best position to steer LuthorCorp to the bright future that I've laid out for it." She paused, and took a sip from a glass of water before going on, tucking a long strand of bright red hair behind her ear. "Congratulations, Mr. Davies."

"To the charities with whom I have worked, there are funds set up with a particular level of interest to be given to your group each and every year -- Mr. Long will have the details on that for you, but I believe the amount will do much to push your groups along in their admirable endeavors."

"The most difficult decision I have had to make is not financial. I believe that all of you will find my business instructions reasonable. No, I am mother first and my prime concern is for my son." The knowledge of her impending separation from her son was palpable in her voice, in her eyes, and body language. "Neither Lionel or myself were blessed with any close relatives that have survived us and I am most certainly reluctant to entrust my son to someone who will regard it merely as a duty to look after him."

There was a long pause and Martha felt a sudden prickling chill as a suspicion flooded over her and she glanced at Jonathan. Was it just her that was making a connection or...

Jonathan glanced over for a moment, frowning, and then back to the screen.

"It was after much thought that I named Martha and Jonathan Kent as Alexander's guardians, without their foreknowledge. The details of my son's trust fund and an allowance so he won't prove a financial burden are in the will itself. I have found them to be good people who will not treat it as a duty; the troubles that they went through in adopting their young son proves this to me."

It was just as well there was a stunned silence otherwise the next section of the tape would have been lost.

"I have left private tapes to be given to a variety of people with personal messages in trust with my lawyer. These will be distributed at the end of the reading of the will; most notably there will be messages to the Kents, the Board of LuthorCorp and of course, a private message to my son Alexander. Thank you all for attending and if there are any further questions, Mr. Long has been fully briefed to answer them." The woman on the tape gave a faint smile and then with weariness evident in her eyes and face she said a final simple, "Goodbye," and the tape lapsed into static.

"I'll go on to read the official will now, if..."

Mr. Long was talking, but neither Kent was really listening. Bequests of money, trust funds, estates in trust funds, piddling amounts of money to second cousins. Alexander sat bone-straight and perfectly emotionless in a chair, occasionally rubbing at one eye, only to have his hand pushed down by the woman sitting beside him.

Martha looked over at Alexander Luthor with a definite expression of concern, unconsciously already considering his welfare as a personal issue. His mother had just died and they were treating him like that -- the boy was hurting, you'd have to be blind to miss it. No one put up that tight a shell unless they were trying to contain something unbearable. What were his real options aside from them? There was the added complication of Clark and his origin but... what worried her most of all was that no one seemed to have taken the boy's feelings into consideration. What must it feel like to him, to lose his parents and then be summarily given to strangers? She looked over at Jonathan, desperate to talk to him about this privately.

Lillian Luthor had got the measure of Martha well enough it seemed -- she knew that she couldn't turn a child away, would not even consider it for all the enormous responsibility and difficulty involved. And she wanted them to talk with Alexander, just as soon as she recovered from the shock of that announcement and her hands stopped trembling.

Jonathan was looking at some distant point in the middle of the executor's forehead. He wore that look when he was tallying up costs, when he was weighing decisions -- another bull or not, that tractor or this one, when to plant.

The will itself was long, and often branched out into further details. Then Mr. Long was done, and passing out private videos -- and heading towards Martha and Jonathan with more determination than he would addressed the Mayor with. "Would you two prefer to stay out here, or come into my private office?"

"I think the private office might be easier," Martha said, proud of the fact that her voice only shook a little. "It was... a bit of a shock."

"I'm sure it was," he said, smiling politely at them before gesturing them towards a room. "If you'd like a moment--"

"We would," Jonathan cut in as he got to his feet, and twisted to take Clark from Martha so she could get up.

"Thank you Jonathan," Martha said gratefully. Carrying Clark when she was feeling a little shaky might prove difficult. Relieved of her passenger, she stood and made her way to the offered room, waiting for Jonathan to join her before closing the door carefully. There was silence for a moment and then she looked at her husband and said, "Well... that wasn't what I was expecting."

"No," he agreed, shifting to set Clark down. Best to let him have his legs when he could. "Not... fu--darn it, Martha, what're we going to do?

"Well, it boils down to two options doesn't it?" Martha said, practically reducing the event down to the essentials. "Either we accept or we don't. They can't force us to take Alexander but--" She paused a moment, "I need to know how you feel about this, love. How you really feel..."

"It's not like we can say 'no, no, we don't want guardianship of him'..." Jonathan sighed heavily, glancing away. "Sh--shoot, we're between a rock and a hard place and I don't like it, Martha."

"I understand what you're saying and I feel a little... pressured myself." Martha patted his arm instinctively. "But I can't help thinking that this isn't Alexander's fault. What must it be like for him? He didn't ask for this, and if we don't, his future becomes a business decision. That's against everything we've ever said a family is about. I... don't know if I can walk away from this and just leave him like that."

"I know, Martha..." Jonathan let out a slow breath. "It's not going to be easy. We don't know anything about him. And... just like that, we have to."

"I wonder if anyone has asked him what he wants?" Martha replied. "Looking at it practically, I don't think there will be an issue. I can't imagine that Lillian would leave her son short. What I'm most worried about is us not ending up resenting him if we do this." Martha found herself looking over at Clark who was studying her intently, picking up on her emotional state and looking worried. "You know how I feel. You know what not being able to have a child myself means. Every child is a gift, a miracle and I can't turn away from him, and Lillian knew that. But I do understand what you're saying. I don't like how this has happened."

"I doubt anyone has asked him," Jonathan sighed, stooping down to ruffle Clark's hair. "You're being real good, Clark. Just keep it up, okay? Martha... You're uh... the more diplomatic one. Why don't you..."

"Speak to the boy? And then the lawyers?" Martha murmured. "You're sure you're okay about this?"

He nodded tightly. It was a decision that had to be made then and there, and couldn't just be delayed for a few weeks like he sometimes could do with tractors and the like. "It's the right thing to do. I don't think we're any worse for him than if he stayed here."

"I think we would be a damn sight better," Martha said with uncharacteristic vigor. "That woman next to Alexander was slapping down his hand every time he went to rub his eye, for crying out loud. I wouldn't leave any child with that woman."

Jonathan nodded to her words, picking Clark up again and leaning back against the heavy oaken table. "Don't kill her, Martha," he tried to tease, but he looked and sounded a little strained. "Go on. I'll wait in here with Clark. I don't want him accidentally knocking anyone over."

Martha nodded and then with a faint smile leaned over and gave Jonathan a kiss that would convey more of her gratitude for his understanding than any words. "I'll be back shortly."

"We promise to not go anywhere." And Jonathan managed to grin at that before Martha opened the office door and slipped back out again.

There were still people -- Metropolis's elite -- milling in that room, talking in less of a hush, and all eyes fell on her when she came in. Guardianship of the young billionaire was tantamount to being the guardian of a king of yore and all of a sudden the obscure farming couple had acquired some respect. Martha was not very comfortable with that level of attention and for Clark's sake at the very least there would be some semblance of normality and anonymity if Alexander came to live with them. Mr. Long caught her eye right away, standing by Alexander's chair. He was rubbing at his eyes again, and the woman watching him grasped his hands by the wrists and was firmly talking to him.

"Mr. Long, I wonder if it would be possible to speak to Alexander a moment." She asked aware of their attention, and trying to remain poised in the face of it.

"Of course," he said amiably. The man was cool and efficient, and moved away from the chair Alexander had sunk himself into. "Heather..."

The woman patted Alexander's hands, placing them in his lap, and straightened herself to look at Martha with suspicious eyes before walking away.

Martha went over and sat opposite the young boy, looking at him carefully, before addressing him in a gentle voice "Hello Alexander. I'm Martha Kent. You probably don't remember me...?"

"I don't. But mom talked about you." He blinked slowly, and almost moved his fingers to rub at his eyes, but didn't. Calm, cold blue, but they looked irritated, like he'd been rubbing at them on and off all day. Bloodshot from... something. Alexander had lost weight since he'd been in the hospital in Smallville, to the point where he looked too thin and hollow-faced; it had obviously been a rough three months for him. "I have to live with you, don't I?"

"That's what I want to talk to you about," Martha said automatically gentling her voice to respond to the upset that she could see lurking under his formal appearance. "I wanted to ask you what you wanted... it seems to me that you should have some say in what happens, hmm?"

"I can't have what I want," he answered flatly, twisting his fingers together. It seemed like Martha could gentle her voice all she wanted and she wasn't going to break through to him. "They're dead, and dead people don't come back. So it doesn't matter."

"I understand that, honey, I know this is difficult for you but would you prefer to come with us or remain with... Heather, here?" She glanced at the other woman a moment and then back to him. "It would be different if you came with us. We don't live in Metropolis and I understand that you might not want to leave here because of your friends, or that everyone you know is here?"

"I go to Excelsior. Would I still go there?" Excelsior, Metropolis's only boarding school and second home to the offspring of the rich who moved in the circles with whom the Luthors associated. It was an odd question, but it was clearly the first thing that came to Alexander's mouth. He leaned forwards a little, looking coldly thoughtful as he tried to not fidget restlessly. "Except Mom said I was taking this year off. Until I'm okay again."

The aftereffects of the meteors no doubt. He had been very ill when Jonathan had carried him from that cornfield. Barely conscious, though he had been aware at one or two points -- when Clark touched him, for a start. Martha looked at him closely and then nodded, agreeing that the health shock and then the double trauma of losing both his parents would be sufficient reason to have time out. "That would seem like a sensible idea, and then you could see if you wanted to go back to Excelsior or... change your mind. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like you want me to change my mind," the boy said without missing a beat, a frown tugging at the flat line of his mouth. "Where do you live?"

"A farm in Smallville," Martha said promptly, impressed and a little concerned by his uncharacteristically mature way of dealing with things. There was such a thing as being too grown up, too controlled, especially in emotional situations. "Right now, Alexander, I admit I haven't had opportunity to think through everything, but I will promise that you would get what you want considered as a major factor in what happens."

He studied her, eyes dragging over her face with a severity that one shouldn't be able to manage until at least twenty years from how old Alexander was, assessing and weighing options that seemed pain him even to consider -- but he made a hard decision despite all that. "All right." Then he slipped down out of the chair, and straightened his suit's jacket, looking at her with a spark of something in his flat eyes. "Lead on."

"That's it? You don't want to ask anything else?" Martha frowned, a little taken aback by the rapid decision. She had to admit that she had expected to have to do a lot more in the way of discussion and persuasion. But perhaps it was the example that had been set for Alexander; decisions to be taken swiftly, faced head on and accepted even if they were not palatable or what they wanted, and divorced of emotion.

He looked down, at the wall, and then halfway back to her. "They're all gone. I don't want to stay here."

Martha looked at him, sensing the edges of his hurt as sharp and clear for all his grown up behavior and apparent maturity. She was right, there was a wounded little boy under the Metropolis faade; a boy who had just seen his entire world fall apart and must feel like the loneliest person alive. For all the manipulation that had lead her, Jonathan and Clark here and into a blatantly unfair position, how could anyone with a modicum of feeling turn away from him now? Perhaps more importantly, she knew she couldn't.

"Then you're welcome to come home with me, Jonathan... and Clark if that's what you want."

"Stop saying that. I can't have what I want, so stop saying that!" It was a quiet hiss as he moved to walk past her, straight-backed with fingers fidgeting at the cuffs of his shirt and coat.

Martha took a sharp breath and released it slowly; they had a long way to go with this one, she could see that, but he had responded to her. He had wanted to come with them. So it seemed their futures had been decided.

She turned and spoke to the lawyer. "Mr. Long, my husband and I have decided to honor Lillian Luthor's request."

"If you and your husband would like to start signing the papers, then..." Mr. Long offered quietly, gesturing towards his office. "No one will dare to contest this; if they do try to, ah, young mister Luthor's lawyer will take care of the matter." And young mister Luthor was already inviting himself into the office, pulling open the door and pausing curiously in the doorway as he waited for them to follow.

Martha hadn't noticed as she said to the lawyer, "Are there any significant details or clauses we need to be aware of before we sign?"

"His allowance from his trust fund is non-negotiable, but beyond that... nothing I can think of that you'd protest to. No conditions any different than what you probably agreed to for your son."

Martha nodded. Meaning the standard adoption clauses: their duties as parents to provide education, shelter, and a home and not to abuse the child in any way. There was less chance of that with them than there was with some guardian appointed by the business. At least she could genuinely say that they would do their very best for any son of theirs -- foundling or fosterling. "I understand. Is this a case where Alexander will come home with us today or do we have to wait?" she asked as they entered the office.

The lawyer looked at her as they entered the office together. "If the paperwork is completed, there is no reason why he should not go home with you today."

Jonathan was sitting down, Clark in his lap, and Alexander was sitting as far away from them both as he could without having to physically move a chair over into the corner.

Mr., Long moved to pull a hefty stack of papers from a briefcase, and two videotapes. "These are for you and Alexander -- Lillian's personal messages."

"Thank you," Martha said politely, taking the tape. "Is this something we have to watch before we sign or does it not matter?"

"It doesn't matter," Mr. Long said easily. "I believe they were personal messages, not legally binding contracts."

"Then we'll watch them at home," Martha said, glancing at Jonathan, to communicate the decision that had been made and receiving a barely perceptible nod in response. "Where do we sign?"

"Bottom of every page." The man handed them a stack of maybe twenty pages, before settling to sit down himself. Alexander boredly watched them sign the papers as if it weren't his future being signed across to complete strangers and it didn't matter to him at all.

It was fortunate that Martha had at least enough experience from her father's insistence on bringing work home to have a passing familiarity with what they were signing. She couldn't spot any nasty pitfalls, even as she scanned each page looking for the traps for the unwary that she had been taught about. He'd always hoped that she would follow in his footsteps into the legal profession and then later that she would go into another profession aside from farming and being a housewife. It served her well now, even as she mentally noted the provision to make sure they as guardians could not siphon off his fortune save what was allocated to them, and eventually nodded as they signed the last paper.

Mr. Long flipped through the papers once Jonathan had signed behind her name, and then nodded. "Let me find the property keys..."

"The property keys?" Martha queried, looking at Jonathan. Surely they weren't going to be expected to move? There had been mention of properties that had gone directly into Alexander's name, which they had control over until his majority, but...

Jonathan had a quirky look on his mouth, like he expected to be told that Alexander came with keys and needed to be re-wound on a regular basis. He was too quiet and too still and too watchful of them even with his feigned disinterest. Even Clark was moving, kept 'good' only by promise of sugar.

"To the penthouse and other properties. They're Alexander's now, and can't be sold, but... one might as well make use of them. The Penthouse in Luthor Towers is, of course, where the Luthors lived..." Mr. Long turned away to pull a set of keys out of his briefcase -- thirty or more different keys.

"Ah. We will be returning to Smallville shortly," Martha replied, trying to encompass the fact that there were "properties". "We'll stop by and Alexander can pick up anything he wants to bring with him."

"A wise decision." He offered the keys to Jonathan, who pocketed them with a faint scowl tugging at his mouth, getting up from his seat a little and jostling Clark who started squirming in anticipation of getting out of the stuffy office. "I think that's all. If you need to contact me, this is my number. Our offices already have your information."

"Why, exactly?" Jonathan chanced after a moment, carefully trying to hold Clark still.

"Well, I am Alexander's lawyer." He had a slight, shark-like smile that faded sadly.

"Thank you, Mr. Long," Martha replied, ready to count the man as an ally. "Could you dispatch all the information that we need to deal with to our address? I think it's going to take a little bit of time to absorb." That was a definite understatement -- she was going to have to pour over the details carefully to get to the bottom of the maze Lillian Luthor had created for them.

"I'll have it delivered later today," he promised. "You can leave when you're comfortable. Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Kent, it was a pleasure to meet you... And you, Alexander. I'm sure things will work out." Without so much as a handshake, Mr. Long left the office. It was a vaguely heartening gesture. At least he trusted them not to steal anything.

Martha looked around at her newly extended family as the regarded each other with varying levels of awkwardness. "Perhaps I should introduce you all before we leave. Alexander, this is Jonathan, and this is our son Clark," she said, gesturing to the pair of them.

Alexander had his hands folded tightly in his lap, and just nodded to them. "Pleasure to meet you."

Not what Jonathan had been expecting. He swallowed and shot Martha a tense look before looking back at Alexander. "You, too."

Clark wriggled around and looked at the other boy again. "'Lex!" he declared happily, much to Martha's surprise. He at least seemed unperturbed, or at the least totally oblivious to the young boys reserve.

That was on good thing, at least there didn't seem to be any sort of rejection from Clark's side of things; Martha had a feeling it was going to be difficult enough to get through to Alexander without problems with Clark too.

"Are we ready to go?" she suggested. "We'll go back and get some things from the Penthouse, Alexander, and then head home."

"All right." He slid out of the chair, and rubbed at one eye a moment before stopping himself. Jonathan started to stand, and Alexander finally approached him, eyeing him like he was... something. Something non-parental that he was clearly unsure about.

Then he looked at Clark who was still watching him as if he was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. "Why did you name him your maiden name, Martha?"

Martha looked at Alexander, cataloguing the fact that Lillian had obviously spoken to her son about them in some detail. "I wanted to have a connection to both sides of the family," she replied truthfully, if a little evasively. "I'd always considered it as a name for a boy."

"It... fits," Alexander decided, still eyeing Clark thoughtfully. "Yes, I'm Lex, Clark. Mom called me that. Double Ls run in the family." Clark beamed at being addressed directly, his smile bright and ready as he chortled a little at being proven right about the other boy's name.

Jonathan cracked a fraction of a smile, and shifted to try to hold Clark in one arm. "Come on -- we'll help you get enough to get you by for a couple of weeks, and have the rest, uh, sent."

"Do you prefer being called Lex then?" Martha asked as they moved to leave.

"Y... yes," Alexander -- who apparently wanted to be called 'Lex' -- decided on the spur of the moment. "Do you know how to get to Luthor Towers?"

"Well, roughly but it would be useful if you could guide us in, Lex." Everyone knew where the Luthor Towers building was -- it was very hard to miss the tallest building to date in Metropolis. She gave a few polite nods to various people as they left, but practically hurried out to avoid any additional contact with the people there than necessary. Somehow she instinctively felt that the longer Alex... no, Lex was around them, the worse it would be. If they thought to get in with the Kents, they would have a hard job doing so.

They felt like leeches, but there was still enough of a sense of shock over what had just happened that nothing was said, at least to them. No doubt it would be said plenty of times to each other, to the media and press or discussed at business meetings across the dizzy heights of Metropolis' boardrooms. Martha was aware that in one way it was a very astute move. The Kents would be no threat to any of the existing powers, and as such Lex would be protected by their lack of prominence. It hadn't all been about emotion, there had been hard logic behind the choice as well. She wouldn't have expected anything else. Alexander walked off to their side, stern and well composed, but once they were out in the hallway and headed for the elevator, he gravitated fractions closer.

"We're not taking the helicopter, are we?"

"Uh..." Martha looked startled. The thought hadn't even occurred to her. "No sweetheart, I'm sorry, we'll be driving back to Smallville."

He wrinkled his nose a little as they got into the elevator, tugging at the cuffs of his coat. "I'm not sorry."

Jonathan was giving Martha 'Help' looks that screamed confusion. It was one thing to have to raise a three year old; another to bring a child who was almost ten into the family.

Martha patted Jonathan's arm again, reassuring as she turned her attention back to Alexander. "Not keen on flying?" she continued, making conversation, pressing the button to take them down to the reception level and free from the building.

"I don't like heights. Dad used to make me look out the window, and then I couldn't breathe. It wasn't... fun." He watched the lights on the button panel for a moment, then looked up to watch the floor numbers. "Cars are much better."

"Ever been in a truck before?" Jonathan asked around what sounded like a frog in his throat. "A pickup?"

"Standard transmission, or automatic?" Alexander twisted around to look at Jonathan, a gleam dancing in his flat blue eyes.

"Standard," Martha answered for him. "At least when it's working and he's not tinkering around the insides of it." She smiled at her husband indulgently. She was already starting a 'Mom' list for Lex, and the fact he didn't like heights was on there, the fact that he had... what sounded like asthma or a panic attack? That was important too.

He had to have a medical record somewhere. And a birth certificate, social security card... But things were a mess just then, and they'd have to wing it until everything was sorted.

"Can I, maybe, watch you next time it's not working?"

Jonathan was looking at Lex like he were the child who dropped out of the sky, and not Clark. "Uh, sure. Most kids your age would find that boring, but if you want to..."

"I'm sure he could use the help. If nothing else to stop Clark running off with his wrench," Martha smiled, trying to send Jonathan subtle cues to pick up the bonding opportunity and run with it.

Jonathan finally seemed to relax, and nodded, "Sure thing -- actually, I was going to change the oil this weekend. You can help."

"I'd like that," Lex said with a tiny smile, before he turned around with the oddest sense of decorum before the elevator doors opened at the lobby floor.

He was used to being on show, used to being expected to be perfect all the time, Martha considered. "I'll make a point of not scrubbing the floors until you've finished making a mess then," she said dryly as they exited and she took advantage of their close proximity to absently shepherd Lex in closer to her.

Lex shied away. Nothing monumental, but a step off to the side while going forwards, forestalling any attempts to touch him. And he stayed quiet, looking straight ahead as they walked. Jonathan broke the quiet by jostling Clark a little, and then leaning into Martha.

"Let's stop somewhere for dinner. Someplace normal? And with ice cream." He shot Clark a little smile, to assure him that he was keeping his promise.

"Sounds like a good idea," Martha said, trying not to take the resistance to contact personally. Lex's mother had just died, it would be hard for him to accept the person he might see as trying to take her place just get so close so soon. "Before or after we get Lex's things?"

"After?" Jonathan picked up his pace a bare fraction. "Lex, do you want to change out of that suit when we get to the, uh, penthouse?"

"I guess?" Lex gave him the most curious look, frowning at them both. "Should I?"

"Well, on a farm things get messed up kind of quickly, so we tend to be a bit more casual," Martha said. "We save our suits and finery for special occasions." She gave a smile again as they reached the truck.

Lex paused in front of it and stared quite openly, then looked at the two doors, and then the front of it again.

"Something wrong?" Jonathan asked gently, but Martha could still tell that he was bristling a fraction. A person didn't criticize a Kent man's truck if he valued his life, not even by looking at it strangely.

"There's only two doors. Where do I sit?"

"You'll sit with Clark and I on this side." Martha explained realizing the odds of Lex having been confronted with this situation before were very minimal. "It'll be a little snug but we fit in."

"Oh." Lex didn't seem disappointed, just thoughtful as he watched Jonathan set Clark down, then unlock the door.

"In you go, sweetheart," Martha lifted Clark in once Jonathan had opened the door and then got in herself reaching out to offer a hand to Lex. "In you come, Lex."

He hesitated, and then clutched her hand tightly with clammy fingers, half-hauling himself up without her help. Nervous, he was every bit as nervous as she was, and once she was close enough to touch him it was almost palpable. Lex leaned ineffectively to try and close the door.

"Allow me, Lex." She leaned across him to pull the door closed, noticing that anxiety. "It's okay."

Clark most definitely thought it was okay. Here was the object of his fascination within reach and he squirmed off of Martha's lap to try and sit next to him, or on him if he could manage it. "'Lex," he announced proudly, as if he'd discovered the other boy all by himself.

"Uh, Clark... sweetheart, don't squash Lex."

The truck burbled and sputtered when Jonathan keyed it to life. He pulled out of the parking garage, careful of the more expensive cars around them.

"It's okay," Lex said, shifting over a fraction to press closer to the door, giving Clark more room. "He... I remember him?"

Martha nodded, pleased at the recollection. "When we met you," she said in a soft voice. "It was the day we adopted him. We took you to the hospital." She remembered how peculiarly fascinated Clark had been with the very sick young boy, how he had leaned out of her arms to gently touch his face before smiling and sitting back. Lex had been barely conscious at the time, but it must have made an impression on him. "He seemed to like you a lot then, as well."

Lex nodded a little, peering at Clark. He let one hand settle atop Clark's smaller fingers, and his other hand was fidgeting as if he wanted to rub at his eyes again. "Why doesn't he talk...?"

"English isn't his first language," Martha replied truthfully, but failed to add that they weren't entirely sure what his first language actually was. "But he's just started to speak a few words and he does seem to understand what's said to him. In a few weeks I have a feeling we won't be able to stop him from talking."

Clark's smaller fingers twined in amongst Lex's without hesitation and Martha was silently sending out `thank you's' that the pair of them were establishing some sort of a connection. "Lex honey, is there something wrong with your eyes?"

He nodded jerkily, and didn't answer right away. Instead he peered over at Martha, and looked at her as if he was gauging her. People in her father's office had once done that, years and years ago, but they weren't little boys. "My eyelashes are implanted, and they itch still."

"Ah, I see." Martha nodded taking that on board. The effects of the meteor no doubt -- she remembered Lionel's horror that all of Lex's hair had fallen out. Maybe it had literally been ALL of his hair. "Do you have any medication to help with that?"

"In the cabinet at home. Heather couldn't find it..." He looked out the window at passing traffic for a moment, then over to Martha. "You think I'm a freak, don't you? Everyone else does."

"Of course I don't Lex." Martha was horrified at the thought. "Who's said that to you?"

"People don't need to say it," Lex said quietly, voice intense as he glanced out the window. "I can see it on their faces."

"Lex, sweetheart, you are not a freak," Martha said in a low voice. "If anyone says that to you I want to know," she bristled instinctively on his behalf even as Jonathan drove them to Luthor Towers.

The car fell into silence as thick as mud, and Lex was looking down at his pants, intently studying the knap of the fabric. But he hadn't let go of Clark's hand yet, and that had to count as something.

"Hey, Lex -- why don't you turn on the radio. I think we get all the same stations in Smallville that you have here. If you want to set one on the memory..." Jonathan had learned a useful trick from his own father about children -- bribing and coaxing, and its effectiveness.

Lex shifted a little, and then carefully leaned past Clark to figure out the radio.

Martha sat back a moment trying to assess what need to be done in her own thoughts. There were so many practicalities involved in organizing things -- what they would need to pick up in the way of clothes, necessary items and sentimental ones. Lex would have to have the guest bedroom probably, only Jonathan had only just finished decorating it so the bed was still stored in Clark's room. Which Clark liked to bounce on, and then hide under it in the mornings. They wouldn't be able to move that tonight, but at least it allowed Lex to choose how to arrange his own things and the furniture. If he didn't want to share with Clark for one night, then he would have to sleep on a camp bed or the sofa. There were so many things to sort out... and then tomorrow... well, some point she needed to sit down and read all the legal documents and see that tape as well.

And Lex would have to watch his.

They just weren't things that normal people had to organize. One unexpected child, and then... And there was still the farm to take care of. Jonathan was going to have his hands full as it was. She couldn't expect him to deal with this side of things in any detail. She glanced across at Lex as the sounds flickered in rough bursts from the radio.

Lex sat back, after he'd surfed through four or five channels -- Classical, country, rock, R&B -- and settled on something... synthesized.

Even if the situation were normal, looking after two new additions to the family would take up a lot of time. By no stretch of the imagination could an alien son and a billionaire ward be considered a normal situation. Martha was beginning to think that it was just as well she hadn't taken the job that she'd applied for before Clark had dropped into their lives. If there was one thing she was sure of, their financial situation would most likely improve enough to bring them security, but that was another headache to deal with. Properties, assets, lawyer speak. It could be a fulltime job keeping an eye on that as well as the children -- or even without the children. Well, whatever the case, her main priority would be the two boys and Jonathan. That would never change.

The worse headache was going to be the people in the town. That the Kents with their struggling farm actually had managed to swing an adoption was already a topic of much gossip; toss in a Luthor, and the gossip parlors of Smallville had fuel for years to come. What they couldn't work out they would undoubtedly make up and the only thing she could do was to make everything as low key as she possibly could, adopting a camouflage of normality. Once glance at the bald head of the young boy next to her made her wonder if that plan had disappeared right out the window.

Lex had laid his head back on the seat, relaxing to the cacophony of sounds that was the radio station he'd picked, and closed his eyes, even as Clark leaned against him, silent but alert.

Martha smiled a little and turned toward Jonathan as both the boys seemed reasonably content. "Will you have time to help me get the bed back into the other bedroom tomorrow?" she asked in a low voice. "I might have to go into town at some point... when I know what sort of things you will all like to eat, and make sure we have everything."

"I think Clark'll eat anything you put on a plate." But Jonathan wasn't going to try to guess what Lex would eat. Who knew what a billionaire's son thought was suitable fare? "Tomorrow morning, once everyone is up, I'll move the bed. But not tonight..." He slowed the car down as they drove past Luthor Towers, looking for the parking garage.

"Not tonight no," Martha replied. "There's the turn, Jonathan."

"No, it's not. It's around the back, and there's a pass code." Lex sat up and rubbed at his eyes briefly with his free fingers, before leaning a little to look around. He was still holding onto Clark's hand, but looked like he might have forgotten he was.

"Do you know what the pass code is Lex?" Martha asked not having even thought about that. It really was a different world in the Luthor's area of Metropolis.

Lex might have a harder transition to face than she'd thought.

"Of course. It's uhm..." He chewed at a narrow line that marred his top lip. "Billy works the gate. He'll know it," Lex decided calmly.

"Hope he does," Jonathan murmured, as he turned into the gated entrance and stopped at the guard's booth.

Martha smiled out at the Guard. "Hi there, we're just taking Alexander to get some things? He's just told us there is a pass code, which I don't think was given to us with the keys by Mr. Long... unless it's with the documents. Um, could you possibly help us?"

"I don't know the elevator or the penthouse pass code, but..." The guard -- who looked more like a secret service agent from a movie than a guard or an off duty policeman -- leaned out to make sure that Lex was indeed in the truck with them.

Lex nodded almost curtly to the man, and there was only a brief pause before the gates opened.

"Have a good day."

"Well I hope you know those Lex, or this will be a very short trip," Martha smiled as Jonathan pulled the truck forward. If the worse came to the worse they could phone the lawyers and ask them to give them the pass codes.

"I know these ones," Lex said quietly, as they rolled forwards into the well-lit parking garage. There were a bevy of other cars -- expensive cars, new cars, antique cars, all of them gleaming. Lex leaned up against the window to look at them.

"Who's are all these?" Martha asked amazed, looking around blinking slightly.

"... I guess they're mine, now." Lex waited until the truck had stopped, and shook off Clark's hand to try to open the heavy door.

"You are probably right," Martha said leaning across again to assist. She gave a 'can you believe this?' look to Jonathan as she help the boys out.

Jonathan gave a frustrated sigh, and shook his head, then climbed out of the driver's seat. There had to be at least twenty cars, probably more, at a quick glance. Lex seemed all right with it, not half as overwhelmed as the Kents were by it, and walked through the cars towards an elevator door.

"Up we go, Clark." Jonathan scooped him up, and followed after Lex. "Who needs this many cars, Martha?"

"No one needs this many cars," Martha replied. "They just want them. And the difference is they can afford them."

"We're in over our heads..." Jonathan whispered, trailing off as they came up to the elevator.

Lex had already got the door to open, and was holding the door ajar. "What can I take with me?"

"Well, right now, as we weren't really prepared for this, we'll take clothes and things you really need for right now," Martha said calmly. "Essentials. We can come get other things another time, but it will have to be what we can carry today Lex okay?" She was privately agreeing with Jonathan as they all entered the lift. Lord knew she could pack a suitcase in record time, which was principally because she and Jonathan had very little that they could actually pack. Plus, going away from the farm for long periods of time just weren't an option.

"Can I bring books?" Lex was leaning back against the side of the elevator, but moved long enough to punch the button that told it to go up to the penthouse.

"Well, bring some for now... and we'll come back and get some more. You have a lot?" Martha asked a little disturbed at how he was asking permission for everything. Was this normal for him, or something that occurred since his parents died?

He nodded languidly, and leaned back against the side of the elevator again, keeping space between them. "What do you like to read?" Jonathan asked -- clutching at a thread of conversation with the odd little boy.

"Everything. I read comics and history books, and science books..."

Another mental note on the 'Mom' checklist. "Well, I can see I'll be signing you up at the public library as a priority," Martha said lightly. It was strange, she would have thought he would be more relaxed here on his home ground, but he still seemed reserved. The elevator was smooth and silent and their arrival at the Penthouse level was signaled with a very discrete chime and opening of the doors. The place was completely silent as if the air itself were afraid to move.

"You can get the things I read at the public library?" Lex asked curiously, and stepped out into the hallway. He blended into the crisply painted walls, the wood trim, the delicate touches of chrome here and there, leading towards a set of double-doors. There was no key-pad in sight, but Lex reached for a panel and stood on his tiptoes to put the number in.

"Oh, I'm sure we can... There's a key, too, isn't there?" Jonathan reached into his pocket with his free hand, and held the keys out when Lex was done putting the code in. "Any idea which one is which?"

"There's a purple tag on it."

Martha fumbled through the large bunch of keys, found the purple-tagged key and slipped it in the lock. They door opened smoothly onto the sort of designer opulence that Martha could barely comprehend actually existed.

Everyone flipped through the magazines and saw entryways like that; houses that were impossibly lavish, clean and beautiful, decorated and stocked with the finest of everything. Lex strode in calmly, easily, but glanced around with clear unease in his eyes. Just his eyes, as he led the way through a very posh living room, decorated with the finest dark fabrics and leathers.

"It's not the same..."

"What's wrong sweetheart?" Martha asked, alerted by a difference in his tone. "What's not the same?" That his parents weren't there most likely. Coming back without them had to be shocking for him.

"It just..." He hesitated, and glanced around a moment more before almost tripping on the edge of an expensive Persian rug. Then he took off in a run, taking a sharp turn down the hallway and towards a set of steps.

"Hey, hold on!" Jonathan called; but he was reluctant to chase after Lex with Clark clinging to him.

Martha took off after him, not wanting to lose track of him. Exchanging Clark with Jonathan would have taken time. "Lex? Lex what's wrong?!" she called, managing to stay in sight of him. He was fast, but the length of the hallway allowed her time to see where the upset nine year old was headed.

Lex didn't answer her question, and jerked open the door at the end of the winding upstairs hallway, and tried to slam it behind him, clearly wanting to be alone.

Martha reached the door and paused. Her instincts told her to go cautious, so she knocked and then opened the door. "Lex, honey?" she said, again in a softer tone as she peered in.

It wasn't a little boy's bedroom, or even the bedroom of a rich boy. A four-poster bed was central to the room, sleek and twisted metal covered with expensive-looking purple sheets. The walls were laden with shields and book-cases, but there was a makeup-table over to the side. His parents' room, and the closet door was swung open explaining why there was no immediate sign of Lex.

Martha made her way over to the closet and crouched down carefully to peer inside. "Lex... Lex, I know it must hurt, it's okay to be upset," she murmured coaxingly. "Why don't you tell me what's upsetting you and we'll talk about it, okay?"

The closet wasn't exactly narrow, but Lex had managed to tuck himself in towards the back and was making strained noises between breaths as if he was trying very hard to suppress an unbearable emotion. "It's not right... it doesn't feel like them anymore..."

"I know, Lex, but you still remember them, right?" Martha was winging this and if Jonathan had thought they were out of their depth before, she felt beyond that now. Words seemed so inadequate in the face of such loss, but she had to try and say something. "You don't have to forget them, they both loved you... that's where it will feel like them -- in your memories, not in a place."

"But this is home. It should feel like them." He shifted away from her, pressing back against a garment bag that crackled like plastic. "It sort of feels like them here." Another strained noise, and he swallowed that down as if he would choke himself with the pressure of it all.

"It's okay to cry sweetie," Martha replied with utter gentleness, as she shifted to kneel. "Why does it feel like them here?"

"Because..." He shifted, looking up at the clothes hanging around his head. "It feels like them. That... that's mom's favorite dress..." His voice broke as he pointed to an un-plasticed sage-colored evening gown. "And those are dad's suits. And it smells like them, like perfume and cologne and, and..." His voice broke again, and he strangled on a sob before hiding his face against his knees.

"Martha...?" Jonathan's voice, and there were littler foot-steps with him that said Clark was down on his feet and walking.

Martha turned her head to look at Jonathan, her face a picture of concern and compassion. "I guess things kind of... caught up with him."

Clark ran over and stopped looking strangely solemn, probably in response to her own expression as he looked into the darkness. "Lex?" he queried in a worried sounding tone.

"Lex just needs some time Clark," Martha replied, not wanting her youngest son upset as well. Tears could start other tears and it was probably best that Clark didn't see him right now. "Perhaps, we... uh."

She trailed off because Clark had taken a dive into the closet and onto Lex and a movement so swift that an attempt to grab him caught only air. "Clark, honey, come out of there."

Lex hitched a breath, and still crying, looked up at Clark in the dim light of the closet, flickers of light casting bands of illumination that etched his features in a young child's expression of worry, all for Lex. The glance of light over his eyes showed an openness and sincerity that were so clear and deep he could fall into them. There was no guile there, no threat, nothing of the traps that adults could make of their words and concerns. Clark was too young, too innocent to have anything there save real concern and affection, however simple and uninformed. But it was enough.

Large green eyes studied Lex and then fingers reached out to touch his cheek again where the damp of tears glistened. Then with no fuss or even another sound, Clark just wrapped his arms around the older boys neck and clung to him as a warm comforting weight. And Lex clung back, sobbing against him.

Jonathan looked on in strained wonderment, stooping down to be on eye level with the boys, and Martha. "You stay here, and I'll see if there's anything for him to drink in the kitchen and investigate the medicine cabinets. If I can find them."

Martha nodded. "I think that's a good idea," she replied in a low voice, amazed at the instincts of Clark. He just acted as if he thought it was the thing to do, responding to the hurt in the other boy with a rightness that she couldn't fault.

When Jonathan left, she didn't interrupt for a while, even as Lex poured out a fraction of the hurt that had grown in him since his loss of his parents. He was holding Clark so hard and closely it was a wonder that the youngster didn't protest. Instead, he just snuggled in tighter, dark hair providing soft wisps of comfort against his sensitive skin. When his sobs finally slowed, Clark leaned back a little, patted the still damp cheek and looked around at Martha. His mother took that as a sign to offer the drink that Jonathan had brought back.

"Lex sweetheart, would you like a drink? And then maybe we can talk a little?"

There was a bright glimmer of a tear-damped eye looking back at her, even as Clark elected to use this as the time to hurtle out to cling to her. She smiled down at him and wondered whether it was just a coincidence that Clark seemed to be demonstrating with actions what he couldn't say in words.

Lex nodded slightly, and scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve as he crawled out towards her.

"Good, here's some juice. Then if you're up to it, we'll see about getting some things," Martha said hopefully, as she passed over the glass.

It took a few sips of juice before he really talked, still almost crying, but much calmer. "I know where everything should go."

"Where everything... what do you mean sweetheart?"

"It can't just stay here. Like it's... waiting for them." Lex clung to his juice-glass, and to Clark's hand, whispering as he half-looked around the room. If he left it waiting it would be like it was constantly calling them back and he knew he couldn't have that. There was no going back.

"What do you want us to do, Lex?" Martha asked carefully. Put the stuff into storage maybe. That might be the sensible option -- get Lex's things and put the rest under wraps. There were things here that Lex might want to reclaim with his memories in later years, on his own terms.

The not quite ten-year-old chewed his bottom lip for a moment. "I know where it could go... but they haven't finished moving the castle yet."

Martha looked at Jonathan, remembering the latest town gossip and disgust at the extravagance of the Luthor family. Ironically the work in progress had been one of the only things that the meteors hadn't affected. "The Castle being moved to Smallville." Sensible at least, familiar things in an unfamiliar setting. The Penthouse could be redecorated so that the memories weren't so harsh and fresh there. "That's a good idea Lex -- we could store it until then, and when it's finished, put it up there."

He nodded jerkily, and drank the last of his juice with an unsure look on his face. "We should... go to my room?"

"Yes dear," Martha said gently, straightening up properly. "If you're ready?"

Lex shrugged, and then self-consciously let go of Clark's fingers, wrapping both hands around the glass before he started towards the open door.

Clark looked at Martha, smiled and then ran after Lex. Martha smiled automatically, and followed. Clark could get through the boy's barriers where she would struggle, she could see that. She was beginning to suspect that Lex had been taught to be suspicious of other people's motives, which she guessed was natural when you were a billionaire. She just hoped this wouldn't be too much of an ordeal for him. God knew that she was finding it a bit of a strain.

Lex was quiet, and had odd moments of openness, and then odder moments of closing off entirely. He led the way, quietly, to another door -- past the impossibly huge, gilded bathroom where Jonathan was rummaging through the cabinets -- and swung it open.

It wasn't exactly what Martha would call a normal little boy's bedroom, but if there was one thing that she was rapidly coming to appreciate, it was that Lex Luthor was not a normal little boy. The bed was almost as big as his parent's bed had been, the sheets were pale lavender, and scattered with plastic-encased comic books. There were books in cases lining the walls, a fine oak desk, and delicate models of space ships and cars, and battle scenes with tiny toy soldiers on another.

Martha looked around adding more things to her mental list as she went to the wardrobe, looking for a case or bag to put things in. With the traveling the Luthors did, there was bound to be something. "Lex, why don't you select some of the things you definitely want to bring with you hmm? Put them on the bed?"

There was almost no hesitance as he headed towards his bed to pull the comics into a neat pile. Foremost were two issues of a comic called 'Warrior Angel', and he handled those with care as he put them atop the usual sorts.

"Clark, do you... like cars?" Lex half-asked the little boy, who was staring in wide-eyed fascination at all the wonderful things that adorned the sides and shelves.

Clark tilted his head questioningly. "Car?" he asked with enough of a tone in it to convey that he wasn't questioning what he was talking about, but rather asking 'what about them?'

Lex nodded, walking over to pick up a heavy die-cast silver Ferrari, stylish and sleek in its miniature perfection. "Like this. Do you like them? This is my favorite..."

Clark's eyes went wide and he reached trying to touch the object. "Car!" This time he sounded impressed. Martha, who was busy packing the most casual clothes she could find, found herself amused at the inflections Clark could put into a single syllable.

Its shining silver surface was offered down to Clark with a faint, almost smile. Then Lex walked over to Martha, watching her pack away his clothes as if it were the most normal thing. There were a lot of sweaters, long-sleeved shirts and knitted things, pressed shirts and two, three pairs of denim in amongst silks and wools.

"Should I get any of my suits?"

"We'll take your favorite one for best," Martha said smiling a little. "There's not a huge amount of call for suits on a farm."

Lex looked hesitant, then nodded and almost darted over towards his closet. "And my books? I don't know what I can bring... I..."

"Lex, honey, we'll eventually bring all of it... but this is for right now okay? Things that will make you feel more comfortable," Martha repeated again, trying a reassuring smile. It was almost like he expected to be uprooted and never be allowed to come back again.

And maybe he was. He didn't have a reply to that, just dug quietly around in his closet until he came out with a metal box tucked under one arm. "I'd rather have this with me than a suit. Mom said I'm getting taller, so they won't fit well soon anyway."

"Certainly... what is it?" Martha asked quizzically, finding another case and putting the comics, books and other selected items in there and leaving it open, for the space to be filled up with extra's. It would be heavy, but Jonathan was strong enough to heft around bales of straw and this wouldn't be that heavy.

"Mom said it was made from St. George's armor," Lex said quietly, offering the ornate box up to Martha to look at. "I keep my watch and D... Dad's cross there now, Mom's, too."

Martha touched the box carefully, impressed by the exquisitely crafted pattern that wouldn't have been out of place in a museum. "It's beautiful Lex." She stroked her fingers over the metal, feeling the peculiar sense of reverence that sometimes came from touching something very old with centuries of history layered into it. "Is there anything else of your mom and dad's you want to take, just for you, and keep in there?"

He stared at her fingers stroking the box, and then turned to wander out. "Yes," he said, voice wavering but trying to sound firm, "I'll be back."

"Get what you want Lex, we're nearly done packing." She called out after him, wondering how Jonathan was getting on. Clark was being remarkable well behaved, but he must be getting hungry by then and he really did like his food.

Clark puttered around Lex's bedroom, picking up things and investigating them curiously. Everything were interesting shapes and neat colors, as if made to delight a child's eyes, yet tasteful. The toy soldiers had sharp colors, but they were detailed -- just like the model car Lex had handed Clark.

"Martha, can you come in here a second? To the bathroom?" Jonathan called.

"Coming! Clark, sweetheart, go find Lex will you?" she said, and pointed him towards where Lex had vanished into his parents' room, then detoured at the bathroom to see her husband.

"What is it, Jonathan?"

"Do you want to see the medicine cabinet first, Martha, or the 'medicine' cabinet?" Jonathan scowled from where he was kneeling. A filigree metal screen had been pulled aside to reveal shelves -- pain medications, inhalers, an odd assortment of over the counter medications mixed in with prescriptions, some new some old. Just like anyone's medicine cabinet, filled with often out-dated preparations.

But there was a door that Jonathan was kneeling in front of, that he'd unlocked and swung open. It was a series of neat compartments, stuffed with plastic baggies, sterile-wrapped syringes.

"Oh my... lord. Is that...?" Martha looked at Jonathan to see if she was being overly dramatic in her assumption of what this other 'medicine' could be. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I don't know what it is, Martha, but it isn't flour," Jonathan muttered as he started to stand. The door clicked closed, and if it hadn't been for the key in the lock, it would've looked like another panel in the wall beneath the rest of the medicine cabinent.

"Leave it," Martha said, wanting to back away from that, not wanting to touch it. "I'll take the normal medications that are for Lex... and we'll let some discrete LuthorCorp employees deal with this. We're nearly done in there."

He nodded, and started to peer through the shelves to see what was recent and made out to Lex. None of the asthma medications were new, or dated since October, which struck him as odd, but there was a prescription for his eyes, and another for pain. "Do you think that was Lionel's?"

"I can only assume so. I guess it might have been Lillian's but..." Martha pursed her lips a little. "Lionel's most likely. I hear many top executives... go that way." She couldn't help but wonder if having a drug habit had somehow contributed to Lionel's collapse and death. Had he used drugs to cope, directly after the events of the Meteors? Had that been the real cause of death?

"We're really in over our heads, Martha," Jonathan sighed, turning to her with a tense expression and glanced at the three things he'd picked out of the cabinet. "But I'll be damned if I'm going to let anyone drown if I can help them."

"I know." Martha's look was proud and she didn't bother to hide it. "We'll get through the problems, don't worry."

Somehow her assurance heartened him; some of the tension melted from his face, and he offered her the medications. "It looks like his asthma is... better? None of his inhalers are usable."

"Martha? Jonathan?" Lex was standing in the doorway, two framed photographs clutched tight to himself, his other hand holding onto Clark's as if he were guiding him. "I found it."

Martha looked around, pleased that he was calling them by name rather than the formal Mr. and Mrs. Kent. "Good, I was going to suggest photos, Lex. That's good. We're just getting your medicines. You haven't refilled your asthma inhalers... Is that something we need to do, honey?"

Lex gave that now familiar awkward fidget, looking down at the tile beneath his shoes. "No?"

"You don't have asthma any more?" Martha asked quizzically.

Lex sighed quietly, and turned away from them, tugging at Clark's hand. "No," he told the hallway more than them. "I don't."

Martha put a hand on his shoulder gently, feeling a tension there that belied his calm exterior. "Lex, we'll talk about this when we get back to Smallville okay? But there's nothing to worry about with us... you can tell us anything."

"You should trust us," Jonathan agreed gently, moving past Martha to look at Lex's face while he talked. "We're going to trust you."

"I'm scared," Lex whispered, almost whimpered. His shoulder shifted under Martha's hand, and he was clutching almost too tight to Clark's fingers. "And I'm tired, and I want my mom and d-daddy back. Stop asking me to do things! I don't know!"

"Sweetheart... oh, Lex." Martha ached for him having to make so many decisions so swiftly after such a loss. "I wish I could do that for you, I really do."

It was instinctive to her to draw them both into a comforting embrace, even though she had noted he resisted physical contact. "I think we need to take things a little more slowly, get to know each other. But I want you to know, we will love and care for you... for you and Clark, no matter what."

He jerked with tension, but didn't pull away. "That's what I want to hear." Lex said that almost to himself, then jerked weakly again, and almost made a sobbing noise. "People who want to use you say nice things like that! Please don't, don't say that, I like you, I want to trust you..."

Hands pried at his fingers, Jonathan gently extracting pictures, and medications from them, and then he laid fingers against the back of Lex's head. "Son, you need to calm down. You're hungry, and you probably need to sleep, and it's been a heck of a day. We'll go get dinner."

Martha nodded. "You can trust us Lex, but we'll let you do it in your own time," she said, and gave him a light kiss on the forehead before getting up and giving him some space again. "Let's get going."

"Okay." His voice was small, and he tugged at Clark's fingers to drag him back towards the bedroom. "I have everything, then. You have paper at your house? And pens? It... It'd be silly if I bothered bringing that stuff if you have it."

"They do have paper and pens in Smallville, yes." Martha smiled a little. "Jonathan, can you help us with the suitcases?" she asked even as Clark trotted off after Lex.

"Sure, Martha..." He followed after the boys, and left Martha to bring up the end.

She was left with the feeling that despite it all, she was still living the ideal life. Her father's world, the one she'd been half-raised in, was a frightening place for an adult to witness, let alone live and raise children in.

Having seen Lex's indecision, his response to kindness and affection as meaning that the other person wanted something, she just hoped that despite the tragic circumstances, being with them could convince Lex that it was possible to be loved without the other person wanting anything but to be loved in return. She hoped that his fear of being used, the expectation he had to be strong and perfect all the time, was not already so ingrained that it was too late for him to change.

Hiding her worried concern, she followed after them all and then with a bit of cajoling managed to shepherd all the men-folk of her family, old and young, out of the alien world of the penthouse. It left the silence to settle over the memories of a couple who had everything -- and now, for all their riches, they left their son to the care of strangers, far away from those sterile lofty heights of power.

Dinner had actually been good, if simple, when Lex compared it against things he normally ate. But he'd liked it. Chicken fingers and French fries -- no fork offered to him -- a milkshake, and a big sundae, all of it eaten just a tad too fast. Talking a little, being talked at, and showing Clark how to use a stencil with his crayons, had distracted him enough to relax and eat with a relish he hadn't felt in weeks.

Now he was faced with newness, and his stomach was protesting along with his heart. He'd clambered out of the truck when it had stopped, then just stopped and stared.

It was all hay and dirt and fences and cows, like the ranch in Montana. Where they'd all ridden horses, and... Dad had showed him the best ways to ride a horse, and they'd played a game about Alexander the Great leading men to battle. The memory was crisp in his mind, and was struck with the sudden thought that he might forget things like that. That he might someday look at the fields and not-remember.

And there was absolutely no way he could tell any of them that.

"Well here we are," Martha said and gave a slight smile. "It's quite a bit different from your own place." Which was most definitely an understatement. Lex knew she was watching him carefully, looking for signs of... something.

Lex just took a step forwards on the dead grass, and then glanced down at his loafers. There was snow on the ground that just... wasn't there in the city. It was scraped up and salted away, and he was suddenly aware that he was cold. "It is," he agreed, glancing back up. A few more steps away from the truck, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. "It's like in Montana."

"Oh, you've been to a farm in Montana?" Martha asked, as she opened the door. "Let's get you inside, the wind can make it a bit chilly out here -- might snow again tonight."

"Okay... it does, it looks like the ranch. We spent... we..." Just that past Christmas, him his mother, alone in that serene beauty. He didn't want to think about it at all, and didn't bother to try to keep talking.

"Clark, don't run off!" Jonathan called to the little boy, as he trudged behind them with Lex's heavy bags. At the outburst, Lex twisted to see where Clark was.

"Jonathan, where'd he go?" Martha called out peering behind them. "He can't have gotten that far, can he?"

"I'll be -- danged," Jonathan huffed, his breath billowing in the crisp air as he set Lex's suitcases on the porch, and moved back down from it. "Clark?! He just took off like that... CLARK?"

Lex took a tentative step after Jonathan, a frown twisting his lips. It was so vast. Where could Clark have just... gone to? He was so little that there was no way he could've gotten anywhere. "Clark?"

Over by the barn a small tousled head peeked around the corner and the sound of a distant giggle drifted over to him.

"Clark! Come back over here now! You'll get your best clothes messy!" Martha called out with a surprising amount of volume.

How on earth had he gotten all the way over there anyway?

"I'll get him," Lex volunteered, going quietly down the stairs and towards the far-away barn. It was scary and odd to think that Clark had gotten that far away so fast, but he hadn't seen Clark do it. Maybe Mr. Kent -- no, Jonathan, they'd act funny if he didn't call them by their first names -- hadn't been watching Clark well.

"Clark, it's cold out -- come back!"

Clark didn't seem to be worried by the cold at all. In fact even as Jonathan and Lex came closer, he started running again. This time he hit a slippery patch before he got far and ended up sliding head first in a small drift of snow that had survived in the shadow of the barn.

"Clark!" It was a mingled noise, from both Lex and Jonathan, and Jonathan with his longer legs grabbed a hold of Clark first, jerking him out of the drift and dusting snow and cracks of ice off of his good clothes.

"Is he okay, Mr. Kent?" Lex asked, puffing breath as he caught up with them. He didn't like running, and it made his lungs want to seize, even though they didn't need to anymore.

Clark shook the snow out of his hair and giggled again, not looking at all disturbed by his interior examination of the freezing snow. He wasn't even shivering and he should have been.

It all got a strange look from Lex, but Jonathan blustered over it and hefted Clark up when he stood. "C'mon, Clark. Lex, I bet you're cold. Come on."

Lex fell into step with Jonathan as they headed back to the house, but couldn't tear his eyes off of Clark and his easy giggles and smile. It probably didn't help that Clark leaned over and flicked snow onto Lex deliberately, when he noticed his attention. He wanted to play, and his father and new brother seemed to be cooperating quite nicely.

"Hey!" Lex wiped snow off of his head -- it melted almost right away, cold on his bare scalp and fingers -- and hopped up a little to swat at Clark's leg when they went up the porch steps. "Don't do that to me!"

Clark chortled a little, reaching down to pat at Lex's head gently; it would be difficult for the older boy to retaliate with Clark safe in his father's arms.

Martha had the house looking cozy and warm, and the scent of freshly made coffee drifted, warm and welcoming from the kitchen. "I see you found our runaway," she said dryly. "Heavens, did he decide to go exploring the South Pole?"

"He dove headfirst into a drift back behind the barn," Jonathan told her as he set Clark down, and stripped his jacket off. "Hey, you moved the bags -- all right, I'll just take them upstairs, then, and move things around a little."

Lex took his own coat off, folding it over his arm. It was tidier that way, and his dad did it... had done it, too. "Can I have a cup of coffee?" he asked, wandering towards the kitchen. His stomach might've still been uneasy, but he liked familiar things, and the inside of the Kents home looked nothing like either his home or the Ranch.

"Sure. You didn't get too cold out there?"

"No." Not until Clark had dropped snow on his head. He moved to stand near her, watching her, and then twisted around to look for Clark. "He runs very fast. I can't run that fast..."

"Yes. Maybe we have an Olympic sprinter in the family, hmm?" Martha said, pouring a small cup for Lex. "How do you like it, honey?"

"Lots of milk, and sugar?" He had to ask, just to be sure if he could get away with it. Dad hadn't liked to let him have sugar in his coffee -- prodding him about being a bit too big -- but mom had let him have sugar. And cookies. And ice cream. It didn't matter anymore since he hardly ate often anyway. Sugar in his coffee was fine, and there wasn't anyone to watch him.

"One teaspoon or two?" Martha asked, mixing in the milk and getting out the sugar. She poured out two other cups and a juice mug for Clark. "Jonathan, there's a coffee down here for you!" she called out.

There was the sound of rapid light footsteps running around going on upstairs. Clark had obviously gotten free, and was creating havoc up there.

Lex fidgeted closer to Martha. "Two." Not a question that time, and he was waiting hopefully for it. "There aren't many people here, are there?"

"Coming down, Martha!"

Two were put in and stirred carefully. "There we go," she said passing the cup over. "Here, as in here the farm -- in which case no, we're all there is unless we get a visit -- or here, as in Smallville? In which case, not that many, though there's a fair few thousand. It's a reasonable sized town."

"Not many," Lex decided, reaching for it, and then simply holding it in his hands. It was warm, and he hadn't wanted to admit to cold fingers. "What should I do?"

"Mmm?" Martha looked around, surprised. "Well, drink your coffee for a start, then.... Jonathan was painting the spare room and the bed is in where Clark is, so I'm afraid you'll have to sleep there tonight. Tomorrow we can put together your room for you."

He took a little sip of his coffee, nodding. "Okay. Thanks. This is..." He moved to climb up into one of the chairs at the table, and laid his coat neatly on his lap. "Awkward." Just awkward, and he wanted to go home, and have a home again, only that couldn't happen. And he had the suspicion that the Kents were... just as unsure and uneasy as he was. It made it worse.

Martha sat down as well, looking strangely pleased. "Why don't you tell me why it feels awkward, Lex?" she asked seriously. "I know this is difficult, but we can't do anything to improve things unless we know what you think and feel about it. Give me a try."

She didn't mean what she was asking. No one really wanted to hear the truth, so Lex sat quietly, kicking his legs a little as he took slow sips of coffee. It didn't taste as good as his dad made it, but maybe that was the difference. His dad didn't make it. "Because. There's no reason for me to be here. I hardly... I... I don't know. Sorry. Never mind."

"No, I want to know," Martha said, fixing the too serious, emotionally hurt youngster with her best 'trust me' Look. "What do you mean that there is no reason for you to be here?"

"Because I want to be home. And I haven't got a home anymore... and you already have a home here." And Clark had dropped snow on his head, and then patted him, but Lex wasn't going to say that. It was silly and stupid, and he knew he shouldn't let himself be either. "Conceptually... you have you, Mr. -- Jonathan, and Clark. I'm an outsider."

Martha was silent a moment. "Lex, I can tell you this and it isn't a lie. I know that you'll find it difficult to accept right now, and that's fine. Lex, you aren't an outsider, and you never will be, not here. Me, Jonathan, Clark... we're your family now. The only reason I haven't suggested that you call us Mom and Dad is because I'm sure it'd hurt you, and I definitely don't want you to feel that you have to deny any of your feelings and memories of your parents. But Jonathan and I have always wanted a family, and as your mother probably said, I can't have kids. To me, Clark, and now you, are my sons, and this is your home. Not just a place to stay, or somewhere that you're a guest, but your home where you will always be wanted and welcome." She gave a faint smile at the end of it, still looking at him with a great deal of warmth and sincerity in her expression.

He felt another spike of fear, rational in his mind, and toyed with the cup of coffee. "Mm." Maybe they didn't want to get something out of him. Even if they did, he didn't have any other choices except running away, but he was too scared to do that.

And he liked Clark. Odd little boy, but there was something... a tug, something that made Lex feel like Clark was strange and a lot like him. "Okay."

"Hey there." Jonathan patted Lex's shoulder lightly when he came into the kitchen, the patter of bare feet not far behind him. "I got Clark washed up real quick and into his PJs. Now we just have to get him wound down for bed."

"Mind yourself, Jonathan. Incoming Clark. Clark, sweetheart, juice over here," she beckoned, and the little boy bounced across to her and scrambled onto her lap with surprising force. "Steady there, oops. That's it... try not to spill it, Clark."

"Where's he from?" Lex half-watched Jonathan sit down, but concentrated more on Martha and Clark in that moment.

"Well we're not entirely sure," Martha said truthfully. "The adoption agency had very few details on him." Well, none that they hadn't supplied, that was for sure. "All we know is that he was abandoned... and now he's our Clark." Martha smiled, pressing a kiss to her son's forehead.

Lex's stomach twisted with something bitter and sharp, and he covered his grimace with another sip of coffee. It did have the right amount of milk in it. "Oh. Well, that's good." Talk more, they wanted him to talk, and it was clear to Lex that they'd press at him if he didn't. "He seems happy. Mom said you found him during the... the meteor shower."

"That's right," Jonathan agreed from his seat, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on the table. "He's our bright spot from a horrible day."

Clark's expression shifted a little as if he was able to see or feel what Martha and Jonathan couldn't behind his new brother's calm exterior. He tilted his head as if asking `why was there something wrong', his expression becoming more solemn.

"I'm just glad we found you that day as well, Lex," Martha said.

Lex just nodded, and took another sip of his coffee, then tilted it up to drink down the last drops. "I'm tired. Can you show me where everything is?" Not a suave subject change, but Lex had found the effectiveness of prop and bluntness unmatched.

He didn't want to talk about it much. Not with the therapists his mom had hired, not with anyone but her, and with his mom dead, too... Lex wasn't going to talk about it at all.

Martha nodded. "It's Clark's bedtime as well. Like I said, you'll be sharing for tonight at least... let me show you up to where you'll be staying." She got up, still limpeted by Clark. "Come on, sweetheart. You could probably use the rest."

Lex half-watched Jonathan mouth 'I'll stay here' at Martha, but turned away quickly when he stood, still carrying his jacket. "And where are my suitcases?"

"We took them up, as well. They're in that room, but we'll unpack them tomorrow," Martha replied. "When we get your room sorted out... okay?"

"Okay." Lex glanced around slowly, and then started towards the stairs that Jonathan had started down. "This way, right? You haven't got more than one set of stairs, do you?"

Martha chuckled a little, and Lex got the joke right away - the place was too small. "No, Lex. Just these... follow me."

She led him up the stairs, still carrying Clark. "That's the bathroom whenever you need it. That's our room if you need us for any reason." She glanced at him a moment. "This will be your bedroom." She gestured to a room with dust sheets still draped over everything and then pushed the door open to a smaller room next door with two beds wedged into a space only designed for one. Lex's suitcases were in the corner and Martha looked at Lex as she put Clark down on his bed. "It's a tight squeeze, I'm afraid."

It was a tiny house, actually. Tight squeeze was pressing it a bit far. It was crowded with furniture, crowded, and Lex couldn't remember the last time he was somewhere that wasn't open spaces and room. He slipped past her, and eyed the smallish bed that he assumed was going to be his, before he laid his jacket carefully down on it. "Okay. Thank you."

Martha looked a little nervous. "I'm sorry about this sweetheart -- if we'd had chance to prepare we would have. I know it's not what you're used to."

Lex looked up at her, mouth thinning into a line. She was right -- it wasn't at all what he was used to... "It's better than being alone," he said, lifting deft fingers to his neck to tug at his tie. It wasn't a slip on or a clip on, but an actual knotted piece of fabric that he tugged off while watching Clark and Martha's face.

"You'll never be alone now Lex," Martha promised. "I'll just take Clark to the bathroom while you get changed. Your pajamas are on the top in the black suitcase."

"Okay." Okay, okay, okay... Lex wasn't sure why anyone believed him anymore, but he turned away to fetch his pajamas. Clark looked older than just a baby, so maybe he slept quietly. Not that it mattered, since Lex suspected he wouldn't sleep at all.

He opened up the suitcase mechanically, looking through for clothes and just to see what was in it. Then he undressed just as mechanically, folding everything neatly before he put on his satiny-soft pajamas and realized that it was far too cold to wear them in that house.

Martha could be heard laughing a little with Clark in the bathroom, and then brought him back into the room, tapping on the door and pushing it open. She paused as Clark clambered into his bed and looked at Lex a moment. "Lex, are you going to be warm enough in those?" she asked.

"No. It was much warmer at home." He'd put two pairs of socks on, but that didn't help his cold head or the fact that his pajamas were soft but just too thin. "Unless the blankets are really warm?" They didn't look like they were going to be.

"Hmm." Martha considered the matter for a serious moment. "Let me get the heavier covers... and see what I can find. We'll get you something more substantial tomorrow." She flashed a quick smile and disappeared out of the room on her quest for warmth for him.

He settled down on the bed, and gave Clark a little smile. Once she was back, then he'd go to the bathroom and make sure his eyes were okay. Go into the routine he'd had the past few days, which was a variant of the one he'd had for forever and ever.

Clark looked at him expectantly, as if he wanted Lex to come over with him onto his bed. He looked a bit worried that Lex was over there while he was so obviously over here.

Lex had seen puppies look like that. Well, on TV, and in books. Expectant, like there was something... something he was missing. He scooted up, to sit cross-legged on the flat pillow, leaning towards Clark. "Do you get stories read to you before you go to bed, Clark?"

Clark nodded eagerly. "Story. Lex story?" he asked, kneeling up.

"Story, like from a book," Lex agreed, slipping off the bed and quickly starting to dig through his suitcases again. "I'll find a book you might like."

There was a sudden rush of air and Clark was behind him, helping him look almost immediately. "Book," he said, sounding excited. It didn't seem to take much to excite him.

Lex dug to the bottom, through text-books and history books, pulling out a heavy leather-bound gilded thing that settled familiarly in his hands. "Go sit down. This is Pinocchio."

Lex's bed was closer so Clark obviously thought it was sensible not to waste time and clambered up there, waiting for Lex to join him. Lex settled down a foot away from Clark, legs tucked up under him, and then opened the cover to reveal the first colorful picture. Well, Clark couldn't see from that far away. Lex shifted to sit beside Clark's little form, smiling a little. "Some of the stuff in here is kind of scary, but it's a good story."

Clark looked up at him with his warm green eyes, smiled and then snuggled closer so he could see more closely, his small form warm against him, particularly in contrast to the chill of the room.

Downstairs Martha's voice could be heard asking Jonathan something, and then a few clanking noises as if cupboards were being rifled.

Lex read the words easily, softly to Clark, leaning into the other boy as much as Clark was leaning into him. He made sure that Clark could see the pictures, with their fascinating details, and he even tried to make different voices -- first for Geppetto, then Pinocchio and the Cricket. There were over forty some chapters to the books, so if they read a little each night he'd get Clark through it in a month.

Clark seemed to be enjoying it a great deal and giggled at the voices and touched the pictures as if they were strange and wonderful. He was unashamedly open about what he was feeling, and it was that which perhaps made him the one person that Lex could trust. He was too young to lie, to use him, he seemed to like him with a genuine and immediate affection and so far hadn't demanded anything from him at all.

It was a very novel experience for a Luthor.

It made him warm to Clark more than he immediately had, though when they reached the end of the second chapter, Lex closed the book carefully and tried to shift away from Clark. "I'm going to go look for your mom, okay? She's been gone a while." Even if Clark was warmer than whatever blankets she was looking for.

Clark turned mournful eyes at him, although it could have been about him stopping reading as much as leaving him alone.

Martha's voice drifted up the stairs. "...you sure it still works?"

"I promise I'll read more to you tomorrow." Waiting for her to do... whatever she was doing was taking too long, and he finally did shift away, leaving Clark on his bed. "I'll be back. I ought to go wash -- like you did, you know? I'll be back, though."

Clark was practicing his impersonation of a puppy with soulful eyes, but he made no move then to come after Lex, as if he'd understood he wasn't needed on that errand. Even as Lex managed to escape the room, Martha was coming up the stairs with a large bundle of comforter and a small portable heater.

Lex took his time, partially from being tired, and partially from the shock of trying to orient himself to such a tiny space. He took his jammies off and doused himself in a long hot shower, washed with the soap he'd taken out of his suitcase, checked his eyes, lotioned his tender scalp and skin, and then put his too-cold pajamas back on.

He was careful not to think. One moment to another to another was how he'd gotten past those first few days after he realized that Dad had been dead, and that was how he'd been getting past the idea that his mother was gone.

So one moment to another, he took in all of the oddities of the place that was now... 'home' of a sorts. When he left the bathroom, it was a little shock to find the air in the hall still cold, so he hurried into the bedroom he was sharing with Clark.

Martha looked up and towards the door. The room was already warmer than it had been when Lex had left. "I was trying to find the little heater. This should keep you warmer too," she said patting the heavier bedspread. "The only thing I could find to wear is an old sweatshirt of Jonathan's. It'll be pretty big, but if you're really cold you can slip it on." Clark was clinging to her at the moment, though he seemed very pleased to see Lex come back.

"Okay. Tomorrow can we go get something... more suitable? It's kind of silly if I roast Clark out just because I'm cold," Lex pointed out as he moved to slip back into his bed, mindful to move his book first.

"Sure, Lex." Martha looked at the book and smiled. "You were reading to Clark?"

"Just the first two chapters so far. He seems to have liked it. You don't mind?" He pulled the comforter up over himself, and though they were still cold, he felt warmer already. It'd get better once he warmed the sheets up, he was sure.

"Of course not... though maybe tomorrow I can join you?" Martha twitched the bed covers up automatically. "I'm rather fond of the story myself," she said, smiling as she settled in Clark as well and kissed him goodnight. "You need anything else? The heater's on a timer so it should turn off in a while. And if you need us, we're just along the corridor. Just come in...."

Very unlikely, and Lex hoped his serious expression, even as he nodded, told her as much. "Okay. Good night, Martha. Good night, Clark."

There was a little, "Nigh' Lex," from the other bed that got a delighted smile from Martha. Martha hesitated a moment more, then obviously decided just to go with her instincts, so she bent over and gave Lex a kiss on his forehead. "Sleep well Lex," she said, before stepping away turning off the light and closing the door on the soft quiet of a night in Smallville.

Riding in a truck was sort of fun, in a novel way. Clark sat in the middle between Martha and Lex, and Lex had looked out of the window as they drove into town. Snow and dirt as far as the eye could see, and the occasional cow and horse. There were great furrows in the land, patches in the ploughed roads that his keen eyes picked up on. Scars of the meteor shower, when the sky had rained down fire onto the land...

He was quiet as Martha drove, taking in the buildings of the 'downtown' as they rolled into it. Some were as scarred as the roads and fields, others propped up with scaffolding and in the act of being rebuilt. Every so often, they passed a blue tarp. But life carried on around that, and on that Saturday morning it was bustling with people running their errands.

Martha parked, and as she unbuckled she leaned across to get her bag and said, "Could you help me keep an eye on Clark, Lex? I don't want him running off like he did yesterday, not in the middle of town. This'll be pretty new to him."

"Okay. Has he been in town before?" Lex popped open his door with a bit of trouble -- cold fingers and tricky, heavy door handles didn't work well together -- and then twisted to grab Clark's hand tightly. "I can keep a good eye on him."

"No, this is his first time too," Martha said, leaning over to get the door. That was obviously becoming a habit as well. "Thank you... I don't know how he manages it sometimes. One moment he's right next to you and the next he's... well." She smiled and got out of the truck, locking the door and then came around to help Lex and Clark.

"Clothes first I think," Martha said decisively. "You both need some."

"What's wrong with what I have?" Lex knew, but he still bristled reflexively. His coat was nice and tidy and crisp black wool, and it looked nice over his lavender turtleneck. But his feet were cold in his shoes. Nice, and he liked them, but they weren't functional.

"Well, they're not designed for the weather we get out here," Martha said evenly. "And it's likely to get worse before it'll get better, so we need things that can deal with snow and cold. They'll be perfect for the spring I'm sure, but I don't want you catching cold now. Plus, they're far too nice to wear if you are going to help Jonathan later with the truck. Don't want to ruin them."

"I don't usually get my clothes dirty." Lex tugged lightly at Clark's hand, moving closer to Martha on the sidewalk so she could close the truck's heavy door.

She did so and smiled ruefully. "You will if you're helping change oil. It's one of those mysteries of life -- changing oil means you find smears of it all over the place. Right. So, we need to get you some pajamas, some thick soled boots, gloves... possibly a hat of some description."

"It hurts to wear a hat," Lex frowned at her. There were enough new and odd things, surely he wouldn't be expected to have to wear hats, too?

Martha gave him a sudden glance. "Oh sweetheart, I didn't realize your skin was that sensitive. It was just to stop you getting cold. Okay, so no hat... is it just on your head that it gets painful?"

"Usually. Sometimes it hurts all over, but the doctors didn't know why." Lex walked slowly beside Martha, mindful of not tugging Clark along the sidewalk too fast for his little legs. He kept his free hand warm in one nicely lined pocket.

Martha glanced at him, concerned. "Okay. We'll make sure we get things that won't irritate your skin if we can." She's been starting to head in on direction, and then seemed to stop and turn, walking them both in another direction entirely, as if what Lex had said changed her mind somehow.

"Here we go... Lex, why don't you have a look and see what sort of things you like...?"

He looked up at the glass doors of the shop, and then yanked one open with determined hands, and brought Clark in tow after him. It didn't look like the sorts of places his mother took him, but he wasn't going to say that. Martha wasn't his mom, and they weren't in Metropolis anymore. "What do we need to get for Clark?" he asked her.

"A few more tops, and a jacket," Martha replied, "But I want you to have a look for yourself. I'd rather you had something you at least liked."

"Okay." He'd promised to keep an eye on Clark, so once they were in the store he started towards the section that was too clearly marked 'boys'. Where were the sales people? The store clerks?

"May I help you, Ma'am?" a woman with a nametag that read 'Laura' asked as she approached Martha and the boys she was herding.

Martha gave a pleasant smile by way of greeting. "Ah yes, please. We need to look for some clothes for my... two boys here." She'd nearly said sons, Lex knew it. And he wasn't her son. Even if she was nice. "To see them both through the winter. Lex here has particularly sensitive skin so I would appreciate things that wouldn't irritate?"

"Mnn, that's a tough one..." She circled around to walk in front of Lex, and he halted his determined stride towards the rack with startlement. "Let me look at you, big boy. You're certainly wearing very nice clothes right now, aren't you? I'm not sure if we have things quite like that, but..."

"You probably don't," Lex agreed, lifting his chin a little. Big boy! That was name-calling, and there was no excuse for it. He tugged Clark a little closer, as he stared at the attendant almost challengingly for her affront.

"And that's pretty much the point," Martha said soothingly. "We need some nice warm wear... some for around the farm, some for around the house, that sort of thing."

Clark had got a little distracted and was tugging a soft plaid material on a coat rail, presumably recognizing it from the sort of thing Jonathan had been wearing that morning when they'd headed out.

"Clark, that looks silly," Lex chided softly, following what Clark was tugging at. No clue what the other boy's size was, but he pulled the coat that Clark was holding off of the rack with his free hand, and held it up against Clark. "Hmn."

Clark seemed pleased at the look of it and tugged it again, and then tried to wiggle into it while it was still in Lex's hands.

The clerk smiled a little sympathetically at Martha, and murmured sotto voce, but still loud enough for Lex to hear, "Did he just get out of the hospital? My niece spent months complaining she was cold when they had her on Chemo. It's very important to keep them comfortable."

"Something like that, yes," Martha agreed, in a version of the truth. "And yes, that's precisely the idea. I don't want him getting chilled, or uncomfortable. So, could you show us what you have please?"

"Of course. Oh, it looks like they've found a coat for your youngest..." She moved past both boys, leaving Lex looking up at Martha questioningly as Clark happily displayed their find.

"I think Clark likes it. He looks like a deer hunter in a movie. It's very silly, but..."

Martha chuckled. "I think he likes it because it's the sort of thing his Dad wears. Good choice." She ruffled Clark's hair affectionately. "Even if it looks a little silly, he's happy with it, and that's what matters."

A tiny smile tugged at Lex's mouth for a moment, and he knelt down in front of Clark to tug him out of the coat he'd partially crawled into. He at least couldn't put it on until it'd been paid for. "I'll remember that, then."

"It could be worse, I could have got him something unbearably cute," Martha replied, reaching out to relieve Lex of the garment. "Now then. What colors do you prefer?" Martha looked at him. "Darker shades might be better for around the farm."

"I like charcoal, and sage and lilac." Lex clasped Clark's hand again, and straightened up. "And you're going to have to help me figure out what's suitable for the farm."

"Well out of those, probably the charcoal and sage. Lilac is a bit... dressy. You could probably get away with browns and a warm yellow." She mused that, looking at him. "We'll see what they have in your favorite colors first though." She looked to see where the sales assistant had disappeared. "What size feet do you have?"

He looked at her a moment, then his brows furrowed. "I don't know." Thinking about it, he didn't know what size clothes he wore, either, only that he was getting a little taller.

"Well if you slip them off a moment, I can have a quick look," Martha replied, giving him a look. It was the same look his mother gave him when he tried to go out dressed a little... less, not so dressy. Like it was scandalous that he was dressed like that. Except now it was targeted at his good clothes.

"Here in the store?" Lex felt as scandalized as he sounded, but he didn't have a chance to go on.

"Okay, I've found a good durable coat -- corduroy, but it has a good thick lining -- and some sweaters for you to look over," Laura declared as she came towards Martha and the boys. "Is there anything else you need help with? I've put them in a dressing room so you can try them on and see if they're all right."

"Thank you... let us just get some idea of his size and we'll sort ourselves out," Martha said, smiling a little at Lex. "Come on, sweetheart, and you, Clark... you can help Lex choose." She ushered them toward the dressing room, smiling to the assistant.

"No plaid for me, Clark, okay?" Lex warned the other boy gently as the clerk led them to the dressing rooms. It wasn't the sort of dressing room that he was used to; no tall walls and floor to ceiling mirrors and dark wood, or gleaming anything.

It felt shabby, but Lex kept quiet about that.

Martha paused. "Do you want me to wait outside?" she asked, assuming the answer would be yes.

He nodded, holding Clark's hand out to her. "I won't take long..."

"Take all the time you need," Martha replied. "I'll sort out a few other things while I'm out here."

Lex slipped into the dressing room with a little wave to Clark, and the salesclerk watched with a smile. "If something doesn't work out, just leave it there, and if you need different sizes, you can come and get me. I'll be right over that way."

That way, which meant a closed door, which was good. Lex liked that, a little privacy in the shabby space while he started to undress. He'd hardly gotten anywhere at all, before there was a self-important yell from Clark of, "Lex... Lex!" that left Lex scrambling.

"Wait a moment."

Lex pulled his turtleneck back on, and fumbled, tucking it back into his jeans before he opened the door and peeked outside. "Yes?"

Clark looked up at him, proudly presenting his offerings "Clothes! More clothes." It was the first time he had spoken more than a single word at a time that couldn't be put down to imitation.

Lex bent a little to take them from Clark, smiling just for him. "You can too talk," he murmured half to himself. "It must be a fun game, watching people's faces when they hear you talk like that. Thank you."

Clark beamed at the attention. "Like clothes?" he asked hopefully, wanting Lex to be happy too.

"Mmhm," Lex told him, reaching a hand to very carefully pat his shoulder as thanks. "Where's your mom? Are you supposed to stay here with me?"

Clark looked around, pointed her out as, "Mom," and then decided he was going to stay whether he was meant to or not. Lex had made a fatal mistake of patting him and that apparently meant he was pleased to have Clark there. Lex ended up with a waist high hug as a result.

"Oof..." Lex grinned a little, draping his hands on Clark's upper back. "Hey, I can't try things on if you're hugging me..."

Clark looked up and then nodded stepping back. "Try!" he ordered and then giggled.

"Bossy." Lex stepped backwards, and then tried to close the door behind him.

Clark tried to follow him, grabbing hold of the door. "Me too!" he said plaintively, preventing Lex from shutting the door.

"Okay, you too." Lex held the door open for Clark, then closed it behind them both. "Just don't make a mess." He turned away from Clark to take his clothes off again and try on his pajamas.

Clark watched, seemingly content just to be there, in the same room as Lex -- albeit a rather cramped room. Not watching, no, he was staring.

Maybe it was just Lex hallucinating that Clark was staring. He slipped the pajamas on quickly enough, and once they were on, deemed them passable. Just like everything else -- not what he was used to, but nice all the same. Good colors, except for that bright red sweater that itched, and the coat was nice. Lex took them off, and put the clothes he'd come in wearing back on -- lilac turtleneck, and a warm white undershirt and all. He fiddled with his belt, straightening it out, and then turned to Clark. "Going to help me carry things back to your mom?"

"Yes," he said and then hugged Lex again. Even more surprising considering that hugging seemed to be a way of life with Clark was the fact he looked up at the older boy and said very firmly and definitely, "My Lex."

Lex knew his expression wavered between startled and a smile, but he hugged Clark back. "Sure. Why not? C'mon, let's go..." He pulled back to pick up most of the clothes that worked for him, and left the coat for Clark to carry. "Got it?"

Clark nodded, picked up the bundle and followed him.

Martha had accumulated a lot of other purchases it seemed, for Clark and for Jonathan, and looked around. "How did it go?" she asked them. "Any of them any good?"

"Yes. I left the funny-looking ones in the dressing room, and that's a good coat." Lex looked up at her. "Do we find shoes next?"

"Is everything all right?" the sales clerk asked, descending down upon them once more.

"Yes... if you could add these to the other please?" Martha asked, "Do you sell thick soled shoes here?"

"Or boots?" She eyed the two boys, then shook her head. "You'll have to go to Fordman's, we don't have much of a shoe selection here."

"Well in that case, we'll go over there, but could I have another set of each of these items preferably in a charcoal or green if you have them," Martha said gesturing to Lex's selection, knowing already that one set of something was never enough.

"Not a problem," she smiled. "If you'll just wait at the counter..."

"What else are we doing today, Martha?" Lex asked, reaching his free hand to almost tug at the edge of her sleeve. But he stopped himself.

"Well, shopping right now... we need your shoes, then I thought we stop and get you some pens and paper and things," Martha replied. "And anything else you feel like you might need... why, did you have something in mind?"

"Since we're out here, maybe I could take you and Clark to lunch?" he offered. "I have money. In my wallet."

Martha looked surprised. "Lex, you don't have to do that, not with your own money. Though that is a lovely suggestion..."

"Oh." He looked crestfallen, but recovered from it quickly. A no was a no, and he never liked to push it. "Can we look around, then?"

"Lex, sweetheart...do you want to buy Clark and me lunch?" she asked after a pause.

Clark perked up at the mention of something food related, rather predictably. "Yes, but if you don't want me to..." Lex fidgeted, looking down at Clark. "Nevermind."

"We would love to," Martha replied softly and smiled. "You can tell me if you think I'm wrong about something, you know."

"You don't really mean that," Lex murmured seriously. "No one means things like that." He still didn't look up at her. "They say they do, but they don't."

"Try me," Martha countered. "I'm pretty new at being a mother to anyone so I might be doing it differently to other people, I don't know... but there was one thing I did promise myself. My parents weren't terribly good at listening to me, so I decided if there were one thing I would do with my children is that I would listen. And sometimes, I may not agree, but that I would at least try and explain why. Maybe that's not the way other people do it, but that's what I'm going to do." She smiled at him a little.

He still bristled, but he also nodded slowly. If she was being deceptive, she was good at it, and that was almost worth trusting her. "We'll see," he hedged, falling quiet as the sales clerk returned.

It took a little while to pack up all of their purchases, and Martha exchanged small talk over the counter as it was all bagged up, while Lex tried to not fidget. There were a lot of clothes there, and when the bill was announced, Martha seemed to turn nervous. The Kents weren't rich, Lex knew, but they were now, weren't they? Or well off enough to pay a bill amount that wouldn't have made his mother even blink.

"Right then... how about we go get the shoes, drop all this back at the truck and then Lex takes us all to lunch?" Martha suggested as they exited the shop, looking to see, as far as Lex could tell, if Lex had a grip on Clark.

They were hand in hand, Lex leading Clark like he was a puppy; they were all lucky that Clark was a fountain of energy, or else he would've been demanding to be carried, and Lex didn't think that he could.

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea," Lex agreed with a tiny smile as they headed back towards the truck. "Do we put the clothes in the back part or... the cab? It's good that you've got that covered. Can I wear my new coat? I'm cold."

"We'll put them in the cab for now. I'll move them when we set off home," Martha responded, rifling through their new purchases. "Coat... coat... now which bag has the coat, ah... here we go." She pulled the garment out and took off the tags, before passing it over. "There."

It was strange to be taking a coat off in public, and then slipping one back on. It just struck Lex as weird, but he liked the warmth and the feeling of blending in that it gave him almost right away. "Much better, thank you. Martha, what does Clark like to play?"

"Game wise?" Martha asked as they walked back down the street. "He likes anything that involves running around." She gave a low chuckle. "So far he's liked playing with everything we've put in front of him. I do need to buy him some more things... he does manage to break them quite quickly."

"I'll have to try that running around thing." He smiled and tugged Clark along as they walked. "I've never done it much." Not without that seizing inability to breath, the wracking coughs, and that had been horrible.

"Maybe now that your asthma is gone, you'll get a chance to do so," Martha replied easily enough, shifting the weight of the bags like they hurt to carry. "Just as well, I think Jonathan will probably need a bit of help from you on the farm sometimes... and Clark, too."

"I'd like to do that," Lex nodded, and then went on almost triumphantly, "And it is gone. And I'm glad of it, because I was tired of being so sick all of the time. Everyone teased me for it, except Bruce. I should write to him."

"Bruce?" Martha glanced at him as they reached the truck again. "Friend of yours?" She managed to open the door and put in their purchases with a sigh of relief.

"Bruce. Bruce is one year older than me, but he... oh. His parents are dead, too. They were shot when he was little." Now they were not only social outcasts together, but Bruce didn't have parents either. Maybe he could be helpful to talk to about that. Somehow, Lex rationalized vaguely, tossing his coat past Martha. "But we're in the same classes."

"Well, if you ever want him to come and stay at any point, feel free to invite him. Writing sounds like a good idea, too. Where does he live?"

"Wayne Manor. It's in Gotham, but I can't remember the address right now -- he's at Excelsior right now, but I haven't seen anyone since... since the last time I was here." Lex waited for Martha to close the truck door again, pulling Clark a little closer for warmth.

Martha closed the truck door carefully and then turned, voice a little stunned-sounding when she said, "Well, we can get the address for that, no problem. He'll probably want to know how you're doing."

Clark tucked in under Lex's arm, against the softness of the new coat. Lex liked that. Clark wasn't a threat, didn't want anything... looked up to him with a gleam in his green eyes that Lex liked. "Okay, shoes next."

"Martha...? Why, Martha, it's been a while since you last came into town, how are you?" Lex could see a head of dark red hair coming down the street, arms burdened by a bundle of pink in her arms. And then he watched as Martha's face shifted from easily happy to the false sort of look that his father pulled up when he really wanted to talk bad about someone that he had to work with.

Martha put on a smile. "Hi, Nell. I'm fine, thank you. We've just been a little busy recently... since everything happened."

`Nell' jostled the pink bundle gently, and the little girl waved to all three of them. "Hi. Who you?" With one little hand, she pointed at Lex. "You look scary."

Lex blinked, and then stiffened his jaw. He wasn't going to call her stupid. Even though she was.

"Lana, that's not nice!" Nell glared at her niece, then turned apologetic eyes on Martha. "I'm sorry. She's been touchy since..."

"Since that Day." Martha moved closer to Lex and that arm was around him and Clark again, trying to fend off any offence taken from a three-year-old's tactlessness. "Let me introduce you to my boys here. This is Lex, and this is Clark. You might have heard from Ethan that we adopted Clark, he happened over just after Jonathan and I had picked him up." Martha smiled and glanced at the taller boy. "Lex joined us yesterday."

Clark was looking up at Lana with an amazed expression. It was the sort of amazement that could quite easily shift to fear or happiness. He remained resolutely tucked into Lex and his mom however. It seemed that pink blobs were generally suspicious things in his opinion, and Lex wanted to agree.

"Two, Martha?" Nell gave her a worried look, and a twitch of her eyebrows as she held a hand towards Lex first. "I'm Nell Potter, Lex. Nice to meet you, and Clark. This is my niece, Lana."

"I know who you are," Lex said, not reaching to take her hand. "You're the woman dad had so much trouble getting the land from. If you had've just signed the contracts right away we wouldn't've come back to Smallville to buy that stupid factory."

"Lex..." Martha said warningly and looked at him. "Perhaps I should explain... Lex's parents are... were the Luthors."

"The..." Nell trailed off in wide-eyed silence as she looked at Lex. "My god. How... here? Staying with you? I'd heard Mrs. Luthor was dead, but..."

"Don't say anything bad about my mom," Lex muttered sharply and defensively. "I know you're going to, so just don't."

Martha shot Nell a warning glance that Lex hoped she took, trying to get the woman to restrain herself somewhat.

"Jonathan and I were named legal guardians yesterday." There, it would be all around town in a matter of hours. "We helped rescue Lex on the day of the meteors -- he was hurt..." She rubbed Lex's arm soothingly.

Between Martha's 'don't push it' vibes, and Lex's clear-cut anger, Nell backed off in metaphorical wide-eyed astonishment. "How are you and Jonathan handling it? I mean, so much all in a row..."

"We're handling it fine so far," Martha replied, doing her level best to project a sense of calm. "How are you getting on with Lana?"

"Okay. Some days she's a handful -- I don't know how my sister did it every day. It's exhausting, and--"

"Nellie, why's he got no hair?"

Lex's eyes flared wide as he stared at the pink bundle in Nell's arms as she managed to jab him emotionally with that careless question. "You... little bitch! Shut up!" He jerked away from Martha as he snarled that, pulling Clark with him. "C'mon -- let's leave..."

"Sorry about that Nell, he's uh, rather sensitive about losing his hair. I think we'd better go on. I.. need to talk with him about this. We'll catch up another time." Martha reached out to regain her grip on Lex, noting that Clark looked startled and anxious.

Lex's response had been like a one-two punch, because Nell was staring at him in horror, and Lana burst into tears. She might not've known what he'd said, but she knew it was angry and directed at her.

"Let go of me!" Lex yanked out of Martha's grip, but holding onto Clark's hand hindered him. How dare that pink thing say that to him?

"Lex, come here," Martha said firmly. "Speak to you soon, Nell."

She ushered Lex away from the pair of them and then crouched down facing him, "Mind telling me what that was all about?"

Too-calm, she was too-calm which meant that it wasn't really a question, it was a demand. He'd been trying so hard to be good, too, not to make them angry at him and throw him out, and he'd slipped up and ruined it. Lex bit his bottom lip for a moment, trying to think of an answer. "No...?"

It was such an incongruously honest remark that Martha seemed near to laughing. But it was serious. "Lex, Lana is only about three. The question was blunt, but not many three year olds have much in the way of tact. Calling her a 'bitch' is not acceptable, Lex."

He nodded, looking down at the sidewalk. "She shouldn't ask mean things..." Lex was trying to defend himself, no matter how pathetic it sounded.

"Lex, sweetheart, I know it's hard. You're right, I know it was a mean question..." Martha looked at him. "Lex, look at me," she insisted in a quiet tone that brooked no argument.

Lex shook his head, not looking up at her. He didn't want to look up at her, because if he did... But he hitched, a spasm of muscle in his chest, and bit down harder on his lip.

"Oh Lex..." Martha embraced him gently, feeling a reflection of that ache. "Lex, sweetheart, what do you think I'm going to do? Hmm?"

Verge of tears became real tears, and Lex's fingers went limp on Clark's hand for the first time in minutes. "Please don't send me away!" he sobbed.

"Oh honey, sweetheart... never!" Martha hugged him genuinely, tightly. "Don't you understand? You don't have to be perfect, even if I disagree with you, or... we might disagree, we'll never ever send you away. You're part of our family now."

But family meant trying to be one's absolute best, and that fleeting thought just made Lex cry harder. He didn't understand.

"Shush... shush...sweetie, Lex, it's okay. I won't send you anywhere." Martha stroked down his back and Clark made a questioning whimper at them both. "I promise."

He gave another hitch, nodding jerkily against her shoulder, and tried to pull himself back together. Slower breaths, swallow everything down... "'kay."

"If I... or Jonathan question you about something like this it doesn't mean we will send you away. It's just something we need to work out between us." Martha murmured in his ear. "I would no more send you away than I would Clark. Understand?"

Lex was firmly sure they wouldn't send Clark away, so he nodded to what she said, then pulled back, wiping at his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his coat. It was disgusting, but he'd left his handkerchief in his other coat, the too-cold one. "Understood."

Fortunately, mothers learned pretty swiftly to carry tissues on them to cope with a variety of childhood disasters. "Here, hon." A tissue was fished out by Martha, from her pocket, and then handed to him as a sort of flag of truce between them.

He blew his nose, really dried his eyes, then folded it over and dabbed at his sleeve -- and let go of Clark's hand in the process, but was quick to finish and turn to grab it again. "Can we go somewhere warm?"

"How about we skip the shoes for now and go and get that lunch you promised us, hmm?"

"Okay." He sniffled again, then glanced to Clark before finally looking up at Martha. "You know Smallville, so. Wherever you want to go."

Martha smiled. "I know just the place. Nothing fancy, but... I sometimes make pies for them." She pointed up the street. "It's just up there."

"Okay. That sounds good." And then he reached a hand up towards her coat-sleeve, and latched on.

It was a first step.

The lunch had seemed to settle all of them. Clark had devoured his food with such relish that Martha and Lex had actually managed to banter a little about whether he had been starving to death and just hadn't mentioned anything while they were clothes shopping. The truck was littered with bags of purchases and Clark was busily showing Lex his new toys that they had bought for him, and Lex appeared to be teaching him the names of them all.

Martha smiled at the pair of them and glanced at the small gift she had bought for Lex that was currently on the dashboard. While he had been getting paper, Martha had spotted a memories journal. She had bought it and given it to him, hoping that the gesture would show him in actions what was difficult to show him in words; that he didn't have to give up his memories of his real parents, that he should remember them. It was nice, with little suggestions on each page as to the sort of memories that should be written. In a Lex way, nothing much had been said but he had looked surprised and accepted it.

They pulled up at the farm, having to park up out of the way because there was a truck marked with the police insignia's out front. "Everyone out," Martha said, and frowned at the new truck. "Hmm... Looks like Ethan's here. Come on, boys."

"Who's Ethan?" Lex asked. He gathered Clark's toys and his paper and journal into one bag, and reached to grab Clark's hand before the truck door was open. That was good, because Martha didn't want to play 'Chase Clark through Snowdrifts' again.

"He's the Sheriff -- also one of Jonathan friends. Hope there's nothing the matter," Martha said leaning over again to open the door for them both. Definitely becoming a habit. "You take in your stuff, Lex, I'll get the rest."

"Can I go upstairs and play with Clark?" He grabbed a bag of clothes just because he could, and slid down off of the seat and onto the icy road. When Martha had bought him boots, Mr. Fordman had insisted he wear them out instead of 'breaking his neck on the ice because he's wearing city-boy shoes'.

"Sure," Martha said, nodding as she scooped up the piles of other bags, trying to carry them all at once. "If you want a drink of juice, help yourself. Can you open the door for me?"

"Yes. C'mon, Clark -- you want juice?" He trudged up the porch-steps, and let go of Clark's hand long enough to pull open the door. "We're back, Mr. Kent!" Lights were on, which meant that Jonathan was inside of the house. Waiting for them, maybe? Or just talking to his friend, maybe that was it.

"A little help, Jonathan?" Martha called out struggling a little. "I think we bought half of Smallville one way or another."

"I hope you actually got what you set out to get," he teased gently. From the living room, he came to take bags off of her hands. "Was everyone good?"

"Sort of," Lex answered from behind Martha, still holding the door open.

Martha smiled. "Mmm... shopping can be a trying experience. I know another Kent man who gets a little irritable when I make him shop for clothes. Did I see Ethan's truck out front?"

"He's just stopped by to see how we were -- he's in the living room." Jonathan stepped back with the bags, and let Martha and the boys enter the house before he closed the door. "Why don't you go on in and say hello?"

"I'll do that... Lex and Clark are going upstairs to sort out their new purchases." Martha smiled. "I'll just pop through."

She stepped through to the living room. "Ethan, how are you? I saw you'd dropped by."

He stood up from the sofa, but craned to look past her at the two boys who were still out in the hallway. Lex was watching him thoughtfully.

"Just to see how you're all doing, Martha," he smiled gently. "I heard you've taken in another boy...? Jonathan was telling me he sort of fell into your laps. I don't know how you're going to manage it."

"We'll manage just fine," Martha replied with a smile at their friend. "It was a little unexpected, but I've always wanted children, you know that."

"And God's answered your family's prayers twice now," he grinned. "Come here, boys -- I see you back there. Did Miss Martha take you two out to the stores?"

"Martha, I'm going to go lock up the truck and check up on that leak in the barn -- I'll be back," Jonathan called to her.

Lex hedged closer, frowning, and turned to look at Clark instead.

Clark seemed quite happy to go and investigate the newcomer in the house and tugged Lex forward as Martha beckoned them in. "Clark, Lex this is Ethan, the Sheriff. Come and say hi before you go upstairs."

The sheriff smiled as they came into the room. "Little Clark there's already a growing boy. He looks bigger than he was when I first saw him. And you... Lex, you said, Martha?" He offered a hand to Lex, who just looked at it in silence.

"Lex?" Martha asked hopefully.

"I don't like shaking hands with people," Lex said firmly, looking back at her.

Martha decided not to push the matter. "It's been a little unsettling for him, Ethan, I'm sure you understand." she said with a smile.

"Sure, sure." Ethan reached to ruffle Clark's hair. "You two have ended up in good hands. Martha and Jonathan are good people, and I'm sure they'll take real good care of you."

Clark grinned at him and said "..'rriff Eefhan," as if filing him for future reference.

"He's starting to pick up English now -- it wasn't his first language." Martha looked across at Lex to see if he had settled down at all.

Ethan nodded, and gave Lex a sympathetic look before he turned his attention to Martha. "You boys run along."

Lex scowled, but tugged at Clark's hand and headed towards the steps. "Come on, Clark. We'll play and then I'll read to you. Do you want to do that?"

"Yes!" Clark's face lit up. "More..'nokio?" His voice could be heard asking as they headed up to the sanctuary of their rooms.

Ethan moved to sit back down, sighing. He was quiet until they were gone. "The Luthor boy seems like he's a good kid, Martha."

"He is, Ethan, he's had a really rough time... and this is all new to him." Martha sat down, comfortable with their old friend even if he had some of the preconceptions about women that Jonathan had fortunately managed to avoid. "He nearly died in the meteors and then he had lost both parents within three months and been given to complete strangers. He may sound a lot older, but he's only nine." She sighed a little. "It's not going to be easy, but Jonathan and I are going to do our best for him and Clark."

"I came around to investigate when the bank called me in a panic. Something about an obscene amount of money being wired into the Kents account." Which was only remarkable since the Kents were usually only breaking even, with little sitting in their accounts at any given time and more frequently dipping into the red than resting in the black. "But the rumor mill grinds away good and steady here, and it was right."

Martha smiled again, all too aware of how sometimes it seemed that everyone was more aware of their finances than they were. "Truth be told Ethan, I was a little scared it hadn't been when I was buying all those clothes this afternoon. I was almost looking over my shoulder to see if you were coming to stop me trying to buy things. Lillian Luthor was very generous with the provision of funds for her son's welfare."

"You've probably seen how those people lived," Ethan commented. "To hard-working people like us, that's a startling amount; to people like them, it's nothing. You've got a rough road ahead of you." He shifted, leaning forwards, "And according to truancy laws, you've got to get that boy into schooling."

"I know, Ethan. But there are medical concerns to deal with first," Martha said firmly. "I'm not concerned about his level of education. Lex is very much above average and I'm going to look into options shortly, but right now he's out of school for medical reasons, as well as compassionate ones. I want him settled before something else new is introduced to him. If nothing else, I may arrange for home schooling in the short term or some such arrangement."

"Can't home school in this state, Mrs. Kent, but not many people know that. I don't want the SRS people to come knocking on your door and take them both away." Ethan smiled gently, "Mind, you could probably get some hotshot lawyer to get the school board to do anything, but there's no need for that."

Martha frowned. Well there was one of her immediate thoughts shot down in flames already. Damn, and that would have been the easiest way to ease Lex into Smallville and also cater for the need to challenge him. "I don't want to break any laws, Ethan, but I'm not sending Lex to school until he's able to take it. What do I need to do to get that dealt with? "

"You'll probably have to work something out with whatever fancy private school it was that he was going to. Have them send an instructor out every so often, tests... basically, send him back to school." Ethan shrugged. "It's not really my call. And it'd probably be better for him if he got back into a routine."

"I'll speak to them." For sufficient funds, she was sure that something could be arranged. "And that's what I want to set up here, Ethan. A routine that he can rely on. There's been too much change for him." She knew what was needed, knew it with an instinct she seemed to be relying on more and more, but it involved things that Ethan just wouldn't understand. Having seen Lex's reaction to a child's question about his baldness, she knew he had to be sure that not everyone thought of it as strange, that he wasn't a freak before he was thrust back into the world of cruelty that other children could dream up. A child had to have a lot of self-image and support to get through that, and Lex was obviously feeling very insecure.

"There's a perfectly good school down the road a few miles, Martha," Ethan pointed out a little stiffly.

"Which may be an option," Martha replied, acknowledging that point "Ethan, when I said Lex is smart I mean... gifted. Really gifted. I can tell that from our casual conversations. He'll need something to challenge him, or he'll become bored and that could be difficult." She sighed and pushed back her reddish brown hair carefully. "I'm going to have to do a lot of research in the next week or so, I can see that." She smiled at him, hearing the front door open again and glanced around.

"Martha, is that plaid coat on the stairs Clark's?" Jonathan was in the house again, peering up the steps but calling to Ethan and Martha.

"Don't tell me he dropped it there," Martha called out. "Yes, it is. He chose it himself -- probably to look more like you."

He tsked, and then started up the stairs with only slightly stomping steps.

"I'd probably best be going," Ethan excused himself as he stood up. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Ethan -- and thanks for dropping by," Martha said, standing up to see him out.

"Sure thing, Martha." He half-bowed his head for her, pure politeness as he moved to open the door for himself. "You all manage well. Have a good night."

Martha saw him out and waved as he left, before turning inside and looking thoughtful. There was a lot that needed to be sorted out as quickly as possible, a pile of paperwork and legalese to plow through.

It looked daunting; there was so much that needed to be done, and the more she thought about it, the more there seemed to be that needed to be done. They hadn't even had a chance to watch the tapes Lillian had made for them.

Damn, yes... the tapes. They really should do that. There could be important things on that. Lex would probably want to watch his alone, though she would offer to stay with him, and she and Jonathan should watch theirs tonight. Tomorrow, if Jonathan was going to take the boys out to help change the oil on the truck, she could have a few hours to make some calls and do some research what she didn't get done tonight while cooking dinner.

For the moment things were quiet. Jonathan was probably upstairs helping Lex settle into the guest room that was now his bedroom. Clark was either helping or hindering, but he was probably having fun while doing it in his own inimitable fashion

And at least he wasn't going to be an only child.

The Kents were nice, and Clark was... sweet. Like a little brother, and Lex found himself mentally referring to Clark as his brother.

He was so happy all of the time, either a bundle of energy or quietly thoughtful. So far he had yet to throw a fit or shed tears, and that surely must be unusual for a three year old. Lex let himself talk often to the little boy, trying to will him to learn to talk more, better, and sooner.

Lex wished he could've been that happy all of the time. It was hard to let go of the aching feeling; worse at nights, when he dreamt of fire from the sky and angels and war, and smothering dust choking the air out of his lungs.

He crawled out of bed, sufficiently warm in new pajamas, and paused to pull on an extra pair of socks. If he couldn't sleep, there wasn't any sense in staying in bed.

Downstairs, Martha had obviously been up late, because there was evidence of neat piles of documents, pages of notes in her short hand on the side in the living room, as well as the lingering smell of coffee and residual heat in the room. She'd left some things out, including a still sealed package with a reminder note stuck to it. Lex to watch. Somewhere in among doing this, she had apparently managed to clear up the kitchen and prepare some things for the next day's dinner before calling it a day.

Lex idly read through those notes in the light that the moon and stars afforded him, then leafed through the documents with a little more interest. Some of them held familiar names, references, so he paid that closer attention. But the package, with its Lex to watch caught his attention more brilliantly, and he reached to open it without hesitance.

He only hoped he didn't get caught by anyone.

Not that that was likely, considering Jonathan could be heard faintly snoring upstairs and Martha was probably only just asleep. They wouldn't hear the tape upstairs if he had it on quietly. It had his name on it so it was his to watch, he rationalized as he padded over to the TV set. It wasn't on too often, which was fine by him; Clark watched a couple of cartoons before he went to bed, and Lex thought Jonathan might've watched a fishing show just after dinner.

It was different than he was used to. His father almost always had it on. CNN morning, noon, and night, except when sometimes C-span was on. He missed, in particular, waking up from a nightmare when he was home from school, and settling down beside his dad on the sofa to silently enjoy his presence. And then his stories about the news, talking and...

Lex took a deep breath, and dashed a hand over his eyes, as he turned the TV on. He was a big boy, and he wasn't going to cry.

It wasn't hard to find out how to work the set, but before he could start, there was sudden patter of small feet over tiles in the kitchen and then Clark did one of his sudden appearing acts. He looked worried and his wide eyes caught the silvering reflection of the TV as he looked questioningly at Lex.

"Shh," Lex murmured softly, gesturing Clark closer, wondering how the small boy had known he was here. He made sure the volume was turned way down for the moment, so the roar of static as he changed the input wouldn't wake the Kents. "I'm going to watch a tape."

Clark nodded and then clambered up on the sofa so he could sit next to or on Lex, depending on the circumstances. "Lex tape... stay?"

"You can stay -- just be quiet for me," Lex implored softly. He moved to sit down beside Clark, and hit the play button on the remote, and then brought up the volume.

Static transformed into a picture that startled him.

It was his mother, sitting in one of the private rooms of the penthouse, looking directly at the camera with a faint sad smile.

"My dearest son, my own 'Lex... this is a personal message just for you. There are so many things I want to say, and I know I do not have the time. I am so sorry this had to happen to you, that you had to lose the both of us. Those `slings and arrows' strike where they will, for all our plans to the contrary."

His mother took a deep breath, her voice much warmer and emotional than it had been on the tape at the reading.

"Most people regret dying and the things that they should have said. Lex, the thing I want to say and want you to know is that I love you. Your father and I loved you dearly, and everything we have tried to teach you was to help you grow, to learn and protect you so you could fulfill your great potential. You are special, my Lex. You always have been, and now even more so. Your father and I both agreed on that, even if sometimes we disagreed on how you could manifest that greatness."

There was no attempt in her speech to tone it down as if to a child. As always, she addressed him as if he was adult enough to read all the nuances, or perhaps expecting over time that he would.

"It will be my main regret that I will not live to see you make us proud, to follow in the footsteps of your namesake, in the examples of all those rich lives in the histories we shared with each other. But I do know you will do it, because of who you are, and what you are capable of..."

Lex stared as he watched that, for the first few moments, and then soaked up the words as if the tape were going to self-destruct when it came to an end.

His mom. As vibrant as she hadn't been on the tape that had played at the will-reading, talking to him, just to him. He wanted to crawl into the screen, up onto her lap, and hug her again. Just one last time, without tubes and wires in their way and that acrid clean smell that hospitals had. He swallowed down a sob, but his eyes were wet as he blinked them fiercely out. Lex couldn't miss a moment of what he was watching. He barely noticed Clark hugging him tight even as the tape continued.

Lillian Luthor looked out of the screen directly at him. "I know you will feel hurt and alone, Lex, I know that things will feel strange to you now and I owe you an explanation about what I have done."

She leaned forward, so close it seemed he should be able to smell her perfume. "You need to know why I made people you do not know as your guardians. Martha and Jonathan Kent are the least likely people I know who would use you, Lex -- you remember what your father taught you about that kind? I realized this because I met Martha and their adopted son Clark at the hospital and could see something wonderful there that most families lack... and that is the second reason. Lex, you know from history, from our times, that the greatest men always had someone special. Alexander had his Hephastion, Gilgamesh his Enkidu. Those who tried alone eventually failed, though your father was right that they held value in and of themselves. This was one of our mild differences."

She smiled gently, grief flickering in her blue eyes. "He believed a man alone could overcome, I believe the greatest potential lies in someone who has support and ties to draw on. I always regretted not being able to give you another brother myself, but it was not to be. I helped Martha and Jonathan adopt Clark, and I will tell you this, my son, there is something special about him as well. I could see it when I came to get you at the hospital and they were there, and I hope I am not mistaken. What his secret is, I am sure that you will find out in time, as I know no puzzle that can evade your mind."

His mother's words would drive him onwards in later years, but for the moment he was choking down tears and listening as carefully as he could. "Mommy..." She couldn't hear him, but that still ached its way out of his throat. That was entirely his mother, that gentle, beatific smile curling her graceful face, the waves of red hair framing her pretty pale eyes.

There was hard reason and intellect behind her words. They felt twice as true since he'd already reached a similar conclusion on his own -- that Clark was something special to him, something just generally special. History never lied.

"I wish I had more time to get to know Martha and Jonathan, to impress on them what your father and I already knew. I will not insult you by asking you to work hard, because I know you drive yourself harder than most and demand much of yourself, as we taught you. As for your new condition, Lex, keep it secret if you can. There are those that might use you, put you in danger though it heartens me that as a result you will not fall prey to my condition."

"I have little time now Lex, and I wish I could be there to help you grow, and be with you. All I ask is that you remember me... and your father. Remember what we have taught you, all the times we had when we were happy, but don't be afraid to let yourself be happy because that's all we ever wanted for you. There is a poem Lex, that begins, Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into that silent land... Find it, my son. It expresses what I want to say far more eloquently than any words I could find here and now."

She closed her eyes a moment, and then she pressed a kiss to her fingers and leaned forward to press them to the camera lens. "I love you Lex, I'm so sorry to leave you..." And she leaned back and mouthed the words 'love you' once more before the tape disappeared into hisses and static.

Lex let the static hiss, and with a low, mourning sob, turned to hug Clark close, appreciating the warmth of something living next to him as he was filled with the cold emptiness of her loss all over again. "Mom, Mom..." He'd find the poem. He'd do everything they'd ever expected of him. He'd make her proud, make his dad proud. And he'd try to make the Kents proud.

Clark responded to that hug, pressing his cheek, soft and comforting, to his 'brother's' and it was difficult to tell if the dampness on his face was from Lex's tears or some of his own, cried in sympathy.

They stayed that way until Lex drew back, still sniffling, and looked at Clark's face. "I'm always going to stay, Clark. Okay? Always. You're part of my destiny, all I have left."

The younger boy looked up at him and nodded gravely, touching Lex's face and repeating very clearly if softly "..part of my des-tin'."

It could have been mimicry, but it didn't feel like it. It felt like something had been confirmed or decided in that moment that could pivot the world on its axis, for all that the night remained silent except for the silver hiss of the empty screen in front of them.

So the world tilted for them both, but Lex only gave Clark a little smile, and whispered, "Yeah." Then he pulled back to take the tape out, and re-set the television to a channel that was playing old Bugs Bunny cartoons. He turned the volume down low, and moved to sit down on the sofa again.

Clark apparently decided that it was a good thing, and an even better thing would be crawling back into Lex's lap and be nice and comfortable and warm with his brother less upset. The moment Lex sat down he had Clark squirming for a comfortable position before he settled to watch the cartoon, perfectly content.

Both of them were perfectly content, even if Lex was solemnly quiet and a little tense. He tucked his feet up under him, and then pulled the throw off of the back of the sofa to spread it out over him and Clark.

Cartoons morphed to early morning test patterns, but neither of the sleeping boys noticed. The set was still on the next morning, playing shows for tiny children, when Martha came down.

Martha had been a little bit concerned to see Clark's door open, as he had not closed it behind him like Lex had, so she'd hurried downstairs to see where her wandering son could be. It didn't take long for her to realize that the distant murmur of sound in the living room was the television. She walked in quietly and smiled. How could she not smile, seeing the two of them bundled together like that? The tension had even been smoothed out of Lex's face by the gentle touch of sleep. Clark's soft hair could seen as a dark mop spilled on Lex's chest, his body acting as another blanket for the older boy.

Martha stepped away and turned off the set quietly, caching sight of the tape on the side and realizing what might have happened. Even more determined to let them sleep if they could, she returned to the kitchen to start breakfast for Jonathan and them if they woke in time, and coffee for herself.

It was still early when Martha had finished the coffee, and could hear Lex rustling around in the living room. Martha was still in her dressing gown and slippers. Jonathan would come hurtling down the stairs in a moment, rush out into the early morning cold and then come back in a couple of hours to shower before doing other tasks. Still, he needed a big breakfast right now. So, bacon was sizzling, some pancakes and eggs were ready, too, as well as some toast and cereal already out on the table. She sipped the coffee as she juggled the coordination of everything cooking at once, stifling a yawn.

Then Lex padded into the kitchen, and hauled a chair out from beneath the table to climb up into it.

"When do we go to mass, Martha?"

Martha turned and glanced at him. "Morning, Lex," she said, blinking a little at the request. "Mass? Ah... well, Jonathan and I aren't churchgoing folk. I didn't realize you were, Lex."

He looked a little worried, and fidgeted to sit upright, rubbing at his eyes at the same time. "Oh. I'd just assumed..."

They all assumed too much about each other. "Do you go every week?" she asked, stirring the bacon a little more. "Would you like some breakfast now or do you want to wait for 'second' breakfast when Jonathan finishes his rounds?"

"I'll wait until Clark wakes up." Lex leaned his elbows on the table, and rested his chin in his hands. "We went every week. On Sundays."

"Is it something that you... feel strongly about?" Martha asked listening to the signs of stirring upstairs, and putting the toast down in the toaster.

"You're asking if I go because I want to, or just because." Lex watched her set the toast down, and was quiet for a moment. "I believe in God, but I believe in science, too. Mom... Mom liked to go to Mass. D-dad liked the political aspects of it."

"We believe Lex, we've just not felt the need to express it by committing to a particular church," Martha replied flicking him a look. Political aspects? "Personally, I've never seen a conflict between God and science. Science breeds more wonder and awe than ignorance." She smiled again. "If you want to go, then I'll find a Church that does Mass."

Smallville wasn't a place for Cathedrals.

"You don't have to. Can I have some coffee...?"

"Certainly. Milk, two sugars, yes?" Martha recalled. "We'll look and see if there's one locally Lex. Otherwise, we'll make a point of doing our Metropolis trips so we can combine the two. It's not the ideal solution but... we can try."

He didn't want to make them go out of their way. "No, you don't have to," Lex said quickly.

Martha turned and looked at him. "Maybe not, but I want to," she said simply and poured out the coffee, and stirring in the sugar. She glanced up and walked over to the stairs and called, "Jonathan! Breakfast! Make sure you have your thick socks on, it's snowing out there," before she walked back and passed Lex his weak coffee.

Lex cupped it in his hands, then slipped down from his chair. "I'll get Clark up. What..." He padded over Martha at the foot of the stairs. "I think I should learn your routine, instead of the other way around. It'd be easier. What do you usually do on Sundays?"

"Well Sunday is as close to a day of rest as the Kent household gets," she replied. "On a farm, there are always things to be done, animals to take care of. Jonathan tends to do that now, comes back in a couple of hours. Then we do... whatever needs to be done. Jonathan works on the truck sometimes, I do things in the house and sometimes we make family trips out. Or we will." Martha smiled, pleased at the thought of that novelty being added into her routine. "I'd often be cooking up batches of pies and cakes to sell in town if needed... in the summer there are deliveries to do as well."

"Sounds busy," Lex noted solemnly. He wasn't used to things like that. He was going to be a burden on them if he kept demanding or expecting things to be the way they were. Even if he didn't want to change, he was going to have to change. "I--"

Jonathan tromped down the stairs in a flurry, fully dressed, pulling his winter coat on. "Martha, have you got the boys up already? Where's Clark? His bed's empty..."

"The boys are down here. Clark is just finishing his nap on the sofa." Martha moved over towards him. "Morning, love," she said smiling and putting his breakfast on the table.

Her words were proved a lie, from a small thump in the other room, which was presumably Clark falling off the sofa, some muffled noises of protest before a Clark sized sofa throw trundled into the kitchen.

Lex moved towards him, holding the coffee cup tight in one hand, and he reached with the other to pull the throw off of Clark. "Morning, sleepy. He drinks juice, right, Martha?"

"Yes he..."

Martha was interrupted by a sleepy request of, "Milk plea?" from Clark. It appeared that he had picked up manners as well as more words somewhere along the line.

"I stand corrected," Martha replied, pleased at a new word from her youngest son. "Of course you can have milk, sweetheart, especially as you asked so nicely."

"Atta boy..." Jonathan swung Clark up into his arms, and carried him over to a chair. "Milk makes your bones grow strong and if you drink milk you'll be big and tall just like me some day."

Lex half-followed, distancing himself now that Jonathan was back. "When you work on the truck, can you come get me? I want to do that."

"Me do!" Clark said, giggling and reluctant to let go of his father even to sit down. It seemed that his speech was starting to come together overnight, clumping words together a little more readily.

Lex approved of that mildly, but kept it all in his head as he slipped back into his chair and looked to Martha for approval. "And can we play outside? In the snow? I've never really had many chances to do that."

"Sure. It's practically compulsory," she said lightly. "You boys want beef or chicken for dinner tonight?"

"Chicken," Jonathan said helpfully, around a mouthful of coffee, while he poured Clark a glass of milk. "There you go..." Then he had toast in hand, gave a kiss on Martha's cheek, and was out the door.

Martha smiled and turned back to the boys sitting a moment "You watched the tape, Lex?" she asked gently as she sipped her coffee. "I left it on the side. I meant to suggest that you could watch it yesterday, but I got wrapped up in the paperwork."

"I couldn't sleep last night, so I came down and found it. I guess I woke Clark up, because he came down with me."

"You are... Are you okay?" Martha asked, tilting her head slightly. "It must have been hard for you."

He just nodded, drinking his coffee in little sips. "I'm going to keep it with my stuff." So Martha wouldn't watch it, but she understood that. It was private.

"But I'm okay. I'm glad Clark came down."

"He sat with you?" Martha smiled proudly at Clark and ruffled his hair slightly. "I was going to suggest you might need company -- but of course I was going to suggest Jonathan or me."

"That's okay. Do you know poetry, Martha?"

"Some, Lex," Martha admitted. "Why?"

Lex toyed with the edge of his coffee cup, sliding his finger around the lip. "There's a poem, and it starts, Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into that silent land. I want to know what it is."

Martha paused. "Oh, Lex, I do know that one. I don't think I have a copy, but..." she was racking her brains. "I think I remember doing this when I was in high school. Rossini... no, that's a composer. Something like that."

She paused a moment, deep in thought before her memory served up an answer. "Rossetti, yes. I'm sure it was by Rossetti."

"Oh, yes. Her." Lex's mouth thinned out. "I'll find it sometime, then. I know who she is. I hope you don't mind, but I read the notes you made."

"Well, I was going to sit down and talk to you about them anyway Lex, so no I don't mind," Martha said easily looking at him. "Do you want to talk about it now?"

He nodded, looking a little nervous. "I think I need to go back to Excelsior. I'm going to... to own the company some time, when I'm older, and I need to know what to do with it." Lex glanced over at Clark, "But I want to stay here, too."

Martha was heartened by that. Only a couple of days here and he was actually wanting to stay. Largely due to Clark of course, but still. "Is it the quality of education that you're concerned about?" she asked. Not that it wasn't obvious from her notes that she was concerned it would not be challenging enough for Lex.

"Yes." Lex fidgeted a little, but glanced up at her with candid eyes, trying to convey the vague feelings, the slight differences that made all the world of difference with Excelsior. "I get bored. I even get bored at Excelsior sometimes, but I think it'd be worse."

"Well let me tell you something that I came up with in the middle of the night," Martha said. "I'll admit that I was considering the same... and I'll admit, that I wanted to give you the option of not having to stay away from home. So, what I was considering Lex was sorting something out with Excelsior and Smallville. Your mother was very explicit that you should receive the best education possible, as tailored to your needs as possible. If we have to, there's the potential to create the sort of courses you need here in Smallville. That would benefit not just you, but Clark and everyone else here as well. So don't worry about that. What's most important is what you'll feel happiest with. If it's Excelsior, then I will use the provision that has been made, to make sure you are... challenged, and we will come and get you every weekend if you want. If it's Smallville, then we'll ensure that what they have to offer is up to scratch, as well."

"I don't think regular schools could offer me anything. I don't think you know... what I'm capable of." That hadn't sounded too arrogant.

"Perhaps not, Lex, but I do know that you're more than just smart," Martha replied, knowing more now than she had before at least from her own message from Lillian. "I realized that the first day we met. You are special," she hesitated a moment. "Like Clark is special, which makes me very lucky to have both of you. But I do know that what's most often sacrificed is normality, and I want you both to have a home, a solid basis that you know you can both rely on, and happiness."

"I could come home on weekends," Lex offered. "I used to do that before. I... I want to make my parents proud of me. I want to do great things, I need to know everything I can." Special, yes, that was a key part of who Clark was. Something... special.

"But do you want to do that at Excelsior or Smallville Lex?" Martha asked. "I understand what you're saying, and I know your parents will be proud of you... but what I'm offering is a choice. Jonathan and I will support you all the way, and you won't be going back to school until you're settled here, either way."

"I want to go to back to Excelsior," Lex said, a little unsure. He clearly didn't want to disappoint her, Jonathan, or Clark. "I'll be done there soon. Four years after this one. And then I can go to college."

Martha nodded after measuring his expression and stance to see if he was certain. "If that's what you want Lex, then we'll do that." She smiled at him "I'll need you to tell me what you think should be changed there, though."

"Changed?" He blinked at her, mouth opening a little in startlement. "At Excelsior?"

Martha smiled again. Seeing Lex like that was so different from his normal composed self, it was nearly worth doing it just to see the emotion he usually kept hidden. "If you're getting a little bored there, Lex, something needs to be done to keep your interest."

"It's just science," Lex shrugged and moved to slip out of his chair. "I'm really quite advanced, and there's nothing to be done for that. I teach myself all sorts of things. I'm going to go get dressed now, okay?"

"Okay, sweetheart," Martha agreed, privately considering that the science lessons at Excelsior could be supplemented appropriately to keep them challenging and interesting for him. Lillian had been very definite about that.

"I best get Clark here changed before he dribbles more milk down his top. C'mhere, Clark honey." She reached for him and the small boy unhesitatingly cuddled into her arms. "Lets get you changed and ready to go play today, hmm?"

"Martha?" Lex started towards the stairs, but stopped to turn around and look at Martha, and Clark. "Thank you. For listening."

Martha smiled then, a genuine surprised smile just for him, feeling a sort of warmth settle into her bones, into her very being just as it had with Clark. Whether he knew it or not, what Jonathan called her `mother's instincts' had reached to encompass Lex as her own -- as Lillian had known, and relied upon when she named them guardians. she couldn't say she regretted that for a moment.

"Anytime, Lex. Anytime," she replied and touched him with the same casual warm physical affection that she bestowed on Clark and Jonathan. "Let's get changed. We can ambush Jonathan when he comes back." She suggested and then, chuckling at Clark's agreeing giggles, ushered the pair of them upstairs.

Things weren't perfect, but they were acceptable and decent.

Lex prodded at the motorized ball he'd made for Clark, and set it rolling across the gritty wooden floor of the loft that had become their refuge and their play area. His comic books were kept in Tupperware boxes up there, along with the telescope that had been Jonathan's before it had been his and Clark's, a range of half-finished experiments on a knotty pine table, a hammock, an old sofa, and books. Clark's books, his books, they blended and warped together.

"You're making a mess. You have Cheerios everywhere, Clark," Lex murmured, trying to sound severe at his little brother. It was something he found very difficult to do, with Clark so delighted at everything all the time, much like a tousled puppy rushing around happily in Lex's trail.

"I like Cheerios," Clark replied, grinning and pleased to have his brother home again. Each week seemed like an eternity to them both. By the time Friday came around, Clark was nearly unbearable with excitement at the prospect of a whole weekend with his older brother and the cool things they could make and do. "I can clear them up." He lunged to grab the ball as it whizzed past him.

Lex grinned as he watched Clark head towards the fast ball. It wedged itself under the sofa, and he winced almost right away, pushing himself up onto his elbows from where he was stretched out on the floor. "Hold on, I'll get that for you, Clark."

"I can get it," Clark said, turning around and pushing himself up, looking at Lex who was much closer than he was. "I'm smaller than you."

"Hmph, we'll see about that. I have longer arms than you do." Lex didn't bother to stand, but walked towards the sofa on hands and knees.

Clark giggled and was suddenly... just there at the sofa, struggling to reach underneath with his short arms. "It's right at the back!" he complained and tried to push back to get to it. The sofa shifted a little and banged against one of the slightly rickety heavy bookcases Jonathan had brought out there.

"Hold on, Clark -- I'll get it." Lex didn't notice the wobbling bookcase that was behind him when he reached the couch, only that Clark looked perfectly silly floundering with an arm under the sofa. "You might knock it further back, just wait a moment." He crawled towards his little brother, smirking.

"I need to put a remote in it, don't I?"

"Yes!" The agreement was a bit muffled, since it was said with Clark trying to stick his head under the sofa to see where the ball was. As he twisted to come out, the sofa lifted and twisted, banging back against the bookcase behind Lex.

Lex was only half-aware of a blur of speed, and a body on top of him before the case tipped entirely.

"Jesus!"

Books fell on them, rained down on them heavy and hard, hit Lex in the head as he tried to twist out of the way at the last moment, in a panic. But the case, bulky and solid, didn't fall on them, because Clark was holding it up, on the palms of his little hands with hardly any effort, stopped at near parallel to the floor.

"Clark..." He was bleeding from a gash inflicted by one of his encyclopedias, but that didn't matter because his little brother was holding up a bookcase. "Push it back, Clark, before Dad finds it knocked over."

Clark pushed forward and the shelves righted themselves, though the contents were all over the floor around them; when he turned around he was pale and crying. "Lex! Lex... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to! You're hurt!"

Like any other five year old, this was the end of the world, not because it was something strange but because he might have caused a mess and hurt his brother by accident.

"It's okay, Clark, it's okay," Lex whispered, voice quiet to try to hush his brother. He shifted forwards, wrapping his arms around Clark. "You saved me, god, how did you do that? You.... It's okay, Clark, please don't cry..."

Clark sniffled noisily. "But you're bleeding," he said in a distraught whisper through hiccupping sobs. "And it's my fault! I knocked it over!"

"Shhh..." Lex rocked him, stroked his hair, trying to make soothing noises all the while. "It's okay. I heal fast."

Clark held onto him, settling a little reassured by his presence and calm. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and his eyes on Lex's shirt. "Won't do it again," he promised fervently.

"You're so strong," Lex marveled quietly, settling back in the mess of spilled books, Clark still clutched close to him. "Do Mom and Dad know that?"

Clark shook his head slowly. If they knew, he wasn't aware of it. "Is... is it bad?" His worried eyes looked on the verge of more tears, "Have I done something wrong?"

"No, it's nothing wrong," Lex was quick to tell him. "It's really neat. I just... you need to be careful. It's not the kind of thing other kids can do."

Clark looked worried. "It's not?" he asked Lex. "Like when... Pete says I'm too fast when we play tag? He's says I cheat! I don't cheat." His expression had shifted from being scared into being affronted.

"It's not cheating," Lex said somberly. "It's just you. Being you. You're special, but I've always thought you were special." He pulled back a tiny bit, to tap one finger gently on Clark's nose. "Don't be scared by it. Have I ever lied to you, Clark?"

Clark shook his head firmly. "No. You said that... we would never lie to each other, ever," he said proudly and then hesitated. "But Pete says he can't see to catch me so I must be cheating and he doesn't like it... an' then he won't speak to me or anything for hours sometimes!"

Lex shoved books back, clearing space for them, and settled Clark in his lap. "Then I'll teach you to run slower. You should pretend to be normal, but it's only pretending. They get jealous and scared if they know you're not normal. I'm not, and Mom told me to never... to be very careful who I told."

"But Mom knows you're special. So does Dad," Clark didn't understand. "They always say you are. They know don't they?"

Lex looked down at Clark's teary face, his brilliant green eyes, and just shook his head. "No. I'm brilliant, and they know that, Clark. But... here, let me show you."

It was a visual process, and a beautiful one as it danced across Lex's eyelids when he closed his eyes. Cells growing, splitting, closing the gap and knitting that aching gash back together. He kept a hold on Clark just in case he got concerned or frightened, and opened his eyes when he was done.

A quick swipe of tongue over his fingertips, then he reached up to wipe the blood away. "See?"

Clark touched it gently feeling the whole flesh that was a little warm and pink under his fingertips. "It's... gone!" he said in awe. "Wow, Lex!"

Wow. Not 'Oh, fuck' -- not that Clark was capable of saying that, but something similar -- or fright or panic. Lex smiled a little crookedly, and kissed Clark's forehead. "I told you that I'd be okay."

"... never lie." Clark agreed, that gesture of affection bringing his ready smile back as if by magic. "Mom and Dad could know?"

"Not about this, they don't." Lex laid his cheek on Clark's soft hair, and went on. "I'm not sure if they should know or not. I know they know everything else, but this..."

"Why?" Clark asked curiously, content to stay where he was for as long as Lex would let him.

"Because I'm scared." And big brothers were never scared, were they? "Maybe we should tell them -- you're fast, we could run for it if we have to."

"Could carry you and run," Clark offered, trying to make a contribution. "They would be upset?"

"They might." Carry him and run? Lex wanted to laugh as he stood up, hefting Clark in his arms when he did so. Clark was starting to get less-little, and Lex found himself still so depressingly small, but he could carry his little brother. "Let's... try to tell them. Then we'll clean up the books together. There's no point in cleaning it up if they react badly."

"..'kay." Clark agreed, trusting Lex's judgment. "You won't be upset with me?" he asked anxiously after a moment's pause. "Even if Mom and Dad are?"

Lex hefted Clark up a little, trying to balance him against his narrow hip as he tottered down the stairs. "I'm never upset, even when you drop Lucky Charms in my experiments." Except the time when Clark had dropped a marshmallow into rubbing alcohol and then had tried to eat it, but Lex hadn't yelled at him in anger -- only fear and concern.

Clark gave a little worried giggle. "Sorry, Lex," he whispered in his ear as he was jostled down the stairs.

"That's okay," he chuckled quietly. The whisper in his ear tickled, and Lex could still feel Clark's breaths when he stepped down into the Barn, and started towards the house proper. "Want to stay up late and look at the sky tonight? We can probably find Hercules."

Clark nodded. "He did all those big things... hero things. Are they there too?" He had his 'trying to be sneaky ' tone on, when he knew full well what the answer was, but was trying to wheedle something.

"Some of them," Lex promised with equal slyness. "Do you want to hear about the twelve tasks again?"

Clark beamed. "Yes!" he replied and then realized he probably wasn't being as subtle as he was meant to be. "Can't remember all of them yet," he amended, their present dilemma somewhat forgotten even as they reached the house.

"I bet you can't," Lex smirked. Some of the happiness in his voice drifted away as he started up the stairs, and then set Clark down before he opened the door. "Martha...?"

"Upstairs, sweetheart," Martha called down. "I'm just making the beds. I thought you and Clark were in the loft?"

"We need to talk to you," Lex hesitated, closing the screen door behind them. "Come on, Clark. We'll go up there..."

"No, no... I'm coming down." Martha's voice sounded worried. "Is there something wrong?"

She came hurrying down the stairs, taking in the fact that Clark was clinging to his older brother. For them, holding hands or walking close was normal, arms over shoulders was comforting, actual carrying meant they'd had some sort of... experience that meant Clark and Lex needed a lot of reassurance. Like when Lex had shouted at Clark; and then sat down and hugged him, explained why he shouted, not letting go until everything was right again between them.

They were odd in that way, almost raising each other. Lex had a temper that he went out of his way to circumvent for Clark's benefit, and was patient and careful with the younger boy. And Clark garnered near constant attention when Lex was home and repaid his brother in hero worship.

"Yes and no...."

"Ah, this feels like a talk that will need us to sit down," Martha said a little worried, as she put the folded sheets she had been carrying onto the side. "Let's sit in the living room a minute, and you can tell me what the problem is okay?" She walked in to sit on the sofa, patting it next to her for them to sit down. "So... what is it?"

"We had an accident in the loft," Lex offered, and waited to see her reaction to that. Little bit by little bit, he'd tell her.

"Obviously the two of you are okay, so it can't be that bad," Martha said after a moment's pause. "And you are confessing to a mess? Or is there something else?"

"Clark knocked over the big heavy bookcase when he lifted up the sofa to get his ball." Lex licked his bottom lip to dampen it. "And the bookcase fell on me."

Martha looked startled. "But... Lex, are you all right? That bookcase is heavy -- are you hurt?" She leaned forward to look at him closely, anxiety marked clearly on her face.

Clark, on the other hand, had gone very quiet and still.

There was only a faint little smear of blood on Lex's head, but no mark to place it from. It was there as evidence that Lex had been injured, but Martha couldn't see how and where.

"Clark... caught it. He moved very, very fast and caught it. He even put it back in place; but the books fell out and one hit me on the head." Lex hesitated sharply then, and pressed onwards releasing his own secret, "The gash healed."

There was a long moment of silence, and Martha's thought processes were almost visible as she calculated what out of that sentence was possible and what wasn't. Oddly, she didn't react with denial as they probably; instead there was a sharp inhalation of breath and she asked in a faintly quavering voice, "Could you... go over that again in more detail?"

She didn't believe him, and Lex bristled even as he clutched Clark closer to him. "The motorized ball I made for Clark got stuck under the sofa. We both crawled towards the sofa to get it. Clark's arms are too short, but he tried to get it anyway, and I was just in front of the bookcase when he lifted the sofa a little -- by accident -- and knocked the bookcase over. He was in front of me, but then he was over me, and he caught the bookcase and stopped that from falling on me. The books fell out anyway, and...." He swallowed allowing some of his anxiety to slip through. "And you don't believe me."

Martha looked at him and shook her head slowly. "I wish it was easy as that, Lex, as easy as not believing you." Rumors were starting to drift through Smallville, things that no one wanted to admit out loud in case somehow that made it real. Rumors about people and children, reaching back to the Day of the Meteors. Strange things, dismissed as gossip in a small town, but enough.

Martha glanced again at the faint smudge of drying blood that didn't have a corresponding injury. Lex had never had a skinned knee, a bruise, a scratch Martha'd had to tend... and neither had Clark. Lex knew that, but that was a minor detail and easily concealable in the grand scheme of things.

"I do believe you, Lex," she replied, with as much reassurance as she could muster.

"No, you don't..." Quick to doubt that anyone could have faith in him or anything he said or did, Lex slipped down off of the sofa he'd perched on, and dragged Clark with him. "You're just saying that..."

"No, Lex. Stop." Martha looked at him pleadingly. "I promised I would always listen to you, it's just you told me something... well, to be honest, Lex, I was hoping I wouldn't have to deal with. But I do, and it's here and now, and I need you to come and sit down a moment and listen to me, okay?"

"Deal with?" Lex asked in soft, tight incredulity. "Deal with? Clark's always been fast, and I haven't had asthma since the meteor shower, and you have to deal with it?"

"Lex, sweetheart... its... it's not that. Of course I knew about that," Martha replied, looking at directly him, sincerity in her gaze. "This is something else. Will you give me a chance to show you what I'm talking about, honey?"

"Show us?" Lex asked, hesitant as he turned to glance at Clark to see if he knew what Martha was talking about.

Clark was looking equally confused, if not more so. All he knew was that something was wrong and he was pretty sure that somewhere along the line it was his fault. Everything had been fine until he tipped over the bookcase. He looked up at Lex anxiously, biting his lip a little.

Martha nodded. "It's easier to do it that way... and then we can all talk about what it means," she said cryptically. "It's... out in the storm cellar."

Lex fidgeted as he did when he was nervous and under stress, but nodded. "Then show us? It's only..." Not fair, he didn't want to say 'fair'. "Proper. That you do."

Martha nodded. "I know... I...." She stood up abruptly. "Come with me." She offered a hand for Lex to hold, hopefully, as she turned to leave.

Lex considered for a moment, clutching Clark closer before he reached up to take her hand. "We still haven't cleaned up the books in the loft yet."

"We'll do that later," Martha said gently. "This is more important."

Lex hadn't been unnerved enough to refuse that contact -- that was a good sign. "Come on, sweetheart."

They walked out of the door, and then down from the porch; Jonathan came towards them from the barn, looking panicked but relaxed to see Martha and the boys with her.

"Boys, the loft is a wreck -- what happened?"

Martha looked at Jonathan. "It's a long story Jonathan... and.... we need to take them to the storm cellar."

"We do?" He cocked an eyebrow at Martha, looking surprised as he moved to try to lift Clark up from Lex's side. Only Lex was not letting go of his little brother, and Clark was clinging to him, unnerved by the strange way everyone was behaving.

"Clark stopped the bookcase falling on Lex by moving very fast and catching it," Martha said in an even tone, as if discussing what they should have for dinner. "Lex was hit by some of the books, and cut, but it's healed completely already."

This was meant to explain everything, somehow.

Jonathan fell into pace beside them; with the boys being stand-offish, there wasn't much hope of penetrating the invisible wall around them. The look he was giving Martha, that Lex caught the edge of, shouted 'I need a beer'. "We should've explained this sooner..."

"I know, but I wanted both Lex and Clark to know they could rely on us first." Even though her voice was level, the slight dampness from her hand showed that she was afraid. They neared the cellar and Martha looked at Jonathan. "Could you uh... you know?"

"I've got it," Jonathan assured her, and started forwards to pull the heavy doors of the storm cellar open. "Now, this is nothing to be scared of..."

People only said that, Lex noted, when there was definitely something to be scared of. He clutched at Clark's arm, gentle but still unsure of Jonathan's words. "Just tell us. Stop being cryptic."

"It's okay sweetie," Martha said though she still sounded a bit anxious herself. "Come into the cellar and you'll see. It's... well, it's to do with Clark okay?"

"Can't you just tell us?" Demanding was turning to nervous pleading, and Lex's steps slowed down as they neared the storm-cellar door that Jonathan had already passed through. There was a light on, and Lex could see it reflecting off of Martha's canning.

"In this case seeing will be believing," Martha replied trying to calm him before they sprang the shock on them both. "I -- well, if someone tried to tell me, I wouldn't believe it."

She took them inside and said softly. "There's more to the story of how Clark became our son... and to a certain extent how you have, too, Lex... and a big part of that story is... well, here."

Jonathan was lingering over by the tarped off wood-pile, plucking nervously at the shadowy edges of the tarp. "Now don't overreact to this, boys..."

Overreact? Lex pulled his hand out of Martha's, and shifted to hitch Clark up into his arms again. He was ready to bolt at the slightest thing, and Clark could feel that.

As Jonathan pulled the tarp back, the compact gleaming silver shape of a ship was revealed. There was something about its form and the way light fell into its metal structure that sent out subtle signals that it was not man made. Not human made at least. It robbed all of them of words just by its presence.

Martha's voice softly broke the stunned silence. "When the meteors struck Smallville, one of the main strikes impacted near us while we were heading back to the farm in our truck. It flipped us completely. When we came around there was Clark... just come out of this," she said smiling at both of them gently, if nervously. "He found us."

Not a sound from Lex; only stunned silence, and a slight tremor in his hands and arms. He turned his head to look at Clark, to look at his face and eyes.

Clarks eyes were wide as well and scared -- he probably understood that this meant he wasn't like everyone else, even more different than his brother, even with his secret. And Clark could feel the shake in Lex's arms and looked at him interpreting his shock as fear of him -- the fact that his parents had never made an issue of this before disappeared from his consideration. His face crumpled and he snatched his hand away from his 'brother'. The expression in his eyes was terrified and so alone that it hurt just to look at him. He seemed on the verge of bolting, straining to make a decision to stay or run.

"No, Clark, it's okay," Lex said, voice strained as he made a motion to snatch at Clark's fingers again. "It's really okay!"

Clark backed away, scared by the sudden movement and then with a wail, even as Martha sensed what he was about to do and called out, "Clark!" he ran.

For the first time they saw how fast he really was. He seemed to blur and vanish as he fled from all of them.

Martha took off after him without saying another word. Clark had panicked. She burst out of the cellar and looked, seeing a faint streak of movement, heading away over one of the fields. "Clark!"

Lex started up the stairs without hesitance, frightened out of his shock. The blur was a distant point leading into the woods at the edge of the field when Lex reached the top step, but that didn't discourage him as he broke into a run. Clark's name was the only thing he could call out.

Clark wasn't going to be allowed to run away without him.

Martha was sprinting fast and gestured Lex to veer to the left of the woods a little as she veered right, confident that Jonathan would head straight down the middle. That way they would cover all of the area and stand a chance of locating Clark. If he would stand still long enough to be caught.

There was one advantage or disadvantage to being abnormally fast and strong and that was the inability to go around things; instead, he had to go through them. That left a fairly obvious trail. Clark was so upset, and crying so hard he just punched through everything, going deep into the wood.

Lex didn't veer left as he followed that trail, not even considering the fact that years before this sort of running would have been impossible for him. It was her fault that Clark had run. Hers and Jonathan's fault. Somehow. Lex wasn't up to rationalizing, as they crossed from field to woods and he just followed Clark's path of destruction. Somewhere behind him, Martha and Jonathan were calling for Clark, but he just ran faster, sweating and scared in the dull of the dusk when he hit the small hill ridge, skidding to a slower speed as he saw his little brother curled up in the mud below him, pale as death.

"Clark! Clark, are you, are you okay?"

There was a whimper -- not the sound of someone upset, but the sound of someone so hurt that dying would seem like a mercy. Clark's breathing was ragged and his normally healthy appearance was dramatically altered to pale, sweating and shaking. It looked like somehow he had severely injured himself in his flight and was lying there gasping his last breaths.

Lex stumbled to a stop beside Clark, and fell to his knees beside his little brother. Maybe he'd used up all the energy in his body or... something. Carefully, Lex pulled Clark into his arms and stood up shakily. "C'mon, Clark. You're going to be okay. I promise..." He hoped he wasn't lying; he never wanted to lie to his younger brother.

Clark didn't even have the energy to cling, and that was the most worrying thing of all. Clark always clung to him, given the opportunity. He sounded much like Lex had in the days before his asthma had been cured, straining hard to even breathe yet there didn't seem to be a mark on him.

"Clark?! Lex!" Martha's increasingly desperate voice was close to them in the dim light of the wood. Twilight had rushed over the farmlands and stolen in between the trees.

"Go away!" Lex shouted back, and staggered away from the sharp slope Clark had fallen prey to, and deeper into the dark woods.

"Lex?" Martha heard them and slipped down the slope after them, stumbling and saving herself by slamming her hand against that rock. A faint green glow could be seen in the dim light where her hand scraped the mud off and she swore to herself under her breath. They must be in an impact depression...or close to it. She could hear rustling and went after them again. "Lex, come on... let's go home, we all need to go home."

As the light dimmed, small glimmers of green phosphorescence seemed to be picked out around them as they moved, in a strange imitation of the night sky, eerily beautiful.

"Why?" Clark wasn't clutching, wasn't responding to him, and that was wrong, Lex knew it. He struggled to climb up to the next crest out of this hole, determined even when he heard Jonathan stumble into the slope after Martha.

"Because we said so, Lex," Jonathan intoned firmly. "That's all the reason there needs to be. Clark could be hurt, could be..."

"He'll be fine!" Lex started over the crest away from them, stumbling as he tried to break into a fresh run.

It wasn't proving easy. The terrain was lumpy as hell and littered with rocks to slow him down. It didn't make it any easier for Martha and Jonathan, either.

"Lex, please!" Martha tried again. "You trust me to listen to you... now believe in us. What do you think we're going to do? We just want you both home, and safe."

"This wouldn't have happened if you had told us!" Lex circled back reluctantly, taking a wide arc as he circled around them. His arms were hurting from carrying Clark, but he wasn't going to let him go.

Martha paused a moment and then gestured to Jonathan, to cut in and intercept in front of them as she followed on behind. "I told you, it was hard to deal with. That's why we didn't say anything before," she said making a lot of covering noise. "Please, Lex, let's go home, talk about this. It's going to be alright..."

"He thought I was scared of him," Lex choked out, dodging to the side to arc away from Jonathan, but still heading towards the house. He might never get a chance to explain that to him now. He broke into another dragging sprint, out of that sharply sloping area, and felt Jonathan's fingers barely brush him, snagging the back of his shirt for a moment.

"It'll, it'll be all right, Clark..."

Away now from that impact zone, jostled by Lex's instinctive flinch and scramble away from Jonathan, Clark coughed, his green eyes opening suddenly. "...Lex?" It was barely louder than a whisper but more noticeable was the sudden grip on him, at once welcome but distracting.

He had to stop running. Lex wasn't built for that, and as healthy as he was, his lungs were burning, and he was shaking with exhaustion as he staggered to a halt because he needed to explain. "I'm not scared of you, Clark. N-never. Ever."

They could hear Jonathan's rough breaths, and then a, "Please, Lex, just come back home. I don't want to have to chase you two all over this damn county, but I will if I have to."

"And then I'll have to chase all three of you." Martha's voice came from close by. "Clark, sweetheart, we love you. Lex loves you... you're still his brother. We're still your mom and dad, and we feel so lucky that we are. We don't ever want to lose either of you, we want to protect you both... but that's hard to do with you running from us."

Clark raised his head a little, feeling better already. "I'm not... too different? You said that was bad?" he asked in a small voice. "I wanna go home." He sniffled a little, obviously trying to be brave, but feeling unwell enough to still be vulnerable.

Lex trudged onwards, and murmured, "We'll go home, then, okay? You have to be okay, or else I won't be able to show you the nebula tonight."

"Being different isn't bad at all," Jonathan was telling them both that, and he was soon close enough to put a supportive hand on Lex's shoulder. "Here, let me carry him, son. You're tired."

"I can walk now," Clark piped up. "Feel much better now." All of a sudden he seemed nearly fully recovered, which was very surprising, considering how desperately ill he had seemed not long before.

Martha came in on the other side of them, limping a little. "We'll go home and sit down, and you can ask whatever you want, okay?"

Lex nodded shakily, letting Clark slip down from his grip but not without grasping his hand first. "Okay." He felt exhausted, but Clark was okay. As long as Clark was okay...

It didn't matter that he was scared to have seen Clark be so horribly ill. As much as he liked and often adored Martha and Jonathan, Clark was his real anchor.

Clark seemed fine as they headed back to the farm, if a little quiet. He held tightly onto Lex with one hand and his mom with the other, choosing not to say anything. By the time they got back it was nearly completely dark, night having dropped swiftly upon them while they had been running around the fields and the woods.

"Let's go inside, and I'll make us all a drink and we'll tell you all about it okay?" Martha said quietly.

"Okay." It was never a good sign when Lex was being compliant. Compliance meant he wanted to be left alone, meant he wanted to talk with Clark alone, or go read by himself.

Jonathan held the door open for them, herding his family in. "I'll get drinks, Martha. You sit down with the boys."

Martha nodded, and sat down. It was ironic, but she and Jonathan looked much the worse for wear than their two runaways. "So... what do you want to know?" she asked finally.

"Everything?" Lex sat on the far end of the sofa, and finally let go of Clark's hand so he could sit where he wanted to.

Clark looked a little torn. He wanted to sit with both of them. He wanted them closer together so he could sit on both of them, given a chance. Still he seemed to know better than to try and move Lex, so he settled for looking pleadingly at his mother while sitting next to Lex until she moved closer -- then he relaxed, touching both of them.

"Well as we said, Clark was there with the Ship. It certainly startled us, I can tell you, almost as much as seeing Clark running around naked. But he... seemed to decide we were the ones for him, he latched onto me and.... that was it," Martha smiled in remembrance, stroking Clark's hair. "In that moment, I decided I wasn't giving him up. Ever. No matter that I had no idea how we could claim to adopt him, or legally keep him at the time. He was lost and alone and the answer to my wishes. Jonathan and I got the ship in the back of the truck... tarped it over and were driving back when your father ran out in front of the truck, Lex."

She glanced across at her older 'son'. "He seemed really shaken up and wanted help for his son and Jonathan went out with him while I looked after Clark. Jonathan found you and brought you back. You looked like you were going into shock so we were rushing you to hospital. What I remember most about that journey was the way that Clark seemed totally fascinated by you, Lex. Here he was, not even an hour on the planet and he... kneels up, leans across and strokes you gently on the cheek. It was like he knew you then and wanted to tell you things were going to be okay."

"Clark and I stayed with you at the hospital most of the day, until your mother came. We talked some then and she offered to help us... adopt Clark as our own in return for our help. I think she believed that perhaps we were so desperate for a child we had tried to make an illegal adoption. I confess, I jumped at the chance to make things legal to protect Clark's origins. Ever since then, I've been hoping in some way that if there were differences, they could be hidden, not because we're afraid of Clark or you, but because... we're afraid of what it might mean in terms of keeping you both safe."

"It's easier to keep a secret," Lex said stubbornly, "if you know what you're trying to keep safe." Not hiding, but keep safe. Clark was sensitive to specific words, certain ideas, and Lex was always careful to try to pick the best words. He laid his cheek on Clark's hair, and exhaled tiredly. His brother just accepted the contact gratefully.

"Here we go -- hot cocoa for everybody." Jonathan strode into the living room, four mugs held carefully by the handles as he offered them.

"Thank you Jonathan," Martha said, taking the drink gratefully. "And now you do know. If you hadn't been here Lex, I think we would have waited a lot longer to tell Clark. I had a feeling that it would be difficult to take. I was the one who decided to wait because I knew it would be a shock, not for any other reason."

Lex nodded as he reached to take his mug from Jonathan, and made sure Clark got his tight in his hands, and wouldn't spill it. It was just warm milk and cocoa packets, but it was soothing to drink. "Thank you... So, Clark's really not from this country. Does the ship... thing... work?"

Martha shook her head. "It won't open. We've tried a couple of times but nothing makes a mark on it. We were hoping there might be some clues in there." She gave a rueful smile. "Nothing I said was... strictly untrue. English wasn't Clark's first language, and he didn't have much information with him from the adoption agency. It just wasn't the whole story. But there'll be no secrets now between us. We never intended there to be, but... well... it's not something that's an easy topic to bring up."

"We're not even sure that either of you would've believed us if we'd told you any sooner," Jonathan agreed, as he sat down across from them.

It was hard to believe. If Lex hadn't seen Clark catch the bookcase with such ease, and then run away from them so fast, he wouldn't have believed it entirely himself. That made it a much bigger secret to keep than his own secret, much more important than his silly healing thing.

So he just nodded, and then whispered conspiratorially to Clark, "See, you're not cheating at tag."

Clark was sipping at his cocoa, still looking very quiet and subdued for him. He was usually full of smiles and energy and giggles and now he looked as if even though he didn't understand exactly what was going on, he could tell how it was affecting the people around him and he didn't like it. Still, that comment raised a little curve of a smile from him. "No... not cheating," he agreed leaning against Lex once more.

"Lex... why were you carrying Clark in the woods? How did you catch up with him?" The speed he had been going should have seen him part way to Metropolis by the time they caught up with them. There was something as bizarre about the rescue as there had been about the escape.

"In that dip, I caught up with him," Lex murmured, shifting to let Clark lean into him as much as he wanted to. "I thought he'd tripped, or run out of energy. He looked like he was having an asthma attack, so I picked him up..."

Martha's expression became concerned. "Clark, honey, are you okay?" Her hand smoothed over his forehead gently as Clark looked up at her with bright eyes.

"I'm fine, Mom," he replied, blinking a little.

"What happened, Clark? How did Lex catch up with you?" she asked trying not to sound as worried as she felt.

Clark gave a little shrug, a gesture oddly reminiscent of Lex. "I fell down the slope and when I tried to get up I couldn't. It hurt lots. Lots and lots and I felt sick and couldn't move. It was better when Lex picked me up an' then it... stopped when we were climbing out and I felt better. Then I was fine again." He looked at them all brightly. "It wasn't very nice."

"Not at all," Lex agreed after a few sips of cocoa. "I think you might've ran yourself out of energy or something. I'm not sure..." And he was going to find out somehow, but Lex was also going to be careful to not scare his little brother.

"So if I don't run so much it won't hurt?" Clark asked hopefully. "I really didn't like it." He emphasized that again in case they had missed that the first time.

"Not sure quite yet," Lex told him honestly. "It's never happened before, has it?"

"Maybe it's something in the woods," Jonathan offered thoughtfully. "Don't you worry, Clark. We'll find out what it was and keep it from happening again."

"We'll look in daylight," Martha replied. "Tomorrow. In the meantime, Clark, honey, you should take it careful. And never go too fast around other people aside from us. It's important to keep what you can do -- what you and Lex can do, secret."

Clark looked at all of them. "Why?" he asked eventually, in a small voice. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No, nothing at all." Lex twisted a little, looking in his brother's wide eyes. "It's just that other people... like Pete. Pete, for example, thinks you're cheating when you play tag with him. He wouldn't understand that you're naturally so very fast, and why. He'd be jealous and people don't treat things that they're jealous of very well. Like... Like Hercules. Very strong, and all of the mortals wanted him to do things all the time for them. They wanted to use him because they didn't understand, and tried to hurt him."

Clark nodded, but looked worried though. "He... was poisoned an' killed people `cos someone was jealous of him," he said sounding subdued. "I don't want to hurt 'nyone!" More to the point it had been Hercules's family and Lex knew that Clark did remember that detail but probably found it too frightening to even speak aloud.

"You'd never hurt anyone, Clark." Jonathan leaned forwards in his chair, trying to assure Clark. "We love you, and I'm sure there's differences between Hercules and you, huge differences, Clark. You're our little boy."

Lex nodded in agreement. "But... Mom told me when we figured out why I wasn't sick anymore... that if lots of people found out, the government would take me and experiment on me."

Clark horrified at that. "They'd take you away?" His own concerns seemed forgotten in a moment. "They can't take you away! Can't do ex... `speriments! I won't let them. Mom and Dad won't let them!"

"Shhh, I know that. Shhh. But that's why it has to stay a secret, okay? That's why we have to keep what you can do a secret, because they'd take you away, too. And that'd be awful."

It was obvious even from his expression that the prospect of being separated from his family was a threat of such dire consequences that Clark was not likely to make an accidental slip up. "I'll be good," he said with firm determination. "I'll be very good. An' then everything will be okay."

Lex nodded, and slumped a little, taking a long sip of his cocoa. "It will be. Martha, I'm going to go take a shower. It's late, and we're all tired..."

Martha nodded in agreement and patted his arm. "I think that's a good idea. I'll make you two boys a snack to take up with you to bed," she suggested, and kissed Clark and Lex reassuringly. "I'm proud of both of you."

They'd both be able to keep a secret.

Summertime in the big city and summertime in Smallville held a light-year of difference between them, but when it came down to choosing which one he liked better, he chose Smallville.

Bruce had offered to let him summer with him in Gotham, but Lex had wanted to help on the farm -- for the experience it gave him, he told the other children at Excelsior -- and to be with Clark. That was something that was less well understood at Excelsior.

What twelve-year-old in his right mind wanted to actively spend time with his little brother? Lex just smiled at them and said that Clark was a great kid, and he liked the 'farm hicks'.

And Clark was great. He was well behaved, and loving, and open about everything, and a good learner, a better listener, a great talker...

Wow, he could talk. Ask him how he'd generally liked his kindergarten 'graduation', and he went on and on and on, and was still going on while Lex led him to the ice cream store that was at the near end of Main. Martha and Jonathan had let him take Clark there -- because grocery shopping was boring, and Lex liked to try to barter higher prices for Martha when she was trying to sell her vegetables and pies.

As they entered the store, they were somewhat over looked by most of the adults who were in there, usually standing talking as the children did the hard work of choosing from the many flavors and lining and paying. Gossiping was such a fixture that the shop owner never put a display in the spot near the door because it was a huddle area for the Smallville conferences of men and women alike. If someone wanted to know what was going on in Smallville, they visited the ice cream parlor and a few other selected shops in a row. After that, they would have the low down on everything about everyone.

It wasn't the sort of thing that young boys usually listened to aside from the fact that this time the name Martha was mentioned and attracted Lex's attention as it was said in such a conspiratorial tone

"... she said it had to be true... three times in the last month she's been into the pharmacy for that painkiller gel... and Sarah from the Cafe down the road said she definitely saw Martha limping the other day and asked her, but she said it was nothing wrong."

Lex kept quiet even as he eavesdropped. "Okay, whatever kind you want," he murmured to his little brother as they moved to stand in the line before the register. "Any kind at all."

"Wow!" Clark immediately set about trying to decide, concentrating hard on the obscene variety of flavors listed ahead of him.

"Nell said she wondered why she was always wearing long sleeves until she saw a bandage on her wrist," the other woman said in a hushed tone. "I swear it's true. And we all know that Jonathan has a temper. He always did in High School -- even Ethan had to admit that."

"Even so... Jonathan. Kent. I mean he's so... nice and polite." The original gossiper paused and then continued in the fake reluctance of someone who was secretly delighted to have unearthed a juicy tidbit of scandal. "I only thought it was odd because the hospital phoned up to speak to her doctor regarding the amount of x-rays she's had in the last nine months when I was covering the phones. Of course, he didn't say anything and took the call privately but he sounded worried. And then all of a sudden she stopped coming in at all!"

That was perfectly impossible, Lex decided as he listened. What they were implying was... just impossible. Jonathan had never laid a hand on Martha, he was a good upstanding man, rather gentle even if he did shout sometimes. Lex was usually the one who started shouting first. He murmured to Clark, "And get me the same that you get yourself. Here, be a big boy and pay, too..." He handed Clark a ten-dollar bill, beaming at his little brother even as he edged towards a table. "I'll sit down, okay? And get a table for us."

"'kay!" Clark bounced off to the counter to probably order some incredibly chocolately ice cream confection for them both.

The women were still talking in low animated voices now. "Maybe Nell could talk some sense into her. If he is doing that, surely it's a matter of time before he... well you know. These things only get worse over time."

"Couldn't Ethan do something?" the one who had covered the phones for the doctor asked and her friend shook her head.

"Just goes to show, having all that money hasn't even kept their marriage perfect. She's welcome to him!" The last was said in slightly bitchy tones that spoke of the jealousy that simmered in the Smallville community over the Kents apparent connection with the Luthors for all that Martha and Jonathan very deliberately didn't spend frivolously.

Lex sensed that from there it would merely descend into a bitch fest. If he waited, he'd lose the moment, so he edged towards them, smiling flatly as he inquired oh so politely, "Martha is welcome to who?"

The pair of women couldn't have been more startled if he had grown a second head in front of him. There was an unwritten rule of gossiping that no one barged into a session of ranting uninvited. Eavesdropping was allowed, but then one never revealed where one heard something and then confirmed it elsewhere. Lex had stomped all over those rules and left them floundering. They looked a bit panicked and made awkward excuses to flee the gossip hotspot. "Anyway I need to get going... got to get home..."

Lex wasn't a chaser by nature, so he stood in the spot they'd so hastily vacated like a lion stood over a kill, watching them walk away. Then he turned smoothly to eye everyone in the vicinity challengingly, before claiming the nearest empty table.

Damn small-town gossip. At least gossip at Excelsior and in Metropolis had the sense of mind to make sure their victim (and said victim's friends and family) wasn't in the area. Stupid people.

"Here it is, Lex!" Clark came trotting over carrying the ice creams. He put them down and then looked at Lex quizzically recognizing his expression. "What... what happened?" he asked in a quieter voice as he sat. "You look all calm-angry."

"Nothing happened, Clark," Lex murmured and reached for the horribly sweet looking thing Clark had picked out for him. It wasn't fair that a six year old could read him so well. "Here, sit down."

Clark settled in. "You weren't calm-angry before I went to the counter," he persisted.

Lex forced a smile to his face, and then licked the lower edge of his ice cream, the chocolate flavor smooth and rich on his tongue. "I was only thinking, Clark. It's okay."

"Okay." Clark acquiesced; but as he ate his ice cream, he was watching Lex carefully, almost unnervingly.

Bright green eyes fixed on him with inhuman concentration. Lex shifted his chair closer to Clark's, pushing down the 'calm-anger' as Clark called it, while licking away at his ice cream. Chocolate, raspberry, and sprinkles. Decidedly sticky, if tasty. "How've Mom and Dad been?"

"They been good," Clark replied happily. "Their anniversary not long ago... and Mom was really happy when I came back from staying over at Pete's. She and Dad kept kissing in the kitchen and Pete said that parents weren't meant to do that in front of everyone." He giggled a bit at that.

Lex smiled slowly, and murmured, "Good. I'm glad to hear that. I wish I was here during the week, too. I missed their anniversary because of my exams."

"Where they hard exams?" Clark asked going off at a tangent. "What were they on?"

A tangent Lex was willing to run off on with his little brother. But in the back of his mind, he kept calculating, thinking over what he'd heard. He could ask Martha outright, of course, but there was a modicum of actual observation that he could bother with before he possibly embarrassed them both. "A whole lot of AP exams," Lex drawled. "European history was my favorite."

"And you aced them, didn't you?" Clark said sounding confident and pleased. "Who was in the history one? Nah... Napoleon? Bet there were questions on Napoleon!"

Lex nodded, a real grin curling his mouth. "And the Thirty Years War. There was an essay on the edict of Worms. But back to Napoleon, Clark," he smiled, gesturing with the top-heavy ice cream cone. "How many times was he exiled?"

Clark frowned thinking hard. Lex told him about things like this all the time, which was rather unusual for a six year old to be dealing with. "...two...twice?" he half asked, half stated.

"Twice," Lex agreed slyly, licking a drip off of his thumb. "You know the answer, you just need to be more confident in yourself."

"Not as smart as you," Clark mumbled and then looked up and smiled. "No one is!" he declared not worried about competing with his brother, only in making him proud of him.

He laughed, shushing his little brother gently. "I wouldn't go that far. But you are smart, Clark. You're half my age, remember that. You're in kindergarten and know all sorts of things that the other kindergarteners don't."

Clark nodded agreeing with that. He did enjoy school, partly because even the ordinary things were different to him but with Lex nigh on tutoring him all the time he was home, he was a long way ahead of some of his classmates. "They don't even know what the stars are or anything!" he said in amazement. "But then they don't have a brother like I do." He sounded justifiably proud. "They're jealous. I took in the ball and they were amazed!"

"I'll make you something different this summer. Actually, we'll make it together," Lex decided with a smile that almost glowed. He bet that the other kids were amazed, and that second hand praise felt good.

It was a shame that their parents were mostly such useless gossips. "What do you want to make?"

Clark looked excited at the thought of that, a new project for them both. "A... A car... or a rocket!" he said, not giving it a lot of thought. Anything would be exciting, and fun just as long as they were together. Clark looked up and waved at someone outside. "Mom's waiting," he said eyes bright with daydream of rockets and cars...or even better a rocket car! Yeah, a rocket car -- see how fast it could go. Maybe he could race it!

Lex grinned, and grabbed Clark's waving hand as he stood up. "Okay, let's go. Do you think she's sold a lot today?"

"Not got any with her," Clark said, getting up too. "Let's go see!"

Lex nudged the door open with his elbow, and held it for Clark before stepping out into the heat and heading towards Martha. "Don't drop your cone," he warned lightly.

"I won't -- don't want to waste it," Clark agreed. "Hi, Mom!"

"Having fun boys?" Martha queried with a smile. She seemed happy enough, but she was indeed wearing a long sleeved blouse, when the weather favored t-shirts. "I'm all pied out," she announced with exaggerated exhaustion.

Lex's eyes narrowed slightly, but he continued smiling as he licked at his cone. "I'd be, too -- are we going home now?"

"Yes, Jonathan's meeting us back at the truck," Martha said as she turned to lead the way. Again, there was the barest hint of the limp that had been suggested by the gossip. It was only noticeable if you were looking for it and Martha carried on talking anyway. "I thought in honor of your return, you could pick what we should have for dinner?" she asked Lex.

Lex was torn between asking then and there, or racing back to the truck to try to knock the lights out of Jonathan. His ice cream cone didn't taste so good anymore; he'd have to ask her when Clark wasn't there, glued to his side. "Whatever you want -- I'm game for anything."

"You want the fried chicken... or would you like me to do classy?" Martha grinned at him resting her hand on his shoulder a moment. She certainly seemed like herself, and not upset in anyway. It was a strange thing; the evidence seemed to support the gossip but there was no hidden tension in her as he might have expected, no concealed misery or upset that he could spot.

It was unnerving him slowly, unraveling his will to relax. "Fried chicken," he told her without hesitance. "I'm tired of 'classy'."

"Get enough at Excelsior hmm? Well then, fried chicken and every unhealthy thing I can think of it is," Martha replied as they reached the truck where Jonathan was waiting.

Lex forced himself to not glower. "I think Clark and I have already started that. This stuff is rich." He tugged at Clark's hand to get his own fingers free, and opened the door for Martha.

All four of them riding in the truck was starting to become a tight fit.

Martha got in and waited for them to get in next to her, automatically reaching across as she always did to pull their door closed in a typical mom habit. As she did so, her sleeve pulled up a little and Lex glimpsed ... well, it might have been a shadow, but it could have been a rather sizeable bruise.

"We're going to need a bigger truck if Lex keeps growing like this," she commented to Jonathan as he got in.

"It's about time he started to grow a little," Jonathan teased. "I think that 'city' food they serve you at school stunts you. Boys need greens, and meat, and--"

"Ice cream?" Lex asked, making sure Clark was comfortable and not dripping too much in the way of melting chocolate.

"Definitely. Although not as important a food group as coffee is of course." Martha smiled amused by the comment. "I treated us to some from the specialist shop in Metropolis, including the flavor you really like. The toffee-nut... And I bought a fantastic vanilla one which does NOT smell like hand cream no matter what Jonathan says." She mock slapped at Jonathan as he started up the truck

"It smells like hand cream," Jonathan reiterated. "You'll smell it, Lex, trust me. And you'll agree."

"Really? Who'd want to drink hand-cream," he smiled. It was hard for Lex not to watch Jonathan almost suspiciously while he chewed on the cone.

"Ice cream, not hand-cream," Martha said correcting Jonathan. "Coffee-vanilla ice cream."

"Chocolate is much better," Clark piped up. "But it's all gone."

"You..." Lex laughed, and reached to pop open the glove compartment for napkins and the ever-present tissues stored wherever Clark might spend any time. "You made a huge mess of yourself."

"Oops." Clark looked down at his hands and top and then back up at Lex with innocent green eyes. "Sorry."

"You can save that top to help your father with the car tomorrow," Martha said looking over at Clark. "I'm not washing it twice."

"And tomorrow we're going to try to start building a -- what did you say you wanted to build, Clark...?" Lex laid out that topic, and hoped it would get them home without him having to concentrate too much on Martha's limp, her long-sleeved shirts, and her bruise.

"A rocket car!" Clark declared. "It'll be great.... it'll be the fastest thing ever!"

And they were doomed to have increasingly ambitious plans expounded by the six-year-old all the way back to the farm.

Lex loved that about his little brother. Ambitious beyond all reason, but he was always happy when Lex supplied him with something much more earthly than his wild dreams. A go-kart would delight Clark to no end, even after hours of ideas about a rocket car.

No reason to crush a wild imagination in favor of reality.

Clark followed Jonathan out to the cows, and Lex moved to help Martha in the kitchen, watching her motions for a few moments. He decided that he didn't like what he saw one little bit.

She was moving stiffly, there was no doubt about that. She was also doing a good job of hiding it as well, but as she bent to put groceries in the cupboard, it was obvious that straightening gave her problems too.

"Martha..." Lex cleared his throat, and put the milk inside the door. "Are you okay?"

She looked around and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine Lex," she looked a little puzzled at the question though and tilted her head quizzically. "Why?"

"Because you look hurt. And you're wearing long sleeves. And people in town are saying Jonathan's hurting you." Lex could feel his jaw clenching as he spoke the words, but they demanded to be said.

He might as well have slapped her himself for the shock on her face. "They're saying what?!"

"That Jonathan is hurting you," Lex repeated, and he could almost feel the calm-anger, that Clark insisted he showed, covering his entire body. "Is he?"

"God, no Lex," she shook her head in genuine shock that he could even ask the question. "No, of course not... he'd never do anything like that! Who said that?"

"I don't know. Woman who works at your doctor's office?" He shrugged, but moved to grasp her wrist lightly. "Let me see."

The fact that she winced was probably all he needed to know and her hasty attempt to cover that slip with a weak explanation. "Lex, it's not what you think..." probably didn't help.

"Then what is it?" Lex asked, sounding a little sharp and more than a little curious.

Martha sat down with a sigh. Lex didn't respond well to secrets between them all. "Clark," she said simply.

"Clark's hurting you?" Lex could feel his face fall in almost horror. No, that was worse than Jonathan, worse, worse, worse...

"Not deliberately, I... well he doesn't know he's doing this." Martha lowered her voice just in case Clark chose then to zip in and overheard them. "He just -- well, every now and then his strength or speed spikes like a growth spurt."

"Mom! That's not okay!" Lex's eyes went a little wide as he looked towards the door. "Clark can't be allowed to do that to you!"

"It's not a case of allowing it..." Martha replied trying to project a calming presence. "When it happens I tell him and he stops immediately it's just... well, you know how he gets if he feels he's hurt one of us. It's not his fault. It's okay... I just call him into the School sick on that day and within a few hours he seems to have adjusted to it. You can recognize the signs of it and Jonathan and I know to be careful, but sometimes... he'll slip into speed when he's running over, or hug a little to hard -- or get a little enthusiastic when we play."

"What if he does that at school?" Or really badly hurt Martha, or... Lex looked back to her with worry in his eyes.

"He's usually overly cautious at school. Much less physical in general, so if it did happen there, I don't think it would affect the other children," Martha reassured. "It's okay, Lex, really. You can come back black and blue from looking after normal children, let alone one who's as strong as Clark. I'm sure as he gets older he'll become more controlled. We were all clumsy when we were that young. But I don't want him to know Lex, it would scare him."

"It's going to scare him if he hears people say Jonathan is beating you," Lex growled. That was too emotional for him, too... too uncontrolled, so he went on, "And think about how it could affect the farm, if they think Jonathan's like that."

"Now that does worry me," Martha said nodding and smiling just a little. She couldn't help herself. "I can't have them going around saying that about Jonathan."

"Let me find a way to tell him," Lex suggested firmly. "To tell Clark to be more careful. If you do it, he'll think you're scolding him."

"If you think you can, Lex," Martha said gratefully. That was a route she probably hadn't considered using, but Lex knew he could approach Clark differently than they did. "Truth be told, it's been hard. I had to stop going to the doctors because of the questions that brushed around what you've just told me about Jonathan. I've been just making do, using home remedies with Jonathan's help. He's had a few himself, but he's a little more solid than I am." She shrugged a little. "I thought I had headed off the rumor before it got out by stopping going in.... but I should have known that Smallville would put two and two together and make five."

"Better that they make five instead of four." Which was highly unlikely, because who would suspect a little boy of being so frighteningly strong that he could hurt his own mother? But they had to be cautious, Lex knew, because if anyone figured out about Clark... He looked up at Martha, face lit with worry as he nudged her to sit down.

Martha smiled again and complied. "You don't have to worry, Lex, really. I can think of at least one counter rumor right now. Jonathan can let it slip casually in town once I've thought it through a little more." She stroked Lex's arm reassuringly. "I'm really touched that you're so concerned about me. Is that why you were giving Jonathan evil glares on the way home?"

"... maybe." He pulled away before she could pet him much more, and walked to the cabinet to get a glass. "Do you want some water?"

"If you wouldn't mind, Lex," Martha said thinking about what cover story might be most acceptable, relaxing from holding herself together.

Lex grabbed another glass, and turned on the tap. Filling both glasses with moderately cold water didn't take much time, and then he was offering Martha hers. "So what's the other rumor going to be?"

"I think... that I've been trying a course of new fertility drugs in Metropolis, and they've had the unfortunate side effect of making me bruise easily," Martha said, contemplating the possibilities.

"Everyone assumes that I'm still trying to have a baby anyway and some fertility drugs can do that. Jonathan and I looked into it. They'll assume I've used your money to go to a specialist. Jonathan can drop to Ethan how he's not happy with me carrying on with it because even playing with Clark is leaving me bruised. Something along those lines." A mixture of truth and lie, which was the best combination for a good illusion.

Being included in things like that, or at least being told them, seemed a comfort for Lex. "Okay. That sounds good. Do you want me to help with supper?"

"No, sweetheart, I'll be fine. You go play with Clark, keep him out of mischief. If you see Jonathan, could you ask him to pop in before he heads out again?" Martha asked drinking up.

"Okay." He took a long swig of his water, and set the empty glass on the counter as he walked by. "I'm glad to be back for a few months. I've missed all of you. Just being here on weekends isn't like being here all the time."

"We've missed you, too, Lex. But Jonathan will probably work you hard this summer. You might find yourself looking forward to going back by the time the summer is over," Martha smiled. "It's good to have you home."

And she meant it, Lex knew. To Martha, it was a son coming home to be with his family, where he belonged and all of them felt that completeness settle on the farm again now that Lex had returned for the summer vacation.

"I'm tired. Clark, I want to stop walking..."

Whining, Lex decided, was the music of small children. They were only six, of course. Just babies compared to him, but watching the three of them together made him dead sure that he wouldn't like any other kids that young as much as he liked his little brother. They were annoying, not endearing at all, and didn't play the same way.

They were, however, following behind him like obedient ducklings as he walked through the wooded path.

"It's not far and it's really cool, I promise," Clark said, sounding as fresh as a daisy himself.

"There's nothing that cool in Smallville," Pete disputed and scowled, looking at the figure leading them on the long trek. Anything that took longer to get to than half an hour might as well have been on the other side of the world. "And we've been walking ages! Bet we're lost."

"Well, I'm carrying all the stuff," Clark replied cheerfully, even as he shifted the weight of the back pack which didn't seem to bother him at all, for all that it was filled with drinks and snacks. "So I should be complaining more. But I'm not and we're not lost. Lex would never get us lost."

"You trust me, don't you?" Lex grinned at them from under the brim of his baseball cap, when he turned around to give all of the kids a hand up over a log that he easily vaulted. "We're going to my castle."

Clark grinned back at his brother, as Pete scoffed behind him at what seemed to be a ridiculous notion, even to a six-year-old. "Ain't no such thing as castles in America," the young boy asserted firmly. "It's a play fort, or something."

Clark just grinned some more, sharing a brief look with his older brother as he helped his friends over, nearly bouncing with excitement.

"No, there is," Chloe corrected, sounding quite thoughtful to Lex's ears. "Daddy said there was. It's a Luu-for Castle." She almost lisped over the pronunciation, saying it with the drawl with which the name was undoubtedly repeated around town and she had overheard.

There was a snort from Pete, who seemed bound and determined not to be impressed, especially with anything associated with the local villains. "Prob'ly pile of junk then," he said, sounding a bit sullen.

"Is not a pile of junk," Clark retorted, a little disappointed at his friend's reaction. How could a Castle not be cool? "You'll see... it's great."

Pete muttered something under his breath that wasn't terribly clear but the name 'Luufor' was mentioned and 'stealing' might have made up part of it.

"Don't insult my parents," Lex said sternly as he started to lead the way. Generals didn't have soldier's backtalk to them, did they? If they did, Lex decided he was going to have to change that rule, because he didn't like it.

That shut Pete up as he gaped in surprise. He hadn't realized that Lex was a Luthor. Lex to him was Clark's older brother and so he was a Kent. People in the same families had the same parents, like he did.

"He's not a... Lufor is he?" he whispered to Clark a little loudly and watching Lex suspiciously, as if expecting the older boy to sprout horns right.

Clark nodded as they carried on up the dried out trail, the lazy heat of summer keeping them slow and steady. "Yep. But Luthors are great! Well, Lex is anyway," he amended, remembering that he didn't really know that much about other Luthors, just his brother.

Lex didn't deny that, just smirked in agreement as they walked.

"No way. Daddy said they were goned," Chloe protested as Lex moved a little ahead of them, towards the bright vivid splash of sunlight that told them all they were reaching the end of the path.

"His old mom and dad are, so he came to be my brother," Clark explained with the absolute assurance of the young. "Now we have my mom and dad. C'mon... look we're nearly there! It's just up there!" He broke into a trot to get there first, so he could see the other's reactions.

It wasn't quite politically correct, but it was sweet, so Lex didn't take offence the way he wanted to. He pushed through a branch, holding it for the children as they broke out into over-grown grass around the edge of a shimmering lake.

On the other side rose up the well-maintained Luthor Manor in all of its stone glory, turrets and towers glowing in the summer sun as if transplanted there direct out of some fairy tale adventure. It cast the glamour of unreal splendor over the area, setting a scene where legends could be at home.

Clark beamed, just as impressed as he had been the first time that Lex had brought him here. "See, told ya!" he said triumphantly. "A proper castle, and a lake and everything!"

Even Pete, son of one of the founding members of the peculiar Smallville sect of the Anti-Luthorites, had to admit that it was, "Way cool!" in tones of awe.

"Wow, that's just like out of a book! Mommy bought me a popup with things like this!" Chloe raced past Lex to the edge of the lake, and then sat down to just look out across the glassine surface. "Wow."

"Want to sit down here?" Lex grinned at them, gratified at their reaction. "Or head into it?"

Clark shrugged, looking genuinely unconcerned and carefree with his dark hair ruffling lightly in the breeze off of the water. "Pete and Chloe haven't been before," he said happily. "They should decide. Maybe we could have a drink or something now... it's pretty hot."

Clark was easy to please, just seeing Chloe and Pete impressed like that was enough to make his day so as far as he was concerned the trip was already a success.

"It's... unreal." Pete was just staring at the castle as if convinced that people were going to appear on the battlements or it was going to sprout pennants to snap in the breeze. "Like in a movie or... s'mthing."

"Dad had it shipped from Scotland," Lex looked up at it with a gaze that he knew was adoring, but he didn't care. "When I'm grown up, I'm going to live there. It's not like the house in Metropolis."

Pete looked at it frowning a little. "But only Kings live in castles. Like... like... King Arthur." He dredged up something from stories and TV to prove his point.

"Are you a king?" Chloe asked twisting around to look up at the three boys and tilting her sharp blue gaze up at Lex.

"No," Lex said, glancing down and back to Clark and his friends. "But I will be. King of Metropolis."

"An' I'll be one of his knights." Clark chipped in, "You could be knights too. We get to go out and fight battles and right wrongs and go on quests and stuff as the King tells us too."

It was silly, but Lex let himself catch the flow of the moment. "In that case, the king suggests we find some shade, drink some water, and skip rocks on the lake."

"Cool!" Pete was in favor of that. "I got a seven skipper the other day over at the Mill pond! Bet I can do it again."

"It wasn't seven! It was only six," Clark protested even as he darted over towards the cool long shade at the waters edge. "Wasn't it six Chloe?" he asked as they dived under the nearest tree on the lake shore and rustled around in Clark's pack for drinks as the sun flickered leaf patterns over all of them through the foliage.

"It was five." Chloe had that all-knowing tone Lex was used to hearing from Victoria, and she nodded when she said it to him. "Fi~ive."

"How about I count how many skips you all get today?" Lex suggested as he saw Pete getting ready to deny this most heinous of accusations.

"That's fair," Clark agreed.

"But he's your brother." Pete complained, sensing a possible bias in the making. "He'll count yours best!"

Clark shook his head, denying the implication. "Nuh-uh. He wouldn't do that. Gotta win properly, don't you, Lex?"

"Or else it's not real winning," Lex agreed with a grin as he sat down just a little away from the three of them, but still closely in the shade. "And don't worry, Pete. I'm a good counter."

"'sides, would your brothers count more for you or less?" Clark pointed out in a masterstroke, which was something Pete couldn't argue against.

"Yeah, yeah..." Pete looked around after guzzling at the luke warm soda a moment. "Ah! There's a good stone!" he said reaching over for it, and rubbing it with his fingers to feel it's smoothness. "Skipper champion-stone!"

"I want a champion stone!" Chloe started to crawl past them, then stood up and dusted her knees off to get closer to the water's edge.

"You seem pretty sure of yourself, aren't you, Pete?"

"Had more practice than Clark," Pete replied standing up eyeing the calm surface of the lake. "Chloe's good though."

Lex swirled his soda-can around, just grinning at Clark. "I'm all out of practice, so it's going to be just you three. There's nowhere at Excelsior to skip rocks."

Clark nodded and the three of them began skipping rocks. It was noticeable that Clark's efforts were to a more mature eye suspiciously unlucky, even as Pete vied with Chloe for first place.

She had a good arm, and better technique, but it looked like Pete had more sheer practice. Bruce would never believe what Lex liked to spend his summer doing. Watching silly things like that and playing referee when Chloe threatened to put a handful of silty mud in Pete's hair in revenge for what seemed to be some outrageous elbow jostling.

"No, no, hold on -- one last throw all three of you, and that'll decide it." He arbitrated before a full scale scuffle broke out. Though if it had he would have laid odds on Chloe.

Clark's stone managed a meager three skips, before sinking without a trace and he gave a half smile of apparent disappointment. Pete, however, crowed with delight as he managed a genuine perfect seven skittering bounces on the glassy surface.

And Chloe waited until the water was flat or close to it again, before she threw her stone. Six skips, and then it sank into the water.

"I'm the winner!" Pete bounced enthusiastically, raising his arms in triumph. "C'mon Chloe, we can go see the castle now!" Nothing like winning to turn a person's attitude around, and now Pete was full of enthusiasm. So much so that he grabbed Chloe's arm and dragged her on up the path, not waiting for Clark or Lex.

Clark paused a moment before going after them, picking up another stone. The fact that he wanted to win was still there, even if he had been playing a different game, one of concealment and normality. What he wanted most of all was approval from his brother, and he hesitated, looking around at Lex and wanting him to see he wasn't as hopeless as he appeared. He could do things that would make his big brother proud of him, for all he had to be the 'normal' one. "Can I?" he whispered, ready to drop the stone if Lex said so. He wasn't meant to show any signs of being different outside of home, where he was safe.

Lex crouched down beside where Clark stood, and then nodded his head. "Go on, give it a good throw," he whispered in his brother's ear.

Clark grinned, then took a proper aim. His arm blurred a little as he flung the stone sending it not so much skipping on the surface as furrowing the water before bouncing so enthusiastically it was lost in a far patch of weeds before it sank. Clark gave a long slow smile of satisfaction as he turned and looked at his older brother; Lex knew he could win if he needed to, and he'd let him do it, let him show it. He turned and silently hugged his brother, satisfied to keep the secret between them.

Lex kissed his little brother's cheek, and whispered, "You're a good kid, Clark. C'mon... Pete, Chloe, hold on -- you can't get in without me!" He stood up, and backtracked enough to retrieve their pack of food and drinks. "Go on, Clark, go catch up with them."

Clark nodded and ran after them, resisting the urge to speed, instead calling out. "Hey Pete, Chloe... wait up!" and jogged steadily after them. Lex shouldered the heavy snack bag Clark had been doing a splendid job of carrying as if it was really quite light and followed after their footsteps.

"C'mon Clark! We want to see inside!" Pete said grinning at his friend as they stood before the Castle's magnificent stone walls. "What's in there? Are there, like, dungeons and things?"

"Only downstairs," Lex smirked as he jogged up to them. "There's a lot of huge stairwells and old furniture and weapons, and my parent's things."

"Cool!" Pete said as Clark and Lex caught up with them. "And it's all yours?" He craned his neck, trying to see the top of it. "Can we go up on the battlements?"

"That's a lot of stuff," Chloe said sagely as she looked up and up. "Lots of people could live in there..."

"I'll see if we can go up into the towers," Lex murmured, leading the way not to the front door but the side one that he had the key to in his pocket.

They trotted after him, eager to see what wonders he was going to produce. They had that uncanny knowledge that children do when they know that they are doing something that other kids would be incredibly jealous they didn't get a chance to do. And no one else they knew would get to do this. It was a real adventure now.

Lex keyed open the door -- more modern-looking than the rest of the castle, to keep out intruders -- and pushed it open slowly, entering into the half-darkness and holding the door open for the kids. "Come on. I hope you're not scared of the dark..."

"We're not babies," Pete replied with typical bravado as befitted the current reigning stone skipper champion, but stayed noticeably closer to Lex, Clark and the others. "It's... really quiet."

The air around them felt old and still, with the weight of centuries that provided a convincing illusion that the Castle belonged there. Dust motes danced in heavy slants of golden sunlight that pierced through the thin high arrow slit windows. That illuminated stones, wall hangings and glimpses of mysterious doorways as the stair well wound upwards.

"There's no one here but us four," Lex murmured, placing a hand on Chloe's back as he closed the door behind them. "No ghosts or anything, either. That shouldn't bother you, since you're not babies."

Clark remained close to his brother, smiling in the dim light, his bright eyes practically aglow as he stepped though a beam of light. "You can see all of Smallville and more from the top," he said. "And there's no ghosts. Lex and I were up here nearly at night and everything."

"But not so late that we'd be in trouble," Lex said, mostly for his own benefit. "Come on -- music room, or armor room?" Lex started to walk a little faster up to the first level door

"Armor room!" Chloe chimed in.

"There's real armor here?" Pete's eyes went even wider as they had to do a quick walk and a hopskip to keep up with the older boy.

"There's real armor back at the house, too. I have St. George's armor, made into a box. You know who St. George is?" Of course they didn't, but it would be a nice story to entertain them with as he started up dusty steps.

Clark of course did, but he let Pete answer for them. "No? Aren't saints and things priests?" he asked

"Saints are canonized by the Catholic church. My family's Catholic; Dad used to support the IRA, but I'm not supposed to know that." One step in particular had always struck him as weak, so he stopped short of it and diligently lifted the kids over that step without explaining.

"You mean t' saints get cannoned? By ships?" Chloe asked once he'd lifted her over that step.

"No. It means they're recognized for... being 'specially holy or doing something good for the Church," Clark said. "They do miracles."

"Like... magic?" Pete asked "Like, going invisible or something?"

Clark blushed a little. "No, no. Holy stuff. But St George was a Knight, a fighter, wasn't he Lex?"

Wasn't he. Clark knew, and that he was playing 'not so sure' for his friend's benefit was laughable and disappointing. "He was," Lex agreed with a smile. "He fought a dragon, though it's questionable whether it was an actual dragon, or a demon, or just an over-wrought metaphor."

"A dragon," Pete's imagination was afire with it all, dismissing the other descriptions immediately. "A real dragon... and he won?"

"Of course!" And then Chloe poked at his side when he started down the hallway, and glared at him like he was lying to her. "I'll tell you all about it..."

Lex gave them all a fanciful rendition of the legend of St George and they looked around the armory fascinated. Pete tried to pick up a sword but couldn't even bring the point up. He was even more impressed by the story then. The adventuresome expedition then made it up to the battlements, up the wooden stairwell that replaced the disintegrating stone at the top. There they had fun pretending to defend the castle against invaders until the light took on the sleepy haze of the late afternoon, which signaled that they should be thinking about getting back home for dinner. Finally Lex called a halt to their activities and started ushering them back down the stairwell.

"Come on. We'll come back another day. If I don't get you back to your parents before dinner, I'll be in trouble," Lex reminded them all. He was herding them instead of leading them, driving them from behind like -- and he pushed down the urge to laugh -- like they were horses.

Pete bounced, still overexcited from their game. "Charge! There are invaders on the stairs!" he bellowed and led Chloe in an enthusiastic attack down the twisty stairwell, his footsteps booming on the boards.

Lex followed more slowly, grinning down at his little brother as he pushed him gently along. Clark was carrying the much lighter bag again, which was empty of food and drinks, except for the trash. "Had fun today?"

"Lots of fun, thank you," Clark said gratefully, happy at the playing and being able to show off a little to his friends. "Now they know I'm not lying when I say how cool you are." He grinned at his brother. "Though I like it just being us two."

At least, Lex decided, he wasn't alone in that peculiarity. "So do I. Let's start on the car tomorrow? Just you and me. And maybe Dad. Maybe."

"That would be great... and Dad, too." Clark beamed happily and was about to turn and say something else but as he did so he knocked one of the empty bottles out the pack. It clunked heavily on the wooden step rolling in towards the wall and the young boy paused to bend and pick it up as Lex stepped past him, looking to see how far down Chloe and Pete had managed to get in their headlong enthusiasm. Their voices were drifting up the stairs audibly; they seemed to have paused, talking about something in teasing. With Clark in the way, Lex had to step out and around a little heavily to get past and there was barely a warning creak as his weight transferred before the stairs splintered. The supports that had been designed to only be a temporary measure gave way beneath him with shocking suddenness.

Lex wasn't superfast, or strong; all he had was a quick mind, a plethora of book knowledge, and a healthy fear of dying. His hands went out instinctively, snatching onto the edges of the splintered wood when he dropped down.

"Fuck! Help!"

"Lex!" Clark turned around, already too late and stepped back with horror, yelling out. "Lex! Don't fall! Don't fall!" As if that would somehow make it so. He looked around wildly and then realized he needed to be on the other side to be any practical help. Screwing up his courage, he jumped, hearing ominous crackling noises under his feet as he landed and swiveled to grab for his brother's hands.

And footfalls coming up towards them, which were what they least needed.

"You okay?"

"Something's WRONG!"

Lex was silent other than staring up at his little brother, fingers knotted tightly into the splintery wood. His legs felt scratched up, his hands felt worse than that, and he was going to fall who knew how far and die.

Clark was kneeling, his hand gripping tightly around Lex's wrist. "No Pete, don't... It's not safe!" he called out down the stairwell. Already there were more cracking noises as they approached, their weight unsettling the collapsing supports under the stairs. "Chloe, make him go back... find... find a phone and get help." He couldn't use his strength to help Lex if they were here and watching. If it came to it though he would and let everyone shout, Lex was more important than his secret.

"911!" Pete made a gasping noise when Chloe presumably started to drag him back down the winding stairwell.

"Clark..." Lex's voice was strangled with fear but he had hope in his eyes when he looked at his little brother. Clark wouldn't let him die...

"I'm holding you." Clark sounded scared, but resolute. The only problem was that he might have hold of Lex, but the situation about what he was standing on was getting worse by the moment. There was more creaking, and then a slow, groaning splintering way beneath them. The entire support was starting to give way.

"Haul me up!" Lex pleaded in a hiss, straining to try to lift himself up.

Clark tried dragging him up, and the edge started falling away as he braced himself against it, like broken ice on a pond. He had to scramble backwards, still clinging to Lex with his arms, and his expression was full of anxiety as he settled again, not daring to move when even breathing seemed to make things crack more.

Lex shifted his free hand enough to move with the crumbling and Clark holding him. This wasn't going to work. He knew, even if Clark didn't, what all those splintering noises meant. In his mind's eye, the weight of the staircase was unraveling the overtaxed supports one by one, and eventually it was going to come down in a cascade of wood into darkness -- swallowing him with it, and Clark, too. He couldn't allow that.

"Run! Go get Mom and Dad, go get help, Clark!"

"No! You'll fall Lex... you'll fall," Clark said, trying to get a better grip so he could perhaps lift and speed them away. The groaning wood beneath him made him freeze in position. "Not leaving... not ever."

"I don't want you to fall, too!" But there was no way to talk sense into a six year old. It was like when Clark had run because he'd thought Lex thought he was too strange, too alien.

"What should I do?" Clark whispered. "What should I do, Lex? If I move... we'll fall!" Maybe that was it then. They would fall. And if they fell Lex could get hurt really badly and he probably wouldn't. He'd fallen out of the loft and had been okay and hadn't told anyone -- he'd just got up and dusted himself off and carried on.

"Use your speed -- let go of me and run! Please, Clark, do it!"

"No." Clark was adamant on that. He would never leave his brother, Lex knew, never leave him in danger either. The splintering noise grew beneath them, and taking a deep breath he tried to lift Lex and speed, but there was already a jarring snap and a whole section of wooden stairwell fell away in a whirling mass of fractured timber.

The pair plummeted, clinging desperately to each other as they fell into darkness. Clark twisted somehow, moving them mid-air so he was beneath in the tangle when they finally hit the floor.

It was like flying, only Lex hoped birds didn't feel the jarring of impact that should've broken something. Should've killed them both, landing on splintering wood, wood landing atop them, and stone and grit and mold beneath. Would have killed them if it hadn't been for their unique natures, but even then they hadn't escaped unscathed. He hurt all over and Clark, god, Clark was too still and maybe crushed half beneath him.

Lex's leg hurt with a sharp agony when he twitched it, and he moaned, petting Clark's form with bloody hurting hands. "Clark," he whimpered, "Clark..." His head was throbbing and he was okay, but...

Clark was still unresponsive and partially beneath, him worryingly still. He patted again, a cold knot of fear in him until there was a flicker of reaction. It took a while for there to be a response of any definite kind, and when it came it was a little dazed. "...Lex?"

"Are you okay?" That wasn't Lex, though he had to think for a minute to make sure it wasn't, with the echoes in his own head. It sounded like Chloe, calling up what was left of the stairwell.

"Uhh..." Lex shifted off of Clark, wood creaking and splintering when he moved to lie on his aching back. "Clark...?"

"I can hear them!" That was Pete's voice drifting down. "We called the police and... then Chloe remembered Clark's number and we called there too 'cos they're closer." He called down anxiously, peering down into the darkness unable to see them in the darkness.

Clark could be heard taking shuddering breaths next to him; all the young boy could see was that drop into darkness rushing at him, the ground dim and terrifying and twisting knowing he couldn't let Lex hit first. Now Clark was scared, sounded scared.

Lex was easy to find, still but breathing mostly steadily, eyes closed against the dizzying darkness that framed fading evening light. People fell from places all the time, felt fine, and then died of internal bleeding that was adrenaline masked. It wasn't a comforting thought, as he twitched bloody hands against Clark, petting him weakly again.

"Here, Clark."

"... you're hurt," Clark said softly. "I'm sorry. I tried... I tried really hard to pull you up and get away but I wasn't fast enough."

"Clark, your Mom and Dad are coming. I'm sure it won't take them long," Pete called down, hearing them talk if not the content, sounding on the verge of panic himself. "They'll know what to do"

"Shhh. You saved me," Lex whispered. Or maybe he didn't say it at all. His head was throbbing too much to concentrate and heal. "Hear that? They're coming."

Lex faded back to consciousness as the sound of the voices above them. He twitched his leg, and the pain went from an ache to a fire, and dragged him fully awake for the moment. "Clark... how're... we going to get up?"

"I don't know -- where are we?" Clark asked quietly, his breath close and warm on Lex's ear as he replied. "Can we get out from here?" he asked in a shaky voice.

"Maybe." Lex tried to sit up, groaning when he forced himself to do it. "It's under the steps..."

"Lex! Clark! Can you hear me? Are you alright?" Martha's voice reached them from high above, sounding very anxious.

Then there was the skittering light of a flashlight on them, and they could hear Jonathan saying, "It's still unsteady, Martha. Get back."

"We're here!" Lex tried to call up to them.

"I can't see -- oh my god!" Martha caught a glimpse of them, a long way down. "There... there, back to the right..." She said and the torchlight dimly illuminated the two of them.

"Mom!" Clark sounded relieved as he looked straight up into that star bright flicker.

Lex winced, turned his head away and half-brought a hand up to cover his eyes. It hurt, it stabbed right into his skull, and it made sitting up much less of an option. "Get us out of here!"

Martha looked to Jonathan from their vantage point near the edge of the stairwell "You think there's any access to where they are lower down the building? I mean... the people building it had to get there didn't they?"

"It's possible... Why don't we lower the flashlight down to them somehow? I don't want to leave them in the dark..." Jonathan suggested practically. If he thought he could go over the edge for his sons, he would but not only would he fall but he'd probably bring the rest of the wooden staircase down on top of them.

Some hasty conferring and one of the curtains was sacrificed to make a line to lower the flashlight down. It bobbed and danced as it came down towards them, an insane will o' the wisp of brightness that Clark eventually stood and caught hold of.

"Look around sweetheart, there should be a way out down there, somewhere. The builders needed to get in there some how." Martha yelled down, before being pulled back from the edge by Jonathan again.

Clark shined the light around hopefully. It took strategic effort for Lex to get up onto his knees to better look at the light that Clark bobbed around. "Left, far left, there should be an old door..."

Clark shone over there and there was the indent of an old door, but with some plasterboard over it. "I think it's there but... I think it's been shut." He replied, heading towards it carefully stumbling over debris. "I could... I could try to get it open Lex?"

"Try..." Lex tried to stand, one-legged, and failed; he would've had to push off with the other one, and it hurt too much. He didn't even want to look at it, or think about what he had done to himself in that fall. "Try it." Then he tipped his head up, to call up to the light, "There's a door towards the left!"

"We'll find the entrance this side!" Martha shouted back sounding determined.

Clark faced off against the door. How did you go about demolishing a door anyway? He hit at it and made a small impact. He tried clawing at it, kicking at it, but... it was piecemeal progress at best, and Lex knew it.

"Lex, it's not working." Clark looked worried in the torchlight. "What do I do? How...?"

"Find the edge of the... drywall, it looks like." Lex settled to lie down again, falling over as he stopped trying to get up. "At the sides. A seam..."

"I feel it," Clark said excitedly. "Now what?" He had the strength, but not the knowledge to implement it. He looked back at Lex wanting to rush over to help him.

"Try to get your fingers under it, and then pull at it. Pry it up." Even trying to stand or sit had been a stupid idea, Lex decided as he laid his head back down on the debris.

Clark did what he'd been told, pulling hard, things breaking up around his hands as he pulled desperately. He wedged his hands in the seam and there was an almighty crack and it gave way, bouncing him backwards as resistance failed. He got up, and saw light, then zipped over to Lex's side. "It's open! We can get out."

The torchlight bleached Lex's face of all color, making him like a ghost. "Lex? You... look bad." Clark was worried again that all his efforts had been in vain. "You said you were okay? Please be okay Lex."

"Just tired," he murmured to Clark, reaching up a hand to pat Clark's side, pulling him down towards him. "Everything's spinning, and my leg hurts."

"Your leg looks... wrong. I need to get you out. I need Dad to get you out... but shouldn't move your leg," he said, not wanting to leave his brother.

"Okay. We'll wait. Stay here, with me." He kept his eyes slitted open just for Clark's sake, and then he whispered, "I'm really scared, Clark. But I'm glad you're here with me."

Clark decided to sit, and moved so that Lex's head would be pillowed on his more comfortable lap, his hands gently petting over Lex's head as if willing the minor miracle that Lex had shown him before to work again, but faster. He sat there crying quietly.

"I feel like one of the farm's dogs," Lex tried to tease softly. He let his eyes close, and concentrated on Clark's presence, half-straining to listen for footsteps. Then he tried to concentrate, because if he tried hard enough, things would knit back into place. Maybe.

Clark tried to stop a sniffle from escaping him and looked up hopefully, hearing voices outside, rather than above them. "They're coming... you'll be okay now," he promised. "They'll make you better, I know it."

"Are... you okay?" His brave, brave little brother, braver so far than he'd been.

"Back hurts a bit," he admitted, now that rescue was in sight -- or at least in earshot. "I'm... scared for you."

Scared for him. There were people at school who were scared of him, and it was funny how that extra letter made a world of difference. "Scared for you, too. Thought I'd crushed you..."

"Clark?! Lex?!"

"Mom! Dad!" Clark shone the light over towards the gap. "Over here. Lex is hurt!" The tone of his voice told them immediately that their youngest son was only just managing to stay on the right side of hysteria.

"We're coming... Jonathan, through here." Martha pushed at the gap Clark had opened getting in.

"Is Clark okay? And Lex?" Pete's voice asked from behind them.

"We think so... You and Chloe stay back, Pete," Martha cautioned. "It might not be safe."

"Told you we shoul' stay back. Do you hear sirens?" Chloe's voice, and then it faded as they moved away.

"Martha, let me go in first..." Jonathan pulled more at the drywall, edging open more space. "Clark, son, come on -- are you hurt?"

"'m okay," Clark replied quietly, not stopping his comforting, as it seemed to be as much for his sake as his brothers. "Lex is hurt more." His sense of failure hung heavy off of every word. "Can't leave him," he said quietly.

"Okay, Clark..."

"Not that badly hurt," Lex mumbled, twisting one aching hand to pet at Clark. "Just..."

"Shhh, talk later." Jonathan walked towards them, once he was sure the ground had sound footing. "Come on, Clark. We're all leaving now, you've done a very, very good job..."

"His leg looks bad," Clark supplied a little distantly. His Dad was here, it would be okay and everything.

"Jonathan, they're here -- the ambulance," Martha called out. "Can... I mean what about Clark and Lex, you know...."

Jonathan must've made a quick decision as he reached to pick Lex up carefully. "Clark's okay, aren't you, Clark? Really lucky. We'll just let the paramedics give you a quick check, and we'll get Lex looked at..." The mere idea made Lex nervous.

Martha assisted them out into the light of day. The way her eyes widened at the sight of Lex and the way she hurried to clean up much of the blood on him that seemed to have no apparent source before the paramedics got there, told of her anxiety. Not before she kissed Lex a little tearfully, for all she was smiling a little, and then cuddled onto Clark who looked a mess as well, with tear streaked cheeks and covered in dust and debris.

It was no wonder that Lex's leg hadn't managed to heal -- it was jutting out through the skin. Which was what the paramedics saw as they came in, and homed in on and after that it was a scene of questions, lights sirens and medical urgency.

"I just want to take the hacksaw and cut it off, Jonathan. That's not so big a deal, is it?" Lex was fidgeting at the 'dinner' table just after he and Martha had returned from the hospital -- many hours past dinner, but hunger knew no clock when stress had delayed it for so long -- fingers playing at the edge of the cast that was under his pajama bottoms they had just struggled to get him into.

"It's best you don't, sweetheart," Martha replied with a tolerant smile. It had taken some very firm words and a convincing description of Lex's hospital phobia to get them to release him. If his vitals hadn't seemed to have improved so dramatically at what appeared to be the suggestion of him coming home, they would never have allowed it. "We'll get a reassessment in a little while from a specialist and he'll have it taken off thinking they over reacted. Jonathan, is Clark finished getting changed? I thought you told him he could stay up tonight."

"You want to go get him, Lex?" Jonathan asked. He had a teasing tone that made Lex want to stick his tongue out, if he thought it would've affected anything.

"Sure, I'll just clomp up there and get him." Lex slipped from his chair, and clunked the cast against the kitchen floor as he started to limp forwards. It was easier than trying to use the useless crutches.

"Jonathan, you shouldn't make him go upstairs like..." Martha tried to stop him and rolled her eyes. "Never mind, forget I said anything," she said as Lex moved with surprising speed past her. "You're going to be an impossible patient aren't you?"

"I'm not a patient since I'm barely hurt anymore." There was only a feeling of impending exhaustion to deal with, and hunger, but he'd get to those when he got Clark downstairs. Lex wrapped a hand around the handrail, and started to clunk his way up the steps.

"Your impromptu feast will be waiting," Martha called after him as he disappeared up the stairs, traceable by the sound.

Clark rather oddly wasn't in his room. He wasn't in the bathroom, though he had been, from the looks of it. Rather bizarrely he was in Lex's room, curled up on his brother's bed around one of his pillows.

"Clark..." Lex leaned into his bedroom a little, and then clomp-clomped as quietly as he could into it. Maybe Clark was sleeping, certainly that would explain the quietness.

The tousled head turned a little, a sniffle was hastily hidden and an arm scrubbed at tearful eyes. "Lex? You... you're home?"

"We just got back." Lex smiled as he hobbled over to the bed and sat down beside Clark. "How're you feeling?"

It was just as well that Lex had recovered some, as he was then on the receiving end of a desperate hug. "Didn't think you were coming back!" The worrying thing was that Clark seemed uncertain whether he meant just that night, or ever again.

"Why would you think that?" Thin little arms were too tight around him, but Lex just hugged his little brother back carefully.

"You were so hurt and they took you away," Clark replied leaning into him. "You said they would take you away if they found out... if I had been better then they wouldn't have had to take you away."

Somewhere in his young child connections there was a thread of logic, a tenuous one but enough to convince Clark of disaster. He had seemed to think that the mere fact of Lex going to the hospital would lead to the discovery of his secret, and Lex had said if his secret was discovered, he would be taken away and experimented upon.

"Ohhh..." It made sense; not the actuality of it, but how Clark had reached that conclusion. Lex hugged him closer, and murmured, "I meant if I showed them what I can do. See this cast? My leg is already almost healed, but they don't know that."

"Oh." Clark stiffened a little bit in his arms as his back hurt with the return hug, though he sounded relieved to hear he had been mistaken.

"Are you okay?" Lex asked concerned, pulling back a little to look at Clark. They'd all assumed that once the paramedics had prodded and poked him and pronounced him exceptionally lucky to be so unscathed that he was fine because he was... well, Clark. He didn't get hurt, except that one time and even then he had been as right as rain in a matter of minutes.

"Hurts a bit," Clark admitted.

"Did you tell Dad?" Lex pulled back, but it was to push Clark to lie down properly on the bed. Clark had been hurt all along and there he was complaining about having to go to the hospital and his brother hadn't been able to go!

"Tell him what?" Clark looked up at him with innocent eyes as he lay back obediently.

"That you're hurting?" Lex stood up shakily, and started towards the door. "Wait here, I'll get them."

"But... they can't do anything," Clark replied, sounding confused. He had hoped it would be gone by now but it was just a case of waiting it out. "It'll go away, like before when I was running... eventually. Won't it?"

"Maybe, but maybe there's something they can do," Lex explained reasonably. Then he leaned out into the hallway, and yelled, "Martha! Jonathan!"

"Something wrong?" Martha called up, sounding worried. It was a measure of how on edge they were, that they didn't wait for confirmation but the pair of them came up. "What is it, Lex?"

"Clark says his back is hurting him," Lex told them as he turned away to lead them into his bedroom. "He's in here..."

"His back?" Martha sounded very concerned and surprised. "Clark, honey, why didn't you say something?"

"..'cause the doctors not meant to know and it will make itself be okay?" he said timidly. "It hurts then it will go. Like before."

"Oh, sweetheart," Martha soothed him, mentally berating herself for not paying closer attention. "Take off your top, Clark, honey, and lie on your front... please."

The six-year old did so and as he settled down face first, he exposed a livid mass of bruising that covered his back in swollen Technicolor from the impact. If it really was as bad as it appeared, then Clark would not have been able to move or bear it being touched at all, so obviously something of his alien physiology worked in his favor.

Lex stared, couldn't help but stare. That was his fault, in a roundabout way. He heard Jonathan say something about getting liniment, and he moved past Lex out of the room.

"I want the head of whoever is supposed to maintain the manor," Lex half-murmured to himself and to Martha, who was looking equally shocked "On a pike. On the fence..."

"Clark, you should have said, sweetheart," Martha looked like she had similar thoughts to Lex from her expression and then turned to Lex. "He was underneath? I thought you were, with your leg and all?"

"We sort of tangled." Lex hobbled to perch on the bed's edge again, ruffled Clark's hair lightly, where his brother's head was turned into the pillow. "Clark took most of it."

"Shouldn't have let you fall in the first place," Clark said, his voice muffled. "My fault. Should have pulled you up quicker... or... or if I had gone down the stairs in front of you then I would have fallen and it would have been okay." He sounded upset and depressed as he said it, burying into soft material to hide from all of them.

Martha looked at Lex, concerned. This wasn't like Clark at all, he was usually the happy, overexcited one of their family. This turn to depression was... disturbing.

Lex shifted to sit right beside Clark, pulling himself carefully near. "Clark. You did a really good thing today, okay? Understand that?"

Clark shook his head stubbornly, avoiding looking at him though the closeness reassured him a little. "Wouldn't have happened at all if not for me," he said miserably. "Made you take us to the Castle and.... and dropped everything so you walked on the bad bit.... then couldn't pull you up.... and then made everything fall apart when I did...." He seemed utterly determined to take all the responsibility for things going wrong onto himself.

"Clark, no, it wasn't your fault at all," Martha said softly, trying to reassure her youngest son. "Not at all. Lex is right, you did everything you could, and it could have been a lot worse if not for you."

"And hey, I offered, didn't I? I wanted to go there. And it shouldn't have steps that fall apart like that," Lex soothed, stroking Clark's head like he would an animal's. "You're a hero."

"Heroes don't... let... people... get hurt." That was said through gulping sobs into his pillow.

"Here we go, Clark, I've got the..." Jonathan trailed off when he re-entered the room, seeing Clark shaking and crying even as Martha tried to find a spot without a bruise she could use to touch him and soothe him.

Lex gave Martha a glance, hoping for backup even as he said, "It's okay... you are a hero, to me, and you were awfully brave in the dark."

"Didn't... feel brave," Clark mumbled in response, through the tears.

"Heroes aren't fearless, Clark," Martha said, taking the liniment from Jonathan "They're the people who do what has to be done when it's difficult and hard. And you did that. Besides," and now Martha pulled her trump card, "has Lex ever lied to you?"

Clark shook his head.

"And he knows what he's talking about, doesn't he? So if anyone should know what makes a hero, it's Lex," Martha said, putting some liniment into her hand to rub onto the bruised skin.

Clark seemed to be thinking about that. He didn't exactly say anything, but the crying stopped, and a hand crept to find Lex's. It seemed that tearing down his perception that Lex knew everything was tougher than admitting that he might not have been wholly responsible for what had happened.

Clark's fingers were clutched back, tight, and Lex let a fraction of a smile creep onto his mouth. "How about we read Pinocchio tonight? And you can even sleep here. It'll be like a sleepover," Lex coaxed softly. A sleepover where Clark was liable to fall asleep in the first twenty minutes, but...

Jonathan lingered near the bed, watching all three of them with a protective gaze. "We're all proud of you, Clark."

Clark nodded, "Yes... want to sleep here." He sounded definite about that and a little happier in general.

Martha smoothed on the liniment, some of her own tension disappearing at Clark's comparative lack of reaction to her touch. It was a case of it looking worse than it was, Lex hoped. It was strong stuff, ointment that Jonathan used instead of going to the doctor and often hailed as a miracle cure when he was overstrained.

"Now then, the pair of you, do you want to go downstairs or do you want the food brought up here as a special treat? I'm not letting either of you go to bed without eating something," she said decisively.

"I think Clark should rest and stay here," Lex drawled lightly, mouth curling into an easy smile. "I'll keep him company. It'll be easier on the stair-treads this way."

"Jonathan or I will bring food up in a moment." Martha agreed, putting the cap back on the liniment tube and pulling Clark's top down again, before giving him a 'well done sweetheart' kiss to the forehead. That raised a faint smile. "Now, call if you need anything, okay?"

Lex nodded, and leaned in to fiddle with Clark's hair before he moved to retrieve Clark's favourite book. Whatever the Kents had to work out, they'd do it out of earshot of them both, and he could work on making Clark feel better,

Jonathan followed Martha out, taking one last glance through the doorway at the boys. Lex was murmuring softly to Clark, their quiet conversation already going. Then he followed Martha down the hall and back to the kitchen. "This has been a hell of an evening."

"When I saw Lex and then... Clark just then." Martha had to put her hand over her mouth to suppress the emotion threatening to spill. They could have died. They had both been hurt, but they could have died. The fear in her had to be controlled somehow, but the consequences that Clark and Lex didn't have to deal with as they recovered were coming home to roost. "Okay... I'm okay. I can't believe we didn't see that. Clark doesn't understand how some things work, that we think are normal! He was right about Lex. They could have picked up something strange about him at the hospital, and then what would we do? We need... contingency plans, Jonathan. I'm just very aware that right now, we don't have any and.... god, something like this could happen at any time. If they hadn't been different, special, we would have lost them both today!"

"I know, Martha..." Jonathan's face looked drawn, shaken, as he moved to embrace his wife tightly. "I don't know if they know how close that would've been if they hadn't been... what they are. My god, Clark's back... If the paramedics had noticed that..."

"I don't think he's feeling that much pain with it, he didn't flinch when I used the liniment. He probably didn't when they looked him over, and it wouldn't seem so bad then. I don't think he understands pain -- but then why should he? I don't think he's experienced it more than the once before. And then it came and went in moments so he expects it to happen like that again. Who knows what else we're missing?" Martha looked around and then up at Jonathan as if searching for the things they didn't even know were missing in his eyes.

"If it's pain, or sensation... how about hot or cold? Does he understand them, or any of the other things that don't seem to affect him? We can't let him go to a hospital, realistically, we can't let Lex been seen at one either. We'll have to make a... private arrangement with someone." They were random thoughts coming out in a flood of high anxiety over the safety and protection of their sons. It was as frightening a discovery as thinking you were avoiding a sheer drop and suddenly looking around to find that you were falling anyway.

"We'll sit down with them both tomorrow and see just what Clark does and doesn't notice. He's still so young that it's passable right now, but when he gets older..." Jonathan kissed her lightly on the mouth, and added, "I really love you, honey. You kept your head better than I have today. Tomorrow we'll look into a private doctor, or... something. Hell, I'll take a first aid class if it'll help."

"I hope you don't mind if I panic a little bit about this later." Martha lingered over the kiss a moment, needing that reassurance to calm her whirling thoughts. "Sometimes... sometimes I wonder if I'm up to all of this, if I'm doing the right thing or that maybe we should have done things differently."

"We both know that there's no other way things could've been done," he reminded her. "Clark... came to us. There's no questioning that. And Lex, damn, as strange as he was when he first came here, I can't imagine him not being part of our family."

Martha nodded agreeing totally. "It's not thinking we shouldn't have them, I couldn't imagine that at all, they're ours," she said with maternal emphasis. "But I... feel like I'm winging it Jonathan, trying to keep up, learning new things to deal with everything. I'm just terrified one day I'm going to miss something really important like I did today and it'll be too late to fix it." She leaned into him, not ever having really articulated that fear before despite all their quiet private discussions.

He held her closer, fingers rubbing small circles on her back. "We're winging it more than most parents do, because there's so much more to watch over. We just have to take it day by day... and come up with contingency plans."

Martha nodded again, drawing strength from Jonathan's stability and solid presence. There had always been something about him, something more real than the people she had known in Metropolis. He had stood out like a rock surrounded by butterflies giving the impression he would still be there for her years, centuries even, after all those bright gaudy Metropolitan ephemerals had lost interest and faded away.

And here, in Smallville in the country, he was as permanent as the very landscape itself. She always had the impression that for someone to take down Jonathan Kent there on his own turf, they would have to defeat the land itself. That was why she had never suggested a move to Metropolis. Here, Jonathan could keep all of them safe one way or another, she seemed to know that in her bones.

"We will... we can do it," she said holding onto him closely a moment longer, the mood only broken by the buzz of the timer. Dinner was heated and ready.

"Yes, we can. You can, Martha... And we have all summer with the boys to work through these backup plans." He let her go gently, but still rubbed at her back. "It's all pretty much like teaching Clark not to sleep in the hay."

Martha laughed at that and then reluctantly drew away to get to the buzzer. "And we know how difficult that was," she replied. "Let's take this up, Lex needs food, and Clark needs some rest. I'll have to phone Pete and Chloe's parents and update them. They looked pretty scared and they did so well, calling us like that."

"I'll call Jack," Jonathan insisted, turning towards the phone. "And Chloe's father -- Gabe, was it?"

"Would you? Yes, it's Gabe. I know Clark would be worried about them if they were hurt," Martha commented, getting the food out, her mine automatically looking for the advantage in the situation. "Tell them that Lex took the brunt of the fall, saved Clark from any serious injury. It won't hurt for Jack at least to reassess his general hatred of anything Luthor. "

"I can't say I blame him for that Martha," Jonathan said even as he lifted the handset. "But Lex is different, and I do want him to get away from the shadow of their reputation. Pete's father will understand."

She stroked his arm to soften his memories of that incident. "Maybe some good can come out of this if that's the case," she murmured hopefully, setting up the tray to take to the boys even as Jonathan started talking to Gabe.

After all, it could have been worse; Lex and Clark were okay. A problem had been exposed and could be dealt with and maybe, just maybe, word might get out that Lex saved his brother's life and smooth some of the negative opinion that lingered in the town over what his mother had done before her death.

Yes, it could have been worse.