Nucleus
(The All in the Family Remix)

Author: Lady Angel, with an assist from Philtre

Original Story: Servant of the Empire by Vyola

Summary: Lionel takes in a little alien boy...

Rating: PG-13

Fandom: Smallville

Notes (Lady Angel): Hi, everyone! This is my Redux . . . Remix Challenge story. My author was Lady Vyola, and I chose her Servant of the Empire Series to rewrite. And I want to thank philtre . . . because she is the bestest, bestest, bestest friend EVER! She knows why. {eg}

Notes (philtre): thank you to angel for letting me be part of the fun and for bringing so much laughter to my life.

And from both of us: a huge thank you to Moss, for his unending help as a wonderful beta. Thank you!

"Open your eyes, Lex."

"I can't, I'm afraid!"

"Luthors are never afraid, Lex."

The nine-year-old, red-haired child peeked through his lashes before jerking himself back into darkness and his father. His fear lessened as strong arms encircled him and one of his father's big hands slipped into one of his. "Dad, I can't."

"Yes, you can, Lex." Lionel encouraged, his breath moving the red hair by the boy's ear. "You know, Lex, you mother was afraid of heights too."

Lex turned, opened eyes focused solely on such similar ones in his father's face. "She was?"

"Yes," Lionel nodded, smiling, "but she conquered her fear."

"How?"

Lionel grinned knowingly. "She used to grab one of my hands, her eyes tightly shut --"

"Like mine?"

"Yes, like yours." Lionel mimicked his son, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, smiling when he heard Lex's laugh. "She would inhale," one eye popped open, "then exhale." The other eye opened. "And then she would look over."

"I want to try." Lex declared, grabbing onto his father's hand. "For mom."

Lionel nodded, watching his son's determined face, the blue-gray eyes falling shut.

The boy squeezed his father's hands in his own, turned to face the window, then *inhale* - one eye opened - *exhale* - then the other eye - screamed in terror as the helicopter dropped before rising again.

"What the hell was that?" Lionel screamed into the headset.

"Sorry, sir," the pilot yelled back. "It was just a joke, sir!"

"If you ever do that again, Mr. Collins," he snarled, "I will make sure your wife finds out about those fourteen-year-old prostitutes you so love to frequent."

"Y-y-yes, sir."

The irate business magnate continued to bore holes into the pilot's head before looking down at the boy huddled in his arms. "Try it again, Lex."

The boy shook his head.

"Please? For me?"

Almost instantly, Lex straightened his spine, sitting up. Eyes still tightly shut, hands gripping his father's, he turned to the window.

Inhale. Exhale. His eyes took mere seconds to focus on the green fields of Smallville.

Lionel grinned with pride.

~*~*~*~*~

"Honey, I forgot the tulips!"

Jonathan rubbed his hands off on the rag, leaning against the railing to smile at his beautiful wife. "Going back to town?"

Martha grinned ruefully. "Do you mind?"

"Nah," he teased, "just as long as I don't have to go with you."

She snickered. "Scared?"

"Damn straight! She looks at me like a piece of meat!"

Martha laughed into her husband's mouth, kissing him once more before climbing into the truck. Waving goodbye and mouthing an "I love you" to him, she drove away.

~*~*~*~*~

"They were just good ol' boys, never meanin' no harm . . . ."

Martha smiled as she mouthed the words, giggling a little as she remembered her best friend's comment when they first saw Jon.

*"He looks like that guy."*

*"What guy?"*

*"You know, the blond one from that show with the car."*

*"Oh, yes, Amelia, I know exactly what you're talking about."*

*"Don't be a smartass, Martha."*

Martha laughed, but never told Amelia that her crush on Bo Duke was the reason she first noticed Jon.

She was still thinking about her husband as her surroundings exploded around her.

~*~*~*~*~

Martha's hands were shaking as she shifted the pickup into gear, eyes watering at the chaos around her. *Jon*. Her lower lip was trembling. Jon had talked earlier about fixing the fence around the back. *God.* She hoped he didn't.

*Oh God*. She drove slowly, careful to avoid the wreckage around her. Forcing herself to concentrate on the road, she resisted the urge to speed down Route 17. Her eyes widened as a man stumbled onto the road, waving frenziedly.

She slammed on the brakes.

"Stop! Please! Help!"

He sounded so frantic that she quickly climbed out.

"Are you all right?"

"My son. . ."

He seemed breathless and panicked, his suit was dirty and rumpled.

"Is he hurt?" She leaned down, helping him stand.

"He--he--I--I can't. . . and the boy. Boy. . ."

She soothed a hand over his arm. "Sir? *Sir?* Calm down. Where is your son?"

The man turned unsteadily and pointed towards the field. "He--he's in there."

She rushed into the field, not stopping until she saw two boys huddled together. The smaller boy, who had been soothing the other boy's cheek, turned and smiled at her. Her insides clenched at the beautiful child before her. She had always wanted a child of her own, but had never been blessed with one.

Squelching her tears, she shrugged out of her jacket and wrapped it around the younger boy, picking him up easily. She nodded at the man to do the same for his other son. He quickly took off his jacket and carried his son back to the pickup.

She turned the pickup around to head back towards town. Sneaking a peek, she saw the little boy smiling up at his brother, then running his hand down the side of the older boy's cheek again. The elder brother merely smiled weakly and then passed out. Turning back to the road, she sped up. The boy obviously needed medical attention.

She desperately wanted to get home. Her head was filled with worry. He could have been struck by a meteor rock. He could be stuck under a rock. He could. . .. She was pulled out of her thoughts when the little boy tugged at her shirt. When she smiled down at him, he beamed back at her, leaned into her, and started stroking her arm.

~*~*~*~*~

After dropping off the man and his boys, she quickly waved at them, then drove home worriedly. She gasped when she saw the fields littered with debris. Her heart caught in her throat and she fought to breathe. Stumbling out of the truck, she practically ran down the path, her hand clapped over her mouth.

"Jonathan! *Jonathan!!*"

Her entire body was numb as she ran into the kitchen, calling Jonathan's name loudly. She rushed up the stairs, still calling his name. Grabbing the railing, she half-tripped down the stairs, her feet connecting with every other step.

Running towards the fields, her heart pounded with fear. Her throat was starting to feel sore and her limbs were so heavy that her muscles ached with exertion.

"Jonathan!!!"

She caught sight of a crumpled body in the middle of the field. For a moment, she stood frozen. Snapping into reality, she ran faster than she had ever run before, still shouting his name at the top of her voice.

Falling to her knees, she grabbed him by the face.

"Jonathan?"

He didn't answer her and her stomach turned over, refusing to believe the worst. Tears streamed down her face as she leaned down to pull him into her arms. Her entire body relaxed momentarily when she felt a soft breath against her neck.

~*~*~*~*~

She hurried down the hallway. The nurse had practically forced her to go down to the cafeteria to get something to eat. She had half-heartedly eaten part of a sandwich, then simply dumped the rest of it in the trash can.

With a gasp, she pulled back from the body that she had slammed into.

"I'm so sorry. . . . " She looked up, recognizing the face. "How are. . . How are your sons?"

Emotion flickered across his face. "Lex is still in shock, but he'll survive."

She nodded. "And the little one?"

She wondered when he averted his eyes for a split second.

"He's fine. I'm sorry. I don't even know your name."

"Martha Kent."

He held out his hand, which she shook tentatively.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs.?" She nodded. "Mrs. Kent. If there is ever anything I can do for you. . . ."

She shook her head quickly, giving him a brave smile. He considered her for a second, then fished inside his pocket and handed her a business card. She took the card and looked at it, instantly recognizing the name. *Lionel Luthor*. The man had quite the reputation. The gossip vine painted him as a ruthless business, but a devoted family man.

She rarely kept up with Metropolis news, but she had spoken to a girlfriend from college recently, and she had mentioned that Mr. Luthor's wife had passed away barely weeks ago. Instantly, she looked up.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

He frowned in confusion at her.

"Your wife. . . ."

He nodded gruffly. "Thank you." Clearing his throat again. "Please. Call me. I mean that, Mrs. Kent."

She tilted her head uncomfortably, finally settling on a quiet 'Thank you.'

He hesitated. "Mrs. Kent, would you like to --" Before he could finish, a child's jubilant cry cut through the gloom.

Martha braced herself as the dark-haired child threw his arms around her legs, hugging tightly. "Well, hello, sweetheart." She bent, picking him up. The child continued to hold her close and Martha could feel her heart lighten. She merely squeezed him harder, seriously hoping Mr. Luthor didn't mind her holding onto his son like this. Like a lifeline.

~*~*~*~*~

Lionel studied his son. His hair was completely gone and he was breathing steadily now. Lionel settled down onto the chair, turning to look at the small boy playing quietly in the corner. He was dressed in a shirt that was way too big for him, excitedly whooshing a miniature plane through the air.

As though he could feel Lionel's eyes on him, he looked up and smiled. Lionel slowly stroked his chin. After spending more than fifteen minutes asking the boy what his name or if he knew where his parents were, he had finally given up. *What to do? What to do?*

And of course, there was that small matter of the alien craft that had crashed frighteningly close to Lex. Uncharacteristically overwhelmed, all he could do was to pull the obviously alien child to huddle with Lex before running for help. Still staring at the abandoned and helpless child, he reached for the phone. "Dominic, Reilly's field. Send a team there to retrieve the object. You'll know it once you see it. Oh, and Dominic, I want you to handle this one personally."

Hanging up the phone, he felt a small hand tugging at his pant leg. Gingerly, he lifted the boy into his lap. Almost instantly, the tiny body melted into his own and obviously on his way to slumber. Slowly carding his fingers through the dark hair, Lionel found himself wondering if the child that had died with Lillian would have had dark hair like his own this time.

The boy shifted, uncomfortable. Lionel frowned as the child pulled away, then patted his chest as if to apologize for not finding him comfortable enough to sleep on. He watched as the boy then turned, pointing to the bed. "You want to lay down with Lex?"

He blinked, clearly not understanding a word. He simply pointed again.

Lionel studied the boy, then his son, before placing the boy on the bed, careful not to disturb his sleeping son or the tubes and wires. He watched with amused eyes as the boy curled around Lex, instantly falling asleep.

~*~*~*~*~

Blinking his eyes, Lex slowly focused on the muted lights. A small, warm weight was nestled by his side, and one hand was hotter than the other. He shifted, not used to something that warm that close to his body.

"Son?"

"Dad?" he murmured, turning his head. His father sat next to the bed, one of Lex's hands clasped in his larger ones. "Dad, what happened?" He blinked as his father told him everything, including the small alien child currently using him as a pillow.

Lex was about two heartbeats away from throwing a full-scale tantrum when a nurse swept into the room. He watched her warily as she moved to his bedside, checking his vital signs.

She smiled a little too sweetly at his father, then motioned at the little boy. "Mr. Luthor. I need to take your son's blood pressure. Can you kindly remove your other son, please?"

"Yes. Of course." His father quickly picked the boy up, effectively waking up the child. All of the sudden, the boy started wailing at the top of his lungs.

He had never seen that look of panic on his father. Holding the boy at arm's length, his father glared at the boy as if he was about to disarm a bomb. Even when his father started cooing to the little boy, the insistent shrieking persisted.

Lex eyed the screaming child with utter disdain. "Dad, if you ever had the urge to strangle me when I was like that, I completely understand and forgive you."

Lionel didn't even dignify that with an answer. "Shhh, son, shhh." More soothing noises as the businessman known for crippling corporate giants desperately tried to stop the child's cries.

"Here, sir, let me try."

He quickly handed the boy over. Sighed in relief as the cries stopped.

The boy leaned back in the nurse's arms, gently stroking her muted red hair.

Seconds later he was howling again.

Hands clamped to his ears, Lex vented his own scream. "STOP CRYING!"

Dead silence reigned.

Lionel blinked in surprise, as did the nurse. The child, on the other hand, sniffled, silent tears now running down his cheeks.

Lex glared at him, the scowl morphing into utter disbelief as the boy held out his arms. He instinctively caught the lunging body. Hesitantly holding the still shaking - but now silently sobbing boy - Lex stared in bewilderment at his father.

"Good job, son." Lionel swallowed the chuckle as his son glared at him.

"You need to find that lady, Dad."

"Lady?"

"Yeah, the red-haired one." Lex nodded in the direction of the nurse. "He was looking at her hair before he started screaming again." He turned to glare at the boy. "Little brat."

"Lex!"

"He wants the lady, Dad. He probably thinks she's his mom or something."

Lionel nodded, then grinned at his son's deductions.

~*~*~*~*~

*"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Kent. We did everything we could. Your husband's injuries. . . ."*

She gripped the kitchen counter, just trying to breathe.

*"Martha. I don't know what to tell you. The farm has been in trouble for a long time. . . with the stacked mortgages and the loans. . . there's no way you're going to be able to keep the farm on your own. I'm sorry, Martha. If there's anything I can. . . ."*

She fingered the papers strewn all over the counter. How could so much change in *one week*? Everyone had tried to be helpful. Mrs. Rainee kept bringing her casseroles and Amelia had practically filled her living room with flowers. Even Nell had dropped by to offer her condolences in her time of loss. And so many people had turned up for the funeral service, offering her silent handshakes or hugs.

After the ceremony, Ethan had stopped her, offering her a hand if she needed it. She shook her head. Her problems ran beyond anything that Ethan could help with. So many bills. She didn't even know where to start. Sifting through the papers, she felt the pounding in her head amplify.

She could call her father. But they hadn't spoken to each other in more than eight years. And her father hated Jon. God. She didn't think she could bear it if her father sounded self-satisfied. Besides, what would she say?

"Dad. Can I borrow some money to save the farm of my dead husband, whom you hated, so that I can continue to be a farmer despite the fact that you want me back in Metropolis?"

She shook her head. *Dead.* Jon was gone. He was *gone*.

Her entire life was reeling, turned upside-down and tossed to the winds. She buried her face in her hands and closed her eyes. Maybe when she opened her eyes again, everything would be back to normal. Jon would stroll through those doors, wiping his hands on a dirty rag, asking her what was for dinner.

He'd pull her up against him, giving her a kiss before she complained that he was filthy and needed to clean up. Then he'd swat her butt playfully, giving her a lopsided grin and a little wink. She'd hear him bounding up the stairs, slamming the door too loudly behind him. Minutes later, he would clamor back down, humming to himself.

He'd shimmy up behind her--

*Knock. Knock.*

She snapped out of her reverie and looked up quickly. Surprised to find Mr. Luthor at her doorstep, she quickly stacked her papers together and walked to open the door.

"Mr. Luthor?"

"Please. Call me Lionel."

"Lionel." She wiped her hands down her pants, aware of what a mess she must look like. "What can I do for you?"

He frowned at her. "Is there something wrong, Martha?"

She considered lying for a moment, but she was too tired for it. "My husband just passed away."

"My condolences. I know what it's like to lose a spouse."

She tried for a smile, then simply held the door open. A curious little face peeked out from behind Lionel and as Lionel stepped in, he revealed the two boys, with the little one's hand bunched in the trousers of the older boy.

She knelt down, smiling for the first time in days. Holding her hand out to them, she whispered softly, "Hi."

The younger boy let go of his brother immediately and waddled into her arms, happily tugging at her hair. The other boy merely studied her sullenly.

She picked up the little boy and held out her hand to the other boy. "Come on. Let's see if we can find you some cookies."

After staring her down for several seconds, the boy tentatively settled his hand in hers. She led them into the kitchen and set the boy in her arms on the kitchen stool. Turning to help the other boy, she found him already determinedly climbing onto the other stool all on his own. Her insides warmed at the sight and she merely rifled through the closets, filling a plate with cookies. Setting the plate in front of the boys, she watched as they both quickly reached out for a cookie.

She stood there, staring at them eat for several minutes, then quickly turned to pour them each a glass of milk. The little one reached out with both hands grabbing the glass and poured more milk down his chin than down his throat. She rushed forward, wiping off the milk and cookie crumbs with a kitchen towel.

When she leaned back, the boy tilted his head at her with a puzzled look, reaching out to touch her face. Then he smiled brightly and offered her a cookie. She smiled warmly and took a small nibble.

When she heard shuffling behind her, she whipped around.

"I'm sorry. I completely forgot you were there."

Mr. Luthor -- no, Lionel -- was leaning against the door frame leading into the living room, his legs crossed casually, hands stuffed in his pockets. "He missed you, you know."

Martha blinked as he pointed to the younger boy. She absently stroked the toddler's hair, feeling him lean into her. "Oh?"

Lionel nodded. "He screamed inconsolably before Lex figured it out."

She smiled at the pride in his voice. Then smiled at Lex as well. The older boy sullenly stared back. Undaunted, Martha glanced down at the gorgeous baby boy, grinning as she wiped off his mouth again.

"You're good with children. Do you have any of your own?"

She straightened uncomfortably, intent on folding the towel in her hands. "No. I don't."

"That's a pity. You would make a fabulous mother."

She averted her eyes from his steady stare, stepping away from them and setting the towel on the counter. "What can I do for you. . . Lionel?"

"I thought I would stop by to say thank you again. My son. . . is very important to me."

She nodded. "Of course."

"My wife was very good with children as well. Before she. . . ."

Not knowing what to say, she nodded again.

He jerked his head at her stack of papers. "I see that you're working through your finances."

She turned to look at the papers instinctively.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"No. No. It's quite all right." She suddenly felt emotions welling up inside her. "I. . . uh. . . ."

He was still studying her carefully, as though he was trying read her thoughts. "I gather it's not going very well."

"The farm hasn't been doing too well. . . ." She didn't even know why she was confessing to a complete stranger. But somehow, the fact that he knew absolutely nothing about her was strangely comforting. So was the fact that he'd recently lost a loved one. "I won't able to keep the farm."

She felt someone tugging her hand. Looking down, she found the little one pointing at the counter. She followed the finger to the towel. With a smile, she picked up the towel and bent down to help him clean his face. He was beaming at her again. Such a beautiful boy.

"What's your name, angel?"

He brushed her hair softly, ignoring her question. She was about to try again when Lionel interrupted her.

"He doesn't speak."

Looking back and forth between Lionel and the boy, she gasped in surprised. "But. . . he must be three. Have you had him tested?"

"He's not my son."

She frowned at him in confusion. "Then. . . ."

"I found him. During the meteor storm."

She gaped at Lionel. "You have to call the police."

"I checked. No one has reported a missing child in Smallville or any of the surrounding towns."

Turning back to the little boy who was still stroking her hair, she cupped his cheek. "Are you going to. . . ."

"Yes. I'm going to keep him."

She shot him a worried look. "All on your own?"

He shrugged. "Admittedly. . . I don't have a lot of experience in childcare, but hired help is most convenient that way."

Settling back on the little boy, she brushed his unruly hair back, insides clenching at the fact that he would be raised by detached 'hired help.'

"As a matter of fact, Martha. I was wondering if you would be interested in taking the position."

She whipped around to stare at him.

"It would give you a chance to get back on your feet and I'd be more than willing to offer you some accommodation in the interim."

It was tempting. Very tempting. She smiled at the boy who now decided to make a careful examination of her ear.

"It could just be temporary. Until you decide what you want to do. It'll give me time to find a suitable nanny."

Nanny. Four years of pre-law to be a nanny. Her father would have a heart attack. But the boy before her was so enticing. 'Just temporary,' she told herself as she stroked his cheek.

Just temporary.

Not tearing her eyes away from the boy, she whispered, "Okay."

~*~*~*~*~

Lionel barely glanced up as Lex stomped into his study, then threw himself onto the floor. Arms and legs flung out, bald head pale against the dark carpet.

"Dad, do we have to keep him?"

"Lex, we've already discussed this." He studied the frown marring his son's delicate features. "He's alone, in a world that is not his own. If I turn him over to someone else, what do you think they're going to do to him?"

"But why do *we* have to keep him? Why can't you just give him to Mrs. Kent?"

"She doesn't have the means to support herself, much less a child."

"But --"

"Lex, come here please."

Rising from the floor, the boy gracefully climbed into his father's lap. Lionel looped his arms around Lex. "I'm not trying to replace you, son," he quietly said.

Lex shrugged, picking at his father's tie.

"And I'm not trying to replace your mother, either."

"But she's very pretty," he painfully whispered.

"Yes, Mrs. Kent is pretty. But, Lex, she isn't your mother. She isn't the woman I loved and married." He tightly hugged his son. "Lex, neither of them could replace you or your mother."

The boy leaned back, intently studying his father's eyes. He nodded, hugging him one last time before climbing off. "May I read here?"

"Of course, Lex."

Lex headed for his bookcase, grabbing his book. Flopping back onto the rug before the fire, he opened *Treasure Island* to his bookmarked page.

~*~*~*~*~

Hours later, he heard a muffled sound. Lex rubbed his eyes, realizing he must have fallen asleep while reading. He blinked, then froze. Why was the boy pawing his head?!?! Lex grabbed the offending limb. The boy blinked at him innocently, before smiling like a cherub, reaching for Lex's head with his other hand.

He growled a warning. A throat cleared; he turned to see his father sitting in his chair, watching their exchange with great interest, a smirk not quite hidden under his beard.

Lex was obviously trying his hardest not to glare at him. Lionel bit his tongue, trying not to laugh. By the expression on his son's face, he knew he was failing miserably. He finally composed himself enough to solemnly order, "Play nice, son."

He clamped a hand over his mouth as Lex's face fell into long-suffering lines and the child happily went back to petting that fascinatingly shiny head.

~*~*~*~*~

Lionel followed the sounds of soft sobs down the hall way. He traced the sounds to Martha's room. For a minute, he stood outside her door, unsure what to do. Martha had only been with them for three days. She was doing a great job with the children.

The younger boy absolutely adored Martha, even if he still hadn't spoken yet. As for Lex. . . well, he was coming along. He didn't show Martha any open hostility. Ever since his mother death, he had retreated into his own world, refusing to speak to anyone in more than a handful of words.

He rapped on the door softly, waiting for a choked 'Come in' before creaking the door open. Martha was sitting on one side of the bed, trying desperately to daub out her tears.

"Are you okay, Martha?"

"I'm sorry. I just. . . ."

He started nodding his understanding when a small, chubby body slid between his legs and ran to Martha. The boy reached out both arms, demanding to be lifted into her lap. When he was close enough, he traced a wet path, eyebrows twisting together.

With determined insistence, he looped his arms around her neck and planted his chin firmly on Martha's shoulder. Lionel could see a single tear running down the boy's right cheek.

Lionel empathized with Martha, knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, but he had Lex. His son was a constant reminder of his wife and he cherished the boy. But Martha had no one. No son or daughter with her husband's hair or eyes. Nothing to remember Jonathan Kent by, not even their farm.

As for the boy . . . he was at a total loss. The child seemed to adore him, liked to listen to his voice as he read anything from mundane as the New York Times to the childish fare of Dr. Seuss. But as much as the child liked him, it was Martha and Lex he seemed drawn too. Perhaps wherever he came from, he had a mother with red hair and a brother that he worshiped.

He closed the door, leaving the two wounded souls to heal each other.

~*~*~*~*~

Lex glared at his 'new brother.' Did this. . . nameless boy think he could just *wander* into his life?! He hated his father. Hated the fact that he now had to *share* his toys.

He slid a sideways glance to see if his 'nanny' was watching them. Certain that she was focused on whatever menial task she was engaged in, he grabbed the Warrior Angel action figure out of the other boy's hand with one smooth swoop.

He hadn't even really wanted the toy, especially considering that he was surrounded by a dozen different more interesting toys. But he derived some perverse pleasure in taking away someone else's pleasure. There wasn't an inch of him that wasn't tingling in anticipation of the other boy's reaction. He fervently hoped that it was similar to Joseph's; a full scale tantrum that would have the nanny scrambling with anxiousness.

Completely unable to resist a smirk, he watched the other boy carefully. When the boy merely tilted his head and smiled, picking up another toy, Lex set down the action figure slowly. That. . . wasn't. . . the reaction he'd expected.

He was dealing with a whole different ball game here. Quickly readjusting his game plan, he moved forward and swept all the toys away from the other boy. His gaze fixed on the boy, willing for an outburst. Instead, the boy's lower lip started to quiver, and his eyebrows knit together, eyes tearing slightly.

Then just as soon as Lex was ready for a full scale sob, the boy tucked into himself, watching Lex silently with a slight pout. He ignored the boy for several minutes, determinedly pretending that he found his toys absolutely fascinating.

But the truth was he couldn't help darting his eyes up every couple of seconds. He wanted to scream and shout when the boy's expression morphed into amusement at watching Lex. It wasn't the smirking sarcasm or the resigned indulgence that he was used to and it was unnerving him. If he didn't know any better, he'd think that the boy was reveling in *his* enjoyment.

When he finally couldn't bear it any longer, he pushed all his toys at the boy and fell back on his palms. Evidently, that had caught the nanny's attention.

"Everything okay over there?"

And since he was the only one talking, "Just fine."

The boy stared wide-eyed for a brief moment, then flashed him a huge grin. He watched as the boy surveyed the spread before him and picked up two action figures. With a tilt of his head, the boy offered him one of the figures.

Lex stared at the boy in disbelief. He turned away in disgust and rose to his feet. Shouting across the room at the nanny, he could barely keep his resentment out of his voice. "Can I have a pop?"

She turned and smiled at him all too warmly. "Just one."

His life sucked. He walked towards the small fridge, pulling it open, he extracted a can of Coke. Leaning against the fridge, he opened the can and turned back to the boy. He almost sighed in disgust when he found the boy looking expectantly at him, still holding both action figures in front of him.

With a sickened click of his tongue, he asked the nanny, "Can the kid have a pop too?"

Again, that warm smile really got on his nerves. "Yes. Thank you, Lex."

He scrubbed a hand down his sensitized scalp and yanked the fridge open, pulling out another can of Coke. Trudging over to the boy, he proffered it with great reluctance. The boy instantly grinned with excitement, dropping both action figures to reach both chubby hands out for the can. He shoved it into the open fingers, watching as the boy pulled it close to him and studied the can with extreme seriousness.

Lex rolled his eyes and fell to the ground. Grabbing the can from the boy, he tilted the can to make sure that the boy could see his actions and opened the can. The boy studied his motions with focused interest, then nodded sagely at him. He thrust the can back at the boy before taking a huge gulp of his own drink.

From the corner of his eye, he could see that the boy was staring at him studiously. Lowering the can, he saw that the boy quickly mimicked his actions. The boy choked and he lunged forward with worry. When the boy turned to smile at him again, he fell back into a comfortable sprawl.

He studied him while the boy took excited sips of the Coke, as if it was a brand new invention. Lex silently wondered what rock the boy had been hidden under. Wondered if perhaps his family was so poor that he had never even had pop before.

A sharp twang of resentment shot through him. Why did this boy deserve to have all of this? Lex had been born into this life. This boy. This boy had merely stumbled into it. He licked the sickeningly sweet syrup off his lips and wondered at how a can of Coke could be so amazing to a little boy.

The nanny swooped in, relieving the boy of the can of Coke. "That's enough, sweetie."

The boy's eyes followed her movements across the room, very distraught at having lost his can of Coke. With a strangled whimper, the boy scrambled to his feet, stumbling towards the nanny across the room. Lex turned, hoping to find drama, but instead he found the nanny pouring the rest of the pop into the sink and the boy tugging at her pants desperately.

"No more for you." Even her voice annoyed him.

But the boy was still yanking at her pants, even more urgently than before, pointing at the empty can. Finally, she gave him the can, obviously confused. He grabbed the can and ran back to Lex, sprawling onto the ground in a good imitation of his own posture.

Lex gave the boy a wary look and took another sip of his drink. Slightly disturbed when the boy mimicked his actions with the empty can, he shot to his feet and quickly stalked away, not even stopping to growl at the nanny.

"I'll be in my room."

~*~*~*~*~

Lex walked briskly towards the dining room, not at all pleased at having to attend the dinner at all. The nanny had been insistent that he be punctual. Right down to appearing at his door a half hour before to 'remind' him about dinner.

He entered the dining room to find his father, the nanny and the boy already assembled. Taking his seat, he turned to his father. "Dad."

"Son. Thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight."

He had been absent from dinner since the nanny decided to become part of their lives. Picking up his glass of water, he glanced over at her, nerves clawing at the inviting smile on her face. Turning back to his father, his eyes glazed over the boy, who was smiling at him. With a disgusted sigh, he nearly growled at his father.

"*The boy* needs a name." If only so he could stop calling him 'the boy.'

His father raised one eyebrow then turned to the nanny. "Lex is right. I've been remiss. What should we call the boy?"

The nanny tilted one shoulder nervously. "I was thinking. . . maybe. . . Clark? My maiden name--"

"Clark it is."

Lex narrowed his eyes at 'Clark,' silently cursing some bad words he was not supposed to know when 'Clark' merely smiled back at him sweetly. No doubt about it. The kid was irritating as hell and needed to stay away from Lex.

~*~*~*~*~

She bent over, watching her little angel boy color with gusto and glee. Martha grinned at Clark as he glanced over his shoulder. He pointed at his scribbles. Her smile grew. "It's lovely, Clark."

She sighed as he merely smiled back before turning back to his paper and crayons. She knelt, watching him for just a while longer before dropping a kiss on his forehead. He jerked, staring wide-eyed at her. Martha watched as he gently touched the kissed spot. It was as if he had never been kissed before. Her suspicions grew as he stood, then leaned forward to touch her lips. She grinned as he leaned forward even more, stooping just enough for his forehead was even with her lips again. She smacked a loud, cheerful kiss on his forehead, then another on his cheek.

With wide eyes, Clark stood back, touching each spot. Then he leaned forward, his lips pursed. She grinned, presenting him with her cheek. Laughed delightedly by Clark's version of a "kiss."

~*~*~*~*~

"Your arm is too low, Lex! Elbow up!"

The little boy gritted his teeth, raising the arm, steeling himself for yet another blow from his opponent.

"Faster, Luthor!"

"I wish you a painful death, master Gunther!" The hissed threat merely made the blond, bearded man guffaw in delight.

"So, the little lion has teeth! Good! Use them against your opponent! Not me!"

The young Luthor glared, slashing his foil through the air, startling his opponent into a fatal mistake.

"Halt!"

The command stopped Lex's foil centimeters from his opponent's neck.

"Well, done, Luthor. Now, help him up."

Lex distastefully held out his hand as Joseph, the pudgy heir to the Halmont Sugar empire, scrambled to his feet. The enthusiastic clapping of hands distracted him. Behind him, on the floor, sat the boy Clark, clapping and grinning like a loon. Lex rolled his eyes, starting to strip off his whites. As he headed towards his bedroom, he heard small, heavy footsteps following him. Quickening his pace, he quickly outran Clark, slamming the door shut, throwing the lock just in case.

He grinned victoriously. Little did he know it was only the beginning.

~*~*~*~*~

*Clark* was *following* him. Everywhere he went. He couldn't shake the boy off. Fencing lessons, polo games, Latin tutorial. And when he locked his bedroom door on the boy, he could guarantee that hours later he would find Clark sitting outside his door, playing with his old teddy bear.

Well, he had had enough.

~*~*~*~*~

"Mr. Luthor?"

"Yes, Dominic?"

"Your son is on line one, sir."

"My son? Why is he calling a Luthorcorp line? He has my private number."

Dominic cleared his throat, trying desperately not to laugh. "Actually, sir, he called the Luthorcorp Legal Department."

"Legal department? What? Why?"

"Something about a filing a restraining order against a stalker."

Dominic was then treated to the unheard-of sight of Lionel Luthor snorting coffee up his nose.

~*~*~*~*~

He stared in disgust at the phone. "Dad, have you ever looked up the definition of stalker? Stalker, and I quote, 'noun: someone who prowls or sneaks about; usually with unlawful intentions.'"

"Lex, he's a three-year-old child, what kind of unlawful intentions could he possibly have?"

The young man's eyes narrowed. Did his father just snort? "I don't know, Dad, but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with offing me and inheriting your millions."

"Damn it! I told Dominic to hide those Mario Puzo books from you!"

"This isn't funny, father!"

"Yes, it is, son. You want a restraining order on a three-year-old boy because he has a bad case of hero worship?"

"Hero worship? Dad, it's not like he's asking me for my autograph! He follows me everywhere! And he won't leave me alone! If that's not the definition of a stalker, I don't know what is."

"Lex, it's just a phase. I'm sure he'll grow out of it soon."

~*~*~*~*~

Lex snorted. Yeah, right, *phase.* One that lasted one hell of a long time. So long, in fact, that he finally just gave up, putting up with Clark's continuing presence with great reluctance. So there they were, sitting on the rug before the fire. He was reading his book while Clark sat before him, clutching the ratty, old teddy bear. Watching him.

He read his book intently, determined to ignore the other boy. Three lines down, he froze. Clark was running his forefinger along the bridge of his nose. *What* was the boy doing?!

"Lex."

Both the nanny and his father whipped around, their mouths gaping in shock.

"He's speaking."

*Thank you for pointing out the obvious. Now *what* is the boy *doing*?!*

"Lex."

He didn't *care* if the boy was speaking.

Lex grabbed the chubby wrist and glowered at Clark. He'd grudgingly put up with the boy's presence, but *this*? This was a whole new level of unbearable.

With a low growl, he returned to reading his book. The boy tried peeking at his book, a curious look on his face. Lex purposefully tilted the book straighter. Not that the boy could even read. Glancing up, he felt like a total jerk at the look of longing on Clark's face.

Rolling his eyes, he motioned for the boy to settle on his lap. He pulled the book before them and started reading silently again. The boy sat on his lap quietly for several moments then started fidgeting.

He couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice. "What?"

The boy looked up at him hopefully and lifted one chubby finger to Lex's lips. Oh no. No. No. He was not reading to the little hellion. Oh God! Were the boy's eyes watering?! He was not having a repeat of that hospital incident.

Sighing loudly, he started reading out loud with little relish. Clark settled back happily, staring at the page as if he was reading along. Which was ridiculous, since before that day, the boy hadn't even uttered a single word.

He read monotonously for what felt like a lifetime and almost felt relieved when Mrs. Kent called from across the room.

"Clark, Lex. Do you want some muffins?"

The boy bounced up to his feet excitedly, face lit up. Lex declined loudly and continued reading silently. Noticing the tiny body in his peripheral vision, he looked up to find Clark smiling down at him. What now? He watched as the little boy turned to the nanny, first pointing at his lips, then at Lex's head. His eyes narrowed. He glanced at Mrs. Kent, who was smiling much to broadly for his peace of mind.

She nodded encouragingly. "Go ahead, sweetie, give Lex a kiss." *That's it. The nanny is going down in a ball of flames!*

Lex put all the power of past Luthors into his glare, but that didn't stop the toddler from leaning forward. His eyes widened into saucers. Clark wasn't aiming for his cheek! The kid was aiming for his head! Before he could stop the boy, Clark latched onto his bald skull and sucked like a leech! "Ack! Mrs. Kent! Get him off!"

Mrs. Kent giggled, cuddling the little boy.

"That," Lex glared both at the laughing woman and his smirking father, "was not a kiss."

Martha smiled indulgently. "Oh honey, Clark hasn't learn to kiss properly yet."

Lex glared at his reflection in the mirrored table top. "Great, my first hickey and it's from a three-year-old!" He glared at his father's strangled choking, knowing that it was laughter. The old man found the strangest things funny.

"Oh, sweetie. Clark was just showing you how much he likes you."

Lex swiveled slowly, settling his scowl on the nanny instead.

"Lex. Behave yourself."

He knew better than to push it when his father brought out *that* tone of voice. Shooting another quick glare at Clark, he returned to reading his book sullenly. In the background, he could hear Martha and Clark giggling about something.

"Go give it to Lex."

He rolled his eyes. *Give _what_ to Lex? It better not be another leech-sucking kiss.* Clark plopped down before him holding out a muffin. He looked at the muffin, double chocolate, chocolate chip muffins - the nanny had discovered his weakness - except this one had a . . . happy face piped in icing on top.

With Luthorian determination, he ignored the out-held muffin. *Treasure Island* was *riveting*. Turning slightly when he felt soft hair brushing his scalp, he found Mrs. Kent bent over him, offering him a muffin. No icing this time. He paused for a moment before taking the muffin with a muffled, 'Thank you.'

He made the crucial mistake of glancing up at Clark, who looked like a kicked puppy. Sighing loudly, he snatched the muffin out of Clark's chubby fingers and plopped the uniced muffin in its place. Refusing to look at his father and Mrs. Kent, he ate his muffin silently.

~*~*~*~*~

Lionel swiveled around at the loud crash. Rushing down the hallway, he threw open the door to the library to find Lex and Martha gaping at a confused looking Clark.

"What happened?"

Martha alternated wordlessly between him and Clark before finally shrugging. "I . . . Lex's pen rolled under the cabinet and he was on the floor looking for it, then suddenly Clark just . . . lifted the entire cabinet."

"He . . . what?"

"Dad. I saw it. He just lifted it like it didn't weigh anything at all." His son's eyes were enormous, but he could see the intelligence and curiosity shining behind them. As if he were calculating and discarding possible explanations.

Clark tilted his head at them, as though he didn't understand what the big deal was. Lionel knelt down before the boy, careful to speak in an even tone. "Clark. Can you show me what you did?"

Lionel watched in awe as Clark easily lifted the cabinet with both hands, turning to stare at him expectantly.

When Clark settled the cabinet back down, Lionel dragged him into his arms and looked back at the shocked faces.

"Martha. Lex. There's something I need to tell you."

~*~*~*~*~

Lex couldn't believe it. An alien. The kid was an alien. Tilting his head, he studied the sleeping child.

"No experiments, Lex."

"Dad!" He whirled, pasting on his most innocent expression. "I wasn't --"

"I know you, son." Lionel grinned in pride and amusement. "You're itching to ask him questions and thinking up tests."

Lex bounced once, just once, from the sheer excitement. "But Dad --"

"No." Lionel knelt, hands wrapped firmly around his son's shoulder. Turning Lex so they both could watch Clark sleep. "Lex, this is your brother. Part of our family. What have I told you about family?"

"Our family is everything," he recited, conviction in his young voice. "We don't hurt our family. We protect them."

"That's right." His father dropped a kiss onto his scalp. "Your great-grandfather said those words to me right before he died, they were that important to him. Do you understand, Lex?"

Staring at Clark for just a moment longer, he then reached over, gently fingering the black curls. "We have to protect him. Because he's special. Because he's family."

"Yes, that's right. You're his big brother, Lex. He's yours to protect."

Lex nodded with determination. "No one will hurt him as long as I'm around. I promise, Dad. Word of a Luthor."

Lionel grinned, pride in every line of his face.

~*~*~*~*~

"An alien?"

Lionel nodded.

Martha sank into the leather arm chair, staring into the fire. "An alien."

"Could you say something else, Martha? I'm starting to think you're a broken record," he teased.

"Lionel . . . what do you want me to say?" She stood pacing, eyes wide with awe and shock. "Clark . . . he's . . . oh my God!"

He chuckled. "Then I guess you don't want to see the ship?"

"Ship? There's a ship?"

"Well, how else would I know he's an alien?"

Her eyes narrowed and he grinned unrepentantly. "Show me."

"Yes, ma'am!" He only vaguely restrained the urge to salute.

~*~*~*~*~

The voices pulled its attention away from the sleeping Kal-El. Since arriving on this new planet, the child had been well taken care of; his needs met with more than ample care. Analyzing the voice, the ship recognized the female as Kal-El's primary caretaker, the male was the one who had adopted the last son of Krypton.

"My God, it's amazing."

"Yes, it is."

"Are you having it studied?"

"No."

"Why not? You're a scientist, Lionel, I know you're dying to everything about it."

"Yes, I am. But to have it studied means people knowing about it. They are bound to speculate about Clark, because he was found during the same time and nearly the same place. I will not endanger him that way."

"Yes, you're right, of course. So it will never be studied? What if Clark has questions when he gets older?"

"Martha, I did not say it would *never* be studied. I meant that the ship would never be studied by any other people other than myself and Lex. And of course, Clark, when he gets older."

The voices faded away, leaving the ship to process the data that it had just learned. Computations later, it was satisfied with its conclusions. The male called Luthor would be the perfect guardian for the young child. Strong enough, powerful enough and protective enough to keep Kal-El safe. As for the woman, she seemed to care for the child deeply. She was also perfect for his upbringing.

A few nearly inaudible clicks later, the ship was on standby mode, ready to react if Kal-El needed him, but reserving its energies until then.

~*~*~*~*~

Martha padded down the hallway. She had been having trouble falling a sleep again. Something about the combination of having to sleep alone and the aloofness of the big house made for restless nights. Finally, after a couple of hours of tossing and turning, she had decided to get herself a glass of milk.

Making her way down the hallway quietly, she stopped short when she heard a soft sniffle. With a gentle knock, she opened the door to Lex's room, instantly worried when she found him at the head of the bed, curled up and rocking lightly. Rushing in, she tried her best to gather him into an embrace.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

He ignored her for several minutes, but uncurled into her arms. They rocked back and forth with his head tucked into her shoulder until he finally admitted, "I dreamt I saw her."

"Saw who?"

"My mom."

She turned slightly, pressing a kiss onto his head. "You miss her, don't you?"

*sniffle* "Yeah." He burrowed further into her neck. "Do you miss your husband?"

She stroked his back soothingly. "Yeah. I do."

For the longest time, they merely sat there comforting each other. Martha couldn't find the words to tell Lex that it would be okay because, sometimes, it *didn't* feel okay. So she offered him what she could; safe arms and the solace of presence.

When his breath steadied, she pulled back slightly. "Can I get you a glass of milk?"

He nodded, sliding back under the covers. She gave him a warm smile, then slipped out of the room. Heating up the milk quickly, she poured it into two mugs and headed back upstairs. She found him waiting for her, sitting up expectantly in his bed.

Holding out the mug to him, she sat down on the bed, watching him blow on the hot liquid before gingerly taking a sip. They finished their drinks quietly, then he slipped further under the sheets, his eyes intent on her. She brushed his forehead, setting down her mug next to his.

"Do you want me to stay while you fall asleep?"

He nodded at her, his eyes drooping slightly. She stroked the side of his face, watching him slip away. He seemed so fragile. The boy usually put up such a strong front that she often forgot that he was just a child. Innocent and vulnerable in so many ways.

"How come you don't have any kids, Mrs. Kent?"

"You can call me Martha, sweetie."

"You didn't answer my question."

She chuckled at his persistency, so very him. Considered lying to him for a split second, but it didn't seem right to lie to a child. "My husband and I, we couldn't have any children."

He stared up sleepily at her, digesting what she had told him, then closed his eyes again. "Well, now you have us, Martha."

She smiled to herself. *Yes. She did.*

~*~*~*~*~

Lionel glanced up as the soft click click of her heels alerted him of Martha's imminent entrance. Smiled as she entered the room. "Good evening."

"Good evening." Martha returned his smile before heading over to the shelf.

"The boys?"

"Asleep," her lips quirked, "with a minimal amount of fuss."

"Good, thank you." He adjusted his glasses, focusing once more on his book.

"What are you reading?"

"Hmm? Oh, this." He gently ran the tips of his fingers down the pages. "Lillian's journal. Well, one of them."

"Oh. I'm sorry to pry." Her face full of contrition, Martha began to leave.

"Did Jonathan keep a journal?" he asked suddenly.

It was enough to stop her. Martha nodded. "They . . . I packed them away."

"You should get them out," he said softly, staring at the beautiful, looping script on the pages in his lap.

She slowly sat down, staring at the man, obviously contemplating his words. "They . . . it doesn't hurt you to read them?"

He shook his head. "It helps me – reading her memories – it's almost as if she's here with me. Whispering the words into my ear." He glanced up, his eyes bright with an unnamed emotion. "It keeps her alive."

Martha nodded, standing decisively.

Lionel watched her leave with a small smile. Glancing back down, his smile widened. Even in death his Lillian still managed to help people. God, he was a lucky man.

~*~*~*~*~

"I don't care if the world decides to stop spinning on its axis, Dominic. I want that company and if you can't close the deal, well, then, perhaps you should think about looking for new employment opportunities."

Lionel was internally gleeful as the other man squirmed before him.

"Sir. I've done *every thing* humanly possible. They're not budging on the deal and I--"

He stalked around the table, hovering over the seated man. "*Every thing* humanly possible? I hardly think that is true."

Dominic stared up at him in utter confusion. "Sir?"

"Doesn't Mayle have a son? I recall there having been rumours of a scandal some years back in Edge City."

Lionel turned as the door creaked open, a small head peeked out from behind the door. Clark instantly smiled and wobbled over to him, arms held out. With an indulgent smile, Lionel leaned down and picked the boy up easily.

Sparing one last glare for Dominic, he quickly dismissed the man. "Follow up on that."

Dominic scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for the door.

"And Dominic. See that you do not fail. It would not be . . . in your best interests."

As the door closed, Lionel turned back down to the little bundle in his arms. "What is it, Clark?"

Clark reached out one grubby hand to tug on his wristwatch. Glancing down, he noticed the late hour. Lunch, of course, he was late for lunch.

No matter how busy he was, he always made sure that the entire family sat down for dinner together and lunch on weekends. The children ate at such an early hour that he could always fit it in, even if he had a dinner engagement later on in the evening and lunch on the weekends was a refreshingly nice way to unwind after a long week.

With Clark playfully tugging at his hair, he made his way to the dining room, finding Lex and Martha already at their seats.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I was rather caught up in some unfortunate business. Shall we eat then?" Turning to the unobtrusive young woman in the corner, he nodded slightly. "Mary, lunch?"

Lionel settled Clark down on his seat, dropping a kiss on the messy mop of curls. Smoothing a napkin over his lap as he sat down, he turned to Lex. "So, tell me, son. How is your fencing these days?"

~*~*~*~*~

He barely lifted his head as the door slowly creaked open. He knew who it was because only one person dared to enter his inner sanctum without knocking. Making the boy wait for just a while longer, Lex finally raised his head. "What do you want?"

His eyes were caught by huge, hazel ones filled with unshed tears. Small, chubby hands clutched at the ratty old bear. Not even bothering to sigh, he flipped the covers back in an invitation even an alien child could understand. Lex watched as Clark clambered onto the bed with an enormous and grateful smile, snuggling under the covers next to his hip.

Hesitantly, Lex stroked the curls off Clark's forehead, grinning grudgingly at the soft sigh of contentment, returning his new brother's smile. Settling more comfortably, he started to read out loud.

~*~*~*~*~

"Lionel!" She barely stumbled to a halt just outside his door.

"Martha?"

"He's gone!"

"What?"

Seconds later, the entire household was searching the house and grounds. It was Martha who found him. Quietly, she beckoned Lionel forward.

The billionaire grinned at the sight on Lex's bed. On the bed, both boys curled together like a litter of puppies. Deeply sleeping and angelic in their repose.

He and Martha exchanged pleased smiles as they tiptoed out.

~*~*~*~*~

Epilogue

Lex studied the portrait hanging above the fireplace. A younger version of himself, tucked between the folds of his mother's dress, his father standing beside them. In the filtered moonlight, he tried to find himself in his father's face. He knew it was there and yet, some how, the artist had failed to capture it - the intensity in their eyes.

Settling on his mother's face, he smiled sadly. She hadn't been gone all that long. A mere four years that sometimes felt like a lifetime. He remembered her vividly. The way she used to sweep into a room, like a beautiful angel. Magnificent beside his father.

Without turning away from his reverie, he gently said, "Come out, come out."

The bulge behind the curtain shuffled for several seconds before a contrite figure appeared before him. "You were going to leave without saying good-bye, weren't you?"

He sighed impatiently and turned to the boy.

"You promised me you wouldn't."

Reaching out, he lifted Clark's chin up easily, knowing that Clark would let him do so. "I wouldn't leave without telling you."

Clark was instantly wrapped around him. "Why can't I come with you?"

He sighed again, wrapping his arms around the younger boy's shoulders and head. "We've talked about this, Clark. You're too young. You still have to go to elementary school."

"Daddy says that I'm *very* smart."

He couldn't resist smiling at that, ruffling Clark's messy hair. "You are. But you still need to go to elementary school first."

"After that. After that, can I go to school with you?" The petulant plea was muffled into his five-minutes-ago immaculate shirt.

"I'll probably be in college by then. Stop biting your lower lip."

Clark pulled back with a pout and Lex kneeled down beside him. "I'll be back in two months. You'll be so busy with Sarah, you won't even notice I was gone."

"I don't like Sarah. She smells funny. Why can't Martha take care of me?"

"Dad and Martha explained this already. Remember? Martha is Dad's assistant now. She's very busy."

Even in the darkness, he could tell that Clark's eyes were watering.

"You'll still see her every night. Clark, please don't cry. I can't deal with that."

Clark swallowed hard, obviously trying to choke down his tears. Lex smiled slightly, feeling particularly protective of his brother. He pulled the boy close.

"Come on. I'll tuck you into bed."

Turning around, he offered up his back for a piggy-back ride. Making a big show out of lifting Clark up, he huffed, "Better stop eating so much, Clark. I won't be able to lift you soon."

Clark giggled, then happily replied, "I can carry you, instead."

He turned quickly to the round face. "Clark. Remember what Dad said about using your --"

"I know. I'm sorry. I know."

He gently put Clark into his bed, still worried. His brother's naiveté and unwavering confidence that the world was innately good were virtues that even a house full of Luthors couldn't wipe out. Lex swiped an unruly curl off his forehead and watched him squiggle under the sheets to get comfortable.

Squeezing the small hand lightly, he started to get up when he felt Clark tug his hand.

"You'll never leave without telling me, right?" Worried eyes glazed slightly under thick eyelashes.

"Yeah."

"And you'll always come back, right?"

He nodded again. His father had taught him well - *our family is everything*. "Of course."

"Always, Lex?"

"I keep my promises, Clark. Always."

The End

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to their owners/creators/copyright holders. This fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.