A/N: This three-shot is pure Mionel goodness, though it does have a bit of Jonathan/Martha moments in store. It takes place during season two. Enjoy! :)

— Elisabeth

Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville

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The torrential rain was coming down in buckets. The windshield wipers were working frantically back-and-forth, but the road was still difficult to see through the torrent of water streaming down the window. It was dark, and the headlights that spilled across the road were blurred. Martha could barely make out the center line. A part of her grasped that driving in her distraught state was foolish, with her breath coming in gasps, heart racing, tears blurring her vision. But she was too discombobulated to think about caution. She couldn't even hear the warning bells that rang distantly in her mind.

Damn you, Jonathan, she thought, letting out an indignant huff of breath. Damn you for not understanding when I need you the most . . .

Martha's hands clenched on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. She refused to cry anymore, because her anger was stronger, dominating her urge to shed tears. She couldn't allow herself to give in when so much was at stake.

Like her pride.

Damn it all, she was alone, and she didn't want to be. But going back so soon to face the man who had upset her was only going to make matters worse. Martha vaguely remembered storming out of the farmhouse, keys in hand. She had ignored the rain that instantly soaked right through her blouse and jeans. In that moment, she had been blind to common sense, choosing instead to act impulsively on her anger.

Jonathan's stinging words of accusation still rang in her ears.

"Martha, I feel like you're forgetting the two most important people in your life," he said fiercely during their heated argument. It had ignited after the kitchen had been cleaned up ensuing dinner. "Each time Lionel Luthor calls you, you go to him without a second thought, even when you know that Clark and I need you more."

"Jonathan Kent," Martha snapped, shocked at his hurtful accusation. "I would have thought that you, of all people, would understand how important this job is to me. But you should also understand that I would never put Lionel Luthor before you or Clark."

Jonathan shook his head, looking disappointed. He turned abruptly to face the window above the kitchen sink. "Then explain last week, Martha." He glanced back at her. The look in his eyes was filled with an anguish that took Martha aback. "Tell me why you left me sitting at the restaurant, waiting for us to have some quality time alone together. You called me to tell me you wouldn't be able to make it because Lionel Luthor still required your assistance. That's putting your job before your family."

Martha opened her mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. She was hit with a mental blow to her stomach that left her feeling numb with pain. Tears burned the backs of her eyes.

"Mom . . . Dad? What's wrong?"

Clark was standing in the doorway, water dripping from his jacket and hair. He glanced between his parents, worry creasing his brow.

Martha didn't want her son to see her in her moment of weakness. He was facing his own troubles, and she didn't want to bring her's and Jonathan's as an added burden to his shoulders.

So she feigned a smile that felt weak and forced.

"Nothing, sweetheart."

Martha didn't remember much after that besides for grabbing the keys to the truck and storming out into the rain. She couldn't recall if anyone had followed her to proclaim a protest on her leaving, but that didn't seem to matter. She wasn't going home until she had sorted out her thoughts and calmed the storm inside her heart.

Unfortunately, she was far from ready to face Jonathan again. His hurtful words still made her heart throb painfully. When she imagined the expression of letdown on his face, it brought on her tears with such force her vision blurred with the intensity of it.

And she wasn't prepared for the deer that had decided to pick this importune moment to bound across the road.

Martha gasped. Her foot slammed on the break, but her shoes were slick with rainwater and slipped. She lost all control of the vehicle. It went careening to the side, sliding violently in the mud with uncontrollable velocity.

Then the drivers' side slammed into the trunk of a tree with a sickening crunch. The impact threw Martha with such force her head connected with the window, followed by a jolt of sickening pain.

Everything went black.

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Everything was so distant—the sounds, the faces, the voices. Martha moaned at the pain that licked at her body like the fires of Hell. She couldn't remember anything but this exact moment, and what she was taking in was too blurry to comprehend without her head spasming with the complexity of it.

There was light. It was blinding, so intense that it made her sick to the stomach. Someone slipped an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. Another wrapped something around her arm. There was a tight pressure that built, then inflated like a balloon.

The voices around her sounded incoherent and jumbled up. Martha couldn't make out a thing, but she was too much in pain to care.

A siren blared, like a warning bell. Then the blackness fell over her again. She welcomed it with open arms.

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Jonathan and Clark raced into the hospital. Clark slipped on the slick floor in his haste, and Jonathan grabbed a fistful of his jacket to steady him. They approached the receptionist desk with building anxiety.

"My wife," Jonathan gasped, fumbling over his words. He dragged a hand over his face to wipe away the rivulets of rain water that stung his eyes. "She was admitted in . . . Martha Kent . . . "

The receptionist told them to wait a moment. She made a quick call, then informed them that Doctor Granger would be down shortly to inform them of Martha's condition. She motioned with a sweep of her hand for them to take a seat in the waiting room until then.

Jonathan sank down into a chair and dropped his face in his hands.

"God, this is all my fault," he muttered despondently.

Clark put a comforting hand on his father's trembling shoulder. "Dad, don't beat yourself up," he said. "Mom is going to be fine."

"You don't understand, son. If I would have kept my feelings about your mother's job to myself, your mother wouldn't have left, upset because . . . " Jonathan trailed off as his voice broke.

Clark didn't know what else to do to console his father. He folded his hands in his lap and waited anxiously for the doctor. He prayed that his mother was going to be just fine. She was a fighter, after all. Martha Kent could pull through anything.

Father and son waited ten long, agonizing minutes before Doctor Granger came to greet them. He was a distinguished looking man in his early fifties with hair peppered gray. He had a firm handshake, but his eyes were full of compassion.

"Mr. Kent, I presume," he said with a tired smile directed at Jonathan. "I'm Doctor Granger." He nodded at Clark, then glanced between father and son to include them both. "Mrs. Kent was in an accident. She suffered a traumatic concussion to her head, some minor bruising to her ribs and a few nasty cuts, but she's going to be fine."

Jonathan sighed in relief. "Thank God."

Doctor Granger clasped Clark on the shoulder in a fatherly manor. "Go on up and see her. She is currently asleep, but the drugs will be wearing off soon enough. I know she won't want to be alone when she wakes up."

"Thank you, Doc," Jonathan said sincerely. He shared a broad smile with Clark, and the two of them followed Doctor Granger to the recuperating ward of the hospital.

Father and son entered the room. Jonathan pulled up a chair next to Martha's bed, and careful not to snag the iv in her arm, he reached over to stroked her face.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, feeling his heart clench painfully. He felt a stab of guilt follow at seeing the various cuts on her face. Butterfly bandages held the gash on her forehead together. "It's going to be alright."

Clark entwined his fingers with Martha's. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, swallowing visibly.

"Hey, Mom," he murmured. "We're here now, okay?"

Martha stirred. Her eyes fluttered open. She suddenly looked confused, and her bewilderment only deepened when she glanced at Jonathan. Jonathan took her hand and smiled reassuringly.

"You're at the hospital, sweetheart," he explained gently. "You got into an accident. Do you remember?"

Martha shook her head. She suddenly looked alarmed and frightened.

"I don't remember anything," she gasped, yanking her hand from Jonathan's grasp. "I don't remember anything!" Her voice became high and hysterical. She looked wildly from Clark to Jonathan with widened eyes. "I don't know who you are. What are you doing here? Where is Lionel?"

Jonathan felt like he'd been hit a powerful blow. He stood up abruptly, nearly sending his chair tumbling to the floor.

"Clark, go get help," he said hoarsely.

Clark rushed from the room.

Martha's breaths became gasps as panic took a fierce hold of her. She scooted up against the headboard and hugged her knees to her chest. Her eyes were locked on Jonathan, distrust shining in the depths so clouded with confusion.

"Lionel. I want Lionel!" she cried. Jonathan stepped forward to take her into his arms, but she screamed. "Get away from me!"

Two nurses rushed in with Doctor Granger and Clark on their heels. They held a struggling Martha down while the doctor injected her with a sedative. Slowly, as the drug took its course, Martha stopped struggling. Her eyes closed and she sank limply into the bed.

Jonathan glanced brokenly from his wife to Doctor Granger. "Doctor, what's wrong with her?" he asked hoarsely.

Doctor Granger's lips thinned into a serious frown.

"I'm afraid she might be suffering from amnesia, but until she comes to and is calm, I'll have no way of confirming this diagnosis."

Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose. "She was asking for Lionel Luthor," he said with a resentment that shook him with anger. The name tasted bitter on his tongue, like venom.

Damn the man to Hell. He's taken my wife from me yet again, he thought through the alarming fog of hatred clouding his mind.

"In a case like this, the only way Martha is going to be calm is if she sees a familiar face, which in her current state, is Mr. Luthor," Doctor Granger said. "I suggest we give him a call and have him be here when she wakes up." He eyed Jonathan wearily when the other man tensed. "If you'll permit it, of course," he added.

Clark looked from Martha to Jonathan, obviously torn about how things with his mother were turning out.

"Dad," he said, sighing in resignation. "I know this pains you, but we don't have any other options. Please. Do this for Mom, alright?"

Jonathan clasped Clark on the shoulder. "Alright, Son." He nodded to Doctor Granger. "Do what has to be done."

Half-an-hour later, Lex came in leading his unseeing father by the elbow. He helped him into a chair next to Martha's bed. Jonathan watched the older Luthor with a steely gaze full of contempt from behind the glass window.

Lex came out and joined them.

"I'm sorry my father had to be involved," he said sincerely, with a shake of his head. "I know how hard this must be for both of you, knowing Mrs. Kent only recalls one person—and that person being someone none of us can unequivocally trust."

Clark smiled feebly. "I just want Mom to get better," he said quietly.

Jonathan's lips thinned into a tight frown.

"I just don't understand," he said. He didn't have to explain further, as both Clark and Lex understood the meaning behind his words.

"I feel what you're going through, Mr. Kent, believe me," Lex said carefully, searching Jonathan's gaze. "If you'll allow me, I can get the best doctors involved. Let me help."

Jonathan held up a hand. "Please. Let's not go trough this again, Lex. Just let Doctor Granger handle Martha's care."

Lex nodded. "I understand."

The three men glanced back through the glass without another word spoken between them. All eyes were on Martha and Lionel.

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Martha felt the heavy weight of sleep fall slowly from her mind. She was disconcerted and befuddled, and everything seemed so dark and endless that she couldn't clear her mind. She could only remember so much before everything became a black abyss of endlessness without familiarity.

There was one person she could remember in the misty recesses of her mind, and that was Lionel Luthor. Thinking of him gave her a sense of comfort. Seeing his face in her thoughts brought a security to her that made her feel safe. There was no one else she wanted now but him.

Martha's vision came into focus. Her strange surroundings unsettled her. The throbbing pain in her head was almost unbearable, but it brought back a brief flash of memory.

There had been a deer. Rain was slashing down relentlessly, and she had barely the time to think before she hit the break. After that, she couldn't remember a thing, and that was when her head had slammed into the glass.

The question was, why had she even been driving so recklessly in the pouring rain in the first place?

But it hurt to search for the answers that didn't seem to be there.

Martha felt scared and alone. She wanted the one person she could remember in this blurry time of uncertainty.

"Lionel?"

"I'm here, Martha."

Martha sighed in relief at the sound of Lionel's soothing voice. She tilted her head sideways on the pillows to glance at him and make sure he was really there, and not a hallucination of her confused mind. She smiled even though the effort pained her.

"I'm glad you're here," she said quietly, reaching for his hand. She weaved her fingers through his. "I was afraid, Lionel. I don't remember anything."

Lionel smiled at her. "But you remember me, hmm?"

Martha squeezed his hand with the little strength she had in her sore muscles. "I do. Your face is the only clear memory I have."

"You have nothing to be concerned about now. I'm not going to leave you, Martha."

"Good."

An older man dressed in a lab coat came in, smiling tiredly. He drew up a chair and took a seat.

"Martha, how are you?" he asked as he checked her eyes with a small light.

"I feel like I've been hit by a train," Martha admitted. "As for my memory, I can't say I can recollect much."

"Except for Mr. Luthor here, right?"

Martha nodded.

"Well, you did hit your head pretty hard. It's not uncommon for one to loose their memory after a trauma like that."

"Will she be alright, Doctor?" Lionel asked.

"She's suffering from a traumatic case of amnesia," Doctor Granger answered, looking at Lionel. He glanced back at Martha. "Mrs. Kent, physically, you're fine, but mentally you're not remembering any of your past memories."

Martha swallowed. "Will they come back?" she asked nervously.

Doctor Granger sighed. "They could, and it could either take weeks or months depending on the extent of the internal damage done when you hit your head."

"Don't worry Martha," Lionel said soothingly, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "We will get through this casualty. Until you regain your memories, you're safe with me."

The caress calmed Martha, and she relaxed. "I know. Thank you, Lionel." She smiled sleepily at him. Knowing he was finally here to keep her safe from the uncertainty that surrounded her was a soothing thought. She closed her eyes now, too tired to keep them open.

Martha was once more at the mercy of sleep.

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Doctor Granger exited Martha's room, a grim expression on his face.

"Doctor?" Jonathan stepped forward. "Is she alright?"

"Just as I thought," the doctor said, running splayed fingers through his thinning hair. "Your wife is suffering from a traumatic case of retrograde amnesia. Ironically, Lionel Luthor is the only person she can clearly recall."

Jonathan scowled and sent his silent resent with a glare shot in the direction of an unsuspecting Lionel Luthor. Martha Kent's husband was clearly aggrieved by the sharp turn the recent events had taken. Doctor Granger couldn't quite blame him.

"Will she get her memories back?" Clark asked anxiously.

Doctor Granger nodded. "Yes, though unfortunately, the process of remembering could take weeks. She has suffered from a trauma. It's going to take time for her brain to heal from the blow."

Jonathan exhaled a sharp breath. "What are we going to do until she begins to remember?" he asked hopelessly. "Judging by her earlier reactions, the only person she trusts is—"

"Me."

Jonathan whirled sharply to face Lionel, who had stepped out from Martha's room. He looked like he wanted to hurl his clenched fist in the other man's face.

"I can feel your ire, Mr. Kent," Lionel said, smiling humorlessly. "But I assure you that I'm going to do everything in my power to help Martha in her time of need."

"We don't need your help, Luthor," Jonathan bit out. "I want you to stay out of our family affairs."

"Oh, but ah, you're missing something crucial." Lionel took off his glasses and unseeingly gave Jonathan an intense look. "Martha trusts no one. She's in a vulnerable state, and for a reason that baffles us all, I'm the only person she can clearly remember."

"What are you saying, Dad?" Lex prompted.

"I'm saying that Martha has a place at the mansion for as long as it takes for her to recuperate and recover her lost memories."

Jonathan reacted on impulse. "The hell she won't!" he growled.

Clark placed a firm hand on his father's shoulder. "Dad, I know you're blaming yourself for what happened," he said quietly. "But the only way for Mom to get better is for her to be comfortable while she heals. We need to do whatever it takes to see that that happens."

Doctor Granger looked from father to son, admiring Clark's integrity to take charge and be the rational one in a difficult situation. Jonathan Kent obviously wasn't thinking clearly at the moment. He was so blinded by his distrust in Lionel Luthor—and his guilt for Martha's accident—that he was just as lost as his wife was.

"If I may add my piece," Doctor Granger spoke, gaining everyones' attention, "Clark is absolutely right. In my experience, a patient will heal quicker if he or she is feeling secure and comfortable."

Lionel stepped forward. "She will be safe with me," he promised.

"Dad and I will take good care of her," Lex added, smiling reassuringly at the Kents. "She'll be in excellent hands."

Jonathan's shoulders sank in defeat.

"Then its settled," Clark agreed. "We'll work together to see that Mom is comfortable, happy and safe. Dad and I will try our best to help her regain her lost memories." He looked intently at his father. "Right, Dad?"

Jonathan nodded faintly. "Right, son."

Doctor Granger beamed. "I'm sure Martha will make a speedy recovery," he predicted.

Jonathan glared hotly at Lionel.

Lionel smiled smugly at Jonathan.

And Lex and Clark glanced from both their fathers in concern, wondering how on God's earth the two men were going to get along without conjuring a World War Three before Martha had completely regained her memories.

The next few days were going to be long indeed.