Chapter 9 - Anonymous Tip

"He's at the mansion."

"As expected."

"He just brought an overnight bag."

"That's unfortunate, but not surprising. I'm going to have to move into the next phase. I'll be sending you new instructions shortly."

"Yes, sir."

Fortunately for Martha's nerves, Van McNulty was taken into custody the same night Lex moved out of the Kent house, so he moved back in with them the next day. She'd overheard Lex yelling at Jonathan the night before, so she gave him a light whack on the shoulder and chided him for having been disrespectful, but she followed it up with an extra long hug, a kiss on the cheek, and his and Clark's favorite foods for dinner.

She hoped for some relaxing time with her family, now that the farm was up and running. Everyone was home and safe, and neither of her kids were in trouble.

But "relaxing" wasn't in the cards for them.

The next week, Clark fell into a thirty-six hour coma, and ended up finding out that the girl next door was controlling his dreams. Convincing Lex that this wasn't part of their secrets, and that they were as confused and worried as him, wasn't exactly a picnic either. In the end, Clark ended up finding out that the neighbor girl's uncle was keeping her in a coma, and Lex pulled some strings to get the uncle arrested and find extra help for the girl.

The week after, a reporter named Perry White caught Clark using his powers. He was so drunk at the time he saw it happen that it should have been easy to convince him he'd made a mistake, but he was persistent; luckily, at Jonathan's discreet request, Lex kept the reporter away from the farm, and eventually ran him out of town.

The week after that, Clark ended up getting tangled up in some murder mystery involving the mayor and Lana's great aunt, though it was over before Martha heard too much about it.

The week after that, Lana got caught up with someone who had been infected by the meteor rocks, and she was arrested for awhile. Martha didn't get all of the details about that one, either but she could tell Lex came out of it a little better off than Clark—based on what little she heard, Lex's friendship with Lana was preserved and strengthened, while Clark's was strained.

The day after the debacle with Lana ended, Martha went up to the loft to check in on Clark before dinner. He was sitting on the couch and staring out of the window.

"Hey." She ran her fingers through his hair, and he looked up at her. "You want to talk about it?"

He looked out of the window again. "I wish I could tell her the truth."

She sat beside him on the couch.

He rubbed his eyes. "It was so hard to see her with someone else. She asked me if I wanted to be that person, and . . . I do. I want that so bad. I know if I asked, she'd say yes."

She put a gentle hand on his back.

"But it's like you said when I got back from Metropolis. I can't keep leading her on and lying to her. I have to . . . let her . . . but it's so hard to watch her with other guys. She defended Seth, because at least he was honest with her, and . . ." His head dropped. "I know I can't tell her, but . . . will I ever be able to tell anyone? Or will I always be alone?"

Martha's heart broke for her son's pain. She wanted to say that he would tell whoever he ended up marrying, someday, and that whoever that was, he'd be able to trust her more than anyone else. She wanted to remind him that was sixteen, and that any real thoughts of marriage were a long way off for him, and that that was okay, but no sixteen year old wanted to be told how young sixteen was. So she didn't say any of that. She just opened her arms.

Clark melted into them, and Martha stroked his hair for awhile. As much as his pain and loneliness hurt her, she was thankful for this moment. That her son's life had settled down enough, however momentarily, that he had time to catch his breath and process his feelings. Not feelings of overwhelming guilt for terrible crimes or tragedies, but hurt over a girl. Even if the reasons he couldn't have her were far beyond the scope of the ordinary, the bottom line was refreshingly normal.

When his arms loosened around her, she pulled back and wiped away the single tear that had come to rest on his cheek. "Come down to dinner?" she said.

He nodded. "In a minute."

She smiled and headed down the stairs.

Martha kept a close eye on her family throughout dinner. Jonathan was worn out from the work day, but no more than usual; Clark seemed to be doing a bit better after their talk, but still down; Lex was quiet, clearly with something weighing on his mind. Her own exhaustion would have to wait.

After dinner, Lex asked Martha if he could help her bake something for the Talon. Even when he wasn't quiet and pensive, Martha could always tell the difference between when Lex came to help her bake for fun, as compared to when he really needed to speak to her about something. When he just wanted to spend time with her in the kitchen, he completed any task she gave him quickly and asked for the next step. When he really needed to talk, he'd absentmindedly roll dough or mix ingredients for minutes on end, or for as long as it took her to notice what he was doing and stop him.

She asked him to grease a cookie sheet while she assembled ingredients, and found him still lightly running the stick of butter over the surface nearly two minutes later. She gently took the stick of butter from him and set it on a cutting board, and he looked up with an embarrassed half-smile.

"What's on your mind, sweetie?" she asked.

"A lot, I guess."

She rubbed his back. "It's been a rough few weeks."

"Thinking about everything that's happened to you since I've been here, I can't help but think I've somehow cursed you by living with you."

She took a deep breath, thinking over the past couple of years. "Actually, this is pretty normal for us."

He turned to face her, eyes wide. "Really?"

She grimaced. "Honey . . . how sure are you that you don't want to know what's going on?"

He sighed heavily. "I want Clark to be safe, and I don't trust myself yet. That's—that's not self-deprecation, that's just me saying . . . I don't trust I could win that fight with Lionel, if it came down to it."

"I understand, but if you're living with us, I'm not sure we're going to be able to keep everything from you. We've already hurt you by lying to you in the past. I don't want to do that anymore."

Lex looked down at his hands, then back up at her. "Then don't tell me everything. Just tell me . . . something. One secret."

She blinked. "Oh! Um, okay." She wished she had her whole family with her for this, but it couldn't hurt to find out what he was looking for first. "Uh, what would you like to know?"

"Anything. Just . . . maybe something to explain what's been happening the last few weeks?"

Martha nodded slowly. That was actually easier—she didn't feel the need for the whole family to be in on that, since it didn't really have to do with Clark, at least not in a way Lex would be able to discern. "Okay. The, uh, theory you keep hearing, about meteor rocks infecting people, a-and giving them strange abilities, and sometimes causing them to, uh, commit crimes? Usually murder?"

"It's true?"

"Yes. Sometimes the effects are temporary, sometimes they're permanent."

"I guess I knew that." He half-smiled. "But it helps to hear you say it. Sometimes I feel like maybe I'm just going crazy."

"Look at me, Lex."

His eyes met hers.

"You're not going crazy."

He let his breath out. "So, um, Seth was infected?"

"Yes."

"Lana?"

"Influenced by Seth. I believe the effects were temporary."

"How about Desiree?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

" . . . Helen?"

Martha fought the urge to wrap him in her arms. "No, sweetie. Not as far as I know."

"Hm." Lex looked down at the floor. "Clark?"

Martha swallowed. "No."

He looked up at her suddenly, eyebrows raised. "No? Really?"

This conversation was going a bad direction, if Lex didn't want to know Clark's secrets. "No. I promise. But . . . be careful what you ask me about this, Lex, because I'm not going to lie to you."

"Okay." He was quiet for a moment, and when his voice returned, it was little more than a whisper. "What about me?"

"Um . . ." She knew Van McNulty had thought so, but she hadn't seen any evidence. "To tell you the truth, sweetie, I don't know. But I don't think so. At least, I don't think there were any effects other than losing your hair."

"Hm." He began to pace. "I guess I was just wondering if there might be some sort of curse on me."

She couldn't bring herself to quite dismiss that one, considering everything he'd been through in his life, but she still needed to try to set his mind at ease. "Well, if you're worried about infecting us with your curse, don't. Believe me when I say that our lives haven't gotten much more complicated since you've been here." She put a hand on the side of his head. "We're a lot happier with you here, though."

His eyes fell closed for a moment, and he opened them when she lowered her hand. "Mom . . . the reason I'm asking these things, the reason I'm worried? It's because I got an anonymous tip about Lionel."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He rested a hand on the counter. "Something that could get him put away for good."

"Do you want that?"

There was a flash of pain in his eyes. It lasted a tiny fraction of a second—she almost wondered if she had imagined it—but the strain in his voice betrayed the truth. "I don't want him to be able to hurt anyone ever again."

She placed her hand on his. "You're a good man. You know that, right?"

"I—this isn't about that. If I pursue this, if I go up against him . . . he's not going to go down without a fight."

"Can we fight with you?"

"Please don't. You know what happens to people who get caught in the crossfire."

She did. But she also knew what Lex was risking himself. Finally, they had reached the point in the conversation where she couldn't make the decision on her own. "This is something we should talk about as a family."

Traces of a smile played with the corners of his lips. "Yes, ma'am."