I have to be honest I've not long started watching Smallville recently, so I'm only on season 4. Apologies if my characterisation is off.

It was the light clicking of heels on the floor that drew Lionel's attention, he looked unseeingly forward. "You didn't change your mind then?"

"Did you think I would?" Martha asked, resting against the door frame. It wasn't a pose she would normally strike on starting a new job, but then it wasn't as though he was about to catch her.

He shrugged as he got to his feet. "I did wonder if perhaps you might be talked out of it."

She laughed, it was brief and quiet, but there was no doubting what he'd heard. Lionel frowned momentarily, he wasn't used to hearing laughter, not past the forced laugh of employees or the humourless bark that Lex sometimes gifted him with. It was refreshing. "You think I would be so easily swayed?" Martha asked him, drawing him back from his thoughts.

"I hoped not, I've been disapointed enough by my recent assistants. Although one declining to even start the job would most certainly be a new low."

"Well, if your lawyer didn't put me off then I'm sure nothing will."

"Ah, you saw him then?"

"Oh yes." Martha rolled her eyes as she walked further into the room. "He waylaid me at the front door. That's quite the welcoming party."

He chuckled at the dryness of her tone. "I'm sure you can understand the rather pressing need for those close to me to sign confedentiality agreements. What was it they said during the war? Ah, yes, loose lips sink ships."

"They do, but to go from housewife to corporate espoinage in just one day is quite a leap."

"Some would say that gaining such a highly coveted position after spending years in the wilderness would be as equal a leap."

"I suppose they might," she admitted. "But you can rest easy, Mr Luthor, I have signed your agreement." A deal with devil, that she was sure of, but then needs must and she could hardly afford to be picky.

"Lionel," he corrected her unthinkingly.

Martha's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

His eyes narrowed slightly at his own slip, his lips thinning briefly. He had never given any of assistants leave to use his name, never wanted to, he believed it made him look too human. His fingers twitched against his desk, but then he supposed that he would need to rely on Martha Kent more than he had ever relied on any previous assistant. "Lionel," he told her again. "If it is just the two of us, then surely we can drop the formalities."

"If that's what you want."

"It is, as long as I can refer to you as Martha."

"I rather expected it." She had expected him to enjoy lording over his assistants and didn't expect it to be any different for her, he had surprised her in that regard.

"Good, then that's settled." He waved roughly in the direction of the chairs in front of his desk. "Take a seat and we'll get started."

He heard the rustle of her clothing as she sat, then the clicking of a pen. He tried to picture her, poised and ready to start, not for the first time he racked his brain trying to remember what Martha Kent looked like. Disapointingly nothing came to him. "So, where do you want to start?" She asked.

Lionel reached to his left, his fingers swiftly counting the number of files on his desk, checking they were all there before pushing them in her direction as he answered, "I recieve reports every week from the different subsections within Luthorcorp, I would normally use my audioreader but as you're aware it met it's end yesterday and it's replacement has yet to turn up."

"I imagine these reports are even less interesting in that voice," Martha quiped. She opened the first report, her fingers skimming over the pages.

"Yes, and they weren't always the most scintillating to begin with."

She made a small noise of agreement. "So, do you want me to read them to you word for word, or would you rather I read them and prepared a summary and read that to you?"

"Preferably the latter, however, I feel it's only fair to warn you that one of my last assistants failed miserably at this."

"Well then, I'll endevour not to disapoint. Am I allowed to ask questions that will help me orientate myself with the corporation? Or would you condsider that making things too easy for me?

He laughed, amused by the dryness in her tone. "I'll allow it."

Lex flipped the newspaper in half, raising his eyes up to Clark's, gesturing at the headline as he remarked, "Another mark on the Luther name. My father's leaving me quite a legacy. You might want to give your mother a heads up. If she's going to work for my father then this is what she's getting herself into."

"My mother can take care of herself, Lex. Besides I haven't seen her this excited about something in a long time," Clark replied. He wasn't happy about her decision, he couldn't and wouldn't pretend that he was. But it was her decision to make, and it had been nice to see her smile this morning, to hear the excitement in her voice as she talked about getting back to work. So as much as he disagreed with who she had chosen to work for, he didn't want to keep bringing it up. He wanted her to be happy, especially after months of misery.

Getting to his feet, Lex rounded the desk. "To tell you the truth Clark I was a little surprised, considering all my offers to ease your family's financial situation have been met with a resounding no, it stung a little to see her name on my father's payroll."

"Well to be honest it wasn't exactly a unanimous decision in the Kent household."

Lex laughed humourlessly as he shrugged on his jacket. "My father's the poster boy for family strife, I'm sorry it's spreading."

"Not exactly your fault," Clark told him.

"No." He sighed, "Look I'll look into Metron, see where he's hiding the proverbial bodies. But in the meantime I have to go, some of us Luthors actually have to work for a living."

The whirring of helicopter blades prevented Clark from replying, as he made his way to the nearest window to look out. "Wow, I didn't realise the traffic in Smallville had gotten so bad," he joked.

"It's my father's. Hope your Mom likes helicopters."

"My family doesn't fly much."

A small smirk graced Lex's features. "Trust me, that's about to change. I'll talk to you later Clark."

Clark didn't turn to watch him go, he was too busy watching his Mom cross the garden, her arm linked in Lionel Luthor's. His eyes narrowed, the man was blind, he needed assistance, he knew that, but that didn't stop the knot of disquiet and distrust forming in his stomach.

Martha's arm had threaded through his without any prompting, Lionel had been surprised to note. There had been no fussing, no fanfare, she had simply moved to his side and slid her arm around his, her hand resting gently on his forearm as her other hand passed him his stick. His other assistants had fumbled and he could always feel them awkwardly jumping around him, apologising profusely if they so much as grazed him.

Meanwhile, her insights were quick and valuable, she didn't waste words on small talk and she had been surprisingly easy to be around. He had found losing his sight difficult to adjust to, had hated that he suddenly had to rely on others, but there was something about Martha Kent that made it easier. Even now as she led him into the helicopter, told him to watch his head, her hand brushing against his shoulder.

"First time in a helicopter?" he asked as her hands deftly clipped his seatbelt together.

"I wasn't exactly expecting a trip to Metropolis on my first day," she admitted.

Martha tried to comb her hair back into some form of respectability as she sat back in her seat. Her brain was buzzing, she had enjoyed her day. God help her she actually liked working for Lionel Luther, liked the challenge, the element of surprise. She had just had that thought when the helicopter lurched, a jarring noise renting the air. She yelled out in surprise, reaching out, steadying herself on Lionel's shoulder.

Martha could hear the uncertainty in Lionel's voice as he asked, "Bob, what's going on?"

"I don't know."

The helicopter tilted and she slid in her seat, bashing against the door. She turned her head and yelled again when she saw that the cause of their current distress was a teenager, his face distorted, his eyes black pools. He pulled the helicopter down onto the ground with a bump. Martha knew this was their chance. She grabbed Lionel's hand, willing herself to stop shaking as she pulled at his seatbelt. "We need to get out of here!"

"What's going on?"

She didn't get the chance to answer. Suddenly the door from the helicopter was gone and she felt herself being pulled out. She made to grab for Lionel, but his suit slipped through her fingers and the air rushed out of her as she hit the ground. Scrabbling onto her hands and knees, Martha turned, her hair pressing against her face as she struggled to see what was going on. Finally forcing her hair out of her eyes, she saw the teenager haul Lionel out, hurl him to the ground. Unthinkingly she made for him, he couldn't see, wouldn't know what was happening, she couldn't possibly leave him like that.

Her movements were graceless, the force coming from the rotator blades preventing her from getting fully to her feet, but she got there. She scanned him for injuries, but could see nothing obvious and allowed him to use her as leverage to haul himself into sitting position. She turned, looking for their attacker and saw that Clark had squared up against him. Martha cried out in horror as he sent her son flying through the air, "Clark!"

Lionel had known instantly that it was Martha who was at his side, how he knew he wasn't sure and yet even before her hands were on him, helping him up, he knew it was her. Then he heard her scream of alarm for her son, the terror in her voice and his grip on her arm tightened. He wanted to be able to see, to know what was happening, to face his assailant.

He wondered vaguely how the boy had gotten there, what was happening. He heard a crash, felt Martha jerk next to him just as the helicopter finally stopped whirring in the background. Seconds later, he realised that someone else had joined them and he felt Martha's reassuring prescence shift, move away from him as she got to her feet. "Clark, thank God," she breathed, and he could hear the relief and the tears in her voice.

"Mom, I'm alright. Honest."

"What happened?"

"I was wondering the same thing," Lionel remarked from his inelegant sprawl on the ground.

He felt Martha crouch beside him. "Are you ok?" She asked.

"Yes, I think so." He let her help him up, felt Clark at his other side, he could feel the boy's reluctance as he leant in to help steady him. "What about you? Are you hurt?" He asked hurriedly.

"No, a little shaken maybe. I hope everyday isn't going to be like this."

"Physical assault is rare amongst my staff."

"I suppose it would be rarer if you're business ventures were more scrupulous," Clark told him dryly.

"Ah, it was a disgruntled client then."

"Not exactly."

Any reply was lost to a hiss of pain, his collarbone protesting as he tried to move his arm.

"You are hurt," Martha remarked. "You'll need checked out." She looked at her son. "Where is he? That boy?"

"Uh, it's a long story."

"And one that I'm intrigued to hear," Lionel snapped back, irritated by the turn his otherwise pleasant afternoon had taken.

The door to his room clicked open. "Who's there?" Lionel asked. He'd quickly found that one of the most irritating parts of losing his sight was that others were now able to sneak up on him.

"It's Martha."

"Ah, my errant personal assistant," he teased trying to inject a tone of levity into his voice. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, I told you I was, you didn't need to force that poor doctor into checking me over."

"I felt it was better to be safe, after all I didn't see what happened. You might have been injured."

"I would have said," she assured him.

"Really, you strike me as the type who would carry on regardless."

Martha couldn't help but smile at that assessment. "I'm not sure that you know me well enough to make that assumption," she replied lightly.

"I felt it was a safe bet."

"Did you." She stepped closer to him. "How's your collarbone?"

"Broken," he told her, "but nothing that won't heal in a few weeks." He tilted his head, wishing once more that he could see her, that he could at least remember her enough that he could imagine how she might look, might carry herself just now, but there was nothing. For once he had been shortsighted, not bothering to commit her to memory. "How's your son?"

"Clark's fine," she replied smoothly.

"Good. I'm lucky he was there, surprised, but lucky."

He listened carefully, but the expression of her tone didn't change. "He'd stopped by to see Lex."

"That boy."

"Byron," Martha corrected him.

Lionel's head tilted with interest, she'd bothered to learn his name. "He had hold of the helicopter."

"He did."

"That must have taken some strength. I'm amazed that considering the damage he caused to a large, solid piece of metal that Clark escaped unscathed."

"Clark got lucky," Martha replied wryly. "Believe me, I'll be speaking to him about being more careful."

Lionel chuckled, "Teenagers do tend to think that they're indestructable...still I'm amazed."

Martha refused to react, if she did it would make him more suspicious, so instead she laughed, "Looks like all that extra work on the farm is doing wonders for him." She reached for Lionel's jacket, draping it gently over his shoulders. "About Byron, I think you should help him, perhaps cover the cost of the medical care that would help him lead a normal life."

"Luthorcorp is not a charity," Lionel told her firmly.

"No, it's a business, a business that has a lot of different fingers in a lot of different pies. Perhaps you didn't know what that one was doing, perhaps you did and you chose to overlook it, either way you have a responsibility to that boy." Martha crossed her arms across herself, standing in front of him.

"His family chose to be part of what they knew was an experimental treatment, they were aware of the risks. I am not responsible."

"Do you want me to put that direct quote in the press release?"

"That sounded very much like blackmail, Martha," Lionel remarked calmly.

"Not at all," she replied smoothly. "I'm simply stating that should his parents chose to go to the press then you will need to release a statement. I'm not going to appeal to your charitable side, Lionel, it would be a waste of time for both of us. However, even if you look at this from a financial viewpoint, this could be disastrous for your share prices, you could mitigate that."

His head tilted with interest. "What do you mean?"

"Pay for his treatment, help him live a normal life. I'm sure if you do then his parents would be williing to let this be swept under the rug. It would make more financial sense than letting your share prices plummet."

"I didn't think that you could be so ruthless."

"Lionel, don't mistake me, I'm not condoning anything that your company did to that boy, or to the other children like him, but if it's what makes you give him a chance then I'm going to try and make you see it from that angle."

"I appreciate your pragmatism."

Martha helped him to his feet, her arm slipping into his once more. "So is that a yes?"

"Yes," he chuckled, relishing the warmth of her hand. "Yes it is."

"Good, so will we get back to work?"

As the door clicked shut behind Martha, Lionel relax back into his chair, a smile playing about his lips. "Lex, I can feel your smirk from here."

"I was just thinking that if you're not careful then your new assistant could reorganise even more of your priorities."

Lionel didn't reply, but he felt the smile on his face grow. It was odd, he didn't mind that idea.

Lex looked at his father with interest. He had seen him flirt with various women, seen him manipulate others to get exactly what he wanted, but he had never seen that expression on his face. He would need to keep an eye on this.