Thanks to those you are reading and everyone who has left a review. The next chapter will look at the episode lineage, I'm missing out bringing in William Clark for just now but he may make an appearance later on.
Day by day Lionel's sight became clearer, and yet still he held back from letting on, to anyone. At first it had simply been a case of biding his time, of ensuring that the gradual return of his vision was going to be permenant. But then he had found keeping quiet had it's uses. It had been interesting to see how his staff acted around him when they thought that he couldn't see them. They rolled their eyes at him, grimaced, and in some cases did a half ass job on anything they thought he might not notice, leading Lionel to believe a clear out of staff was in order. If they couldn't be bothered to do the job that he paid them - rather generously - to do, then he would find someone who would. The only exception to this was Martha Kent.
She didn't roll her eyes at him, and he had attempted a couple of outragous excuses to try and bait her into doing so, but none of them had worked. Actually that wasn't entirely true, he'd caught her once and had felt his stomach start to sink in disapointment when she'd suddenly announced, "Lionel, whilst it might be considered the height of unprofessionalism, you have actually succeeded in making me roll my eyes at you. You cannot seriously think that that is a reasonable request?"
"And if I do?" He'd asked, a smile beginning to play about his lips as he realised that she was in fact calling him out.
"Well then I suggest you greatly ammend the job description for your P.A. because I don't remember seeing anywhere in mine that I had to pick out the orange m&m's for you."
"I can't do it myself."
"Why would you need to?"
"They taste different," he lied easily. "And I notice it more now."
"They don't," she assured him.
"So you're not going to do it?"
"Well that depends, would you rather be orange m&m free or have those contracts finished?"
"I think you could do both," he teased.
"Is there a reason for this sudden increase in odd demands?" She asked. "Or is it all just a test?"
"A test?" he echoed, trying to sound innocent. "You think I would test you?"
"Yes," she laughed. "I think you would."
He placed his hand across his chest. "You wound me."
"I somehow think that would be much harder to do."
Lionel smiled at the memory, of the sound of Martha's laughter. At her honesty, her ability to call him out, to stand up to him, he admired it. Lillian had been like that at first, she had challenged him, and then she had stopped, for a variety of reasons, her ill health among them, and it had been another nail in the coffin of their marriage. He pushed away the memory of his wife, he didn't want to think about her, about the bitter disapointment his marriage became. Instead he thought of Martha.
His first vision of her had been the colour of her hair as she had leaned over his shoulder, he had been able to make out the exact shade of red, the rest of her features still unfocussed and blurry. He'd wondered momentarily what it would feel like, flowing through his fingers as he tilted her face upwards. She was suprisingly petite, even in her heels the top of her head didn't sit level with his eyes, he had always thought she was taller.
It was her figure he had noticed next, the curves of her, she was like a pocket venus he thought vaguely.
Finally there had been the day he had finally seen her features, the pale albastar of her skin, the angle of her cheekbones, the sparkle of her blue eyes and the wonder that was her smile. Why he had never noticed her before know, he really wasn't sure.
Once he had wondered if he found her so attractive because he had been starved of his sight and as a result starved of the usual women who swarmed around him, hoping for just a taste of his lavish lifestyle. That thought had quickly died, it didn't matter what other women crossed his path, they didn't compare to her. He wanted her, desperately.
Lionel sucked in a deep breath between his teeth, his jaw tense, he had never lusted after a woman and not had her almost immediately, they all bowed easily to his will. Somehow he wasn't sure that Martha would be so easy to seduce, he wasn't even sure how best he should even go about it.
His fingers drifted automatically across the paino keys as he thought, his musings then interupted by the woman he was obsessing about. She swept gracefully and quietly into the room, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear as she walked. He automatically stopped playing, watching her subtly.
Martha looked up. "You didn't have to stop, I just came in to tidy up and say goodnight."
"I wouldn't want to appear rude."
She smiled. "I would never have thought that would bother you."
"I'm trying to see the error of my ways."
Her eyebrow quriked. "Why am I not convinced by that statement?"
He chuckled, "Possibly because you're a realist. Much more than I had expected."
"What did you expect?"
Lionel shrugged. "You to be quiet, submissive, a romantic," he admitted.
"Not sure how I would potray the last one at work, short of wafting around in some sort of negligee and quoting romance novels," she remarked dryly.
That drew another laugh from him. "Well you certainly aren't the first two."
"No, I don't think I've ever been excused of being either of those things." She slid a few files into his desk drawer, locking it afterwards. "What were you playing?"
"A piece by Sergei Rachmaninoff, well a rather clumsy version of it," he admitted. "Do you play?"
"Oh no, I'm tone deaf," Martha told him honestly.
"I don't believe that."
"If you heard me sing along to the radio you would," she quipped. "I took lessons once, but I could never get the hang of it," she told him.
"You probably just needed a better teacher. It's never too late to learn."
"That's what they say, but I think my time for that may have passed. It's lovely to listen to though." She moved closer to him, and even without turning he could feel her presence just behind his right shoulder.
Lionel shuffled slightly down the piano stool and patted the empty space next to him, feeling a sense of pride when she sat down, her shoulder brushing his. "If I can learn, anyone can." He played a few notes easily. "I could teach you."
"How?"
"Easily, I taught Lex for a while."
"It amazes me how well you play, even now," she told him plainly.
He smiled at how she never shirked away from the issue of his sight, not once had she danced uncomfortably around it, she took it in her stride, as she did with everything else. "You get used to the keys after a while." Lionel slipped his hand over hers and brought it the keys, pressing his thumb lightly down on one. "Middle C," he informed her. "Everything stems out from here, it's the easiest place to begin from. Do you remember your notes?"
"Mostly," Martha replied, feeling her heart rate pick up a notch at his touch.
"Well we can come back to them, but first how to move your hands." He wanted to look up and watch her face, but he knew that he couldn't, he would become enraptured and give the game away, and if he went through this first then he could continue to touch her, even if it was just her hand. "You need to be able to move up and down the keys, it will help you later, you can't be watching your hands the whole time."
"Easier said than done."
"It simply takes practice." He played a few notes with her fingers beneath his, before tapping her thumb and telling her, "sweep it under to the next note. Just remember 1-2-3 sweep,1-2-3-4 sweep, and repeat. When you get up here, you don't sweep, just play it out. If you practice that it will make it easier not to look at your hands."
"Right." She knew she sounded breathless, he was so close, his arm around her so that he could guide her right hand across the keys. She could smell his cologne, it was subtle, masculine and probably incredibly expensive.
"If you want you can practice in here, whenever you like."
"That's very generous of you."
"Not a sentence I often hear." He risked a glance at her face and saw the flush of pink across her neck and cheeks, the slightly quicker rise and fall of her chest and he felt his groin tighten at the sight of her.
"I think it's sometimes something you actively go out of your way to avoid."
"Perhaps, you can't get to where I am by showing weakness."
Martha turned her face towards his. "Generosity isn't weakness," she told him quietly.
Lionel stuggled to keep up his act, trying not to scan her face and commit every nuance of her expressions to memory. "It can be exploited, so it's the same thing."
Her hands slipped out from under his. "I can't ever imagine thinking that way."
"You don't have to."
"No, and I'm glad for it."
"You wouldn't want all of this?" He asked cynically, sweeping his hand across the vast room with it's extravagent furnishing.
"No," she told him honestly. She had walked away from a comfortable lifestyle - albeit it not as luxurious as this - for love, and she had never regretted it, she had mourned the abscence of her father from her life, but she'd always known she would have regretted walking away from Jonathan more.
"I think you might be the only person who's said that, that I actually believe."
"There's more to life than money and power, Lionel," she told him softly, her hand brushing his shoulder, coming to rest at his elbow.
"Said by someone who has neither." There was no malice in his tone as he said it, and yet he regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth.
Martha sighed. "Perhaps, but I wonder which of us is happier."
She went to pull away and he caught her wrist, his other hand coming up to brush her cheek. He felt her shiver at his touch. "Are you happy?"
"I...I was," she told him. "And I will be again."
"I hope so. You deserve it," he whispered, meaning every word. Unthinkingly he pulled her closer, her free hand pressing against his shoulder, as she steadied herself, her fingers curling into the material of his shirt.
"Lionel..." Martha murmured, unsure if she wanted him to stop or continue.
His lips brushed hers and she felt herself relax into him, kissing him back, her mouth opening under his.
His thumb stroked her cheekbone, his fingers curling into her hair, tilting her face to his as he'd imagined doing so many times before, but it surpassed everyone of his idle thoughts.
After a few moments, Martha broke away, breathing heavily. She didn't want to look at him, afraid she would melt back into him again, she could still feel the thrill of having him pressed against her. "We shouldn't," she told him. "I work for you." She didn't wait for him to reply, clambouring clumsily to her feet. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight Lionel."
"Goodnight," he replied, his voice slightly raspy. He watched her go, flustered, her hair deliciously mused. He had wondered if that kiss would dispell him of the desperate notion he had to posess Martha Kent, instead it just made him want her all the more.