It annoyed me that the curtains and door were left open in the show, but then TV isn't known for realism so I decided just to go with it.

This chapter takes place over a few days, but I didn't want to split it into two.

Lionel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rolling his neck to try and ease the ache of his muscles, he wasn't used to sitting so long and certainly not in such a cheap chair. He glanced back at the bed where Martha was sleeping peacefully, it amazed him how she could be so unwell and yet look as though there were nothing wrong. He sighed, turning his head away, catching sight of the crossword puzzle that they had been working their way through on the table. His fingers twitched and he had to stop himself from reaching across to finish it, he doubted Martha would appreciate him sweeping in when they were meant to be completing it together.

He rolled his neck once more, he supposed that he could try to sleep, but then he didn't want to risk Martha waking up and being alone with her thoughts while he snored away. So instead he considered the newspaper again, wondering if he'd missed anything interesting in the first two reads. He gave a soft sigh, probably not, and anyway did he really want to subject himself to that inane drivel again? The answer being no, he instead pressed his hand momentarily against Martha's, his fingers stroking over her skin for a second, reassured by her warmth.

In all the years of Lillian's illness he had never sat with her like this, he had always been too busy, either chasing the next deal or looking for the newest specialist, hoping for a cure. It had been a cycle, money was power and he had believed that power and influence would be able to save Lillian. He had been wrong, so very wrong. It was only after her death that he had wondered if he had made the right decisions. At the time he had dismissed the notion, the brief thought that perhaps his time would have been better spent with her. It was a thought that had occurred to him again more than once this evening, as he sat with Martha. The time they spent together wouldn't be enough, he couldn't deny that, but at least there was nothing left unsaid between them. Perhaps that would be of some comfort.

His head dropped to his chest and he rubbed his bleary eyes, wondering vaguely where Lex had disappeared to, clearly he hadn't found the boy. Lionel glanced at the clock 1.37am, the time lodged into his brain, just as he saw Martha jerk on the bed. Her eyes flew open and he saw the brief spark of panic in her eyes as she made a sharp choking rattle as she attempted to draw in a breath. Her hands flew to her throat, pressing there, her shoulders lifting for a second before she slumped back onto the bed, her hands falling limply to her side as her eyes rolled shut.

The machines surrounding her let out frantic beeps, a long sharp alarm sounding as Lionel jumped to his feet. "Martha!" He leaned over her, frantically trying to rouse her as the nursing staff ran in, the familiar click of Helen's heels following them. He was pressed out of the way.

"Mr Luthor, you'll need to leave," Helen told him sharply.

Lionel felt his jaw slacken as he watched one of the nurses press their hands on Martha's chest to start CPR, another placing a mask and bag over her face as Helen began to ready more equipment. His voice was hoarse to his own ears as he told them, You have to do something."

Helen didn't so much as pause in her task, her eyes not shifting to him as she replied, "We are, but you can't stay here."

He was ushered to the door by a nurse, aware that Lex was also standing there, his cheeks drawn tight as he asked, "What happened?"

"I'm not sure, she was fine, she was fine," he repeated, unsure of who he was most trying to convince. He watched the unfolding of the events through the thick glass, unable to hear what was happening but aware that it was nothing good. His eyes slid to Lex as he asked, "Where have you been?"

"I tried to find Clark. Helen went to the farm and I went into town. It was late when we got back, we were in the hospital canteen when Helen's page went off." He frowned with a sudden realisation, remarking, "I didn't think you'd still be here."

"I thought someone should be. I take it you didn't find him."

"Helen did, said he would be here soon." He ran a hand over his head, clearly agitated. "He'll never forgive himself for this."

Lionel felt his stomach twist uncomfortably at what Lex was implying, snapping shortly, "We shouldn't give up yet."

Lex didn't reply, too caught up in how Clark would feel at the end of this, with the fact that he had failed to prevent it to even consider why his Father had stayed to comfort an ex-employee, or why his hands were tremoring as he held them by his side.

The two men stood for what felt like hours, although Lionel knew it hadn't been anywhere near that length of time, watching the futile attempts of the medical staff until finally they saw Helen step back, giving a singular shake of her head as she pulled off her gloves. Lionel shook his head, willing his knees not to buckle, aware of Lex pressing his head against the glass, muttering, "No, no, no." Lionel heard the choked noise that escaped his throat, this couldn't be, she couldn't be gone. He felt as though someone had his chest in a vice and he felt himself send up a silent plea that this couldn't possibly be the end.

It was in that thought that a blaze of white light blasted through the corridors, blinding in it's intensity as it forced the entire hospital to close their eyes against the glare. When Lionel opened them again he thought for a moment that he'd gone mad. He watched as Martha suddenly drew in a large gasp of air, her eyes opening as she coughed violently.

Helen was clearly just as stunned and it took her a moment to react, stepping forward hurriedly to try and place an oxygen mask over Martha's face. He saw the shake of her head, her hand rising to push it away. After another few moments the room door swung open and Helen stepped out, her balance unsteady and her voice uneven. Her next words were addressed to Lex as she told him, "I don't understand it, I just...don't."

Lionel turned to look at her, his lip curling, because despite the relief he felt in seeing Martha alive and well, that woman had chosen to stop, she had made the wrong decision and that had nearly had catastrophic consequences. "Clearly you weren't anywhere near top of your class in medical school. Tell me did you even attend? Or did you just print off a fancy looking certificate? Because surely even if you attended the most base institution they would have taught you the difference between alive and dead!"

"Dad, that's enough!" Lex rebuked him sharply as his hand reached out to clasp Helen's shoulder.

Helen glared at Lionel, taking a step towards him, her eyes venomous as she told him, "I know the difference and Martha Kent was dead! For thirty minutes she had no signs of life despite our interventions. Thirty minutes!" She hissed. "With limited oxygen and circulation, we should never have got her back and that there's no sign of brain damage is inexplicable." She turned to storm away and Lex followed after her, passing Clark in the corridor as he ran towards the room.

Lionel watched as the boy flung himself past the nurses and at Martha, pulling her into a bear hug, which she returned just as fiercely. Her hand cupped his face and she smiled at him softly. As the nurses left the room, he saw Clark's mouth moved, his expression urgent and he watched Martha expertly soothe away whatever concern the boy had, the tension leaving him. They hugged again and Martha turned her head towards the window, catching sight of Lionel. He wanted to run in and kiss her, to hold her close to him and not let go. Instead he gave a small nod of his head, he knew that he couldn't stay, that he had been lucky there were no questions already. And so fighting against everything he wanted, he turned and left the hospital.

"Perhaps you should go and get some breakfast," Martha suggested to her son the next morning.

He gave her a tired smile and shook his head. "I'd rather stay here."

"You've been here most of the night, you should go and get some rest." Clark shuffled awkwardly in his seat and she added, "I'm fine now."

"I know, it just felt like a close call, that's all."

Martha didn't want to tell him just how close it really had been. She was saved by the door opening and she gave a smile as William Clark walked into the room, noticing Clark and straightening his shoulders slightly. "Good morning, Dad," she greeted him.

Clark looked up with interest, scrambling to his feet, looking between his Mum and the Grandfather he didn't know existed. "Dad?" he echoed, his stare fixing on his Mum.

She ignored the stare, instead chosing to state, "Dad, as you may have realised, this is Clark, I'm afraid I didn't have the opportunity to tell him that you would be visiting."

"Telling me that he existed would have been nice though," Clark murmured.

William stepped forward, holding out his hand, his voice slightly gruff as he said, "It's nice to finally meet you."

Clark took the proferred hand, replying, "And you."

Looking back over at his daughter, William gave a small smile. "You're looking much better."

"I am," she replied simply before adding, "It would seem that I have a guardian angel, somehow the contaminant has worked it's way out of my system and I'm going to make a full recovery."

At that last statement, William relaxed entirely as an uncharacteristic beam broke his features. "Now that is good news."

An awkward silence fell after his statement for a few minutes before Clark, who had shoved his hands into his pockets remarked, "Ok, so I'm just going to ask it, why haven't I met you before?"

William's face tightened at that question and so Martha stepped in. "We had an arguement," she admitted. "And I only got back in touch when I became unwell, perhaps for reasons that were slightly selfish, but I asked him to step in should the worst have happened." She looked back at her Dad and gave him a small, smile as she added, "But I would like it if this was the start of us being more involved in each other's lives again."

"I would like that as well," William told them, looking back at Clark. "I would like also the opportunity to get to know my grandson."

"I'd like that," Clark replied. "But why did you fall out?"

"I didn't get on with your Father," William admitted.

Clark frowned, he'd genuinely never encountered someone who hadn't liked Jonathan Kent. "You didn't like my Dad?"

William gave a small cough. "No, and I believe that feeling was mutual."

Martha opened her mouth to interject when there was a knock at her room door and Helen stepped in. "I'm sorry to interupt, but I'm afraid I have a few things to run through with Martha." She held up a calming hand, "strictly routine before anyone panics."

Looking at Clark, Martha told him, "Go and get something to eat."

"I'll come with you, if that's acceptable," William interjected. "It'll give us a chance to talk."

"I'd like that." Clark leaned over his Mom and kissed her cheek. "I'll be back soon."

"You don't have to rush." She patted his cheek. "You could always go home and get some rest."

"Who needs rest?" he snorted.

"I'll remind you of that the next time you can't get up for school," Martha teased.

Clark's laughter faded into the hallway as he and William left the room, and Martha looked back over at Helen who gave a tight smile. "I've got the ultrasound machine with me. It should give us a better idea of where we stand."

Martha felt a lurch of uncertaintly mingled with excitement at the thought of seeing her baby and the fear that something might be wrong, especially after everything that had happened the last few days. But then sitting in ignorance and hoping for the best wouldn't get her anywhere or make her feel better. "Ok," she told Helen after a moment. "I'm ready."

Lionel's feet pounded against the treadmill, his heart thumping as he racked the pace up further, pushing himself harder than he ever had before, trying to rid himself of the thoughts that had tormented him all night. What had happened with Martha had rocked him, he felt uncertain and that wasn't a feeling that he was particularly familiar with.

One thing he was now certain of was that his feelings for Martha Kent no longer revolved around lust, that he did in fact love her. In the moments where he truly believed that he had lost her, he had felt bereft. He hadn't felt that way since Lillian and he had never wanted to feel that way again. He couldn't feel that way again. Not to mention that Martha was right, their lives were too different and to make it work would require compromise; he hated compromise. Then there would be the threats to her safety, he was a rich man and he was well aware that he was a disliked rich man. He was aware of the number of threats that trickled through to his security team everyday and she would make an easy target. He couldn't manage the idea of her being at risk because of him.

He grabbed his water bottle, taking a large gulp, forcing himself to keep running. It would be for the best to severe his attachment to Matha now, she was a practical woman and he doubted that she would protest the move. They would perhaps bump into one another from time to time but that was manageable, it didn't have to be a cause for concern. Yes, he decided firmly, he would see her once more and put a permanent end to the relationship they had had, it was the best, most expediate thing to do.

That decided, he bounded off his treadmill, his mind considering the other, more unusual events of the night. He didn't like Helen Bryce, he knew on paper at least she was potentially a promising match for Lex, but to him there was something false about her. Nonetheless he had looked into her credentials again on his return home last night and they were substantial. At first he had try to convince himself that it was far more likely that Helen Bryce was incompetent, because really the only other answer was that somehow Martha had come back from the dead. The memory of that blaze of light tormented him, though he wasn't foolish enough to believe it was a result of his silent prayer. So what was it a result of? And to top it all off, once again Clark Kent had appeared out of nowhere just as events took a highly unusual turn.

Lionel rubbed at his neck with a towel. He had meant what he had said to Martha, that he wouldn't investigate the boy after her death; he would have kept that promise. But then she wasn't dead and the secret she hide about that boy clawed at him incessantly. He had to know just what the Kent family were hiding.

The whooshing and thumping sound filled the small room and Martha felt her hands curl into her palms, her nails biting into the skin as she asked nervously, "Is that my baby?"

Helen's smile was slightly more relaxed, more genuine as she turned the screen to face Martha. "It is," she confirmed.

Martha felt her breath catch as she took in the sight before her, the moment even better than she had ever imagined it being, and she had imagined it a lot. "Is everything ok?"

"It all looks as it should around this stage. Going by the measurements I'd put you at 8-9 weeks, which would put your date of conception around the last week in February and your due date round about the 20th of November. Obviously this will be looked at in greater depth by your obstetrician." Helen glanced away from Martha, clicking at the machine and jotting down notes as she added, "Does that date fit in with what you thought?"

"Yes, I suppose looking back it would have been around that time," Martha replied easily. That had been the first week she and Lionel had spent together, as ever he had been robust in his endeavours. Still, she looked at the slightly blurry image of her baby on the screen and she couldn't regret it, not even slightly. Although the thought of telling both Lionel and Clark made her feel uneasy.

Helen looked over at her again, stating, "I can get you the name of an obstetrician who specialises in high risk pregnancies if you'd like?"

"High risk," Martha echoed.

Realising the error in her wording, Helen looked slightly uneasy as she explained, "Given your age combined with your medical history, there is greater potential for complications." She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear as she continued, "Its also worth considering that as you're still in your first trimester there is still the risk of miscarriage."

"Right." Martha blinked, grateful that she was already lying down. That she was even pregnant felt like a miracle and the idea that all she might ever be left with was the image and the thought of what might have been was a sickening one. Perhaps it would be better to wait until the pregnancy was more established before she upset the apple cart and made her news known.

"It may all go well, but it would be unfair of me not to pass on the information pertaining to the risks."

"I understand that."

Helen gave a small nod, wiping the gel from Martha's still flat stomach. "Once the specialists discharge you from their care later today I'll put this information into your record."

"Thank you." Martha pulled down her top and adjusted her position slightly as she added, "I would still like to wait before making this public knowledge."

"That's understandable, many women wait until after their 12-13 week scan. You can be assured that that information won't come from me."

"I appreciate it." Martha watched Helen carefully, trying to keep her tone casual as she added, "Clark informed me that you stopped by the farm last night, when he wasn't well."

"That's right, I took a blood sample," Helen confirmed. "I ran it myself at Clark's request." Her eyes met Martha's. "It was enlightening but as I have said before I abide by patient doctor confidentiality and there would be no benefit to Clark for this to be highlighted." She reached out and patted Martha's hand. "Your secret is safe with me."

Lionel stood in the doorway for a moment, watching as Martha folded up clothing and place it neatly into the bag on the bed, before he finally raised his fist and knocked lightly against the door. She looked up and greeted him with a small smile of acknowledgement. "I wasn't sure if you'd be back."

"I wanted to come sooner," he told her honestly, "but I didn't think it would be appropriate."

"Probably not," she admitted.

His eyes drifted over her, she looked well, her eyes bright and the wave of relief that she was standing before him, healthy and whole overwhelmed him. He couldn't stop himself from stepping quickly towards her, pulling her into a tight embrace, one hand curling into her hair as the other wrapped around her waist. Words failed him, they couldn't possibly convery the depth of his feelings in this moment. "Martha, it's so good to see you" he finally murmured against the top of her head.

After a minute, Lionel broke the embrace and she told him, "I'm glad you're here, I wanted to thank you for sitting with me."

"I couldn't have done anything else." He picked up her hand and clasped it between his. "How are you feeling?"

"I haven't felt this good in quite some time," she replied honestly.

"I'm glad to hear it." He took in a deep breath and told her, "I thought I would drop in before I went back to Metropolis."

"Ah, are you planning on coming back?"

"Not unless I'm visiting Lex," he admitted.

"I see." Her expression didn't change and he was grateful for that.

"Martha, I thought about what you said-"

She held a hand up, cutting in, "Lionel you don't have to explain. It was what it was and now it's over." She would tell him about the baby in her own time, there was nothing to be gained from dropping that piece of news into conversation now. She needed time to think.

He gave a brief nod. "Very well. Should you ever need anything then all you need to do is ask."

"I'll keep that in mind."

There wasn't much else he could say, and there could no benefit from him staying here to ponder the what could have been. "Goodbye Martha."

She smiled at him. "Take care."

Lionel nodded and moved to the doorway, pausing briefly to ask, "Clark due back soon?"

"He is, he's going to drive us home."

"His timing a few nights ago was...interesting."

Martha's eyes narrowed, her figure becoming guarded. "Just where are you going with this Lionel?"

"Just curious."

"You made a promise."

"I remember my exact promise, Martha," he replied over his shoulder, as he strolled from the hospital room.

Lex paused at the window to Martha Kent's room, surprised to see his Father holding her. His head tilted as he tried to take in the scene before him, watching as his Dad stepped back but kept hold of her hand, his face more emotive than he ever remembered seeing it.

Realisation dawned and suddenly the events of the last few months settled into place, slotting together neatly. His Father had feelings for Martha Kent, how he had never seen this before was surprising. His clear respect for her, the way he endeavoured to keep her late and took her out to dinner, never mind his reaction to the close call a few nights ago. Lionel Luthor had fallen for the widow of a small town farmer.

Lex moved away from the window, he didn't need to see the rest of the exchange. An amused smile played across his features, this was interesting, even more so because unlike every other woman that his Father turned his attentions to, he knew that this one wouldn't be swayed. Yes, it looked like he was about to have his first taste of an unrequited crush, and the thought amused Lex to the core.