So I kind of felt that the last few chapters that I'd written on my phone just weren't quite up to scratch. So I abandoned writing on the phone, but this meant no updates until I could replace my laptop. And now I have. Happy Days!

This chapter wasn't exactly as I planned but I managed to coerce it into at least following the plot-line. Hope you all enjoy!

The fire crackled, giving off a small spark as one log cracked with the heat. Martha watched the flames blankly as she twirled her rings around her finger distractedly, finally pulled from her thoughts as a warm mug was pressed into her hands. She looked down at the mug of hot chocolate and managed a small smile as she looked up at her father. "I remember you making me this whenever I was upset," she remarked. "Of course, I was much smaller then."

His eyes crinkled, a warm smile of remembrance softening his features. "You were, and the problems troubling you were much less distressing." His smile faded and he turned to sink heavily into the arm chair across from her. "How did you get on today?"

"No sign of Clark, at this moment in time I don't think he wants to be found," Martha admitted quietly. She had been reluctant to plaster the city with posters bearing his image and appealing for information, he wore the red kryptonite ring, he would be reckless, and she couldn't risk drawing too much attention. Her eyes fixed onto the flames again.

"It's only been a week," her father tried to assure her. "Plenty time yet for Clark to come back on his own. Teenagers are stubborn."

"Don't I know it." Martha took a sip from her mug, leaning back against her chair. "It's not just stubbornness though," she added after a beat of silence. "Clark blames himself for what happened on the farm."

William gave a small tut. "The boy can't blame himself for a gas leak."

Martha's eye flickered at the lie, it was necessary for everyone to believe it, but she felt as though all she did just now was lie or conceal the truth. "But he does," she murmured. She shook her head. "I'm doing no good here. I should go back to the farm." She stared into the fire again. "Perhaps you're right, maybe he will come back when he's ready,"

William shifted uncomfortably as he asked, "Have the insurance company said anything else?"

"They've said plenty, none of it particularly helpful though." Martha rubbed her forehead as she felt the beginnings of another tension headache grip at her. "They're still debating the merits of my claim." Her lips thinned. "And if they don't find in my favour then…" She trailed off, the words hanging in the air.

"Martha, I know I must appear cruel, to not offer the money to save the farm, but the place is a money pit. I won't throw good after bad." He eyed her warily. "There will always be a place for you, and for Clark, here."

"I don't hold it against you," she assured him, and she didn't. The money needed was an extraordinarily large amount and she couldn't in all good consciousness ask that from him. "It's not your job to bail me out all the time. But for the moment Smallville is my home and if Clark is going to come home then it's to there, not to here." She met his forthright gaze and managed a smile. "So I'll find a way to stay there."

"Very well." He nodded. "But the offer stands; always."

Martha's reply died in her throat as the television in the corner caught her attention. She lunged for the remote and turned up the volume to listen to the latest update.

Mrs Luthor was released from Metropolis General Hospital earlier today, following a period of observation. Mrs Luthor was found five days ago by a private fishing boat off the coast following the crash of her and her husbands private charter plane. The couple were heading to their honeymoon destination when the flight appeared to have run into unknown difficulties ,that caused it to crash into the Pacific. At this time Lex Luthor and the plane itself remain missing and the police continue with their enquiries. It is believed that Mrs Luthor has informed police that she exited the plane via parachute prior to the crash, but that her husband was still aboard when the plane went down. Mrs Luthor made no comment to journalists today on leaving the hospital. Lionel Luthor however released a statement today that confirmed that he would continue to search for his son, who he believes has survived the accident.

Martha watched as the official of Lex was minimised to the corner of the screen, as the footage of Helen Luthor leaving the hospital, pressing her way through the swarms of journalists. Her small frame was swathed in black, her eyes hidden by large sunglasses, her lips pursed together as the camera zoomed into her face. She was bundled into the car before it swept away. A tug of discomfort pulled at Martha, something about the image, about the story didn't sit with her, but she couldn't say why.

"Terrible thing," she heard her father mutter from his chair. "To outlive your own child. Even Lionel Luthor doesn't deserve that hell."

"You know him?" Martha asked.

"No, just of him. Ruthless man, although," William's hands splayed. "One would imagine you'd have to be to stay at the top of that game. A man like Luthor, and believe me I've encountered a few, they're all about legacy, he won't take well to having lost his." Martha had to stop herself from resting her hand across her stomach at those words. She felt his eyes on her. "You worked for him, how did you find him?"

"I don't know if I would call him something as simple as ruthless." She didn't want to discuss Lionel, her headache was getting worse just at the thought. She put her cup down at the side. "I'm going to go to bed." She got up, pausing at her father's chair, dropping a kiss onto his forehead. "Goodnight," she told him softly.

She heard him echo the words as she made her way upstairs. She needed to face Lionel at some point, it was only right she passed on her condolences in person and she had left it long enough. Her heart ached for both him and Lex, for his loss. At least she knew that Clark was out there, that he was alive. Lionel didn't even have that comfort to hold onto.

Lionel spread the maps out across his desk, looking at the route the plane would have taken, the spot that Helen claimed to have been found marked. The search teams, both those provided by the police and coastguard, and those he had hired had found nothing. His fingernail picked at Helen's marker, the fingers of his opposite hand drumming against the desk in agitation. It was too much of a co-incidence that with all those teams looking, that Helen would be found by a stray fishing vessel, whilst nothing else had been recovered.

His hand bunched into the paper of the corner of the map, crunching it in his palm. She was a liar, he thought viciously, blatantly so and yet no-one else could see it. They saw her as the distraught widow and there was no doubt that she could play her part well, the trembling bottom lip, the eyes that filled with tears that never quite fell.

The door to his office creaked open, the unsure face of his housekeeper peering into the room. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Sir-"

"Especially as I gave express orders that I didn't want to be," he snapped back, slamming his hand into the desk.

She jumped at the noise. "I understand, it's just that you have a visitor and I thought-"

"I don't want to see any damned visitors," Lionel snarled. He looked back at the map, it was doing no real good, but he just needed time to figure out his next move. He could find Lex.

"Very well. I'll inform Mrs Kent that you're not receiving visitors."

Lionel looked up at the name. He hadn't expected her to call, not with Clark still missing, but the thought of being able to see her again brought a modicum of calm to his frazzled brain. He held up his hand. "On second thought," he cut in quickly before the door closed over again. "Ask Mrs Kent to come through."

For a moment he thought he saw the hint of a knowing smile cross his housekeepers' lips – but surely not -as she nodded. "Of course, Sir. Should I arrange for tea? Perhaps send through some food, after all you haven't eaten yet today."

"Um yes," Lionel waved his hand impatiently as he rolled up the maps, sliding them carefully away. Seeing Martha always brought some clarity to his thoughts, perhaps it would do the same now, and that clarity would help him find his son. He straightened as Martha walked into the room, she looked tired, unsure of herself. Her red hair was tucked behind her ear on the left side, she was clad in her usual jeans and plaid but the clothing looked more worn than usual, the pattern of her shirt faded and the legs of her jeans stained with old paint and grass stains. "I didn't expect to see you here," he remarked.

"I felt it was best to pay my respects in person."

Lionel bristled at her choice in words. "Lex is simply missing, it's only a matter of time until I bring him home." His gaze met his, an unspoken challenge in them. "Much like you will with Clark."

Martha grimaced. "You heard then."

"I did." He stalked out from behind his desk. "It's ironic that both our sons should go missing on the same day."

"I suppose that's one word for it." Martha bit down momentarily on her bottom lip. "I had brought flowers, but your staff have spirited them away."

"Thoughtful of you. Unnecessary though, as I said Lex will be returning home shortly."

Martha's lips pulled together, and she gave a short, clipped nod. "I hope you're right." She took a step back. "I suppose then I've said what I came here to say, so I should go."

"Wait," he called out unthinkingly, relieved when she turned to face him, caught out when he realised, he hadn't thought much past this moment. "Any news on Clark?"

She shook her head, her face becoming pinched with worry as she admitted, "Nothing yet. I don't think he wants me to find him." Inhaling sharply she added, "Pounding the streets of Metropolis isn't doing any good, perhaps I should wait for him to come to me." She managed a tight smile. "After all teenagers always do the opposite of what you want them to."

"Lex certainly did." The office door opened again as tea and a tray of sandwiches were brought in and Lionel thanked the fates for their timing. "You should stay and eat something," he told her.

Martha pressed her hands together, twisting her rings around her finger as she gave a small shake of her head. "I'm not sure that would be the best idea."

He stepped closer to her, his head tilting thoughtfully as he watched her. "I know we didn't part on the best of terms last time that we spoke."

"That would be somewhat of an understatement." She turned her face to his. "We're a mess Lionel and I don't think sitting down over some tea and sandwiches is the answer."

"No, I would agree with that, but we both have to eat."

Martha felt almost wrong-footed, and she wasn't even sure why she was surprised, Lionel could do that with ease. She had come because it was the right thing to do, because she had cared for Lex and for Lionel and had wanted to pass on her condolences in person. But Lionel didn't want condolences, he wasn't ready to give up yet, and she wasn't sure why she was surprised. Lionel was a man who always got the world to fall in line with him, losing his son wasn't part of his plan and he wouldn't submit to it without a fight. She should leave, she knew that, knew that her reason for being here was done with and that it would be prudent for her to go now. "I still don't think-"

"Martha, please." It was the please that caught her, along with the flash in his eyes, a look she hadn't seen before, that made her nod and sit perched on the edge of the sofa. She noticed the mildest of tremors in his hand as he poured the tea, saw the strain across his face and in an instant she knew that Lionel Luthor wasn't as calm and self-assured as he was trying to portray. As he sat across from her, he asked calmly, "How's the farm? I heard there was substantial damage-"

"There was," she replied quickly.

"How long will it take to fix?"

"That is up for debate." Martha rubbed her forehead. "I'd rather not discuss it to be honest."

"Very well."

Another moment of silence passed before Martha asked, "Have you seen Helen? Has she given any information that can help with the search?"

"I have seen her, and no, she hasn't," he replied curtly. "I'd rather not speak about Helen Bryce," he added.

"Right, of course." Martha gave a small sigh and they passed the next few minutes in silence.

"The day of Lex's wedding," Lionel said after a moment. "We should probably discuss what happened."

"Is there any need to?" Martha sipped at her tea, trying to remember how much caffeine she had already had today and eyed one of the sandwiches, truth be told she was starving. She reached for it, avoiding Lionel's curious gaze.

"I think so. A lot was said."

"And we can't unsay it."

"No."

"Or do you intend to offer me one of your apologies?"

One of my apologies?" He echoed.

"Yes, where you tell me that you're sorry and that you won't do it again, only to turn around and do it again anyway, because you're Lionel Luthor and you do whatever you want." Her eyes met his as she took a bite of her sandwich.

"I suppose I have two options then, to either stop apologising or to stop repeating the same mistake."

"Do you see it as a mistake?"

"Which part?"

"You know very well which part I mean."

"You're right," he admitted. "I do." He leaned back in his chair, he had missed her, had missed her refreshing honesty. "I still think that you're hiding something," he told her. "But it's not a priority right now."

"If I had something to hide then I suppose I would be relieved." She thought of her baby, their baby, which she was most definitely hiding, but that wasn't what Lionel was looking out for now. She could have understood more if it had been, but what he had wanted was the truth about Clark.

"Doesn't mean I've given up though."

"No, I wasn't foolish enough to think that." Her appetite vanished and she put the half eaten sandwich back onto the platter. "As I said Lionel, I really shouldn't stay."

"At least this time I was honest."

"You were, great strides have been made."

"You sound angry."

"I am," she admitted. She pressed her hand against her forehead. "I'm angry and tired of this game playing Lionel. I don't want to do it anymore and I don't see how, given the circumstances, that you can honestly want to either."

"Circumstances," he echoed. "There are no circumstances, Lex is coming home in the near future and it will go back to the status quo."

"Fine. Either way I'm done."

He rose as she did, following at her heels, "He is coming home," he repeated. "Lex will come home."

"I hope he does."

"But you don't believe he will." Lionel pressed at her, unsure why he was needling away but doing it anyway.

"What does it matter?" She knew she should stop, should let him believe what he wanted to, what he needed to so that he could get through the day and yet she didn't. "The great Lionel Luthor has spoken."

"This isn't like you, Martha."

She turned. "It's how I feel though. I'm tired of pretending, Lionel. Clark is missing, and I know I could have done better, done more to prevent this from happening. The farm is falling down around my ears and I'm facing the real possibility of losing the business that was in my husband's family for generations, along with my home. And Lex…" Her voice cracked and tailed off. "I can't bear to think about what-" Martha shook her head. "I can't do this anymore Lionel. You win. Whatever your game was, you've won."

His hand caught her arm. "There was never a game with you. You are the one thing I never planed for. I never expected to feel-" His gaze caught hers and his voice was raw with pain as he admitted, "I can't stop looking for Lex, he is my son and if he was…if he was…I would know!" He pulled her closer and she let him. "I would know," he asserted.

"I hope you're right."

"I am." Lionel's hands grasped Martha's face, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "I never set out to hurt you. What I said at the hospital, I meant it."

"But you went against it in the end."

"I did," he admitted. "I wanted to know what you were hiding but I never wanted to cause this."

She was leaning into him, she needed to stop. She'd said she wouldn't do this again, and yet as his mouth brushed hers in the most fleeting of caresses, she felt herself pull him closer instead of pushing him away. "This only ever solves things for a moment," she remarked, unsure if she was telling him or herself.

"But what a moment." His voice was gruff. He needed this, needed her. He wanted to fix what he'd done, and he had to start somewhere.