"But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near."

- Andrew Marvell

   Lex recalled how strangely uncomfortable he'd been asking, or rather demanding, this piece of meteor from Dr. Hamilton that morning. But then, whenever he entered what could only loosely be deemed a laboratory, he couldn't help but feel unnerved. He was funding this research, controlling it with his money, and Steven Hamilton should have been just another employee; but this wasn't work he could distance himself from. This was personal – and watching this man (unkempt and irritated by his employer's unscheduled visit) as he walked around benches filled with experiments, Lex felt almost repulsed by the evidence of obsession he saw around him. This disgraced scientist thought about nothing but meteors every day, experimented with them, took measurements, scans, photographs, EM readings, and a hundred other horribly detached and scientific things, as if, while able to grasp the miraculous and strange nature of the things, he still managed to apply his knowledge and logic to his burning questions, and treat them as if the rocks were any other of Earth's mysteries that could be researched and investigated until one day, he would find some key piece of evidence or hit on just the right theory, and the mystery would evaporate.

  The strong and determined part of Lex that had approached the good doctor in the first place, and kept an eye on his progress from afar, had been fuelled by his own suspicions and confusion, and come visiting today. But the second he walked in through the door, he remembered why he hated coming here. He was not surrounded, unlike the man rifling around for his latest notes, by experiments, and objects of scientific interest. No – he was surrounded by remnants (in many different forms but all with the same unearthly green colouring) of the screaming fireballs that had burnt their way though the blue sky and into his nightmares on that fateful day in1989. All around him, seemingly harmless rocks were calmly being monitored and subjected to different procedures and analysis. Hamilton worked among this, relatively calmly, every day. But all Lex could think about was how these rocks had got here – how they had smashed into this town and buried themselves under its fields, all in the space of a few terrible minutes.

   Maybe this polished specimen he held now, which Dr Hamilton had given him with an uncaring and impatient look, had even been part of that roaring mass of fire that had appeared over Reilly Field, out the corner of his eyes, as a child. Maybe this harmless piece of rock had once been part of something which had instantaneously flattened the crops in its wake and shaken his whole body before the sheer brute force of the impact and that awful wave of heat had knocked him off his feet and into a pit of unconsciousness.

   Lex dropped the rock onto the glass surface of his desk with a painfully loud clang of noise, that thankfully wasn't accompanied by the crash of glass breaking.

   Shaken, he looked away from it for a second and took a deep breath before angrily grabbing it and striding over to lock it in a nearby cupboard.

  He deposited the key in his pants pocket and seemed to look around his study, unsure of himself. The silence of the house, and the awful weight of his own apprehensions eventually got the better of him. Pausing only to divert all incoming calls to his cell-phone, he left his study.

 Pulling on his coat in the hall, he spoke cordially to his housekeeper, who'd duly appeared.

 "Hannah, I think after last week's fiasco at the plant, a little surprise inspection is called for."

  "If you say so sir." Came the reply, with that slight reprimanding tone Lex would only permit in her, and which, in all honestly, he often welcomed, as if in the faintest possible way he could feel that this particular employee as some sort of family figure – an aunt perhaps – who was indulging her favourite nephew.

 And yes, he realised how utterly pitiful that sounded. Which is why, on more than one evening on his return home from some business matter or other, he'd decided to answer her obligatory "I hope all went well today?" with a mere "yes, thankyou" before retreating away to his study and helping himself to a drink. What could vaguely be deemed his 'household' did not truly care about the details of his life. They were a handful of people who looked after his house, grounds, and meals. They were providing a service, not a substitute for friends or family. Which Amy Palmer seemed to have forgotten, of course…but then that was another story.

 And so, in a tone of charming carefree banter as he checked for his wallet and car-keys, Lex replied with a smile;

 " I do. Efficiency means profit , and profit means wages and jobs Hannah. Its my job to remind them of that."

 The middle-aged woman smiled back and nodded.

 "Of course sir. When should I expect you back?"

 "A few hours, no later. "

 He caught her glance at the clock, then just as he was turning to leave, it came;

 "And if Mr Kent should arrive before you?"

 He paused. He knew he shouldn't have. He knew, shocked or not, his response should have been immediate – a slightly puzzled expression and a dismissive "I'm sorry? Did he call and say he was coming by?". Cue an embarrassed look from her, and a quick end to any assumptions created the past week that it was taken for granted that Clark Kent spent every free waking minute here. He could have even have laughed and muttered cruelly something about having an evening free of annoying awestruck teenagers for once.

 But he didn't. He hesitated. And he knew his unease was visible in that hesitation, even as his back was to her.

 He half-turned and though for a second she tried to keep her expression neutral, it soon shifted into an honest and open look that said it all:

 Yes, I know. But you pay me to respect your privacy and I will. I'm not like those Palmers.

 A beat as the thoughts whirled in his mind. All the things he could say. All the things he should say. Then, quietly and calmly;

 "It's unlikely I'll be that late, but if so, just show him into the study."

 And with a nod of compliance and gratitude from her, he turned and walked out to his car. Now he'd have a few hours of nervous explanations from Gabe Sullivan and company, in which he'd have to decide, on both moral an pragmatic grounds, whether it would be a bad idea to fire her on his return.

Oh come on. You didn't think that that was a genuine sugar-coated moment of vulnerability and trust there did you?

 For while her look had said she respected his privacy, Lex knew that to suspect as much as she seemed to, Hannah had had to have seen or have overheard something. Since he and Clark had been incredibly discreet, even when in the mansion, that meant she'd been a little over-curious.

  Hannah had just crossed the same line as Amy, only in a different way. And there was another reason, other than the glaring piteous  nature of it all,  that Lex had not encouraged the blurring of employment and friendship with his housekeeper: it was the same, clichéd one that had ruined every other kind of relationship in his life – he just couldn't' bring himself to trust people.

 As he drove far too fast along the roads of Smallville toward the Plant, Lex was torn between this part of his old self, and the faint new hope in humanity that Clark Kent had instilled in him from the second he met him.

  But then of course, his trust in Clark wasn't as completely and utterly concrete as it had been, was it?

 Lex drove on, annoyed that what was supposed to be a chance for him to clear his mind of all this, had just become another few hours of hidden worrying.

TBC

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