Chapter 4 - A Resolution

Martha had even less trouble than she'd thought getting Lex to settle into the guest room. He'd changed and brushed his teeth quickly and taken the painkillers without complaint. She'd come in to wish him good night and closed the door after herself, and the light from the crack under the door turned to dark only a few seconds later.

She was surprised and relieved. She couldn't imagine that kind of submission being easy for him, but it was amazing what complete exhaustion could do to a person. She also guessed that as harsh as Jonathan's words had been, Lionel's probably would have been much worse. Lex would rest easier in her home than in his own.

She went out to the living room, where Clark sat alone, watching the television.

"Time to turn it off, Clark."

He stood and turned off the TV. "Good night, Mom."

"Not yet. Set yourself an alarm, I'm going to need you to wake Lex up every two hours tonight to make sure his concussion isn't getting worse."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You're his friend. He'll respond better to you than to me."

"But I don't even know what to do."

"You ask him his name, where he is, and what year it is. If he can answer, you let him go back to sleep. If he can't, you come get me."

"Okay, I will. Hey, can I go to Pete's after school tomorrow?"

"No." She crossed her arms. "You're grounded for the next week."

"What? Why?"

"For the party you threw while your dad and I were away. You know the rules for when you're home alone."

His eyes grew wide and sad. "But I cleaned it up, and I saved a bunch of people today, and—"

"Clark."

He flinched. "It's just, isn't having to wake up every two hours tonight enough punishment?"

She raised her eyebrows. "That is not a punishment. That's taking care of your sick friend."

"I do take care of my friends! I saved Lex's life today."

"And he saved yours today, too. But that shouldn't matter. I know you're always there for your friends when they're in danger, but there's more to being a good friend than that."

He sighed. "I know."

She smiled and reached out to embrace him. She knew he wasn't being obtuse or uncaring intentionally; he was just being a fourteen-year-old, trying to get out of being grounded. "I know you do. I'm still proud of you for today, sweetheart."

"Thanks, Mom." He buried his face in her hair.

She rubbed his back and before releasing him, though keeping hold of his shoulders for a moment and smiling as she looked into his eyes.

He squirmed in her grasp. "Three days grounding instead of a week?"

"Nice try." She clapped his shoulder and let go. "Go get ready for bed."

He sighed and trudged upstairs.

Ironically, she was more often the disciplinarian in their home than Jonathan was. Martha might have been more susceptible to Clark's puppy dog eyes at times, but Jonathan would often forget Clark's wrongs if Clark followed them up by using his strength or speed to save someone. It had made Clark more eager to use his abilities for good, but also less likely to learn from his mistakes, which could eventually be disastrous, given his power.

"I think you did the right thing."

Martha turned to face Jonathan, who was just entering the room. "Thank you."

"For both boys."

She raised her eyebrows. She hadn't been expecting to hear that from him. "What made you change your mind?"

"I haven't changed my mind about Lex. But that concussion looked bad."

"He got it trying to help."

"I don't know if I believe that, I'm still not convinced he's telling the truth about Level 3. But I can tell that he and Lionel aren't exactly on the same side."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him. It was a step.

Lex clung onto Earl, his grip slipping with every second that passed. He cried out to Clark for help, but when he looked up, Clark had left. Earl's foot kicked up, connecting with Lex's knee and catching him off guard for long enough that he lost his hold, and fell, and fell—

"Lex."

Lex shot up in bed, breathing hard.

Clark took a step back. "Whoa. You okay?"

It took Lex a minute to figure out where he was. His head pounded in time with his heart, and the air in the room felt oddly cool; he glanced down to realize Clark's old t-shirt that Mrs. Kent had lent him was drenched in sweat.

Clark sat down on a chair beside the bed. "Nightmare?"

"Was I that loud?"

"No, I didn't hear anything until I came into the room."

Lex's breathing finally started to slow down, and he shifted so that he was sitting up against the pillow. "What are you doing here?"

"My mom says I'm supposed to check on you every two hours through the night. You know, to make sure you still know who you are and things like that."

He nodded, though his neck protested. "I'm okay, Clark."

"Are you?"

"Yeah. My head is okay." It still hurt, but nothing like it had throughout the evening. Mrs. Kent was right—the stress had been bad for him. But the dark room was helping, along with the sleep.

"Nightmare?" Clark asked.

"Yeah. I'm okay now."

"I get bad dreams sometimes. My dad says talking about them can help."

Lex leaned his head back against the solid headboard. He felt silly talking about it, and he wouldn't have if it were anyone but Clark, but it was worth a try, especially since this particular nightmare had been pretty tame compared to his usual fare. "Falling off the catwalk in Level 3."

Clark winced. "I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be. You're the one who saved me."

"You saved me too, today."

"You been having nightmares too?"

"No, I haven't been able to sleep at all."

Lex swallowed. "Get some rest." He reached out to put a hand on Clark's arm. "Thanks for checking in on me. I guess I'll see you in a couple of hours."

Clark nodded. He stood and took a few steps toward the door, but turned back. "I'm still supposed to ask you, do you remember your name?"

Lex half-laughed. "I've been holding up my end of the conversation, is this really necessary?"

"Probably not, but my mom's already kind of upset with me for the party the other night, so I'm not taking any chances. Your name?"

Martha didn't sleep much. She did what she always did when she was concerned Jonathan or Clark might be hurting or sick, which was to sit up on the couch reading through the night. Occasionally, she drifted into a light sleep, but never dozed off deeply enough that the softest noise out of the ordinary wouldn't wake her up. There was no trouble during the night, though, and the morning sun found her in the same position she'd settled into the evening before.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, which she might have expected. Between her own voluntary vigil, Clark's need to wake up Lex every two hours, and Jonathan's uneasiness at having Lex in the house, none of them had really slept well.

Martha made sure Lex took an extra dose of pain medication before walking him out to the car. She watched his steps carefully, just in case he showed signs that his concussion might be worsening. He seemed fine to her, though stiffer than the night before. Now that he was more alert, maybe he was embarrassed about having been vulnerable with her.

She couldn't worry about that. More than ever, she was convinced she'd done the right thing in taking him home. Watching that news story had only rekindled her worry about his home situation, and even now, it was difficult for her to allow him to return to the mansion, where his father would inevitably be waiting for him.

There was nothing more she could do for him right now, though. As young as he seemed to her, he wasn't a child; he was twenty-one. The best she could do was to keep an eye on him and invite him back to check in as often as she could invent reasons for having him over.

"Can you take me back to the plant?" he asked. "That's where I left my car."

"Of course," she said.

It was silent for a little while after that.

Martha finally spoke again when they were a couple of blocks from the plant. "What do you think your father's going to say about what you promised the reporters?"

"About paying for Earl's medical care?" He shook his head. "I don't know."

She glanced over at him. He was staring out the window, that same distant expression on his face as before. He lied with such confidence, she wondered if he knew how obvious his lies were to her.

When she pulled up to the entrance, he unfastened his seatbelt and exited the vehicle before she had even shifted the car into park. "Thanks for everything, Mrs. Kent," he said through the open door.

She smiled and watched him go, then suddenly called out, "Wait, Lex."

She turned off the car, climbed out, and stepped forward to embrace him once again.

He tensed even more this time than the night before. She closed her eyes, and the image of Lionel's stiff, possessive embrace filled her mind once again. She concentrated on finding that balance between gentleness and strength, letting him know she was there and cared about him through her touch, the way she always reassured Clark. Finally, his muscles relaxed.

When she let go, she kept hold of his arms and looked him deep in the eyes. "Clark is lucky to have you as a friend. You're a good role model for him."

"Thank you, Mrs. Kent." His words sounded sincere, but there was little emotion in his face.

"I mean it. You did a good thing, Lex. I'm so sorry about everything that happened."

He gave her a very slight smile, but his eyes looked away from hers within a few seconds.

She took a deep breath and released his arms. "You're welcome back for dinner anytime. And I expect you to call me if things get bad at home, do you understand me?"

Lex nodded and turned to go.

Martha sighed and returned to her car, watching him walk away.

She'd been right the night before: Lex's body language had been one of an abused child. How had she gone so many years seeing tabloids and articles about the Luthors without noticing it? Lex and Clark had been friends for weeks, and she'd barely looked over at him, but she should have seen the signs.

Even if she had noticed earlier, she couldn't have done anything about it. The Luthors were the most powerful family in the town, maybe in the state. She'd given him the best she could: the offer of a listening ear, open arms, and a place at her table when he needed it.

Martha knew better than to think he would pick up the phone if he needed her. She'd have to keep an eye on him, read between the lines when Clark told her stories, and she would have to be the one to pick up the phone. And she wouldn't fail.