A/N: Takes place after 1x10, Shimmer, in which the son of a family of servants that work at the Luthor mansion finds a way to turn invisible and attack Lex for not falling in love with his teenage sister.

Chapter 6 - Checking in

"You shouldn't do that, you know."

Clark jumped up from the telescope, which was aimed obviously at Lana Lang's house. "How long have you been here?"

Martha smiled, shaking her head. She should have known better than to let Clark keep his telescope in the loft. Every time Martha stopped by here, the telescope was pointed downwards instead of upwards. "Long enough. Your dad tells me you were a hero again today."

"He said that?"

Not in those words. "You saved Lex's life again."

He looked down. "I got there a little late. He was in rough shape."

She sat down on a chair, and he sat across from her. "What happened?"

"You know the Palmers?"

Martha frowned. "They work at the Luthor mansion, right?"

"They used to. Their daughter Amy started stealing from Lex, and then their son Jeff used some kind of rose that was growing in meteor rock to become invisible, and he attacked Lex with a sword. Lex got knocked out before I arrived, then I pushed Jeff into a bunch of paint so he wasn't invisible anymore."

As often happened, Clark's explanation left something to be desired in terms of clarity. But Martha could understand the important details. "Why was Jeff attacking Lex?"

"I guess Amy was in love with Lex, and he rejected her, so Jeff was taking revenge."

"Isn't Amy your age?"

Clark made a face. "Yeah, she is."

Martha nodded slowly. It would have fazed her more, if not for how many strange things had happened in Smallville over the past few months. "Are you okay, Clark?"

He shrugged and gestured to himself. "I'm fine."

"Did you check on Lex after it was over?"

"Yeah. I asked if his head was okay, and he said it was."

In her mind, that didn't hold much water. From what little she had seen, Lex had a strong tendency to lie through his teeth and claim he was fine when he was far from it, especially if he wasn't pressed to be honest. But there was no point in worrying Clark. "Well, I'm glad to hear everything is okay. That sounds like quite an ordeal, though. I wish we'd had him over tonight."

"I thought about inviting him, but I hadn't asked permission."

"You'd just saved his life, Clark. God forbid, if you ever have to step in and save one of your friends from a near death experience, you're not just allowed to invite them over. You need to."

"Okay."

"Same goes if any of your friends ever saves your life. Understood?" It was weird that she was even having to say it, but it seemed to happen a lot. She was speaking generally, but she especially wanted him to remember it for Lex. Clark's other friends had better families to act as support systems after traumatic events.

"I will, Mom."

She reached out and stroked his hair. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."

Clark nodded, shrugging away her hand. He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing over at the telescope.

"What's wrong, Clark?"

"I gave up on a chance with Lana," he said.

Martha had heard this story from him earlier today, about how Whitney's father was sick and Clark nearly took advantage of the situation to be with her. But Martha knew it was comforting for him to be able to talk about it, so she let him, although he had little to say about Lana or his feelings that he hadn't said a hundred times before, over the past few years.

When his stories had trailed off and the silences between sentences had grown to several seconds, Martha stood to embrace Clark for a long moment. She rubbed his back gently with one hand and cradled his head with the other, waiting for his muscles to relax and only letting go when they did. Then she walked with him back into the house, where he sat down on the couch with Jonathan to watch TV.

She checked the time on the kitchen clock. 9:05. Lex would still be awake. She was worried about him—Clark had said he'd been knocked out, and it had been less than two months since his last concussion. Aside from the physical damage, having had a servant make an attempt on his life would be more than a little emotionally traumatic for him.

She picked up the phone and slipped into the kitchen, where she hoped her conversation would be out of Jonathan's earshot. She wouldn't keep it a secret from her husband, but if they discussed it before she made the call, their argument might take them longer than she wanted to wait.

Lex stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom, hands braced against the counter.

Thankfully, he bore no clear marks from Jeff's torture. His lip was a little swollen where he'd bled after being punched in the mouth, but most of the other hits had been mild, meant to scare him more than hurt him. Or maybe Jeff had meant to hurt him and just couldn't—he was a pretty weak kid.

Lex angled his head to the side and glanced at the back mirror, trying to see the place where his head had hit the wall. He couldn't see any marks, which he supposed was a good thing, but the intensity of the headache wasn't exactly encouraging. With enough pain medication and a good night's sleep, though, he could probably ignore the pain.

He sighed and hung his head over the bathroom sink. Sleep wouldn't be in the cards for him tonight. Every time he closed his eyes for any longer than a blink, he saw that sword flying toward him again. He didn't want to think about what his nightmares would be.

Just as he was about to step out of the bathroom, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Head spinning with leftover dizziness, he forgot his usual business greeting and just slurred, "Hello?"

"Lex? This is Martha Kent."

He swallowed hard. "Hi, Mrs. Kent."

"I was just calling to check in on you. Clark says you had some trouble at the mansion."

"Oh, no, everything is fine now." Shortly after their last conversation, when he'd turned down her invitation to Christmas dinner, he'd decided that he couldn't face Mrs. Kent again until he stopped investigating their family. He kept remembering the disappointment in her eyes when he'd lied to her the last time she was at the mansion—his muscles physically tensed every time he thought about.

But he still hadn't stopped his investigations.

"How are you? Are you okay?"

And now he was going to lie to her again. "I'm fine."

"Clark said Jeff Palmer tried to kill you."

"I'm not sure about that. I think he was more aiming for scare. Revenge for Amy."

"What happened? His sister tried to make advances on you?"

"Not exactly, but she did steal my watch. And she had a . . . a shrine . . ."

A short silence.

Lex fidgeted with the door handle to the bathroom. "Look, I appreciate your checking in, Mrs. Kent, but everything is okay now. The Palmers have moved out."

"I imagine there was a lot of police activity at the mansion, after the thefts."

"No, I didn't call the police. Amy needed therapy, and her parents didn't know what she was doing. I offered to pay for her medical care."

Why had he even said that? It sounded so pathetic, like he was asking for her praise. Like he was begging her to believe the façade he wore, the sugary icing he put over the poisonous cake that was his entire life. He bit the inside of his cheek, hard enough to hurt.

"That was very kind of you, Lex," Mrs. Kent said.

His face felt hot. "I mean . . . it's not any trouble, it's so little money compared to . . . It's nothing."

"I'm sure it meant a lot to Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, though, and the money isn't the point. Amy stole from you, and you didn't try to seek revenge. You forgave her, and even tried to help her. You were merciful to her family. That shows a great strength of character. You did good, Lex."

Tell that to Jeff. Lex didn't know how to respond, though he felt the familiar thrill rising into his throat at her kind words, accompanied by a much greater embarrassment.

"You're not hurt?" Mrs. Kent asked.

His head pounded, a particularly painful throb. "No, I'm fine."

"Clark told me you were knocked out during the struggle."

"I was, but I'm fine."

"Maybe you feel fine now, but if you were knocked out, you probably have another concussion. I'd feel better if you had someone checking in on you during the night, like Clark did the last time. Can you ask one of the people who work for you?"

"Sure." Another lie. It was one thing to accept his own vulnerability and weakness in the Kent home when he had no choice, and quite another to be treated like an invalid in his own home.

"Good," she said. "I should let you get some rest."

"You too."

A brief pause, and then, "Lex, we'd love to have you over for dinner soon. Are you free tomorrow evening?"

Yes. Yes, yes, please yes. "No, things are going to be a bit hectic around here. I need to hire replacement staff, and Victoria is coming back into town, and the plant is keeping me busy . . ."

A soft sigh. "Call me as soon as things settle down."

One last lie. "I will."

"Good night, Lex."

"Good night, Mrs. Kent."

He listened for the click on her end, then pulled up his contacts, scrolling down to Roger Nixon. He couldn't do this anymore. He was going to call off the investigations.

His finger hovered for a long time over the call button. This was the right thing to do. It would prove he wasn't like his father, that he could make the right choice. He could do this.

No, he couldn't. He couldn't fight his unquenchable desire to know the truth. He exited his contacts, starting to put his phone away.

But he wouldn't be able to face Mrs. Kent. And he couldn't avoid her forever, especially not if he wanted to continue his friendship with Clark. That was worth anything. He opened his phone again and forced himself to make the call.

Two rings, then, "This is Roger."

"Nixon, it's Lex Luthor. I—"

"I know, I know, you want updates, and I know I've been slow to deliver. But I've got something. You're going to want to see this."

Lex's heart skipped a beat. This could be it. The answers he was looking for, the knowledge that would soothe the burning in his mind.

All at the low cost of betraying the only family that had been kind to him in the last nine years.

Don't bother, he wanted to say.

I'm calling this off, was on the tip of his tongue.

Stay away from Clark and his family. He could say that, then call Mrs. Kent back and see if her dinner invitation still stood. No harm done, since Lex had never actually learned anything from his investigations.

But what came out was, "First thing tomorrow."

"You got it." Nixon hung up.

Lex shoved his phone back into his pocket and leaned back against the door.

"This is who you are, Lex."

He flinched. The voice again—he hadn't heard it in awhile. The words were clear as day, but it wasn't an audible voice. It came from deeper inside of him.

"You think you can ever belong with those people? You know who you are."

Lex tapped his throbbing head against the wood. It hurt, and the voice was quiet.

He tapped it four more times.