A/N: This chapter begins near the start of 1x21, Tempest, right after Lionel gives a speech to Lex's employees at the plant informing them that the plant was being shut down due to management issues (effectively firing 2500 people and blaming it on Lex).

Chapter 12 - Storm warning

Lex paced around his office, unable to settle the trembling in his limbs even enough to pick up his pool cue and try to settle himself down with the familiar, mindless motions. After watching his father's helicopter fly him away to safety, Lex had been surrounded by angry employees, faces he barely recognized—there were just so many of them.

He only just made it back to the mansion safely with the help of his security guards. He'd disconnected his home phone and turned off his cell phone, told his security team to accept no visitors, and turned off his computer. His email and voicemail inbox were quickly filling up with accusations and questions and even the odd backhanded encouragement. He'd have to deal with them eventually, but he was putting it off as long as he could.

When his father had said he was coming to give a talk to his employees, he had never expected this. It had been a tough year—they deserved commendation, not to lose their jobs.

"That old trap again, Lex? Should have gone back to Metropolis."

"Shut up," Lex growled, and to his surprise, the voice did. But the pain didn't. He'd never thought deeply about how his plant was the lifeblood of the town's economy, never felt the weight of that responsibility until now.

2500 people, supporting nearly 10,000 if you counted their family members. The town population was 45,000. Their commerce would be destroyed by the closing of the plant. His employees would scramble to find new jobs, and everyone else would struggle to pick up the pieces. The smart ones would leave town, hopefully quickly enough to suffer no ill effects of the temporary poverty. The ones who stayed behind would flounder and dry up in time, probably losing their homes.

Lex wanted to believe it wasn't his fault, but it was entirely his fault. His life was chess match after chess match—he won most of them with little sweat, but the match against his father never seemed to end, and people got hurt. Lex's people—his "pawns"—paid the price. No matter how he tried to protect them, there were always casualties when it came to his father. Lex couldn't afford to lose. His people couldn't afford for him to lose.

But he had lost.

The battle wasn't over, of course. He would never stop fighting. The safest next step would be to try to buy the plant outright and live off the profits of a tiny new corporation that would be only his, but he didn't know if he had enough money. If he didn't, he would need to garner the support of his employees to fund the buyout. After today, he wasn't sure he had it.

He could try to fight his father directly. No amount of appeal to sentiment would gain him any ground, but there were other ways to negotiate. Dirtier ways. Lex had become a master of blackmail over the past few years. His father could usually still outsmart him, but if Lex found something concrete, there might be a chance. Of course, the cost might be even greater than it was worth.

Once, a couple of years ago, Lex had won a fight over some business contract after his father became drunk and beat Lex with a epee until most of his body was bruised and bleeding. Hours later, while Lex was still fluttering into and out of consciousness, his father had ceded the contract. At the time, the contract had seemed small in comparison to the excruciating agony. Today, he would have gladly taken ten beatings if he thought it would stop the plant from closing.

"It's not worth it. The people in this town don't even like you."

"I know."

"Most of them hate you. They blame you for this."

"They're right to."

"You don't have to care about them. They're not your responsibility. You never belonged here."

"I KNOW!" Lex whirled around as he said it, and caught a glimpse of a security guard, who was standing in the doorway.

The security guard kept a perfectly straight face. "Is everything alright, sir?"

Lex took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. "Everything—" His voice broke. "Everything's fine."

"I know you said no visitors, but Martha Kent is at the gate, and you'd given her unconditional clearance. I said I would check in with you."

He turned away and walked back to his desk, bracing his hands against it. He didn't want to face her like this, but maybe the voice would leave him alone for as long as she was with him.

"Mr. Luthor?"

"Send her in," he said.

Martha hurried through the halls of the mansion as soon as the security guard gave her clearance. She'd recognized the despair on Lex's face in the picture on the front page of the newspaper that morning. He'd been as shocked to hear the plant was closing as everyone else was, which meant it had been done without his consent or knowledge.

Of course, no one else would be paying attention to Lex's facial expression in the newspaper. The first thing Jonathan had done when he saw the article was to express his disbelief that Lex had run the plant into the ground in less than a year. Martha knew most people would be thinking the same thing. She didn't waste her breath to remind him that Lex had only been an adult for three years, and that the task of revitalizing the dying factory would have been impossible for most people with ten times his years of experience.

Jonathan continued to grumble, and she hadn't argued. Instead, she had come straight here.

Lex stood against the front of his desk, waiting for her. He gave her a very slight smile when he saw her, but his eyes were broken, and so was his smile.

She'd never seen him looking so torn apart, not since she'd been taking the time to pay attention to him. It was all she could do not to rush over and envelop him in her arms right away.

"I'm guessing you've heard," he said.

She stopped a few feet away from the desk. "Are you okay, Lex?"

"It's been a long morning."

That was a step for him—not lying when she asked if he was okay. She nodded and stepped forward to stand beside him. She turned and leaned back slightly on his desk as well, and placed a gentle hand on his.

He pulled his hands away, putting them in his pockets.

She bit back a sigh. "What happened today?"

"The news reports have been playing back my father's speech, I'm sure you've heard it."

"I want to hear from you."

His jaw pulsed as he looked away. "My father shut down the plant because I wouldn't go work with him in Metropolis."

"Did he tell you that?"

"You know it's true."

She did, but it was worth knowing whether Lionel had said it out loud. She should have realized the Luthors wouldn't be so direct with each other.

Lex blinked a couple of times. "You know, most families fight, and the neighbors might have to hear the yelling. My family fights, and 2500 families lose their livelihoods." He shook his head. "I should have known. I should have . . . "

"Should have what, Lex?"

"I should have gone back to Metropolis."

"This plant would have died without your leadership anyway."

He just kept shaking his head.

"Hey. I've seen how hard you've been working. When you came here, no one thought this plant would be turning a profit, and here you are. You made that happen. You, Lex."

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because I lost this fight. I was the only one that could have protected those people from my father, and I failed. People depended on it. They depended on me."

She swallowed hard—it sounded so melodramatic, yet she couldn't exactly tell him it was false, in the face of what had happened today. She didn't believe it was his fault, but she would never be able to convince him. "Can you buy the plant? You could hire your employees back."

"I'll run the numbers. I don't know. I'm probably going to need a lot of support, and after this—"

"There are people who trust you. You've done so much good for our community, if you talk to them . . ."

He blinked, and his eyes shimmered, darting around the room. "I, um . . . I don't know."

She reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. "You can do this."

He glanced around himself, as if to confirm there was no one watching, then turned back to her. "I'm scared."

"Come here," she whispered, opening her arms, and he hesitated only a brief moment before stepping into them.

He didn't need her to give him a pep talk; he needed to feel heard, to be comforted. He didn't need another business advisor, not this time—what he needed was a mom.

She rubbed his back in slow circles, holding him with a softer grip, then more firmly. She waited for his muscles to unclench, but it didn't happen.

"Deep breaths, sweetie," she whispered in his ear. "Everyone is going to be okay."

If anything, his breaths grew a little faster. He kept his arms around her, but his muscles grew more tense than before.

She took a deep breath herself, continuing to rub his back. Even on his most stressed days, Martha could usually get Clark to relax for a moment by putting a hand on the back of his head and combing her fingers through his hair. She wasn't sure about Lex—reading between the lines in the stories Clark had told her, she knew his baldness was a point of acute sensitivity for him. She didn't know how he would react to the touch, but she also had no idea what to do for him.

Maternal instinct took over. She reached up and cradled the back of his head.

He gasped just a little at the new contact, but she held her palm against the smooth skin until he let his breath out almost silently. He slowly rested his cheek against her hair, and she gently stroked his skin the same way she would Clark's hair, working her way down to the back of his neck and then back up. His arms and back relaxed until he was almost dead weight in her arms.

She only let go when he did, and even then, she kept a hand on his arm.

"You have a good heart, Lex," she said. "And you're brilliant. You'll work this out, one way or another."

"Thank you, Mrs. Kent." His eyes weren't shiny anymore, but his voice was thick, and he cleared his throat.

"There's a storm warning for later today. You should come back to the farm, we have good shelters in place."

He grimaced. "I can't let this sit for any longer, I need to get back to work. Thanks for coming by, though."

She considered insisting. He was clearly in no state to be working on something so vital. But he was right—it was time-sensitive. "Promise me something, Lex."

He raised his eyebrows.

"If you need me, you call me."

He nodded. "I will."