A/N: This contains direct quotes from 2x5, Nocturne. I own nothing.

Chapter 19 - Job offer

Martha stepped into the garden outside the mansion. Lex hadn't left the produce check out like he'd said he would. She didn't blame him for forgetting—he was under even more stress than usual. He'd called her to tell her he couldn't make it to dinner like he'd promised, and ended up venting about his father's latest antics. Something about his father firing all of the assistants Lex found for him, and insulting him. At least it didn't sound like there had been any hitting this time.

She made a mental note to call him later and was about to leave the property when a robotic voice stopped her. She followed it and found Lionel sitting on a bench with a newspaper and a reading device.

The sight of him made her blood boil, thinking about the way he treated his son. But it also gave her an idea.

An assistant working out of the mansion would be an extra set of eyes on its inner workings. If she could get the job, she could be those eyes. She'd know if Lex was being hurt so she could take care of him sooner, and if Lionel was to plan a corporate attack against Lex, she could keep him from being blindsided like he was when Lionel shut down the plant. Lex had only just managed to save the town from economic ruin the last time—an ally on the inside could be the difference between victory and defeat next time.

Martha knew that Lex wouldn't know what to do with her application if she sent one to him. But based on what little she had picked up from Lex, as well as her own observations of how the Luthor world worked, Lionel wasn't necessarily looking for an assistant with an impressive resume. He was looking for someone who was aware enough to see through lies and deceptions, sharp enough to make a contribution to their many corporate chess matches, and tough enough to run with him. She fit the bill.

Now to prove it to Lionel.

Lionel threw down the reading device in frustration. This was her chance.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to sound casual. "I couldn't listen to another word of that droning, either."

"Who is that?"

"It's Martha Kent. I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No, no. It's a welcome interruption."

"I came by to pick up the monthly produce check from Lex. He said he'd leave it out for me."

"I'm afraid my presence here has thrown Lex's regimented routine into a mild chaos."

She wanted to say something, to give him a piece of her mind, but that wouldn't help Lex. It would only make things worse for him. And it wouldn't get her hired.

She sat down on the bench next to him instead, taking the newspaper from him. "'The plummeting stock sent a ripple through investment houses. CEO Lionel Luthor attributed the drop to this quarter's anticipated deficit.'" She didn't even hesitate. "It's all a smokescreen, isn't it? You're trying to make investors nervous so when LuthorCorp posts less than impressive gains, the stock will have already adjusted."

Lionel took of his sunglasses and turned to face her. "I had no idea Martha Kent had such keen business acumen. I wonder if your talents aren't being wasted on organic produce."

That had been too easy. She didn't bother to hold back her triumphant smile—it wasn't as if he could see it.

Lex's eyes fell closed for the hundredth time, and he rubbed his face, blinking and forcing himself to focus on his work at his laptop. He'd spent the better part of the yesterday interviewing applicants for the forever-open position of his father's assistant, so he'd been up for half the night catching up on the rest of his work. And when he did sleep, his nightmares had been worse than usual. That always happened when his father was staying with him.

He suddenly remembered that he'd forgotten to leave the produce check out for Mrs. Kent like he'd said he would. He opened some of his bookkeeping spreadsheets, and his eyes skimmed, when her name jumped out at him.

Suddenly he was awake.

As quiet as Lex had been trying to keep his relationship with the Kents, making excuses by saying he was just going to visit Clark, his father must have figured out the truth. He couldn't imagine what his father was trying to gain by offering her a job.

He'd thought Mrs. Kent was smarter than to take the offer. She had to know he always had something planned. His first instinct was to go straight to his father and try to figure out what he wanted—maybe he could still protect the Kents—but if Mrs. Kent had taken the job willingly, maybe he could reason with her instead.

He didn't want to try to tell her over the phone. He immediately ran down to one of his cars and drove to the farm.

If he was honest with himself, what hurt the most was that she didn't talk to him about it in advance. It reignited the pain of remembering the Kents were still keeping secrets, no matter how much he wanted to ignore it.

Of course, there was no use in bringing that up to Mrs. Kent. He just needed to warn her about the danger of working for his father.

He went to the side door in the kitchen rather than the front, knocking rapidly. It was early, but they'd be awake. Mrs. Kent opened the door within a few seconds, in a brown pants suit with a striped button-down shirt underneath.

"Hi Lex. I was just heading out, but maybe you can come back for dinner tonight?"

"You're going to work?"

"I see you've heard. Your father hired me as his assistant. I figure maybe that saves you some time holding interviews."

It wouldn't do any good to tell her he'd finished them yesterday. "I know Mr. Kent's warmed up to me over the past few months, but I was sure he still hated my father. I thought you did."

She stepped out of the house, closing the door behind herself. "Well, we don't care for him."

"How does your husband feel about you taking the job?"

"He wasn't thrilled, but we could use the money, and it seemed like a good opportunity for me to use my education."

The comment about money hit him like a punch to the gut. "Mrs. Kent—" his voice cracked— "I come to you when I need something. I wish you'd do the same for me. If you were that desperate for money—"

"No, no, no. It's not that, Lex, that was just a small part of it. It's what I told Jonathan to help him see my side."

"Even so—"

She put a hand on his arm. "Someday, God willing, Clark will move out and get a job that allows him to be more financially stable than we are. We'll never ask him for money. We're not going to ask you."

Lex wasn't sure whether she meant to say they thought of him like a son, or just to make the point that if they wouldn't ask the closest person to them for help, they certainly wouldn't ask Lex. He didn't dare hope for the former, no matter what Clark claimed. And he wasn't about to ask her to clarify.

"Okay," he said finally. "Why did you take the job?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to the challenge, but I could have gotten that at another job. I didn't choose to work for your father because I trust him. I did it to help you."

Lex blinked. That was the last thing he'd been expecting to hear.

She gave his arm a quick squeeze, stepped past him, and started walking toward her car.

"Wait, wait." He followed after her. "You know my father. He wouldn't hire you without some kind of ulterior motive—"

"You don't think I'm qualified for the job?"

"I really wouldn't know, but . . . I think he knows you've been . . . taking care of me."

"I'm not sure I see your point."

She really didn't know. Lex clenched his teeth. He could imagine a million different scenarios, terrifying moves his father could make with this new chess piece. There was no limit to the ways he could use Lex's care for the Kents against them him, against them, even against his employees. And Mrs. Kent working for him opened up a whole new world of possibilities.

Mrs. Kent stopped right beside her car. "Lex, do you trust me?"

He didn't know how to answer that. He trusted her to tell him what she believed to be the truth, and he was starting to trust that her care for him could survive through his mistakes, but he didn't trust her to know how dangerous his father could be. "It's my father I'm concerned about."

"Me too. That's why I thought you could use an extra set of eyes on the inside."

He swallowed hard. She was right—it would be helpful to him—but he couldn't let her take that kind of risk. Not for him. "I—I can't guarantee your safety."

She reached up and gently pressed her hand into the side of his head, thumb stroking his temple. "You don't have to, sweetie. It's not your job to protect me."

He took her hand and lowered it away from his face. "Yes, it is."

"Because you think I can't look out for myself?"

"It's not that." His throat tightened. "I couldn't stand it if something happened to you."

"I feel the same way about you. You've protected us enough. Can't I do this one thing for you?"

He wanted to snap that she'd done far more for him than he'd ever done for her, but he held his tongue. It wouldn't help, for one thing, and he had too much respect for her to speak to her in that way. Aside from that, though, he knew that wasn't what she meant. She was talking about protection from the fallout of his corporate games—something Lex had never had from anyone.

She sighed. "It's not just for you, Lex. I know you're . . . at war with your father, as you like to say, and I've seen what happens to this town when he wins a battle."

"So you think I can't take care of myself."

"I think you've done amazingly so far. But there's a lot at stake, and you can use all the help you can get."

He breathed in to speak, then closed his mouth. She was right.

"I'm running late." Mrs. Kent pulled him into a quick hug. "Love you, Lex. I'll see you tonight for dinner."

He watched her drive away. He could feel that inner voice inside him wanting to say something, but not bothering to try. He could even sense that it might still have some good points to make, but anything it might have said would be drowned by Mrs. Kent's casual endearment, echoing in his head over and over again.