Title: The Frog and the Scorpion

Status: work in progress

Author: elbowface

Rating: R -- just to be safe; although the first 10 chapters or so will be fairly tame.

Keywords: Alternate Universe

Series:

Disclaimers: Smallville and concepts aren't mine. Some of the show's episodes may be taken slightly out of order, for creative purposes. And while the earlier chapters will probably follow the tv show's canon somewhat closely to start, you can expect the chapters to start drifting radically different from the show as the piece progresses.

All comments are welcome, including flames: our critics are our friends.

Please do not sue: I own nothing.

Chapter 1: Pilot

1989

Leo Luthor was fascinated. She didn't understand half of what her Daddy and the other men were talking about, but nevertheless, she was fascinated.

Why did her Daddy need to sign so many copies of that big, thick, document? What was due diligence? Indemnification?

Someday, she promised herself, she'd know the answers to all of these questions.

help me

The voice was very weak, but it was calling for help and she couldn't ignore it. She went the direction of the cry, which led her into the nearby cornfield.

help . . .

She hurried faster to investigate.

She heard her Daddy call out, "Leo! Leo! Cleopatra Luthor! Come back here!"

But the boy, she was sure it was a boy, was so close. She could almost feel him.

"Le -- !"

When his voice cut off, Leo ran back towards her Daddy. As she turned, she heard a loud whining sound, then a crash that made the earth shake beneath her feet.

With difficulty, from the corn and from her asthma -- and how she wished she didn't have asthma! -- she made it to where her Daddy lay, unconscious. Just then, another crash, and this time she saw it -- a huge rock fell from the sky, landing just on the other side of the next row of corn.

There was no time to waste. She knew she'd never make it back to the factory. And the other men were probably gone anyhow, with rocks falling from the sky. Once she'd calmed down enough to remember the flight in, she figured out which direction the road was. She just hoped she'd find someone with a car.

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Jonathan Kent had to get home. He had to drive carefully (not easy with meteors landing all around him) and he had to drive quickly. His own pickup had been flipped over by a near meteor strike, and he had been forced to borrow Fred's, who had not been as lucky to survive the near miss. Beside him, Martha held on to the strange little boy they'd found. The . . . pod that had been near him was in the bed of the truck. He just thanked God that Fred kept a blanket in his truck. Instead of seeing the glint of metal in his peripheral vision, all he saw was the plaid of the blanket.

Next to him on the bench seat, Martha soothed the strange little boy they'd found, whom they'd wrapped in the red blanket from their own, now ruined, truck.

Jonathan became thankful that he'd been driving so carefully when a little orange-haired girl in a green dress ran out into the road.

He stopped, killed the engine, and looked over at Martha. "Seems to be the day for lost children."

"At least this one's dressed," she said wryly as Jonathan got out of the truck. "We ran out of blankets."

"What's wrong?" Jonathan asked her when he got close enough.

"It's my Daddy. He's been hurt."

"Take me to him."

The little girl led Jonathan into Riley's field, to where a man about Jonathan's age, in an obviously-expensive suit, lay unconscious. "I would have called someone, but Daddy changed the combination on his briefcase again, and I haven't figured out the new one."

Jonathan knew he should check for spinal injuries before picking the man up, but they could be flattened by a falling rock at any time, so there wasn't much time for formalities. He took the man's right shoe off, handing it to the flummoxed girl, and ran a thumb up the man's sole. The man's face twitched, but there was no other response, which was good enough for Jonathan.

He picked the man up and together, he and the little girl walked back to the truck.

Once they were close to the truck, Martha and the little boy got out.

"I'm going to have to lay him down on the seat next to me. So you . . . ," he paused while he tried to figure out what to call the little boy, "and the kids'll have to ride in the bed."

She nodded and took the little girl's hand. Knowing that Martha had it under control, Jonathan worked on settling the man in on the seat of the cab, feet toward Jonathan, head toward the door. Wishing he could have safely fastened the man down, Jonathan closed the door of the cab and walked around the back of the truck, where Martha was sitting in the bed, holding the little boy, the little girl sitting next to her.

He continued his walk to the driver's side door, and started the truck back up.

Martha leaned back against the pod, hoping the weight of her body would hold the blanket in place.

"So what's your name, sweetie?" Martha said to the little girl.

"Leo Luthor," she said in a strangely mature tone of voice.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Leo. I'm Martha Kent."

"Is the little boy your son?"

Martha sighed. "No. We found him by the side of the road. We don't know who his parents are." But I wish he was my son, she added silently.

"I'll ask my Daddy. He can help you," she answered as her eyes locked with the little boy's. Then, the little boy smiled at her, reaching out to caress her cheek lightly.

Martha wasn't sure how to respond to this. "Thank you," was all she could come up with.

They arrived at the hospital and Jonathan carried the man, Lionel Luthor? Martha wondered silently, into the hospital.

After a moment of internal debate, Martha lowered the tailgate, and she, Leo, and the boy followed.

-----------------------------------------------------------

The hospital was a madhouse. The regular triage window was closed. The sheer number of injured people between the door and the window made using the window completely impractical.

After Jonathan had gone off in search of someone, Martha was approached by a woman in a white lab coat. "May I help you?" She looked from Martha to the naked boy in the blanket.

Unconsciously, Martha held the little boy tighter. "My husband's here somewhere, looking for help. This little girl's," she indicated Leo, "father was injured."

The woman crouched down near Leo and took a pad out of her pocket. "First, give me your father's name."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

After pacing around for a couple of minutes, Jonathan finally found a man in a lab coat.

"Here, let me get a gurney," the man said as he disappeared into the back room. He returned a moment later, and Jonathan laid his burden down.

"I don't know who this guy is. His daughter flagged us down. But I checked for a Babinsky's reflex and he doesn't have one, so I'm pretty sure his spine's all right."

"Where is she?"

Jonathan looked around, "Over there somewhere."

"What color hair does she have?"

"Red."

"Ah. I think I see her."

He disappeared into the crowd and returned a moment later, dragging Martha, the little boy, the little girl, and a woman in a lab coat behind him.

"This is Mr. Luthor?" The woman asked as the girl ran forward.

"Daddy!" She almost shouted, running to the prone figure of her father.

The man in the lab coat looked astonished as he looked from Martha to the little girl and back. "And you're . . ."

"Martha Kent."

"Another radiation burn just walked in," the man sighed as he headed for the sliding doors that led to the emergency room.

After he disappeared, the woman in the lab coat said, "I'll transcribe the information on Mr. Luthor to a chart and look him over before transferring him up to a room. Then I'll call Mrs. Luthor. Unfortunately, every available space we have is taken up right now, so we don't have any room for Leo . . ."

"Don't worry." Martha assured her. "We'll take her home with us. You can call us to bring her back when Mrs. Luthor gets to town. Here's our number."

Jonathan knew that Martha had a frustrated maternal instinct, but this was getting ridiculous. "And what about the boy?" he asked.

Martha's eyes shot to him.

"What about him?" The woman asked. "I thought he was your son."

"No. We just found him out there in the storm. I suppose his people are looking for him."

"Oh. Well, you don't mind taking him for a while, do you? I'll have Melinda call Social Services and a social worker should be out to see you tomorrow," she looked around, "or the next day," she added dubiously.

Jonathan pursed his lips, but couldn't come up with an argument to this. He nodded curtly. "That'll be fine."

Then he hustled the other three back to the truck.

-------------------------------------------

The first words Lionel heard upon waking were, "Mr. Luthor's in no shape to be receiving any visitors."

"Let Mr. Luthor be the judge of that," Lionel croaked.

Moments later, two African-American men burst through the door. "We've changed our minds about the sale, Luthor."

"I'm afraid it's too late," Lionel's voice was getting stronger by the moment, "the definitive agreement's been signed, and can only be terminated if . . . "

"But you wandered off before signing all of the copies of the agreement. Duncan's copy . . . ."

"I have all of our signatures on my copy, which is safe in my briefcase," he blustered, hoping that his briefcase was still safe, "so I'm afraid it'd be up to you to prove that the three of you didn't just sign a blank sheet and affix it to the back of one of your copies. If you try to get out of that, I will sue you for breach of contract. Good afternoon," he dismissed them.

The two men were to the door when Lionel stopped them, "Oh, and I'm going to look into that attractive nuisance in your neighbor's cornfield."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"That little crucifixion scene. Or is that your own property? If so, I'm sure the police will enjoy investigating. Have a nice day, gentlemen."

The two men left, and, sure he wouldn't be hearing any complaints about his offering price again, Lionel slept.

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It was late by the time Lillian Luthor arrived at the Smallville Medical Center. Lionel had been asleep, and the staff wanted to keep him over night for observation. They thought he only had a sprained ankle and a slight concussion, but some people were coming in with strange symptoms from the meteor shower, and they didn't want to release him until they were certain that he wouldn't require further treatment.

So it was that Lillian came to be driving up the road to the butter-yellow farmhouse. She hadn't been able to call ahead, the phone lines had been down, but she was certain that she was in the right place when she saw the sign hanging above the gate reading Kent Farm.

She walked to the door and, mindful of the late hour, knocked softly.

A moment later, a woman with red hair opened the door. It was, strangely, almost like looking in a mirror. "Mrs. Kent?" she asked.

"Yes. Oh! You're Mrs. Luthor, aren't you? Won't you come in."

Mrs. Kent stepped out of the way, and suddenly, 60 pounds of nine-year-old girl nearly bowled her over. "Mother!" Leo cried, holding on tightly.

Lillian finally let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Reunited with her baby. Their relationship wasn't always a smooth one, but she loved Leo, and would do anything for her.

"Get anything you brought with you. They're keeping Daddy, so we'll go get a hotel room in town for tonight."

"Oh! You don't need to do that!" Martha hastened to say. "In fact, the Smallville Arms might not even be open, considering all that's happened. Our second bedroom has a double bed in it. You can sleep there."

"What about your son?" Lillian indicated a little boy in a blue shirt playing on the floor.

Something unreadable passed between the elder Kents, and Martha said, "He's not our son. He's sort of a . . . stray I took in. He was wandering around in the meteor shower, and we couldn't see where his folks could be, so we brought him home."

"Mrs. Kent wants to adopt him," Leo said, straightforwardly. "Can you help her?"

Lillian smiled at her daughter. "I know some people in Metropolis Social Services. I'll see what I can do."

-----------------------------------------------

2001

" . . . and that's the entire tour, Miss Luthor," Gabe Sullivan finished.

"Please. Call me Leo. And could you step into my office for a second?"

"Certainly, Mi . . . Leo."

Leo closed the door and buzzed her secretary. "Sylvia, Mr. Sullivan and I will be in a private meeting for the next half hour or so."

"Very well, Miss Luthor."

She turned back to Gabe. "All right. I'm going to be frank with you. My father has sent me here to fix Mr. Rayner's mistakes. He wants this plant making money, and he doesn't care how I go about doing it. If I choose to cut your workforce in half, he'll approve it."

She then raised a hand, forestalling his protest, "I'm not going to do that. I know that would save money now, but we'd lose money in the long run, and we'd irreparably damage the economy of Smallville. So, making this place profitable is going to be a painstaking process. But it'll be well worth the effort."

"My father is a big believer that those who forget history are doomed to repeat it. It's an obsession with him, in fact. The role model of my childhood and youth was Queen Elizabeth I. Her most trusted advisor was Sir William Cecil. You're a good man, Gabe. I've asked around about you. I'm offering you the chance to be my Sir William Cecil, if you're interested."

Gabe's eyes nearly bugged out. "I'd be honored."

Leo smiled. "Good. So, let's get started then, shall we?"

000000000000000000000000

Being this year's scarecrow was the last thing on Clark's mind when he handed his father the permission slip. Despite what he told Pete, he just wanted to do something in school other than help Chloe with the Torch. He liked the Torch but obviously not as much as Chloe. Football probably wouldn't be his greatest obsession either, but Lana being the lead cheerleader didn't hurt.

His father reminding him of his "special abilities" burned like salt on an open wound.

"I'll be careful, dad."

"I know you'll be careful but what if there's an accident?"

Does he have no faith in me at all? He shook his head and looked at his father. "I'd just like to go through the rest of high school without being a total loser."

The look on his father's face upon saying that was a little frightening. His father would look clouded, guarded sometimes, at situations like this and Clark wished that the ability to read minds would magically appear.

Jonathon opened his mouth as if to say something but quickly closed it.

Confronting his father about this right now would only lead to another argument. With disappointment written all over his face, Clark frowned and walked out the door, leaving the unsigned permission slip in his father's hand.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Pete really did look goofy in that silly football helmet of his. It was three sizes too big as well as those shoulder pads, and of course he wasn't jealous.

Well, maybe a little. Thinking about it only made Clark more upset. Watching Whitney and Lana out on the field blowing each other kisses hadn't helped either.

Out of frustration and the need to be as alone as he felt, Clark came to the bridge. He watched as a few tears fell from his cheek and down into the river below.

It was really stupid.

Sniffling over something as stupid as football.

But it wasn't just that. Questions unanswered burned inside of him like the tears behind his eyes. He wiped at his face fiercely, trying to regain his composure. He had more immediate concerns…like trying to avoid being hung up as this year's scarecrow.

Clark leaned over the railing of the bridge, looking out into the water. Keep your head down. Safety in numbers. How the hell am I supposed to find safety in numbers when the other zebras are going to be at the homecoming game?

It was bad enough when I knew that Chloe would be covering it for the paper, but now Pete's on the team, and where does that leave me? Hoping that Chester or Eugene get tagged instead of me, because if I'm chosen, I'll really draw attention to myself . . .

He was distracted by the sound of an oncoming car, only there was something wrong with it. He turned in the direction of the sound to find the car barreling towards him.

The last thing he saw before the pale blue Porsche careened into him was a matching pair of haunted blue eyes.

Oh darn.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite some initial bitterness at her Smallville exile, Leo was determined to make the best of it. She was only 21; there was still ample time to fulfill her destiny.

I'll make you proud, father, and I'll prove that I'm more of a Luthor than you could ever have imagined.

She felt good about her first day at the plant. There was a spring in her step as she thought about how impressed her father would be when she made the plant profitable. Today, Luthorcorp Fertilizer Plant No. 3, tomorrow the world.

She got into her car, started it up, rolled down the windows, and headed toward the mansion.

About halfway home her car, which she had always had maintained perfectly, started to rattle. She made a mental note to have the mechanic look at it as soon as she got home.

As she drove onto the bridge which marked the halfway point of her drive, a roll of wire fell off a passing truck directly into her path. She pulled her steering wheel sharply to the right to avoid the wire as she slammed on the brakes. The brakes squealed, but it was too late to stop before she hit the guardrail. She made a vain attempt to pull back to the left. Her car continued to swing to the right.

The last thing she saw before she went through the guardrail was the startled green eyes of a teenaged boy.

Oh shit.

-------------------------------------------------------

"Don'tdieonme. Pleasedon'tdieonme."

An unfamiliar voice broke the blackness that surrounded her, and Leo was vaguely aware of hands pressing on her chest, a mouth breathing air into hers. She tried to push them away, to tell them to stop, but her body would not respond to her commands. Instead, Leo belched water out of her lungs in a most unladylike fashion. "I'm not going to die," she finally croaked.

"What?"

"You were begging me not to die. I'm not going to. So you can stop now."

With that, she flopped back down onto the rocks that lined the bank of the river. Coughing, she felt hands guide her onto her back and she forced her eyes open to find the young man from the bridge, dripping wet, leaning over her.

But...how?

She slowly leaned back up. "I could've sworn I hit you."

He looked at her, then back at the spot where they'd gone over. "If you did, I'd be . . . I'd be dead."

"But..." She tried to sit up, to argue. She'd hit him, damn it, the vision of his horrified eyes would haunt her the rest of her days. She'd hit him! She knew she had! "I..."

The sun beating down on them formed a gentle halo around the dark haired figure's head, at least from Leo's dazed perspective. An angel? Was she dead? No, for he grasped her shoulders again, firmly holding her down. "Don't. You almost died, miss. You need to lie still. I'm sure somebody's called the paramedics. You shouldn't move until they get here."

"What about you?" She asked, watching him anxiously. He had to be hurt. Cars didn't hit people going that fast and not hurt them. "You should see a doctor..."

He shook his head. "I'm fine. You didn't hurt me."

His eyes met hers as she stared at him curiously, as if she didn't quite believe that she hadn't hit him, and could he blame her? Her last vision had probably been his eyes, and it would be etched into both of their memories forever. Clark clung to the probability that since she had just drowned, her memory might be hazy. She wouldn't -- couldn't remember that she had hit him. Besides, it was too unbelievable to be true. Too impossible.

Exhaustion began to settle in as Leo felt darkness beckoning. "But you...I could've..."

He smiled a little, a hand brushing over her wet hair. "Try and rest. Just rest."

She let her eyes close, but her brow remained furrowed with confusion. "Could've sworn..."

Clark looked up at the bridge. Great. My fellow zebras are going to be somewhere else at Homecoming, not that it matters, because apparently I'm not a zebra, I'm a freakin' giraffe.

------------------------------------------------------------

When she woke up the second time, it was a paramedic bending over her and not her angelic rescuer. "Just lie still, miss, you're going to be fine. You're lucky Clark was here to pull you out. If not..."

Clark. So that was his name.

She said it softly, under her breath, testing it out. "Yes, lucky." She added absently, looking for him. "Where is he?"

"Giving his statement to the sheriff." The paramedic helped her sit up, then draped a blanket around her shoulders, guiding her hand up to clasp it tightly. "Over there."

Leo turned to see him, a blanket around his shoulders, talking to a uniformed man with a mustache. The aforementioned sheriff, she presumed. "I'll be back." She informed the paramedic, pushing herself to her feet.

"Hey! You shouldn't be..." the paramedic jumped up and held up a hand in objection, but the young heiress paid him no attention, striding off on unsteady feet, "walking around yet."

Before she could reach her rescuer, a familiar blond man hurried down the embankment, calling out Clark's name as he did so. Leo stopped short, watching silently as he reached the sitting teen. His father, she surmised by the way he checked Clark for injuries, then held his face in his hands before asking, "Son, are you all right?"

A pang of envy stabbed through her as Clark replied, "Yeah, I'm okay" in an attempt to reassure his father. She couldn't think of the last time her father had ever spoken to her in a voice like that, much less touched her so carefully. The truth was, the only time Lionel acted like her father was at photo ops.

Leo couldn't stop herself from taking a step back when Clark's father straightened and looked about angrily, "Who's the maniac who was driving that car?"

He heard a female voice ask, "Mr. Kent?"

He looked over and there was one heart-stopping moment before he realized who he was looking at, all grown up. Her hair was a darker auburn color now, but her skin tone was still ghostly pale, and there was no mistaking the piercing expression of those blue eyes.

"Leo Luthor?"

She smiled and nodded, then looked at Clark, "Oh, my God. When you said, 'Kent,' I didn't realize . . .," her eyes widened. "The last time I saw you, you were . . . ." She held out a hand about hip-height.

"The last time you saw me?"

"Yes. The day of the meteor shower."

"Her father," Jonathan snarled those words, "was injured, and your mother and I took him to the hospital," he finished bitterly.

"Well, thank you, Clark Kent," Leo said, smiling just a little too warmly for Jonathan's comfort, "for saving my life."

Clark blushed, waving off her thanks, clearly uncomfortable. Whether that discomfort came from his father's presence or natural humility, she wasn't sure. Probably a little of both, she suspected.

"I'm sure you would have done the same." he replied.

Watching him stand, Leo found herself fervently hoping that was so. She didn't like the idea of disappointing that newly discovered faith in her. Ironic, that it would come from someone she'd practically just met...and not her own father.

Before Mr. Kent could follow his son, she tried again, "You have quite an extraordinary son, Mr. Kent. If there's any way I can repay -- "

He rounded on her so quickly, she had to force herself not to flinch. She wasn't entirely successful at controlling her reaction, however, and judging by the way he stopped and drew in a slow, calming breath, Mr. Kent had seen it loud and clear.

"Drive slower." He cautioned quietly.

Leo lifted her chin slightly, meeting and holding his gaze, resisting the automatic inclination to protest her innocence. She knew she would have never gone off the road were it not for someone else's negligence but she had the impression Jonathan Kent wouldn't appreciate her attempting to pass culpability on to someone else.

Choosing to stay quiet, she watched the Kents leave and then turned at the sound of the crane as it hoisted her ruined Porsche from the river.

As she watched the men work, her own words came back to her:

"I could have sworn I hit you..."

-------

Predictably, her father's reaction was far different from Jonathan Kent's. Leo awoke to find her housekeeper, Anna Palmer, standing by her bed with the cordless in her hand.

"Your father, Ms. Luthor."

Groggily brushing her disheveled hair away from her face, she accepted the phone and brought it to her ear, squinting at the morning light coming through the large windows. "Hmm...good morning, Dad."

"What were you thinking, Leo!" Lionel demanded without preamble.

Rolling her eyes, the redhead threw back the covers and got out of bed. "Oh, something along the lines of 'I don't want to die'...what do you think I was thinking, Dad?"

"Just tell me...had you been drinking?"

Leo shared an aggravated look with her housekeeper. "Oh yeah, like a fish. I started with a white Russian at lunch and finished up with a Jack Daniels right before I left the plant. Of course I wasn't drinking! Some truck lost a load of barbed wire and I hit it. You can tell your PR department to relax. No scandals will be forthcoming from my little brush with death. Oh, by the way, I'm fine. Thank you for asking."

Hitting the end button, she threw the phone down on the bed and allowed the housekeeper to help her into her favorite silk robe. "If he calls back, tell him I had to go into town."

"Yes, Ms. Luthor." Picking up the cordless phone, the slender brunette started toward the bedroom door. "I had the maid draw you a bath," she smiled gently. "I thought you might like one after yesterday."

Leo smiled back gratefully, "Thank you, Anna, I think a good soak in something other than the river is a brilliant idea."

The housekeeper's smile widened and she added, "I'm very glad you're all right. I'm sure your father feels the same way...Mr. Luthor..."

"I know." Leo's look softened and she nodded once. "I know."

--------

Sinking down into the steaming, fragrant water, Leo rested her head against the soft cushion and closed her eyes. A soft sigh of relaxation escaped her and she settled down, mulling over the events of the previous day.

An image of Clark Kent filled her mind and she smiled.

It didn't seem right that a simple "thank you" was all he'd received for saving her life. It didn't seem adequate to her at all.

Opening her eyes, Leo reached over to pick up her loofah, her smile widening.

It wasn't adequate, but she knew something that just might be.

--------

After breakfast, Leo made a quick trip to a dealership in Metropolis. She could have easily sent someone else, but she knew she had to go herself. The personal touch was important this time, and she just knew she had to be the one to choose. No one else would get it quite right.

The very surprised dealer very nearly fell all over himself in his eagerness to help. Amused, Leo indulged his excessive attentiveness and when she left some time later, she was quite satisfied with her choice.

She only hoped that Clark would be as well.

Leo didn't have to wait long for her answer. It walked into the converted drawing-room-turned-exercise-studio the next day while she was in the midst of her workout. She wasn't performing anything like a specific kata, she was just blowing off steam. She'd gotten the report back from her mechanic, and, aside from the shredded seatbelt, which they had no explanation for, nothing was wrong with the car.

Which meant one of two things -- either she had been driving recklessly, which was highly unlikely, or someone had tampered with her car, and was paying off her mechanic.

With an unconventional karate yell of, "Shit!" she gave the final board a resounding kick, shattering it, and sending the largest piece soaring through the air towards the door of the room.

Where Clark Kent stood, dumbfounded.

He managed to duck the piece of wood just in time.

"Clark! I'm surprised to see you here. How'd you get in?"

"I slipped through the bars." Clark rushed the explanation so he didn't give her a chance to respond before adding. "If this is a bad time -- "

The redhead laughed, patting her neck with a towel, the motion drawing Clark's eye to the smooth column of her throat. "Oh, no, no, it's all right. I've quite sufficiently finished pounding inanimate objects for the day." She grinned impishly at him, inclining her head toward the rest of the manor. "Walk with me?"

He nodded and waited for her to move before falling into step with her.

"Domo arigato," Leo bowed to her partner before she left the mat.

They began to walk down the hallway together. "You're very good at that," he said.

"Karate? Well, that wasn't really anything, you know. I was just blowing off steam."

"Why?"

"Just . . . stuff," she evaded.

Looking up at the castle, Clark tried to find a proper description. "This is a great place."

Leo laughed again. "Sure, if you're dead and in the market for something to haunt." Leading him through the manor, she continued to glance at him curiously.

Flushing slightly, Clark shrugged. "Well, I meant...roomy."

"It's the Luthor ancestral home, or so my father claims." She shrugged, leading him from the room and up a flight of stairs. "He had it shipped over from Scotland, stone by stone."

Following her, Clark forced himself to look at everything but Leo's shapely ass as they walked up the steep stairs. "Yeah, I remember, the trucks rolled through town for weeks, but no one ever moved in."

"My father had no intention of living here. He's never even stepped through the front door." Leo turned to look at him, stopping on the top step.

Confused by her words, Clark stopped. "Then why'd he ship it over?"

She shrugged. "Because he could." Turning, she started up the stairs again. "You'll find Lionel Luthor does a lot of things just because he can."

"Including shipping his only daughter off to run a fertilizer plant in a small town no one's ever heard of?" Clark asked with a grin.

She looked over her shoulder at him, amusement in her eyes. "Including that."

-------

"So, how's the new ride?" Tossing her towel in a waiting basket, Leo went to get a bottle of Ty Nant. Opening it, she took a slow sip and watched the teen fidget.

Well, that didn't bode well.

Reluctantly, Clark met her gaze. "That's why I'm here."

Not willingly, if his body language was any indication. "What's the matter, don't you like it?" Taking another sip, she felt a twinge of sympathy. It seemed to her that not liking it was not the problem.

He shook his head, confirming her suspicions.

"No. It's . . . it's great. It's just…my dad won't let me keep it."

"Clark, you saved my life. I think it's the least I can do."

"He says I don't . . . I shouldn't . . . . It's nothing personal. He's just not that crazy about your dad."

Leo nodded. "Figures the apple doesn't fall far from the tree I presume. Understandable."

She dropped her gaze to the framed photograph on her desk. A picture of her mother when she was about Leo's age and her father, who was a few years older, sat on the corner of the desk. Leo picked it up and stared at it for a moment. She loved her mother, and there wasn't a day that went by where she didn't think about her. As her fingers gently caressed the image, she wondered briefly how different her life would be if her mother was still here.

Would she be proud of me?

"What about you, Clark?" Putting the picture back, she tilted her head inquisitively, "Did you fall far from the tree?"

Clark shifted, uncomfortable, and she waited patiently, allowing the silence between them to lengthen. She could see something in his eyes, something stirred loose by what she'd said, and she couldn't help but be curious. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but Clark Kent fascinated her, and she didn't want to stop.

She watched as he crossed the room and held out the keys. She lifted one hand, palm up, to accept them, and smiled. "Don't worry, Clark, we'll deal with this when your dad's had a chance to get to know me and my motives."

Clark's discomfort grew and he took a step back, glancing at the door. "I'd better go...thanks for the truck." He turned to leave before Leo's voice stopped him.

"Would you at least care for a drink before you leave?"

No harm in that, Clark decided. "Um, sure. You have any pop?"

She opened the mini-refrigerator under the bar. "Pepsi OK?"

"Sure."

She held out a can of Pepsi. When Clark walked over to take it from her, their fingers brushed.

"What do you think of flying, Clark?" She asked, looking directly into his blue-green eyes.

"Scares me to death. The thought, that is. I've never actually flown anywhere. I've never really been anywhere outside Lowell County, really."

She smiled. "I'll have to take you to Metropolis sometime."

Clark looked at her questioningly.

"You and I are connected now. So, let's drink to our alliance."

"Alliance?"

"Partnership? Synergy?"

"Friendship?" he suggested.

"Friendship."

She clinked her bottle of water against his can of Pepsi and they drank.

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To: Background check

Run full background check and assemble complete dossier on Clark Kent, currently resident of Smallville, Kansas, adopted ward of Jonathan and Martha Kent. Expedite this and I'll pay a bonus. -LL

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Gabe had left hours ago, but Leo stayed to work on trimming the budgets. It was after dark and time to go back to the mansion and get some sleep.

Help me.

Leo refused to let herself be slammed back to childhood. This time, at least, she knew where the sound was coming from. Damn high-schoolers.

help me.

The voice was getting softer. She had to hurry.

She ran through the cornfield, making a beeline right for the place she knew the poor kid would be, turning on the small flashlight she kept in her purse.

She stopped suddenly as she recognized the figure on the cross. Clark?

He lifted his head, the very act a seeming struggle, and looked at her with pained eyes.

"Oh god..." This made it even more imperative that she get him down. The crosspiece was a little high, but she pulled a knife out of her purse and stretched up as far as she could as she sawed through the ropes binding him.

She did her best to cushion his fall. He looked terrible and was cold to the touch.

"Are you okay? Who did this to you!"

"Doesn't matter." He mumbled as the ropes fell free after he dropped from the pole, something falling from his neck as he moved.

"Clark, you need to see a doctor." Leo cautioned, watching with worried eyes as he picked up his clothes.

"I'll be okay." He assured, practically hugging his clothes to his bare chest.

His modesty would have been amusing if she hadn't been so concerned about his health. He'd looked terrible when she'd first found him. He needed to see a doctor. She would have insisted on it, but Clark took the choice out of her hands by running into the field without waiting for her response.

She bit back a curse of frustration and called, "At least let me offer you a ride!" at his retreating form.

Clark didn't answer and, in a few seconds, the tall plants had completely obscured him from view.

Giving her head a shake, Leo turned to go back to her car. The motion of her flashlight's beam traveled over the ground briefly. It illuminated something lying on the black dirt and it caught her eye.

Turning toward it, Leo knelt and picked it up. "A necklace..." Reflexively she glanced back at the pole, automatically picturing Clark there only moments before. The necklace had been hanging from his neck.

Lifting the green gem by the chain, she eyed it speculatively.

This had potential to be useful...