Couple(s): ChLex

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me.

Spoilers for: nothing

Author's Note: This'll have a point soon, I hope; I'm not sure where it's going, but it will certainly go *somewhere*. As for the whole business about the paternity of Chloe's child: her assumption--that it's Guy's--might be contested in a coming chapter; there's a reason why I wrote it so ambiguously. Thanks for the continued support and comments! Friendly, tactful people make my day! :-)

The Hand That Rocks the Cradle

******

He knew where his adoption papers were kept; when one is home alone for extended periods of time, one has plenty of opportunities to explore. He not only knew which locked drawer of his father's desk contained the all-important documents, but he'd also figured out where the key was.

Benjamin vowed that he would learn the identities of his birth parents, somehow, before the summer was over.

******

Lex didn't like Roger at all, though there was no concrete reason why. Lena's boyfriend simply exuded a cockiness that reminded Lex of his old, Club Zero self--he wasn't too happy that his daughter had proven the cliche that women subconsciously look for men like their fathers.

"So, Roger," he began one evening after dinner when he, John, and the couple were lounging in the businessman's office, "what are your plans for the future?" It was a lame conversation starter, but finding out Roger's intentions toward Lena was important; and he wouldn't simply blurt out, 'what are your intentions toward my daughter?'

The college student in question, who was perched on the leather couch, stopped kissing his giggling girlfriend long enough to face Lex's desk. "What do you mean, Lex?"

Lex frowned; it was awfully presumptuous of Roger to address him as anything but, 'Mister Luthor'--especially when they'd only met a week before. *Why 'are' you letting this man stay in your house? At least you had the sense to put him in a guest bedroom.* "What are you planning to do after college?" he said as calmly as he could. The way his daughter kept rubbing her boyfriend's thigh bothered him.

John, seated in front of the blazing fireplace, looked at his father, rolled his eyes, and mouthed, 'must they do that here?' Lex simply smirked and rolled his eyes back.

"I plan to move in with Lena; maybe marry her. As for a career, I'm going to play some clubs. I play guitar, you know." Looking proud, Roger kissed Lena's cheek.

*'Maybe' marry my daughter? You plan to live with her, but 'maybe' marry her? Even Clo and I got married before we lived together! That also means we waited until we were married to sleep together, but judging from the way Lena's looking at you, you haven't.* He *really* didn't like the giggly way the couple was carrying on. "Ah," was all Lex could say in response to Roger's statement.

"Daddy?" Lena prompted, sobering when she noticed the tense expression on her father's face. "You okay?"

*Oh, yeah. I'm just fabulous; my daughter is fooling around with some guitar-playing, apparently sex-crazed hippie. Every father's dream.* "Yeah, I'm great," he said flatly. Only John noticed the change in his tone.

He knew he should have been happy that his daughter looked so blissful, but the man that made her so supposedly content irked him. Until he had concrete evidence that Roger was a bad guy, though, he'd bite his tongue and bear it.

However, even though he couldn't kick the guy out without explanation, he *could* do something about their gratuitous displays of affection.

"Watch the hands, Roger," Lex announced bluntly, when Roger slipped his fingers up the back of Lena's t-shirt. *Am I not even here?*

Blushing, the young woman shifted away from her boyfriend and fiddled with her top. "Sorry, Dad."

"Mmm hmm," he mumbled, flipping open his lap top. "Now, I have some work to do; if you'll excuse me..."

******

Lex smiled sadly at his wife; something he did more frequently as the years went by. "Hey, Clo," he said calmly.

Chloe smiled back and sighed; even approaching fifty, he still looked great. "Hey, yourself. You look tired; everything okay at home?"

"Yeah, I suppose. Martha's not getting any worse--I flew some doctors in yesterday...her cold's getting better, they say. John told you about Lena and Roger, I assume?"

The way he said the name, Chloe instantly knew their daughter's boyfriend wasn't liked. "A little. What do you think of him?" Even though it was obvious how he felt about the other man, she wanted to hear him say it; she wanted to get him to open up again.

Rubbing his scalp with his free hand--a sign of annoyance or nervousness--Lex groaned. "Frankly, I think he's rude, selfish, irresponsible, unmotivated and completely oblivious to Lena's needs; all they do is sit around and *giggle*. Never once has he offered to help her with the dishes, never once has he done anything halfway chivalrous. I have the strangest feeling he's just using her." There, it was out.

Ever the voice of reason, she smirked and replied, "all *we* ever did was sit around and giggle; when we weren't rolling around on the floor, that is."

He chuckled. "That's true. At least I--how do I phrase this--talked to you about something other than myself; at least we talked about halfway serious matters, like our future and whatnot. I just *know* they're sleeping together."

How the students' lack of serious conversation was related to their sleeping together, she wasn't sure; she chalked the non sequitor up to his being angry--when he was about to rant, he had a tendency toward stream-of-consciousness babbling.

"Have you asked them?" Chloe wondered calmly.

This was a foreign concept; his eyes grew wide. "I can't go over to them and say, 'Roger, are you screwing my daughter?'. It would be awkward for us all, and he's certain to *lie* to me, especially with her around, and..."

*There he goes!* "Hon, calm down."

"I swear, if he gets her pregnant, he's never setting foot in Kansas again," Lex insisted.

Rolling her own eyes, Chloe laughed. When he glowered, she stopped. "Sorry; it's only that you're overreacting a bit. Until you have proof that they have, in fact, been sharing a bed, you shouldn't worry about her getting pregnant. You have enough to think about, after all."

"I guess you're right," he relented, letting out a long sigh. "I miss you."

"Maudlin, already? I miss you, too; you know that." Her eyes softened.

"I want you to come home," he whispered, surprising them both by how sad and pathetic he sounded. "I want you to come home *soon*; we need you. Hell, *I* need you, Chloe." It had been ages since he'd gotten emotional about anything, but he was so close to breaking down that she was taken aback.

"I wish there was something I could say," she returned quietly.

"Telling me you love me is good enough."

A smile lit up her face. "I love you, Lex. Always."

Her husband gave her a smile of his own, though it appeared forced. "I love you, too, Clo. I don't plan to stop anytime soon."

Rarely was he so sappy; she kind of liked it. "You'd better not," Chloe teased.

Two minutes. Taking a deep breath, he blew her a kiss. "Take care of yourself, okay? One of us will be down tomorrow."

A nod. "I will, you too. See you tomorrow."

She watched him walk slowly out of the room, until a guard firmly pulled her away from the chair. She wanted to be home, with him, more than she'd ever admit; someone had to be strong, and it might as well have been her.

******

While Chloe was missing Lex, Benjamin was missing Chloe--though he didn't know it yet. He was lying on his tiny mattress in his tiny room, letting the darkness sweep him into his fantasy world. His real parents were in their own room, talking softly and quickly about something he couldn't make out; he could hear their muffled whispers through the wall, though he wished he couldn't.

Whenever they fought--he imagined that was what they were doing; that was what they were almost always doing when they assumed he was sleeping peacefully--Benjamin needed his imaginary parents more than anything. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out everything but the vague mansion he'd long been dreaming about.

The outside was fairly plain; gray stone covered with twisting vines of ivy, the many windows covered with white curtains that could be seen from the winding driveway. He'd decided that there was a story behind the structure--something relating to how the building materials got to Kansas, maybe.

The inside was gorgeous and ornate: shag carpets covered the wood floors; original, famous works of art adorned the wood-paneled walls; a fire place was in every room; busts of famous men were in his father's office; a huge fish tank--filled with angel fish--was in his own room...

His imaginary--or real, depending on how he thought about it--parents ignored the fanciness of the place, he knew; while they appreciated finer things, they didn't get worked up about always buying first editions of books or original watercolors by so-and-so--many pieces of art were gifts from associates and foreign dignitaries, Benjamin imagined.

He was inside the mansion, his bare feet brushing the soft carpets on his way to his father's office. The man greeted him with a warm smile and a hug; his imaginary mother picked him up to talk to him, even though he was ten years old, but he didn't mind. They didn't have faces yet, his parents, but he thought he had their personalities down.

His imaginary father a loving man, though he didn't show it in the usual way; he gave hugs and forehead kisses, but he was rarely overly affectionate. To show he loved his son, Benjamin's father talked to him, gave him advice, listened to him talk about his future plans and whatnot. His father laughed a lot, and he made everyone else laugh, too; he had quite a dry sense of humor. Benjamin looked up to and adored him.

And Benjamin's father loved Benjamin's imaginary mother deeply; the two of them were inseparable, and extremely open with each other. His mother was a vibrant, bouncy woman, with a slightly wicked sense of humor, and an amazing laugh. She loved her son, and certainly wasn't afraid to show it; she hugged and kissed him several times a day, and always made sure he was happy.

Tears pricked in the corners of Benjamin's bright blue eyes when one of his actual parents slammed a dresser drawer; the fantasy faded, and he was left alone in the dark again.

"That's it," he muttered to himself, climbing out of the bed, "I'm not sleeping." He padded down the hall toward his real father's study. After yanking several fake roses out of an opaque blue vase, he fished around in the container. A few seconds of digging in the straw that filled the bottom yielded a tiny silver key.

Benjamin smiled at his find, then gingerly slid open the middle drawer of Terry Lawrence's desk. He shoved aside a haphazard stack of papers--all old memos from Terry's boss, Lex Luthor--and found the secret compartment.

It took some effort, but he managed to twist the key enough that the tiny door popped open. Drawing in a sharp breath, he snatched a thin booklet from the black depths.

The first few pages contained all his information--date of birth, physical appearance, medical records, what have you; one page near the end was the one that interested him.

It seemed that the orphanage only had information about his mother. Though this disheartened him some, he scanned the last three paragraphs.

There was a reason why only his mother was mentioned; she had given birth to him in prison, then given him up for adoption.

His disappointment faded when noticed that, not only was the name of the prison mentioned, but her name was too! "Oh, my," he whispered, gently running a finger along the two words he'd been longing to see for years: Chloe Luthor was his mother. Chloe Luthor, his mother, was living in a prison in Smallville, Kansas.

Even though his mother obviously had some sort of criminal record, Benjamin was giddy beyond belief; he was physically closer to her than he'd ever thought.

"I have to find her!" he declared.

Taking the sheets with him, though he locked the drawer and hid the key, he stuffed them underneath his pillow.