The rating and couple remain the same!

Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me. (I also own John & Lena Luthor, Benjamin, Benjamin's adoptive parents, and Lena's boyfriend, but that should be apparent by now.)

Spoilers: There's a tiny reference to 'Reaper'. There's also a miniscule reference to 'Craving'; MR-shaped cookies to anyone who can find it.

Author's Note: I finally decided that I'd taken a long enough break. Even though I'm not sure how this is going to go, I figured I'd see where it ends up. I'm so close to the end that it's scary...thanks to those who hung in there! I really, really appreciate the encouragement and compliments. Much ChLexy love to you all.

The Boy With the Thorn in His Side

******

The note was simple; it read, 'Nicole and Terry: I'm leaving to find my birth mother. Thank you for taking care of me all this time, but I'm not satisfied. It's not your fault, though. Love, B.' After reading it again, Benjamin rested the sheet of notebook paper on the middle of the Lawrences' bed. Taking a deep, relaxing breath, he grabbed his packed bookbag, and headed for the front door.

He knew hitchhiking to Smallville was incredibly stupid, but he no longer cared; his mother was out there, and he owed it to himself to seek her out.

******

Chloe had told him, excitedly, that she was up for parole a few days from then. He'd been giddy beyond belief; but then he'd reached a conclusion that brought him down again.

Parole was a great thing, Lex knew; he was fully aware that it meant his wife would be returning to him for good. (Unless she did something stupid, but she rarely did stupid things.) However, as much as he knew it, he didn't believe it; it wasn't possible that he would be so lucky as to get her back.

After all the crap he pulled when he was still in Metropolis, after all the people he paid to cover up all his mistakes, after all the damage he allowed his father to inflict on the quaint Kansas town, after ALL THAT, he was given something as special as a relationship with a fabulous woman.

The conclusion he'd reached was that he didn't deserve her. Falling in love with her had been his second chance at a new life; then he'd ruined it by letting Lena get kidnapped. Finding their daughter again, and burning the research that had caused the whole fiasco in the first place, had been his third chance. Luthors, even semi-reformed ones, didn't get, nor did they deserve, fourth chances. Her coming back into his life was just that; another opportunity to straighten himself out.

He decided that there had to be a reason why he was so blessed. What it was, he didn't know. When he drove back to the Manor after visiting with her, he recalled something Jonathan Kent had said to him several decades before; Lex had asked if Clark's father ever wondered why miracles happened. Jonathan had said, 'No; I just accept that they do.' This brought a smile to Lex's face.

He didn't have to know why he was blessed, and he didn't have to worry about it. He simply had to accept that someone, somewhere felt he deserved it.

******

He walked from their small house to the middle of town; about three miles. He'd brought bottled water and a few granola bars to sustain him, and he had a little bit of money in case he got hungry for something more substantial.

When he reached a gas station, he stood on the sidewalk with his right thumb sticking out; toward Smallville. At first Benjamin felt conspicuous in his black corduroys and white button down shirt (everyone else was very casually dressed) but he relaxed when he saw that no one seemed to take any notice of him.

"Hey, kid, where ya going?" The gruff voice startled him, but he hid his surprise as well as he could.

"Smallville, sir," he replied politely.

A surprised chuckle. "What do you want in Smallville? There's nothing there but a crap factory run by Lionel Luthor's kid. Damn shame the old man himself isn't alive anymore."

Benjamin thought about mentioning that his adoptive father worked at the 'crap factory', but he then decided the truck driver wouldn't have cared. "I'm looking for someone. Will you give me a ride, sir?"

"Sure, kid. Come on up. It's only 'bout two hours from 'ere, so just tell me where you want to be dropped off once we get into the limits."

"'kay. Thanks." It took some effort, but he managed to pull himself into the cab of the huge truck. He turned to smile at his benefactor, not taken aback by the man's haggard appearance; he was built like a football player, with long black hair that was knotted and unkempt. However, he had smiling blue eyes and a fairly friendly smile.

The vehicle lumbered along the highway, and Benjamin sat back to twiddle his thumbs. "Who you lookin' for, if you don't mind me askin'?"

"My mother," he replied automatically; he didn't think there was any trouble in answering the man's questions. "My father, too, I guess, but I don't know who he is. What's your name?"

"My name's Bixby; 'ts what all me friends call me. First name's not important. What's yours?" Bixby truly appeared interested as he glanced at Benjamin for a moment.

"Benjamin. I don't know my real last name; my mother's is 'Luthor', but I don't know if that's my father's name." He felt no qualms about opening up to Bixby. After all, he could have known something; as implausible as that sounded. Besides, he didn't look like the kind of person who chopped stray kids to pieces and stuffed them into trash bins; there were a few photos of a dark-haired boy and a smiling, larger blonde woman clipped to the sun visor. "Is that your family?"

Bixby beamed. "Yup; my wife Jodie, and our son Shawn." He paused, his face grew serious. "You say your mother's last name is 'Luthor'?"

"Yes, sir."

"How do you intend to find her?"

*It can't hurt, since I'll ask him to drop me at the prison, anyway...* "She's in jail."

The driver's eyes grew wide. "You're not Lex Luthor's kid! Tell me you aren't!"

*The man who runs the plant?* "Umm, I don't know, sir. Could I be?"

"Could be. The *Inquisitor* ran a story 'bout how Luthor's wife put herself in jail 'cause she shot someone. Luthor got the story pulled, s'pposedly, but he didn't deny it. I dunno, it's too much of a coincidence, huh? Same last name, mom's in jail, just like 'is wife..."

"My adoptive parents subscribe to the *Inquisitor*; I've been reading it for a few years. I don't remember hearing about that." Benjamin didn't know why, but he didn't want to believe that the man Terry ranted about was his real father!

"It was about ten years ago. You couldn't have been very old then, huh?" Bixby's eyes wandered down the boy's body, sizing him up. "You can't be more than fourteen."

Inwardly beaming (he enjoyed being seen as older than he was; it made him feel important), Benjamin corrected, "Actually, sir, I'm eleven."

"Hmm," was all Bixby said.

"Sir, do you mind if I close my eyes for a little bit? I'm really tired."

The man chuckled. "Sure, kid. I'll wake you up when we get close so I know where to drop you."

"Thank you." He was asleep within minutes.

******

Lena knew she should tell her father, but she also knew that Lex would freak out if he heard; it was obvious that he didn't like Roger in the slightest, and he was already on edge worrying about Chloe's potential release. Instead of telling him right away, Lena decided to talk to Martha.

"Martha?" she began softly, tapping on the door of the older woman's suite with her freshly manicured nails.

Martha (who was recovering well) was sitting up in the huge, white bed, reading a magazine. Her gray hair was loose, her face was pale, but her eyes were bright. "Lena, hello. What can I do for you?"

Lowering herself onto a wheeled desk chair that Lex had put in the room for visitors, Lena rested her head on her hands, and let out a sigh of defeat. "Roger proposed this afternoon; said that was the whole idea behind taking this trip. I asked him if he ran it by Dad, and he said that was the plan, but then he saw how Dad felt about him, and...."

Smiling slightly, Martha set down her reading material, and leaned forward, grasping the young woman's arm. In tailored black pants and a silky purple shirt, with black leathers boots on her feet, Lena seemed as though she'd be more comfortable in in a French cafe than a Kansas town. "Well, did you answer him yet?"

"No; I wanted to ask your opinion first." Lena's piercing blue eyes were sad when she glanced upward.

"It's not my decision to make, sweetie; only you know if you want to spend the rest of your life with him," Martha said gently, smiling maternally.

"So you aren't going to give me the, 'you're only eighteen, you don't know what you want, see the world first, blah' speech?" Lena sounded shocked.

With a stifled laugh (Martha's mother had given her the same talk when she announced she'd met a wonderful man by the name of Jonathan Kent at school; needless to say, she hadn't listened to her mother) Martha shook her head. "No. I was given the same talk, and I ignored it. It would be silly for me to lecture you."

"But, really; should I let Dad know? He's a little bent out of shape, thinking about Mom's parole, but I want him to be aware in case I say 'yes'." Her head was in her hands again, her cropped red hair spilling between her fingers.

"I think you should wait until you decide; if you say 'no', Lex doesn't have to ever be aware. I will tell you this: please think about it. Don't rush into anything even if emotions are running high, even if he promises you the world. Just sit down and *think*. Unless you're pregnant." Pause, her eyes grew wide. She added quickly, "you aren't pregnant, are you?"

Lena laughed. "No, Martha. We're waiting, anyway."

Martha leaned over and kissed the younger woman's forehead. "Thank you; I needed to hear that." She rolled her eyes as she sat back against the fluffy pillows. "Sorry, simply a wee bit paranoid. I constantly worry about my son, Clark, even though he's been married almost as long as your parents. I don't trust him to take care of a child, what with his career and all."

"He *is* Superman, after all," was the wry reply.

A shocked gasp. "How do you know that?"

"Come *on*, Martha, Dad stills talks about it sometimes; he even still pays off the occasional reporter when things get messy." Her own eyes rolled as if to say, 'that's my father for you.' "Besides, John and I were told a long time ago to keep everything private; you know you can trust us."

The widow relaxed. "That's true. Feel better now?"

"Mmm hmm." Cheek kisses were exchanged, then Lena added, "thanks. I'll let you know when I make my decision."

"Great. Good luck."

******

A/N: I know sneaking the 'Inquisitor' story into the plot was an iffy move, but I was desperate for Benjamin to figure out who his father is before getting to Smallville. It was the only thing I could think of...flow with it. :-)