If there was anything Lucinda wanted to be in, it would be her bed… or, ideally, a coffin. Six feet below. Preferably with noise-canceling pillows. The level of pressure in the Kent kitchen was enough to make her soul pack its things and attempt several escape routes.
She could practically feel herself drifting out of her body every few seconds like a timid ghost, only for Clark to tap her arm and snap her back into her earthly prison.
"Honey, we just want to know what you know," Martha said gently, leaning just a little closer with that nurturing aura that could make even a hardened criminal confess their sins.
Lucinda sat on the opposite side of the kitchen table—right beside Jonathan Kent. Jonathan, who was simultaneously gentle, fatherly, and handsome in that comforting farm-dad way that made her heart squeeze. He had the aura of a man who'd carry hay bales and emotional burdens with equal ease.
Watching the two of them sitting together, warm and steady, made Lucinda's chest ache.
How are Mom and Dad right now? Are they looking for me? They must be freaking out. What if I died in my world? Or what if this is actually a coma dream? Or a hallucination? Please let it be a hallucination so whatever I do here wouldn't ruin a masterpiece.
Clark nudged her arm again, trying not to look like he was nudging a malfunctioning robot.
She blinked rapidly, coming back online. "Oh—uh…" Her eyes darted from Clark, to Martha, to Jonathan, and back again.
What am I supposed to say?! Where is Lex?! He KNOWS I'm from the future—or a different timeline or whatever TV writers call it—but he still handed me off to the Kents. I hope he lose his eyebrows next!
Lucinda swallowed again, feeling the three pairs of Kent eyes looking at her with gentle but unrelenting patience.
"I-I'm not really sure what you wanted to hear f-from me, Mr. and Mrs. Kent," she managed, voice wobbling. "But—"
"Look, Lucy. I know you know about me," Clark cut in, voice low and strained. It was the tone of a farm boy trying very hard to stay polite while his patience hung by a single, fraying thread. "The moment I saw you in Lex's office, I already knew—you're not from this world."
Lucinda felt the air catch in her lungs. Oh great. Another truth she couldn't dodge. One more lie and she'd probably burst into flames like a cheap firecracker.
But then again… these were the Kents. The Kents. The walking definition of wholesome Americana. They were the last people she'd ever want to betray—and, frankly, the only people besides Lex who didn't make her feel completely alone in this universe.
And if Lex ever fired her? Yeah, she could already imagine Martha wrapping her in a knitted blanket and Jonathan offering her an apple pie slice the size of her head.
Clark might even pat her to sleep.
Fine. Honesty-ish.
Lucinda inhaled, straightened, and said, "You're right, Clark. I-I'm not from here." She met his eyes, steadying herself. "The only difference between you and me is that I'm from a different universe, and you're from a different planet. You have superpowers. I have… sarcasm."
All three Kents blinked at her, looking equally amazed and horrified.
"B-But you can see the future, right?" Clark murmured, as if asking her to confirm Santa Claus was real.
"Well… if you put it that way, yes." She managed a wobbly smile. It wasn't technically true, but it wasn't technically false either. A morally grey lie. A comfortable middle ground.
Clark checked his parents' faces, swallowed hard, then turned back to her. "M-Maybe you can tell me about my future?" His voice cracked. He sounded like he desperately wanted someone—anyone—to tell him who he was supposed to be.
Lucinda's heart squeezed.
"Clark…" She shook her head gently. "I could. And I want to. But I can't. I'm not from this universe. If I tell you what happens, I could ruin everything that's meant to unfold on its own."
He looked crushed, like she'd just told him the dog ran away and the barn exploded.
"What do you mean?" he whispered.
"I shouldn't be in this world." Lucinda lifted her chin with as much dignity as a woman held together by panic and caffeine could muster. "When I got teleported here—tragically, without warning— I already knew what would happen until season six—" She froze.
"Season six?" all three Kents echoed.
"That's—uh—how we say six years." She forced a grin. "Multiverse slang. Anyway, I can't tell you more."
Clark exhaled heavily, nodding even though disappointment radiated from him like heat from a tractor engine.
Then Jonathan leaned forward. He tried for intimidating, bless him, but Lucinda had seen Lex staring down billionaires—this was more stern dad than threat.
"You haven't told Lex anything about our son, have you?" His voice was soft, but serious.
"You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Kent," Lucinda assured, smiling sincerely. "Clark's secret is safe with me. But Mr. Luthor… already knows about mine."
Martha gasped. Jonathan stiffened. Clark blinked.
"He does?" Martha whispered.
Lucinda nodded. "Yes. When I arrived, I didn't know how or why. I didn't even know what year it was. And then Lex started questioning me, and I panicked. I had nowhere to go, no one to trust, so I lied a bit… just enough to get by until I figure out how to get home, but then he had cornered me almost right away."
Martha and Jonathan exchanged one of their silent, telepathic married glances.
Then Martha softened, stepping closer. "If you want… you could stay here with us."
Of course she would offer that. It was so painfully, beautifully Martha Kent.
Lucinda's chest tightened. She shook her head with a polite smile. "That means a lot, Mrs. Kent. Truly. But now that Mr. Luthor is… curious about me, it's safer for Clark if I don't suddenly move in here. It would also be better you don't mention anything to him that you knew about me. He's a very detail-oriented man. The least thing I'd ever want to be happen is to get his eyes, nose, and ears to Clark."
Jonathan's jaw ticked. His dislike for Lex practically crackled across the table.
"You better be careful with that man. Stay away from him if you can," he warned, voice urgent.
Lucinda huffed a tiny laugh. "Don't worry, Mr. Kent. Lex isn't that bad. He's just—" She paused, tilting her head as if scrolling through a very unhelpful internal dictionary. "—misunderstood."
Jonathan gave her a look that said: Misunderstood? So were earthquakes and tax audits.
Clark, on the other hand, studied her closely. His gaze softened, just enough to suggest his instincts weren't screaming danger at her. In fact, the more he looked, the more he recognized something steady—her pulse, her breathing, her intent. Nothing malicious. Just… a woman very good at being overwhelmed.
Lucinda, meanwhile, drifted off for a breath. Her eyes unfocused, mind wandering. Relief washed over her shoulders like a warm blanket. She had finally said the truth—well, a safe, manageable percentage of it. And if Lex decided tomorrow that she should pack her bags and be catapulted out of Luthor Mansion, at least she already had a backup plan with the Kents. A wholesome farm. A barn. A tractor. A possible cow to emotionally support her while she milks it.
"Lex might be here any second now," she murmured, more to herself than to them.
All three Kents nodded. Even Jonathan—whose nod suggested he was preparing himself for the emotional equivalent of a tornado.
And as if summoned by collective dread, a familiar voice floated from the doorway.
"Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Kent."
Even when already expecting his arrival, Lucinda still jumped so hard her knee almost hit the underside of the table.
"Lex, we didn't hear you pull off," Martha said, a little anxious.
Lex leaned one shoulder against the screen doorframe, perfectly at ease, perfectly composed, and—infuriatingly—looking like he knew exactly why they hadn't heard him.
"Really?" Lex asked mildly. "I assumed my car was loud enough."
It wasn't. Of course it wasn't. He had killed the engine half a mile down the road—because entering quietly wasn't just habit anymore; it was practically a brand.
"May I come in? I promise I'm not packing heat," he added, already pushing the door open like a man who clearly had never been denied entry in his life. His black suit and long dark coat swept in behind him like well-trained shadows.
He stopped beside Lucinda, posture immaculate. "I heard what happened, Mrs. Kent. I'm relieved you weren't hurt."
Martha smiled warmly. "All thanks to your lovely little maid." She glanced at Lucinda with maternal curiosity. "How old are you, honey? Fourteen? Sixteen?"
Lex chuckled softly behind her—just enough for Lucinda to consider elbowing him, but not enough to risk getting fired.
"I'm already twenty-two, Mrs. Kent," Lucinda said sheepishly.
"Oh really?" Martha blinked, impressed. "With your size and youthful face, you look younger than Clark."
Clark just grinned, enjoying the show.
Martha turned to Lex. "You're twenty-one, right, Lex?"
Lex inclined his head with grave dignity. "I painfully am, Mrs. Kent."
"Twenty-one?" Lucinda pivoted toward him, whispering, "I'm older than you?"
"Technically, I'm older a vicennium," he murmured back.
She was about to ask what that even meant when Lex smoothly redirected his attention to the Kents.
"I'd stay and chat, but I have more errands today. I only stopped by to retrieve my maid." He flashed that signature smirk. "I'm truly glad you're well, Mrs. Kent."
Martha smiled. Jonathan gave a curt nod. Lex returned it with the subtle swagger of a man used to surviving paternal hostility.
Then he clasped Clark's shoulder—because emotional conflict was just another Tuesday—and made for the door.
Lucinda followed, bewildered at the pace of it all. She offered a simple bow for respect before running after Lex, who not only reached the car first, he opened the passenger door for her. When she sat down, he leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Clark is very important to me, Lucy. And his parents are very important to him," he said softly—too softly—and she nearly dissolved on the spot. "So, I'm grateful you saved Mrs. Kent."
Damn that voice, she screamed internally.
"So I'd like to treat you," Lex added.
Lucinda blinked. "But you still have errands to run."
"Yeah. You," he replied with a small smile, circling around to the driver's side.
Once inside, he turned slightly toward her. "I want to show you around Smallville before we head home."
Lucinda was about to burst out something unhelpfully enthusiastic when Lex faced her fully, sincerity softening every sharp line of his expression.
"And… I appreciate you standing up for me in there, Lucy."
His gaze held hers. Lucinda fell straight into those calm, impossibly blue eyes—eyes that still belonged to the man who resisted becoming his father. Season-one Lex. The Lex who tried to earn affection instead of controlling it. The Lex who only wanted, desperately, to be valued.
Her jaw tightened.
She hadn't finished the series yet, but she knew the spoilers. She knew where he was headed. Knew what he would become.
She didn't want to see that version of him.
If she could stop it—stop that future—without destroying everything… she would. She absolutely would.