Lana was lying down on the couch in the Kent's living room, staring numbly up at the ceiling. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and she was squinting painfully at a spider on the far wall when she heard the door open in the next room. She sat up quickly and brushed the hair out of her face. She stood up and crossed her arms across her chest.

'Come on Lana,' she thought. 'Keep it together. You have to tell them, then you can leave.'

She didn't know how long she'd been waiting. She was slightly surprised to see that it was dark already; stars were appearing in the hazy night sky.

It was a moment before Jonathan noticed her, standing dumbly in the middle of the living room. She caught his gaze, one of annoyance and despair.

"Lana," he barked gruffly. "What are you doing here?" He helped his wife into a chair at the kitchen table.

Suddenly, Lana was at a loss for words. She'd been practicing what she was going to say for hours, but now, all of a sudden, it seemed so futile. Nothing she could say would change the fact that Clark had left them. She could feel the tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to fall down her cheeks. Her lips quivered and she put a hand over her mouth to stop any escaping sound.

Martha was tired and pained. She sat distractedly at the table popping prescription pills from a cheery, bright orange bottle.

"Are you alright Lana?" she asked, without looking up.

Then, after a moment, "Where's Clark?"

Lana's voice caught in her throat. The Kents looked as if they'd aged ten years overnight. She silently chastised herself for being so weak, and miserably plodded on.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Kent," she said, stalling. "Clark told me what happened. If you need anything."

Martha managed a weak smile. "Thank you. I'll be fine."

Lana nodded and took a deep breath. "This is it.'

"I have to tell you something." She moved into the kitchen, her hands stuffed into her pants pockets. She averted their curious gaze as long as possible before finally meeting their glance.

"Clark's gone," she ventured cautiously.

Martha looked up, shocked. "What are you talking about?"

Lana winced and put a hand to her head. "I'm.I'm so sorry," she blurted. "I tried to stop him, but he just left."

"When?" Jonathan asked, focused now.

Lana shook her head. "I don't know. A few hours, maybe?"

"Did he say why?"

Lana's hands were trembling as she fought to regain her composure. "He said, he didn't want to hurt anyone anymore. That what happened was his fault. I don't know, I didn't understand it and everything just happened so fast. I'm so sorry," she repeated, brushing away falling tears as quickly as they came.

"I.I should go." For a while, the silence in the room was deafening. Lana wanted to say something more; she couldn't just stand there in the kitchen crying. Finally, Jonathan spoke.

"Let me drive you home," he offered.

"That's fine," Lana said quickly and zippered up her jacket. "I'll walk."

"No. It's late and Chloe's house is miles away."

But Lana was determined. "I'll be fine. I'd really rather walk home. Feel better Mrs. Kent," she called, as Jonathan followed her to the door.

Lana leaned into Mr. Kent conspiratorially. "If he comes home, or phones, or anything.please, call me. I don't care what time it is. I just.I just want to know that he's okay."

Jonathan nodded and smiled kindly. "I'm sure he will be."

Lana smiled bravely and pretended to agree with him. But she was not convinced. And from the look on Jonathan Kent's face, neither was he.