A/N: Disclaimer: Please note that I do NOT own any rights or credits to Smallville or any of its characters, places, etc.

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First Pain

Summary: A small piece taken from Season 1's "Leech". Set after Clark lost his powers and experiences real, physical pain for the first time.

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Clark couldn't watch anymore. He broke away from the crowd, putting his body between Eric and Brent, dropping his book bag and scrambling to either block Eric's path or slow him down.

Holly ran to Brent's side, her eyes wide with fear, having witnessed Eric display his newfound "powers" by picking up Brent like he had weighed less then a feather and tossing him from the parking lot to the green and into a picnic table.

"Eric, you can't do this," Clark said firmly.

"Watch me!" Eric snapped, trying to push past him.

"No, I'm serious," Clark insisted, planting his feet. He was considerably taller than Eric and sported a much more powerful frame, courtesy of years of farm work. He knew if Eric chose to use his stolen super strength there would be no way of stopping him, but he also knew he had to try, at all cost.

"You could kill someone," he continued, trying to reach the angry youth with the reality of what could happen if he wasn't stopped, "You don't want that on your conscience, believe me. You've just gotta calm down."

Eric only glared at him. "You're not my father, Clark!" he bite back, bringing his face within inches of the other boy's. "Now shut up and get out of my way!"

With a sneer, Eric seized hold of Clark by the jacket and hurled him across the parking lot. The sound of breaking glass shattered the stunned silence as Clark's body smashed down on the top of a parked car halfway across the parking lot. The force of the collision shattered every window of the white sedan.

Chloe froze in horror, transfixed by the horrible tableau. A terrified gasp escaped her lips as she watched Clark's body bounce like a rag doll on top of the sedan. No! she thought despairingly. Not Clark!

Eric, on the other hand, was not at all dismayed. Without Clark in his path he went straight for Brent, only to find Holly bending protectively over him. She looked frightened.

That wasn't right. Holly shouldn't be frightened of him. He'd seen the way Brent treated her. Doesn't she understand that if she's with me, I can protect her from jerks like that?

But Holly was far from understanding. "Get away from us, you freak!" she cried angrily.

Freak? Freak?

To Chloe's surprise, Eric stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at Holly, confusion and shame chasing each other across his features. For a moment she thought he'd flip out again and go for Holly but instead, he hung his head in disgrace and suddenly he was gone, a gust of wind following in his wake.

Chloe scanned the crowd until her gaze fell on Clark, his unconscious form draped lifelessly across the top of the damaged sedan. Heedless of whether or not Eric would come back, she pushed her way through the crowd and ran to him.

Clark!

She couldn't remember a time she'd seen Clark hurt. Clark always seemed so strong, so indestructible.

She choked back a sob. He'd only been trying to help Brent. If he hadn't stepped in…

All the windows of the white sedan had shattered upon impact. Chloe hoped desperately that the impact hadn't done him serious damage. His body was limp and still, his arms draping lifelessly at his sides. He harbored a terrible gash, just above his right eye, dripping blood down his forehead and staining the dirt beneath.

"Somebody call 911!" she cried, scrambling across the glass fragments to get to him. She took his head in her hands and gently lifted it. Searching for a pulse, she breathed a sigh of relief when she felt it still strong.

"Man," Pete breathed. She hadn't even realized he'd been behind her. Pete's eyes went from Clark back to Brent. Two students knocked out, possibly injured, and one student on the run with weird superpowers. It was becoming the norm in Smallville for crazy things like this. Still, he shuddered to think what Eric would have done if Clark hadn't stepped in the way. His eyes went back to his friend. He hoped he was all right.

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"Just a little higher," the doctor said, urging Clark to raise his arms some more.

Clark winced and groaned. He hurt everywhere, but the pain in his side was excruciating. How could people live like this? The higher he raised his arms the more it hurt.

"How much longer is it going to hurt like this?" he asked, wincing at the pain in his chest when he breathed.

The doctor finished up bandaging his chest and tapped his arms to let him know he could lower them. The pain lessened when he did, but didn't disappear. "Oh, you'll be fine in a couple of weeks," he said cheerfully.

Clark cringed and looked at him incredulously. "A couple weeks?"

The doctor could have laughed at his deer-in-the-headlights look. He would have thought a farm boy would have been made of sterner stuff. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," he said, chuckling.

The look on Clark's face was lost on the doctor when a tall blonde man and a beautiful red haired woman came rushing in. "Clark!" Martha cried, rushing to her son. She wrapped her arms around him on impulse, only to have Clark recoil in pain and push her away.

"Easy on the ribs, mom," he said through clenched teeth.

Martha backed off sheepishly. "Sorry," she apologized. Clark reached up and touched his forehead again; the gash had been cleaned and he now had stitches, but it was still weird to feel.

Having made sure his son was all right, Jonathan Kent turned to the doctor, who had been watching the whole scene with mild amusement. "How's he doin', doc?" he asked.

"Well, nothing seems to be broken," the doctor answered, crossing the room to stand before him. "We could get an x-ray just to be safe."

Clark started, looking to his dad for the right words. Jonathan didn't miss a beat, "No, I think we'll just take him on home," he said.

The doctor nodded. "It's your choice but I wanna see him back again in one week."

Martha grabbed Clark's shirt from the chair beside the hospital bed and draped it over her son's shoulders.

"Thanks, doc," Clark said to the doctor, grateful that he hadn't insisted on going through with the x-ray anyway.

"You help him get dressed," Jonathan said to his wife, turning to follow the doctor out, "and I'll go take care of the paperwork."

Martha helped Clark get his arm into his first sleeve. He winced in pain and that alone was enough to tell her that her son had changed. Clark's body was near invincible. He'd survived blows and explosions that would have killed normal people. She remembered the first time she'd witnessed her son's invulnerability. They had been driving down Route 90, the three of them in the family pickup, when Whitney Fordman's crashed vehicle came into view. The truck had turned over on its side and Jonathan hit the breaks, Clark all but falling out the door to get to his friend in time. Clark managed to pull Whitney out of the truck but just when they thought he was safe, the ruptured gas tank erupted into flames and exploded. Martha had grabbed onto Jonathan, her heart all but stopping, sure she'd just witnessed her son's death. But Clark had survived. They found him a short distance away from the truck, his body hunched protectively over Whitney's. Clark had used his body to shield his friend and as a result, they both survived.

It took a few moments but Clark finally got both arms into his shirt. "What happened?" Martha asked, taking Clark's arm and helping him slide off the table and onto his feet. He swayed for a moment before finally getting his bearings.

"Eric just flipped out," he answered, attempting to button his shirt, "It was kind of scary."

Clark swayed again and Martha moved to catch him, but he limped forward. He'd given up trying to button his shirt, instead he held his ribs, grimacing in pain.

"I wish you wouldn't have gotten in his way," Martha said. She knew she shouldn't lecture him after his ordeal but she couldn't help it, it was the mother in her.

"I don't know what it is," Clark replied, "Even though Eric has my abilities, I still think of them as my responsibility."

He pushed out the door and into the hall, trying to button his shirt again. He had gotten halfway through when he heard the familiar click click of designer shoes coming down the hall. Even without his super hearing he knew who it was. Nobody in Smallville wore shoes that expensive.

"Clark," came the voice that matched the shoes; sharp and sporting the air of confidence.

Martha turned. Clark wished she hadn't. If allowed, he would have kept walking. He really wasn't looking forward to the conversation that was sure to come. He knew Lex felt bad for 'accusing' him of being dishonest.

But it didn't change the fact that his best friend had accused him.

"I just heard," Lex said, his face full of concern.

"Hi, Lex," Martha said. It took only a second to notice the silence coming from her son. Normally when Clark was around Lex he was more than forthcoming. She felt the tension like lead and decided that the best course of action would be to excuse herself and let the two boys hash it out. "I'll just go check on your father," she said.

It was a moment before either young man spoke. Lex, for all his confidence and regal stance, looked just as uncomfortable as Clark. Finally, Clark couldn't stand it. He turned his back on his friend, the motion making his ribs throb, and continued to limp down the hall. "So, did you come by to make sure I was hurt?" he bit out.

Lex winced. So Clark was still mad at him. He didn't know if the young man was capable of holding a grudge but he wasn't willing to find out. He had pride, but for reasons he couldn't explain, pride didn't matter when it came to Clark. Clark represented something to Lex. First and foremost, he represented friendship. In all of his young life, Lex had never had a real friend. He wasn't even sure if he knew what true friendship was. But Clark had accepted him for who he was, never once judging him for the name he was born into. The name 'Luthor' was a sour subject on every tongue in more places than just Metropolis. The legacy left by his father, especially in Smallville, was probably the worst. Yet Clark had seen past the name and treated him like a human being, with real, honest respect. But Clark also represented innocence, something Lex had never known or experienced.

"I wanted to make sure you were all right," Lex fired back.

Clark still didn't turn. Limping his way down the hall, he reached up and touched his forehead again where his stitches were still red and sore. Lex could see the young man grimace in pain, and though he was putting on his best 'tough-guy' act, it was apparent he was in a lot more pain then he was leading on.

"Yeah, never better," Clark scowled, "Maybe we can go out to the parking lot and you can hit me with a car."

It was below the belt and he shouldn't have said it, but he couldn't take it back now.

Lex was floored. He'd never seen Clark so upset. "Clark," he began, trying to save this conversation, "What I said the other day…I'm sorry. Nothing appears to be what it seems lately."

Clark turned, those vivid blue eyes of his slamming into Lex like a sledgehammer. At least he wasn't walking away. He took that as a good sign and decided to run with it. Clark was an honest person; he deserved honesty in return, Lex reasoned.

"Yeah," Clark agreed, "So you gonna stop snooping around my back now?"

Lex shook his head. "Listen, I had no right to question your honesty. All I can do is plead temporary insanity and hope we can find a way to put this behind us."

Clark was quiet for a moment, obviously considering Lex's apology. Then a sly grin slid across his face and he glanced at his friend with that familiar spark in his eye. "Only temporary?"