1
Clark sighed and bounced his ball against the wall of his loft. It was sadly his favorite activity. He'd done it when he realized how paired off everyone was-Oliver and Lois, Lex and Lana, even Chloe in her own way, bitterly jealous of the other girl and that there was a wedding of the century in the works. Hell, even his mom was out at a fundraiser with Lionel, and, no, he couldn't understand how she could just be okay with his attention when his dad had died of a heart attack barely a year before.
Stupid stress from elections.
The ball bounced wildly with his distracted throw, and Clark followed it down the stairs, smiling a little to himself when his mom bent down and picked it back up. "Honey, what are you doing up here all by yourself?"
"Isn't that the operative question? Besides," he said gesturing with his chin toward where one of the barn cats was sleeping on the sofa. "I'm not alone, exactly."
"What about Oliver or Lois?"
"Date."
"Chloe?"
"She said she had patrolling to do," he replied, wondering if she was actually doing it or it was her version of "washing her hair" and a complete blow off.
His mother frowned and reached out to adjust his tilted glasses. "Well, then, I'm glad the fundraiser didn't last very long. Lionel invited me for a drink afterwards, but I wanted to get home to you."
Clark breathed a sigh of relief at his mother's discretion. "Thanks, I know most guys don't hang out with their moms but it's nice to be with someone who speaks English. Felix isn't especially talkative."
She nodded and pulled her shawl tighter around her. It was March after all, and still very cold in the barn. Clark had to where his thickest sweater and gloves to enjoy his loft. "Good then, how about some hot chocolate?"
"You spoil me," he replied. Then, and he couldn't understand why it had come up, just that it had been weighing on his mind lately, maybe since he'd come back from saving Chloe in Metropolis, since he'd paid no price for Jor-El's gift of temporary powers. "Mom?"
"Yes, baby?"
"I...please don't take this wrong, but what do you remember about my birth mom? I mean, did the birth certificate give a name? I...did the agency have any details?"
His mom stilled and paused for a moment too long. "Nothing. There was a name, 'Margot Delaney,' but there are also privacy laws and you're not yet eighteen. We weren't told anything about her, just the name. What brought that on?"
He looked away and wrung his hands, knowing it was a topic that not only made his mom uncomfortable but also maudlin. "Just thinking about it. I don't remember foster care all that well but I know I must have had at least three sets of parents try me out before you guys kept me permanently. I just...why didn't anyone want me?" His voice broke on that last part and he looked away, embarrassed.
His mother reached up and hugged him, ruffling his shaggy hair. "We wanted you, your father and I. I still do. You're exactly what I wished for."
Still grasping to her, his voice muffled from leaning on her shoulder, he asked, "Mom, was there ever anything weird about me? I know I'm from Lowell County, that it's on my adoption records. Do you think I was in the shower like a bunch of other kids?"
His mom stiffened but kept stroking his hair. "No baby. Not at all."