Rating: PG

Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine.

Author's note: I was just wondering what Clark's first day of school must have been like for his parents (at home all day wondering if Clark was going to pull the jungle gym out of the ground in front of the whole school, or something like that), so I decided to try to write about it and see what I came up with.

I should warn you ahead of time, there's no real plot to this story. (Or as it says in Jonathan's favorite novel, "Persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.") It's just a series of short scenes, little Clark flashbacks, etc.

The Longest Day

7:57

Five-year-old Clark clung to Jonathan's hand, staring around him with wide eyes. He had never seen this many kids in one room before—kids chasing each other around, chattering noisily in groups, snatching toys from each other, a couple of the more daring ones throwing them. Clark shrank closer to his father.

Jonathan looked down at Clark and tousled the child's hair with his free hand. "It's all right, son. You'll get used to it. You'll make friends with these kids in no time. Just wait and see."

Though he usually took Jonathan's words as gospel, this time Clark only huddled so close to his father's leg that he appeared to be on the verge of climbing into his pocket. Jonathan sighed and looked over at Martha. He could have used her help, but she was talking to the teacher a few feet away.

"He hasn't been around other kids much. And he—he's rather—special in some ways. I mean—" She was searching for words. "Kind of—um—mature for his age."

The pleasant-looking middle-aged woman smiled patiently and glanced at Clark, who ducked his head shyly. "I understand, Mrs. Kent, but I'm sure Clark will be just fine." Both Jonathan and Martha could imagine what she was thinking. Yeah, I know, another 'special' one. Like I haven't heard that one fifty thousand times. Parents!

If you only knew, Jonathan responded mentally, looking away just in case his thoughts were showing on his face. His eyes fell on little Lana Lang in a corner, peeking at Clark over the top of her picture book. Jonathan's lips twitched. Even at this age, he thought.

He was about to stoop down and point her out to Clark; a familiar face might do him good right now. Then he thought better of it. The first time Clark had seen Lana, he'd walked straight into a tree, and gone around in a daze for the rest of the day. Subsequent meetings hadn't gone much better. No point in making the little boy more nervous than he already was.

Pete was probably here somewhere anyway. Jonathan looked around—no, he didn't see Pete yet. But Clark's best friend would arrive any minute; he'd be sure to make Clark feel more at home. Not too much at home, I hope, he reflected with a slight grin, remembering some of the mischief the two of them had gotten into.

Martha came back to them, placing her hand on Clark's head. He looked up at her with worried eyes.

"She's very nice, Clark. I think you'll like her."

Clark simply looked at his mother doubtfully. Then his head jerked around as the teacher clapped her hands and started to round up her charges.

All right, it was time. Jonathan had rehearsed this moment in his mind half-a-dozen times on the way here. Pat on the shoulder, quick goodbye, and out. He took a deep breath and squatted down in front of his little son, all ready with a few comforting words. Pat on the shoulder, quick . . . uh-oh.

Clark's eyes had flooded with tears and his lip was trembling. Jonathan winced as if he'd been hit in the stomach.

Abandoning his carefully thought-out routine, he pulled Clark close, hugging him hard. "It'll be okay, son," he whispered. "Don't worry. You're gonna have fun, I promise." He pulled back and gave Clark his most encouraging smile. The little boy was blinking desperately.

"You won't forget to come get me?" he asked anxiously.

Martha knelt down next to her husband. "Never," she declared, smiling into Clark's eyes. "Who would set the table for dinner?"

Clark started to smile back. "Yeah."

"And who would help me taste a pie to make sure it's all right? Or . . ." she leaned close and murmured in his ear, "help Daddy muck out the stalls?"

"Ewww!" Clark made a revolted face at the mention of his least favorite job in the world. But a giggle escaped him.

"That's right." Jonathan grinned and tickled him a little, eliciting more giggles. "You know I can't get that done without you, buddy."

"Daddy . . ."

"See?" Martha teased. "School's gonna be much more fun. I have a feeling you won't want to come home at all."

"Yes I will, Mommy," Clark protested. He impulsively threw his arms around her neck and squeezed. Jonathan caught sight of the expression on his wife's face as she squeezed him back. Uh-oh, he thought for the second time in five minutes, realizing that Clark wasn't the one he needed to worry about now.

"Okay, sweetheart," he whispered, touching her arm to steady her. "I think she wants us out of here." He nodded in the direction of the teacher, who was throwing pointed looks at the few parents left in the room. Martha glanced up and nodded as well. She closed her eyes tightly, holding on to her little boy for one more second, and then let go and quickly got up.

"All right, baby," she said softly, brushing his hair back. "Go have fun, okay?"

"Okay." The battle of the tears had been won now. As the teacher came near and held out her hand to lead him to a seat, Clark obediently slipped his hand into hers. Jonathan gave him a gentle tap on the back and watched proudly as he walked away, though his own eyes were getting misty. His breath caught as Clark threw one more glance at them over his shoulder, his face now beaming with confidence.

"Let's go," he muttered to Martha, who was standing there as if in a trance. When she didn't move, he put a hand on her back and quickly steered her to the door. As she stepped through the doorway, she discreetly tried to brush her own tears away with the back of her hand.

Jonathan didn't blame her. He too had just left his heart sitting on a miniature chair in a kindergarten classroom.

TBC . . .