Breathe
By Pickle Lily
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or any of it's characters.
Summary: Clark has another power to get to grips with.
A/N: This was written way back in 2004, and is sort of a sequel to my first ficStuck. You don't have to read first, but it would be nice!
Martha Kent was preparing breakfast for her two boys, well one man and one extraordinary boy. She was humming tunelessly, while making pancakes and thinking about what she would cook for tea.
She was startled out her reverie by a loud bang, followed by the tinkling of breaking glass.
"Clark!" she yelled, instantly knowing the source of the commotion.
A few seconds later she heard the slow clump of boots on the stairs, and a dishevelled Clark came sheepishly down the stairs.
"What happened?" she asked, "I thought you could control the floating in your sleep now."
Clark was silent.
Martha looked at him closely; he appeared to be holding his breath. He moved towards her, took her by the hand and led her upstairs into his bedroom. One side of the room was as neat and tidy as it always was, but the other side, between his bed and his window, was not. It looked like a bomb had hit.
"What happened?" Martha asked again.
Still holding his breath, Clark crossed over to his desk and rummaged in a drawer. He produced a pen and paper, and began to write. When he had finished, he passed Martha the note. Silently she read Clark's hurried scrawl.
When I woke up this morning, I took a deep breath, and when I breathed out this happened.
"So you haven't breathed since?" Martha questioned.
Clark took back the paper.
No, what if it happens again?
"Clark, you have to breathe at some point."
Clark mutely shook his head.
"So you're never going to talk again? At least we'll get some peace and quiet."
Clark looked at her startled. Grabbing the paper, he hastily scribbled,
I hadn't thought of that!
"Well it's a good job we live on a farm," Martha said brightly, "You can do all your breathing in a field."
Mum, you're not taking this seriously. I broke the window.
"Windows can be mended. It's your refusal to breathe that's ridiculous." Martha was trying not to laugh.
Clark stared at her, before superspeeding away.
Clark reached the farthest field from the house in less than three seconds. He stopped in the middle and cautiously took a breath. When he breathed out, the section of fence in front of him blew down, causing the rest of the fence to collapse like dominos. Unfortunately a herd of cattle were in the next field. On seeing the fence give way, the cows decided that Clark's field was much nicer than their present field and proceeded to make their way over the broken fence. Clark shook his head violently in horror, and tried in vain to round them up. He only succeeded in agitating them further, and it was not long before they broke into a stampede, running crazily around the field. Dejectedly Clark sat in the middle of the field watching the cows go mad. One even had the cheek to kick him in the face, it walked away limping.
Serves you right. Clark thought crossly.
It was not long before Jonathan Kent noticed something going on in the far field.
"Martha," he called, getting into the truck, "I think the cows had broken the fence."
"That's not the only thing that has been broken this morning," Martha replied, joining her husband in the truck.
Jonathon looked at her,
"What do you mean?" he asked dubiously.
"Clark blew out his window?"
"He blew out his window? How'd he do that?"
"I mean literally, he breathed out, and broke his window. He's refusing to breathe again."
"Where is he now?"
"I told him to go breathe in a field."
Husband and wife looked at each other, before Jonathan revved the engine and they shot off, as fast as the battered truck would take them, towards the stampeding cows and a bemused Clark.
The truck tore to the far field in record time. At first all Jonathan and Martha could see was a mass of black and white cattle roaring around the field punctuated with their wild bellows. Jonathan looked at the broken fence.
"What the hell?" he muttered, carefully stepping over it.
"Clark?" Martha called, "Are you okay honey?"
Slowly the dark haired boy stood up in the midst of the charging cows and looked at his parents, his apology written all over his face.
"I assume that breathing in a field didn't work either?" Martha questioned.
Clark shook his head wildly, and pointed to the wreaked fence.
"Well, as long as you're okay," Jonathan said briskly, "but we need to round these cows up quickly, before they do any more damage."
He was looking at the ground; the once lush green grass had now turned into a brown muddy mess. Slowly the Kent family managed to usher the cows back into their original field, and Clark quickly rebuilt the fence.
Twenty minutes later they were seated at the kitchen table trying to decide a way for Clark to breathe without causing total chaos. He was getting quite desperate for oxygen now, but was still refusing to open his mouth. That was until Jonathan hit upon the idea of Clark flying up into the sky to breathe.
"There's nothing to break up there," he was saying.
Clark nodded his agreement and sped out the door. He was soon floating twenty thousand foot up in the atmosphere, hidden among the clouds. Smiling to himself he took a couple of welcome deep breaths. To his shock he blew the clouds away, and even more to his shock he found himself staring at a passenger jet aircraft, which was evidently experiencing severe turbulence, but still on a collision course with him.
It can't have been me, Clark thought as the plane came closer. He noticed that the aeroplane was missing three of its engines and the other one did not appear to be working, it was hanging on by a thread. The aircraft was swiftly losing altitude. Without a second thought Clark sped under the aeroplane and halted its rapid descent. He guided it down into the nearest field, which happened to be the one he had destroyed earlier, and raced away toward the farmhouse.
Jonathan and Martha Kent looked up when their son burst into the kitchen.
"Did it work?" Jonathan asked hopefully.
Clark shook his headed and beckoned them outside. For the second time that day they got in the worn out red truck and made their way to the far field. Jonathan and Martha Kent were stunned to find a full sized, slightly battered looking Boeing 737, with a very confused pilot, sat in their field. The Kent elders looked at each other.
What has Clark done now?
As the pilot began to exit the plane, Jonathan Kent looked around uneasily for his son. Clark had disappeared. Squinting upwards, Jonathan thought he could make out a vaguely man-shaped dot floating in the clouds.
That's where he's got to, Jonathan thought exasperatedly. Having a son with superpowers was all very well, but having a son who crashes into a Boeing 737 and then leaves it in a field is quite another matter. Sighing slightly Jonathan turned his attention to the dazed pilot, who after checking his plane, was making his way towards them. Extending his hand, he introduced himself and his wife. The pilot seemed to become more confused, he was not expecting a warm welcome from a country hick, who just happened to find a jumbo jet parked in his field.
"Where are we?" the pilot asked.
"Smallville, Kansas," Martha replied, "Umm, do you know how you got here? Are you okay?"
The pilot seemed to regain control of his senses. He looked straight at the farming couple and said,
"I have no idea. We suddenly hit some severe winds, strong enough to rip out our engines. We were rapidly losing altitude, when we stopped."
"Stopped?" Jonathan questioned.
"Yes, just stopped," the pilot replied, "Next thing I know, we're spiralling down to land here."
The Kent's exchanged looks.
Clark, they thought in unison.
"Umm, how many passengers have you got on board?" Jonathan questioned.
"Almost a full plane, 140 people."
Once again husband and wife exchanged glances.
"Do you need to borrow the phone?" Martha asked.