Normal

Rating: PG-13

Summary: All Clark really wants is to be normal. What if he was?

A/N: Much love to the writers of DS9's "Far Beyond the Stars," and Buffy's "Normal Again."

Genre: Obviously A/U

The doctor arrives at 3:00 sharp, just as he does every day, to room 312 at the Summerholt Asylum. Today, as with nearly every day in the past five years, the patient raises his head, pauses in his rocking, and nods in greeting to the doctor.

"Mr. Kent. How are we doing today?"

"Superman was sick today."

The doctor sighs, but sits himself down on the still made bed beside Clark. So today they'd be talking about Superman. "Clark, you know that Superman isn't real."

"Superman was sick today," the patient reiterates. Clark gets up from the bed, and retreats to the corner furthest from the doctor. Sitting down, he curls his legs up to his chest and resumes his familiar rocking.

"I thought you said Superman couldn't get sick."

"Magic and Kryptonite."

"Which was it this time?"

"Magic. An evil wizard."

"And how is Superman doing now?"

"He is fine. Wonder Woman and Batman saved him. They're his best friends, you know."

"What about Lana Lang? Chloe Sullivan? Pete Ross?"

"No, no. That was before. Now it's them."

"Diana and Bruce Wayne."

"Shh," the patient says, highly agitated. "Those are their secret identities."

"Remind me again why I have to go," Bruce Wayne complains, admittedly with more than his fair share of petulance.

"Because you were Clark's college friend for four years. For most people, that would imply a friendship," Diana Wayne responds from inside the master bathroom. "And friends visit each other when they're sick."

"Clark's been at Summerholt for five years, Diana. He's a bit past being sick."

Diana chooses that moment to exit the bathroom. Glancing at the outfit her husband has on, she frowns in disapproval. "You know, if you'd wear a color besides black once in a while, maybe you'd be something other than a giant flying rat in Clark's fantasies."

"They're delusions, Diana, not fantasies. And I've already explained the cave incident once. I know he was upset about his precious caves having bats in them, but it's utterly unbelievable that he'd still be so fixated years later."

Diana holds out a yellow polo shirt in her hand. "You aren't going to a funeral, Bruce."

"Need I remind you that you aren't really the princess of Clark's delusions?"

"No, I'm not. I'm your wife. Change."

Bruce accepts the shirt, but does take the time to glare at it before shedding his black sweater. "Sometimes," he grumbles, just loud enough for his wife to hear, "I'd really like to have a Batcave."

"Clark, let's talk about before."

"Before Superman?"

"Yes."

"Krypton?"

"No, Clark. Tell me about Smallville."

The patient pauses in his responses, but increases the speed of his rocking. Finally, he says very quietly, "Clark had friends in Smallville too."

"Did they know about his powers?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes he told them. Sometimes they found out. Sometimes he just had to go to the barn to get away from them. But they always followed. Always wanting to know Clark's secret."

"That must have been very difficult for Clark."

"He liked them. But then they all went away. Pete left first. Chloe went crazy like her mom. She's in Arkham now. Superman visits sometimes when he goes to Gotham."

"Sheriff Sullivan? You husband is here to see you."

"Thank you, Adam. Send him in."

Chloe's still struggling to stand up when Pete walks through the door. He immediately comes to her side.

"Tsk, tsk. I think it's time for a certain sheriff to take her maternity leave."

"Pete, I'm fine. I can still do desk work. Admittedly, that's not much, but at least I can still do research."

"Which is better than sitting on your butt for two more months at home," Pete finishes with the grin of someone who's heard this before, knows better, but is willing to let his wife think whatever she wants to keep her happy.

Pete hands the toasted turkey sub and strawberry yogurt to Chloe and watches in horrid fascination as she pours the yogurt on the top bun of her sub. She catches his smirk and sticks her tongue out at him. "This is all your fault, you know."

"Mine? How's it mine?"

"Well, all my egg had to do was lay there. There are far more sperm, and their path is much more difficult to get to the egg. Thus, my being pregnant is clearly the fault of your damn resilient sperm."

Pete hides a laugh by biting into his sandwich. "I see. Sounds an awful lot like Lois-speak, if you ask me."

"I'm not quite that bitter yet, Pete. Even if you were to leave me after knocking up the wife of your best friend, I doubt I'd be that bitter."

"You wouldn't grab the nearest photographer and run away with him?"

"Nah. Twenty year old sperm is much more resilient than sperm of a man your age."

"Funny, Chloe. Speaking of which, I saw Lana and the nanny when our class took that trip to Metropolis. Apparently, the young Luthors were getting taught the very important lesson of fine art."

"How many are she and Lex up to now? Four?"

"Three, with one on the way."

"I hope they finally stopped with the alliteration. Lex, Lana, Leo, Lilly. . ."

"There's a Lena, too, I think."

"Ugh. By the way, we should probably start picking out names."

"Probably. Anything coming to mind?"

"I like Abagail, if it's a girl. I don't really have any boy names in mind."

"How about Clark?" Pete's voice drops as he says it, and Chloe knows he's remembering a friendship forged in first grade.

"Clark and Abagail it is," Chloe agrees, pausing to wipe her chin free of strawberry yogurt.

"I miss him, Chloe."

"Me too, Pete."

The patient stands up, abruptly. "But Clark left Smallville. He went to Metropolis. He's Superman now. Fights crime all the time."

"But Smallville's very important."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Superman is very important. Him, and Wonder Woman, and Batman, and the others. They all fight the bad guys. All the time."

Wally West lays his cards down triumphantly. "Full house, my friends. Beat that."

"Well, I guess that serves us right for trying to beat a casino owner at a card game," John Stewart grumbles as Wally pulls the chips closer to him.

"Hey, don't be a sore loser, John." Wally's face contorts into an uncharacteristic frown.

"Yeah, John, Wally's right. Besides, you have to admit that we couldn't have picked a better place to hold the Delt's reunion," Oliver Queen comments. "No place says Frat Party quite like Vegas."

Wally's smile is firmly back in place. "And that, gentlemen, is why this is the largest Delt reunion in the history of mankind."

Oliver rolls his eyes. "Actually, it's probably the little note at the bottom of the invite that said, 'Many kegs will be on hand.'"

Wally starts to protest, but is interrupted by John. "Hey, you didn't' send that invite to Jonzz, did you? Because you know that geeky little twerp would have a conniption fit."

"Are you kidding? As much as J'Onn the Wonder Geek hates my guts, there's no way I'd give him any reason to have the authorities on my tail."

At the two blank stares, Wally shrugs. "Apparently, keggers require some sort of special permit when served in a public place."

John folds his hands on the table. "A permit you 'forgot', right?"

"It's totally a new law. I forgot all about it until four minutes ago. But as much as I hate to admit it, I kind of miss Geek Boy. Know who else I miss?"

"Clark," Oliver and John respond simultaneously.

"Yep."

The other two nod in agreement, and the infamous West smile disappears once again. "It just doesn't seem like a proper reunion without our president."

"Or his corny speeches," Oliver adds, his tone making the statement much more respectful than the words themselves.

John chuckles, nostalgically. "Remember the one he gave Senior Year to all the new recruits?"

"The 'You All Bring Something Special to the Table' Speech?" Wally's smile returns as he revels in the memory. "God, I used to tease him mercilessly about that."

There was a pause, in which all three former frat brothers remembered their missing member. Almost casually, John remarks, "I went to see him at Summerholt last week. I talked to him a little about the reunion."

"I only saw him for about five minutes the first week he was there," Wally admits. "I couldn't ever bring myself to go back."

"I've never even been there," Oliver laments. "How's he doing, John?"

"Not so well. The doctors assure me that talking helps but. . . I don't know. He just kind of rambled the whole time I was there. He's constructed this whole new world in his fantasies, that includes all the same people, just in different roles."

"A whole new world, huh? Well, I guess if the one you live in gets to be too much. . . " Wally shakes his head sorrowfully.

"I guess so. It's quite an elaborate fantasy, though. Apparently, Clark's an alien superhero, and the Delts are all superheroes who fight crime together – along with Shayera's sorority."

"The Phis and the Delts fighting crime together, like some kind of Superfriends," Wally muses as he starts to deal the fifth hand of the night.

"Actually, we're called The Justice League. Bruce and Diana Wayne are apparently in it to."

Oliver snorts. "Those goody two-shoes? Miss Perfect, and Mr. Mine Doesn't Stink, both of whom were always too good to speak to any of Clark's other friends? I'm glad that organization isn't real."

"Tell me about Lana."

"No more Lana. Clark's Superman now. He has Lois. Clark and Lois. Lois and Clark. No more Lana."

"But Lana was before, right?"

"Yes."

"In Smallville?"

"Yes. Lois came to Smallville, too."

"When she married Mr. Luthor?"

"No, no. Lois never married Lex. She came to visit her cousin, Chloe."

"I see. Did she and Lana get along?"

"They didn't talk much."

"Did Lana love Mr. Luthor?"

"NO. No, no, no. He just helped her. . . he had feelings for her. . . but never, ever . . . NO."

"So they never married."

"Of course not. Lana loved Clark."

The very first thing they'd done was add a front porch to the mansion – the Metropolis Mansion of course. They'd had to sell the Smallville mansion, because both Lex and Lana had gotten tired of the incessant, judgmental looks from everyone.

It's even worse now, with Clark in the hospital. When Lana goes home to visit her father, she can't help but come away feeling every bit as bad as the day she'd told Clark she was pregnant, and that he wasn't the father.

So she'd come back earlier than she'd planned, gave the nanny the rest of the day off, and taken the children outside.

Lana sits on the front porch, and watches her children playing while she waits for Lex to get home. But how his conscience can stand to go to Summerholt every weekend, Lana has no idea.

"Mommy, tell Lena to give my toy back," eight year old Lilly protests, trying in vain to grab the toy out of 4 year old Lena's hands.

"Lena, Lilly, I've told you a million times to share."

"Nyah, nyah. Lena and Lilly got in trouble," six year old Leo sing-songs in joy.

Lana sighs and stands up, patting her round stomach as she does so. Why exactly had she sent the nanny home early?

"Tell me about Lex Luthor."

"Superman's enemy. They fight all the time."

"What else?"

"Superman ALWAYS wins. Because he's better. Stronger, quicker, handsomer."

"Is Lex Clark's enemy too?"

"Yes. Clark IS Superman. Same enemies."

"Was Lex always Clark's enemy?"

"No. Clark used to trust him."

Lex is fairly certain he sees Bruce and Diana Wayne as he exits the gates of Summerholt Asylum. Other than himself, they visit more frequently than any of Clark's friends. Given their well known feelings for him, however, Lex forgoes a greeting.

It is odd, Lex reflected, that so many of Clark's friends seem to hate him so much, yet with the exception of the Waynes, none of them bother to show up at the Asylum to visit their friend. Chloe? Nope, asylums freak her out. Pete? Nope, visiting was too intense. Clark's numerous frat buddies? With the exception of that Stewart guy, no way.

Of course, visits or not, all of Clark's friends have ample reason to despise Lex, of that he is aware. Clark had loved Lex more fiercely and loyally than anyone Lex had ever known. In the end, what had Lex done to repay this friendship?

In a word? Betrayal.

Fittingly, Lex supposes, once Clark had snapped - ostensibly over the closure of his caves, but Lex wonders how much a role his betrayal had played - Lex became the first and foremost villain in Clark's delusions.

"Lex and Clark were friends once," Clark says, and he says it often.

Lex always winces, and it's usually when he's trying to find some sort of reply that Clark continues. "But that was in Smallville. Clark left Smallville a long time ago."

"No more Lex," Clark stresses. "Left Smallville. Metropolis now."

"Does Clark ever visit Smallville?"

"Superman is very busy. Very, very busy. France, Rome, China, Africa. . . Very, very, busy."

"Too busy to visit Smallville?"

"Visited once. Superman had to leave."

"Why?"

"Had to straighten the Leaning Tower of Pisa."

Sometimes, even the doctor became confused. Deciding it probably wasn't important, the doctor continues with his questions. "Doesn't Superman ever miss his hometown?"

"Superman's not from Smallville. Clark Kent is. No more Clark."

"Why not?"

"Clark Kent is just. . . WAS just a silly, geeky farm boy who liked his stupid barn and his silly caves. Caves all gone now."

"Tell me about the caves, Clark."

"No."

"If you don't want to talk about the caves, tell me about your father."

"Clark's father is Jonathan Kent. No one else."

The doctor sighs. "And Lionel Luthor?"

"Is an evil, evil man."

"Who took away the caves?"

"Yes."

"But the accident in the caves took away Jonathan Kent."

"Yes. Jor-El's fault."

"How does Martha Kent feel about Lionel?"

"She knows he's evil, too."

Martha Luthor lies the flowers down at Jonathan's grave.

"He never liked flowers, you know," she says to her second husband, standing at her side.

"I'm sure he would have liked these. They're your favorite," Lionel answers.

"Maybe. I heard from the doctors today."

Lionel rubs his hand against hers as they turn to leave. "How's he doing?"

"They seemed hopeful. Apparently, he's been talking about the Doomsday monster a lot. . ."

"Well, that's promising. The last time he did that -"

"He recovered long enough to break my heart all over again.:" Martha's eyes fill with the same tears she's shed over her only son numerous times before. "I miss him so much, Lionel, but if I have to go through the process of putting him back in that place. . . "

Lionel pulls her closer and massages her hair gently. "Shh. I'm so sorry, Martha."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm the one that closed those caves of his."

"The doctors have told you, that's not why he . . . got sick."

"But it probably was the catalyst."

"Maybe. But anything could have set him off, Lionel. Besides, you only closed those caves because they were dangerous. God knows, if you had done it sooner, maybe Jonathan would still be alive."

"And for that, I'm sorry too."

"Some day, Lionel Luthor, we've really got to have a chat about your need to apologize for everything."

It's 4:15 when the doctor leaves the room. On his way out, he bumps into the head nurse.

"Dr. Jorel," she greets, pleasantly, "How's Clark doing tonight?"

"Not well, Lara. He's having a pretty rough spell."

Jorel signs the chart and continues on his way. Lara continues into the room, remembering to smile as widely as possible when she enters. "Good evening, Clark."

He glances up, and appears to almost smile. "Lara didn't want to say goodbye."

She comes over to his corner and kneels beside him. "Say goodbye to whom, precious?"

"Kal-El."

"And who is Kal-El?"

"Clark Kent. Before Smallville. Lara was his mother."

"And she didn't' want to say goodbye to her son? I can understand that."

"She was afraid for him. She was afraid no one would love him."

"Oh, precious," Lara wraps both hands around Clark's. "So many people love you - the Kents, your friends, the staff here. . ."

Clark's looking at her with unspilled tears in his large hazel eyes. "But what if Lara was right? What if no one does? Then Clark's all alone."

"You AREN'T alone. CLARK'S not alone."

Clark shakes his head slowly side to side and allows the tears to fall. "All alone."

The End.