Leap

by margroks

It had been happening at night for a long time but now it was starting to happen during the day. Sooner or later, someone was bound to notice...

LEAP

The rights to the characters of Smallville belong to its producers, the WB Network and DC Comics.  I own them not.

With respects, once again,

to Paperbkryter's ole swimming hole. 

It seems there's always something going on there…

And to Maveness for her telescopic vision.

            Clark had started to have the flying dreams not long after his dad had finally told him he was from another planet.  While he slept he would dream of soaring over the countryside, high and free, no longer held by gravity's leash and his body would float up as though he was a feather wafting on a gentle breeze.  But it would always end the same way; as soon as he woke up to discover he was floating, his body would come crashing down.  It had been happening unpredictably, for several years.  Clark had demolished his bed on more than one occasion from a particularly hard landing and there was a rather large pile of kindling behind the barn as a result.  Lately, the dreams were becoming increasingly frequent and though the dreams themselves were quite exhilarating, afterward he was always restless and agitated.

Just last week, Clark and Chloe had fallen asleep up in the loft after an evening of stargazing and when he awakened with a start, he'd found himself hovering three feet above the old couch.  Luckily, Chloe was still asleep.  As soon as he was awake enough to realize what was happening, he'd fallen, as he always did.  Clark had just managed to avoid landing on Chloe's head by twisting at the last moment so that he smacked into the loft floor instead.  That had startled her awake and she had looked around blearily in the moonlit barn, mumbling his name.  Although he had tried to explain his sudden encounter with the floor as just stumbling around when he was half asleep, Chloe had peered at him strangely afterward.  That was bad enough but now, the floating had started to happen during the day.

            On the morning after the loft incident, Chloe and Clark had gone to the Talon for an early morning latte.  They had parked a few blocks away and Chloe was dawdling and window shopping as they made their way down the street.  Impatient, Clark reached over and tickled her as they passed by the dressmaker's storefront and she took off running.  As Clark pushed off with his right foot to begin the chase an unfortunate thing happened: he rose up a few inches off the ground and hung there for a moment, flailing in the air and trying to regain his balance before falling back to earth, sideswiping a nearby parking meter and bending it in the process.  Chloe had stopped when she heard his startled, "Aah!" and as he fell back down time seemed to distort; she appeared to move in slow motion as she whirled around and ran back to him.  He lay on the pavement for a moment, stunned by what had just happened.  Normally, Clark experienced the time distortion when he ran superfast; it was as though he existed in his own little universe, his own little Clark bubble of reality, separate from the rest of the world.  For an instant, it had seemed as though he'd been in that Clark bubble, even though he hadn't meant to superspeed after Chloe.  Reality quickly returned to normal as Chloe dropped to her knees beside him and touched his head.

            "Clark!  What happened?"  She noticed he had fetched up against a parking meter which was bent at an awkward angle behind him.  "Did you do that?  Don't move; you might have broken something-"

            Clark looked up at her and winced.  "Naw, I just stumbled; the meter was already like that."  He jumped to his feet, slapping his chest and smiling.  "See?  I'm fine; nothing broken.  Just clumsy."

            She glanced at the bent meter again then back at Clark.  She could swear that something weird has just happened but Clark was wearing his "Everything is status quo, nothing out of the ordinary here; pay no attention to the man behind the curtain" look and she knew there would be no further explanation for the moment.  She sighed and rubbed his stomach.  "You…should be more careful.  Come on."  They walked down the street, now unusually subdued.

            Just as Clark reached the Talon's door he heard, "Clark!  Clark!"

            "Oh, great."  He turned to Chloe.  "It's Fred Smith."

            "Morning!  How're you folks doin'?"

            "Hi, Fred."  Clark started to open the door, but Fred stopped him.

            "Say, Clark, could you have your dad call me?  I'm needin' some more water for my melons and I was wonderin' if Jonathan could help me find a good spot for a new well.  We'd like to do it real soon; could you tell him for me, Clark?"

            "Sure; I'll tell him."

            "I'd sure appreciate it!"  Fred slapped him hard on the shoulder.  He was shaking his hand in pain as he walked away.

            "Is that the guy who grows those-"

            Clark looked disgusted.  "Yeah, he is.  Fred and his stupid square watermelons."  He let out a long sigh.  "Don't get me started."                  

Once inside, they had placed their orders with Zoe, the waitress whom Lana had finally stolen away from the old Beanery, when Chloe realized she had forgotten her bag and had gone back to her car to get it.  Clark stood by the counter, looking around at the current construction in the back.  It seemed that Lana was forever changing something at the Talon and she was currently expanding the actual bookstore in the far corner.  The first isle held a large display of astronomy books and one in particular, "Fun With Telescopes," caught his eye.  He took a step towards the display, thinking he might learn something and suddenly, he felt funny, almost…lightheaded; and he felt…taller. 

From his favorite secluded spot in the rear of the coffeeshop, half hidden by a potted plant, Lex Luthor observed his friend as he waited up front for Chloe's return.  He certainly seemed full of energy today.  Clark was almost bouncing, it looked like, as he stood by the counter.  He watched as his tall friend's dark head moved up and down.  Wonder what those two have been up to?  Lex smirked at the thought.      

A quick glance at his feet confirmed Clark's awful suspicion; his feet were no longer touching the floor.  He grabbed onto the edge of the counter and pulled himself back down to the floor.  The countertop creaked ominously and threatened to come loose.  Fortunately, he settled back down on the floor before it came off in his hand.  He took a step back toward the door and rose up once more, this time a little higher before he touched down again.  Now he just wanted desperately to get outside before anyone noticed his predicament.  He took another determined step in the direction of the door just as Chloe returned.  For a brief moment Clark was distracted as she walked through the door and he found himself airborne once again.  He stared down at his feet and instantly, he dropped and fell backward, hitting his head hard on the floor beside the counter and denting the wood.

            Chloe was just thinking that Clark seemed taller as she came through the front door when he pitched backward and hit his head on the old wooden floor.  She ran over to him and put her hands on his chest to keep him from jumping up.  "Don't move, Clark!  What happened this time?"  He seemed sort of dazed, his long legs stretched out in front of him and an almost vacant stare in his eyes.  "Did you faint?"

            "No!" he protested sharply; he started to sit up but Chloe's hand prevented it.

            "Well, it looked like you just fell over."

            Lana had rushed up front, having heard the loud thump all the way back in the storeroom.  "What happened?"

            Lex appeared behind her, his face filled with concern.  "Clark, are you hurt?"

            "No, I'm okay."

            "I think he might have fainted," Chloe offered.

"No, I didn't!"  Clark got to his feet then despite Chloe's resistance and brushed off his pants.  "I'm really okay; I must have tripped."

Chloe had noticed the dip in the floor under his head.  "Maybe he stepped in that," she said, pointing.

Lana looked down, frowning at the dip; it almost looked like the boards had been splintered….   She hadn't noticed the dent before, at all.  How very odd.  It was right up front; how could she have missed it?  Hmmm…"Clark, I'm so sorry; I don't see how I could have missed that.  You should get checked out at the clinic-"

"She's right, Clark."  Lex bent down and examined the damaged floor boards more closely.

"Lana, I'm fine."  Clark laughed, "I promise, I won't sue."

"At least, sit down for a moment, okay?"  Chloe pulled him over to a booth and forced him to sit.  "I'll get our lattes, you just sit."

Lex sat down across from him and stared into Clark's eyes.  "Anything you want to talk about?" 

Clark's eyes narrowed; he was now in a full-fledged snit, angry at seeming so clumsy in front of his friends and fearful that he might float again if he didn't leave soon.  His lower lip protruded in a pout and he held on to the table top with both hands.  "No."

"Clark-"

"I'm fine, Lex, really."  

Chloe had just set their cups down on the table.

"I'll…just go home for a while.  Chloe, let's just take the lattes and head back."

Chloe rolled her eyes and shrugged at Lex, then grabbed the drinks and followed Clark out the door.  As soon as they were back in her car, Clark grabbed onto the sides of his seat and stretched his long legs out as far as he could in an attempt to brace himself.  Chloe looked over at him; she couldn't help but notice he had a death grip on the carseat.  "Easy there, Clark; Whitney's not driving."  She set the cups down and reached behind his head to examine him.  He still seemed distracted and a little out of it.  Clark was staring out the windshield as though he were in a trance as Chloe felt the back of his head, expecting to find a huge lump if not blood, but there was nothing.  "Well, I don't feel anything."  She pressed a little more firmly but got only an absent-minded mumble from Clark.  "Does it hurt at all anywhere?"  She had touched the side of his face then and said, "Clark!" when she got no real response.

He turned to stare at her for a moment and then, with a total lack of interest, said, "Oh, uh… yeah, it's a little tender there."

She sighed and frowned at him.  "Clark, you seem kinda out of it.  Maybe you should see a doctor-"

"No!  I don't want to see a doctor!  I'm…I'm fine, really.  It's just a little bump; it's nothing."

"Clark, what is it with you and doctors?"  In truth, the only time she could remember him seeing a doctor was after Eric Summers had gone on a rampage and had thrown him across the school parking lot.

"I just don't like doctors.  I have a thing about needles."  He shook his head and smiled over at her.  Let's just go home and finish these, okay?"

Well, it's always hard to argue with a smiling Clark.  So, she had driven him home, puzzled, as she often was, by his behavior.

***  

Later, after Chloe had gone home, Clark sat up in his loft, contemplating his dilemma.  How was he going to maintain any semblance of a normal life if he floated up into the air at random intervals?  He stood and walked over to the loft window and watched a flock of birds in the distance.  What would it be like to soar over the earth at will?  To fly like a bird whenever you felt like it…  Clark had been feeling increasingly restless ever since returning from the Talon.  He stood in the loft opening enjoying the feeling of the sun's rays washing over him but now he felt even more agitated.  He began to pace around the loft and finally thought maybe he should go for a long run.  He headed for the stairs but something stopped him.  Clark turned and looked out at the bright blue sky beyond the double loft doors.  He stared, drawn to the open sky like a moth to a flame and almost without conscious thought, took a step and leaped out into the air.  For a brief moment he hung suspended in midair, motionless and free until he succumbed once more to gravity's demand. 

Jonathan Kent had just driven under the loft, the old haywagon in tow, when a loud bang and the sound of splintering wood startled him from behind.  He whipped around to see his son lying on the shattered remains of the wooden wagon bed.  "Clark!  What on Earth happened?"

Clark sighed and sat up.  "Sorry, Dad; I sorta fell out of the loft."

His dad looked at him strangely.  "Fell?"

"Sorta."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow.  "Were you, by chance, floating before you fell?"

"Yeah, kinda."  Clark's shoulders slumped and he looked miserable.

Sighing, Jonathan jumped down off the tractor.  "Why don't you go inside and I'll…clean this up."

            "Naw, I'll take care of it; you go on inside.  Mom's been making lemonade."

After his dad went into the house, Clark carried the wagon wreckage out beside the barn and deposited it onto the woodpile.  He spent the next few hours moping and generally stomping around out by the barn.  Occasionally, he found himself floating upward, only to fall back down a moment later.  It was a bumpy afternoon. 

Jonathan and Martha watched him from the kitchen window, rising, falling and stumbling about throughout the early afternoon hours.  At one point, Jonathan looked out and saw him clinging, spiderlike, to the side of the barn in an effort to keep from rising higher or perhaps attempting to come back down, he couldn't tell.  Martha followed his gaze and put a hand on his shoulder.  "Maybe you should go talk to him."

"And say what?  Martha, I never envisioned having to explain to my son how to keep from floating when he didn't want to.  I'm at a loss, here."  They watched as Clark finally lost his grip and fell backward, hitting the ground hard and gouging another hole in the barnyard.  Clark jumped up and sped into the barn, heading for the familiar reassurance of his loft. 

***   

The following Sunday found the staff of the school newspaper hard at work finishing articles and tying up loose ends before the school year drew to a close.  One by one, the various staff members trickled out until only Chloe, Clark and Pete were left.  When the dinner hour rolled around, Pete stood and started to load his backpack.  "Sorry, guys; gotta go."

"Et tu, Pete?"

"Potluck supper at church.  I promised Mom I'd take first shift.  Come on over if you get hungry!  I'll be in early tomorrow.  See ya!"  With that, he was out the door.

"Okay, Clark, we've gotta work out the layout problem on page two.  Any ideas?"  Chloe pulled her chair over next to Clark's.  Lana suggested moving this column over here and this article down."

"Well…then what about Pete's column?  It's short but it won't fit here.  Can we move it to the front page?  What about it, Madame Editor?  Thoughts, rants, anything?"  Clark nudged her chair with his foot, rolling it a couple of feet.

"Alright, Clark; we're supposed to be serious here."  She rolled back to her spot beside him and leaned in to look at the screen.  When he reached for his ruler, she saw her opening and quickly shoved his chair in the opposite direction.  Smirking, she moved in front of the keyboard and began to type something, waiting for the inevitable retaliation.  When none came, she looked over and found only his empty chair.  Before she could even turn her head in the other direction, Clark had grabbed the back of her chair and was pushing her out the door and down the deserted hallway at top speed. 

She squealed as they rounded a sharp corner, then yelped as she lost her grip and went sailing out of the chair.  She heard Clark yell her name and suddenly she found herself sitting in his lap at the top of a short flight of stairs where he had caught her; her chair was laying on its side, at the bottom, one broken wheel dangling sadly.

"Gosh, Chlo, I'm sorry!  You okay?" 

"Yeh, I'm fine…how'd you manage to catch me?"  Chloe looked around, rather dazed by this turn of events.

"I'm just quick!"  He looked her in the eye and smiled, trying to distract her.  She was frowning and staring at the steps she'd nearly tumbled down.  Clark leaned over and kissed her, which seemed to draw her attention away from the stairs, momentarily.  It was so sweet and pleasant that he failed to notice he was slowly floating up from the floor, carrying Chloe with him.  Suddenly, his eyes flew open and he looked down, wide-eyed in horror at what was happening.  With a thud, they fell back to the hard floor, jarring Chloe and breaking the kiss.

"What happened?"  She looked at him oddly.

He mumbled, "I slipped.  Sorry…"

How can you slip when you're sitting down?  Chloe stood up, still eyeing him suspiciously, as he got to his feet.  "I think we better get back to work.  Come on, playtime's over."  She walked slowly down the hall and Clark followed forlornly, dragging the hapless chair behind him.

The two of them worked late until Chloe gave up around midnight and threw herself down in the corner to nap.  Clark was valiantly trying to complete the last of the rewrites but his mind kept drifting off.  Again and again his thoughts kept returning to his increasing tendency to defy gravity at inopportune moments.  As he glanced over at Chloe, asleep on an old couch in the back of the room, his knees were suddenly banging repeatedly against the underside of his desk.  And just as suddenly, he slammed back down into his seat, breaking all four legs and ending up on the floor.  Chloe muttered in her sleep and turned over, covering her head with a pillow.  This was getting really embarrassing; sooner or later, someone was bound to notice.   

***           

That Monday began the week before finals at Smallville High and most of the student population was fairly stressed and definitely sleep deprived.  Chloe and Pete were in the Torch office early, putting the finishing touches on the final issue of the year.  Lana appeared at the door, having come to turn in her last article and unexpectedly bringing much needed lattes for all.  

"Oh, man, thanks!  You're a lifesaver!  I was up so late, I really needed this."  Pete gulped his down in no time.

Chloe likewise took hers and began swigging immediately.  "Thanks!  I feel like I never went to bed!  We ran out of coffee here, late last night; no, make that early this morning."

"Were you guys here until the wee hours?"

"'Fraid so.  Clark was still working when I passed out in the corner.  He was making so much noise; I don't know what he was doing!  I'm surprised he got anything done.  I actually thought he'd be in early this morning but so far he's a no show.  If he's not here real soon, I'm appropriating his latte!"

***  

Clark was racing through the fields, trying to make up for some lost time.  He had promised to come in early and he was already late.  It had been a rough and restless night and sleep had not come easily once he had finally gotten to bed after his late night at the Torch.  He had tossed and turned for quite a while before drifting off around two o'clock and his dreams had been uneasy ones.  Not surprisingly, he had eventually dreamed of flying over Smallville, although the aerial acrobatics he performed were a novel twist.  In his dream, several of his close friends stood on the ground below him, laughing and clapping as he did somersaults and barrel rolls for them.  At one point, he was flying slowly over Burnham Woods with Chloe in his arms, pointing out various landmarks and laughing at a flock of geese that flew too close.

When he woke up to the alarm clock's incessant buzzing, he looked down and saw not his bed but bright green grass; he had apparently floated out his open window during the night.  He fell heavily, gouging a Clark-shaped hole in the yard and scaring the chickens that had escaped their enclosure to search for tasty worms at the side of the house.  His mom had come running outside to see what all the commotion was about and found her son lying embedded in the lawn, surprised and dazed.  Foghorn, their prize-winning rooster, was perched on Clark's head, flapping and crowing at this strange intruder who had fallen from the sky. 

"Get off me, Foghorn!"  Clark rose up on his elbows, dislodging the big bird, and stared disgustedly into the distance.  His mom walked around in front of him, blocking his view.  "Clark-"

"Don't say it; I know.  I have to find a way to control it; but this time I'm really stumped."

Martha sighed, looking down at her son's feather-covered head.  "Come on, breakfast is almost ready.  Let's get some coffee."

He had gotten up out of his hole and walked toward the door, shaking his head and trying to brush some of the dirt off of his pajamas.  Clark ran his fingers through his hair and made a face.  "Eeww…Foghorn left a present.  I'll have to take a shower, first."

Now he would never make the early morning session with Chloe and Pete.  He would have to make it up at noon.  Clark slowed down to normal speed as he approached the school from the back and walked as quickly as he could to the Torch office.  Lana was just leaving as he arrived and he almost ran into her.

"Whoa, sorry, Lana.  Morning."

"Hi, Clark!  I brought lattes; if you hurry you might rescue yours from Chloe.  See you in English!"  She headed off to her locker, shaking her head.  Lately, Clark always seemed to have his head in the clouds.

"Chloe, sorry I'm late; I overslept.  Am I too late to save my latte from certain consumption by my editor?"

She was just tilting the cup up to take her first sip and she lowered it somewhat reluctantly, quirking her eyebrow at him.  "A close call, but no."

Clark dashed over and gave her a quick kiss, smoothly removing the drink from her hand.  He glanced at his watch and realized it was almost time for first period.  "Here, I'll split it with you."  He took a few quick swallows and left her to finish it as he raced off to the first class of the day.

By the time second period had begun, Clark was already restless and bored.  Normally, history held some interest for him but today it seemed mind numbing.  Mr. Elliot was reviewing final exam topics and listing them all in an elaborate outline on the blackboard.  Clark was trying to concentrate with little success and began to amuse himself by using his x-ray vision to detail the contents of Chloe's purse where it lay under the chair in front of his own.  For further entertainment, he started to doodle little pictures of some of the items he saw inside.  Eventually he just sat and stared at her, wishing he was back in the Torch office or in the loft or anyplace at all but here…

A loud bang brought his attention back to the present as he dropped into his seat from where he had been floating slightly above it and his feet hit the floor.  The teacher was looking in his direction and Clark sat frozen, hoping Mr. Elliot wouldn't realize who had made the noise.  He stared at Clark for a moment then turned back to the board and began writing again.  Clark let out a sigh of relief and glanced around the room.  Lana and Pete were both staring at him from a couple of rows over.  He ducked his head and tried once more to listen as the teacher droned on about the First World War.

But it was only a matter of time.  His concentration wavered and he found himself staring at Chloe, once again.  This time, Clark felt himself start to float up and he grabbed onto the side of his chair in an effort to remain in his seat.  Clark suddenly felt elated, as though his whole body was vibrating with energy; his knees shook and knocked against the back of Chloe's chair, scooting it forward slightly.  She reached behind her and smacked his leg. 

Mr. Elliot stopped and glared at Chloe.  "Is there a problem, Ms. Sullivan?"

"No, sir, sorry."

Clark settled back down for a moment but almost immediately he began to rise up again.  His eyes grew large as he felt his body lose contact with his chair and he started to panic.  Oh, my God!  What'll I do?  He hunched over, hoping his long shirttail would conceal the growing gap between his body and the chair seat.  In the next instant, he fell down into his chair again, the legs bowing dangerously. 

Chloe turned around and whispered, "Clark!  What are you doing?  Will you stop?"  Quickly, she turned back and tried to pretend nothing had happened.  She looked up at Mr. Elliot and mumbled, "Sorry, I dropped my book." 

The teacher looked at Clark and Chloe.  "I would appreciate it if the two of you would settle down and pay attention."

Clark mumbled, "Sorry, Mr. Elliot," and tried to appear appropriately contrite.  Chloe turned around and glared at him. 

His long legs were stretched out in front of him, extending under Chloe's chair and as he looked at the back of her head, he slowly rose up.  One of his feet became stuck in the bookrack under her chair, tipping the chair and Chloe up on two legs and spilling everything underneath out into the isle.  Chloe clutched the front of her desk to keep from falling out.  Clark managed to free his foot from the rack and her chair tilted back down, banging loudly as it hit the floor.  Clark pitched sideways and fell, cracking the wooden seat of his own chair and badly deforming the chair's metal frame as he smashed into it on the way back down.  Everything on his desk spilled out onto the floor around him and the rest of his latte, which Chloe had surreptitiously carried into class, teetered and fell, spilling onto his head.  

Mercifully, Clark thought, the bell rang just as Mr. Elliot was opening his mouth to yell.  That, however, didn't stop him.  "Mr. Kent!" 

Clark jumped up before Chloe could say anything.  "I'm sorry, sir.  I don't know what happened."  He started frantically grabbing up his papers, trying to conceal his doodling from both Chloe and Mr. Elliot. 

Chloe stared at him uncertainly as she picked up her own papers.  "Okay, Clark; what's going on?  Are you alright?  I'm worried about you."  She stared at one of his papers as he stuffed it into his backpack; it seemed to be full of little scribbles and doodles, some of which looked vaguely familiar.  "Hey!  Is that my-"  

Mr. Elliot shouted out last minute instructions to the rest of the class as they filed out the door and walked over to Clark and Chloe, interrupting her tirade.  "Clark.  You are one of my best students and I have never known you to disrupt my class like this.  Can you explain your behavior?"  He stood, arms crossed, waiting for an answer.

"Um, no, sir.  I…didn't mean to cause trouble; it was an accident.  I'm sorry."

"Clark…don't let it happen again."  Mr. Elliot sighed.  "I'm afraid I'm going to have to call your parents.

***  

On leaving Mr. Elliot's class, Clark claimed illness and went straight for the nurse's office.  The nurse took one look at him and asked, "Do you feel feverish?  You look flushed." 

"I'm feeling nauseous and a little…lightheaded.  Could you call my mom?"

His mom came quickly.  Clark climbed into the truck and sat slumped down in the seat as his mom drove off.

"Okay, what's up?"

He looked over at her and he really did feel sick.  "I started to float in Mr. Elliot's history class.  I tried to hold onto the chair but it didn't help.  I got my foot caught under Chloe's chair and tipped it over.  I fell out of mine."  Clark buried his face in his hands.  "It was awful.  I was scared to death someone would see what was really happening.  What am I gonna do, Mom?"

She looked over and patted his shoulder in sympathy.  "Uh, Clark, you're all wet."

"Chloe's coffee.  God, what a day!"  The truck hit a small bump and Clark bounced up to the roof of the cab and stayed there.  "I should mention that you'll be hearing from Mr. Elliot," he said, his voice somewhat muffled by the fabric of the roof liner. 

Martha reached over and pulled him back down into his seat.  He felt weightless, like a child's balloon.  Clark looked sideways at her and immediately floated back up to hit the roof.  "Better fasten your seat belt."  She pulled him down again and held on until he was secure.

As soon as he returned, Clark made a beeline for his loft sanctuary.  Despondent, he stared out the window and watched a hawk fly low over the field.  Once more he felt the pull of the open sky.  Clark was overcome by the feeling that he belonged in the air and he threw himself out the open window.  Again, time and gravity seemed suspended for a moment as he hung there gazing out at the farm.  The fields of corn, his mother's sunflowers, his father's cows, the horses in the pasture out behind the barn and the hawk; all were frozen in time for just an instant as he sailed up into the sky and then it was over and he fell down into the barnyard, landing hard on the dirt in front of the barn and making another deep, Clark-shaped depression.  He lay there for a moment, covered with dust, and sighed.

Clark stood and walked back into the barn and up the stairs.  With each step he felt his feet waver a bit before actually settling on the stair tread.  When he reached the landing halfway up to the loft his feet left the ground completely and he rose up into the rafters and hung there for a while.  He pushed off and dropped back down almost to the landing before rising up again to hit the ceiling once more.  Clark pushed off again, harder this time and dropped all the way down to the stair railing on the lower landing, which he quickly grabbed.  His feet went up and he was now stretched out, upside down, his long legs pointing toward the ceiling as he tried to maneuver. 

Jonathan came into the barn to pick up the gas can and saw Clark doing a handstand on the stair railing.  He watched as Clark slowly lowered his legs until they were perpendicular to the rail and hung there for a moment, suspended over the landing.  "Uh, son, you need any help, there?"  He could hear Clark's sigh.

"No, Dad.  I'll be fine."  His legs began to rise back up until he was once again oriented vertically toward the ceiling.  Gripping the handrail tightly, he moved, hand over hand, up to the loft level.  When he reached the top of the stairs he clung to the railing and wondered what to try next. 

Martha walked into the barn and followed her husband's stare.  "Oh, Clark!"

Distracted momentarily, he lost his grip and floated up into the rafters until he was standing upside down on the barn ceiling.  He took several steps in the direction of the window, then thought better of it and walked back the other way.  He walked casually across the underside of the roof ridge until he was standing over his mom and dad.  He waved and flashed them a wan little smile and decided to just stay there for a bit.  After a moment, he squatted down or up, depending on how you thought of it, and hung, bat-like, for a while.

"Clark, what are you going to do?  Want a rope?  We could pull you down…"

"I'll get down on my own, Mom.  Just give me some time."  He smiled down at them again and tried to appear more hopeful.  "Are you still going to Wichita?"

"Oh, Jonathan, I don't think we should-"

"I'll be okay, Mom."

"Clark, look at you!  You're…you're…what if you start to float and can't get down?  What if you were outside right now?"

That thought had occurred to him. 

"Maybe your mother's right, Clark.  What if you just kept floating up…"

"Dad.  Mom.  I think we can all agree that this is one of those things I have to figure out.  Now-"  As he stared down at his parents and concentrated, trying to formulate an argument that would convince them it was okay to leave, he descended until he was hanging upside down right in front of them, his face level with theirs.  Clark closed his eyes trying to visualize himself turning in the air like a diver and he flipped over, touching down lightly on the dirt floor of the barn.  His face split with a huge grin.  Trying to decide if he was going to stay on the ground, he took a few steps in the direction of the door, then walked back to his mom and dad.  "Alright!  I just need to concentrate and visualize what I want to do.  It's like…jumping from the tire swing!  I just have to practice."

His mom threw her arms around him and they both laughed as she let go.  Suddenly, Clark was rising up again and Martha grabbed his ankles as he went up.  But he continued to rise and he took her with him.  Jonathan jumped to grab Martha, latching on around her knees and he, too, was pulled into the air.  They rose up until Clark's head hit the ceiling and the three of them hung there suspended. 

"Clark…"

"Um, hang on, Mom, I'll get us down."  Clark closed his eyes and focused on descending and they all dropped several feet rather suddenly, eliciting a squeak from his mom.  "Sorry.  I'll try to take it more slowly."  Thankfully, with a bit more concentration, he was able to lower them all at a less rapid pace until his dad's feet touched down lightly on the barn floor.  Jonathan let go of Martha's knees and guided her down the rest of the way.  A moment later Clark, too, touched down, wavering a bit but finally grounding for good.  "There, was that so bad?" he asked tentatively.

Jonathan looked at Clark for a moment.  "Son, I don't think we'll leave for Wichita just yet."

"You just stay out here and…practice."  His mom patted his arm and his parents tried to smile reassuringly as they left the barn.  

Clark looked up at the loft platform and tried to focus on rising up.  He slowly rose up a few inches, wobbled slightly, then shot up to the top of the barn, smashing his head through the roof.  He stared out into the bright afternoon, watching a lone magpie land gracefully next to its nest in the old oak by the swimming hole.  He sighed, wondering if the magpie could teach him a few tricks.  Clark worked his way loose and lowered himself down to the loft.  He turned and jumped feet first out the window, managing to slow his descent nicely until the last moment when he plowed into the ground and buried himself up to the waist in the hard Kansas earth.  He wiggled around a bit until he had freed himself sufficiently and pulled himself up to ground level.  He got up and walked carefully over to the shed to get some wood sheathing and shingles; now he would have to repair the barn roof before the predicted thunderstorms tomorrow morning.

As he hammered away at the new boards he contemplated his situation.  At times, it felt as though the air was a solid thing and he could touch it or walk on it, as though he was strolling down the sidewalk outside the Talon.  And sometimes…sometimes, like when he had leaped out of the loft, it seemed as though, for just a moment, the air was like water and he could glide through it just as easily.  For an instant, he was in a reality of his own making and he had forced the air to buoy him up, allowing him to swim like a fish (or fly like a bird).  At other times, it seemed he had no control at all and gravity toyed with him, tossing him up and down whenever it pleased.  It's as though gravity can't decide whether it wants me or not.  He seemed to be at odds with this elemental force of nature.  Somehow, he had to gain the upper hand.   

He watched a red-tailed hawk riding the late afternoon thermals.  Effortlessly, with no thought or worry, the hawk soared across the fields, riding the currents aloft in search of prey.  Clark stood up and walked over to pick up his pile of shingles.  The world was tilted and he realized, belatedly, that he had been walking down the roof at an angle rather than upright.  He picked up the shingles and walked back to the spot he was patching, watching periodically for the hawk in the distance as he began to nail. 

When he had finished, he inspected his handiwork one last time.  Satisfied, he stood, still keeping an eye out for the hawk.  There, over by the river, he spotted it and watched as it swooped down for an unlucky field mouse.  Maybe it's somehow up to me whether I'll let gravity have me or not.  Clark stared out into the lengthening shadows.  He unbuckled his toolbelt and set it aside.  I think not…  

With that thought, he took a few running steps along the roof ridge and when he got to the edge he pushed off, his arms stretched out in front of him like a diver leaping from a high platform.  Clark sailed out over the farm toward the river, the wind rushing around and beneath him, carrying him up into the sky.  Elated, he flew up beside the startled hawk, causing it to drop the mouse as it fled in the opposite direction.  Clark dropped down and caught the tiny mouse; gently, he deposited it back near the river where its journey had begun.  I think I'm starting to get the hang of this.

Clark flew back in the general direction of the farm.  Wonder how fast I can fly?  In the distance he could see the top of the Smiths' biggest grain silo over a low rise to the east.  Thinking he could fly as fast as he could run and be practically invisible, he headed toward it.  Gradually, he began to increase his speed until he was within a half mile of the silo.  Then he decided to pull out all the stops and see just how fast he could make it to the county line. 

As Clark passed over Fred's "pet watermelons," as he often thought of them, he encountered a large and rather noisy flock of Canadian geese.  They seemed strangely agitated and he slowed down, changing directions slightly in order to give them a wide berth.  Unfortunately, the geese moved in the same direction and started to overtake him.  Clark gained altitude expecting them to fly beneath him but the flock followed him up into the sky as though he were now their leader.  He began to zig zag around the Smith farm trying to lose his feathered escort.  Clark ducked behind a smaller silo but couldn't shake them.  He zipped along a short dirt path that ran between the farmhouse and the barn but the entire flock flew right behind him.  Below him he saw three of the Smith children looking up as he shot by them, the birds honking and flapping in his wake.

Once more he attempted to get below the birds, realizing belatedly that he was too close to the ground.  He tried to recover but got flustered when one of the birds hit him head on and a moment later he crashed down in the center of Fred Smith's other experimental enterprise, the giant pumpkin patch.  He had crushed several large specimens when he hit.  One, in particular, would surely have garnered a blue ribbon at the Lowell County Fair had it not ended up on Clark Kent's head.  The birds circled overhead, no doubt wondering what to make of this new development.  Finally, they left for parts unknown, leaving their erstwhile leader to his own devices. 

Clark heard the muffled cries of the Smith children as they screamed for their father.  One of the boys was close by, yelling, "Daddy, Daddy!  It's Pumpkinman!  Come quick!"  Clark jumped up, the enormous pumpkin still lodged on his head, and leaped up into the sky.  He headed home just as fast as he could.  Thank God for x-ray vision.  Behind him he could hear Fred Smith screaming horrible imprecations at the vandal who'd decimated his prize winning pumpkins.  Wonderful.

When he arrived back at his own farm he overshot his mark, landing pumpkinhead down in front of the henhouse.  Foghorn leaped to the defense of his harem, pecking viciously at Clark's head and the pieces of pumpkin that had broken off on impact.  "Beat it Foghorn!"  He pushed the big rooster away and jumped up, spitting out a mouthful of seeds and pulp.  Clark shoved the pieces of the pumpkin out of sight where, hopefully, the chickens would dispose of the incriminating evidence.

He raced inside, hoping to wash up before his parents noticed.  Clark ran past his mom who was in the kitchen baking and was up the stairs and down the hall into the bathroom before she even glanced in his direction. 

***     

The next day, Clark stayed home from school.  Although he felt increasingly confident at handling his newfound ability, he (and his parents) thought it best to practice his control at home before venturing out in more public places.  Jonathan was planning to dig a new well soon and he had decided to pick out the right spot before their (probable) departure for Wichita later that day.  Clark offered to go with him as he walked the land hunting for a suitable location. 

For generations, members of the Kent family had been renowned far and wide as water witches.  Some regarded them as the finest practitioners of that vanishing art in all of Lowell County, if not beyond.  It had always been a welcome ability in a farming community dependent upon water.   Today, Jonathan had cut a branch from the old willow behind the barn and carried it with him as he headed out across the field, his son beside him.

Clark regarded the y-shaped willow branch in his father's hand.  "Dad, are you going to witch the well?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I could just use my x-ray vision to locate water."

Jonathan stopped and looked at his son.  "Yes, Clark, you could.  But we've had water witches in the family as long as I can remember and we've always found water when someone needed it.  Not too many people can do it anymore and I hate to see it pass out of use.  Besides, those of us who don't have your abilities might still need to find water when you're not around.   Maybe…maybe you should try it.  Who knows?  You might have the knack."  Clark looked somewhat skeptical.  "Tell you what: let's try it my way and you can check before we dig.  But no cheating; don't look before we try witching, okay?"

"Okay, Dad.  I won't look."

They walked a bit further until Jonathan came to a likely spot.  "Before I start, I want you to turn around and step over there.  Don't look and try not to listen.  After I do this, I want you to try."  Clark moved away and Jonathan held the forked willow branch out loosely in both hands and waited.  Nothing happened and he asked Clark to come back and try his hand at witching. 

Clark held out the willow wand and waited but nothing happened.  "Sorry, Dad.  Maybe water witching is one ability I don't have." 

"Actually, Clark, I didn't sense any water right here, either."

"Dad, doesn't this seem a little…arcane.  Do you really believe in this?"

"Ah, the true crux of the matter; you don't believe. You have to open yourself to the possibility, Clark.  Extend your senses using the willow wand to find the hidden moisture; feel for the water to find the water."

"Dad!" he smiled, "Is that Zen and the art of water witching?" 

"Something like that.  And anyway, I've had to suspend my beliefs several times in the last fourteen years; can you?  Now go over there and turn around again."  Jonathan turned and moved over a few feet before extending the branch again.  This time, he could feel the branch begin to vibrate as it responded to the water below it.  Abruptly, the branch dipped toward the ground and he mentally marked the spot.  "Okay, Clark, come try again.  We'll locate water eventually."  He offered him the willow branch and stepped back.

His father's words had struck a chord.  Clark took the branch in both hands, extending it and slowly walked around in a circle.  As he approached one particular spot he started to feel a little tingle.  Open your mind… feel for the water…  The sensation lessened and he turned around, moving back toward the area where he had felt the wand wiggle.  Clark halted when he felt the stick begin to vibrate again and closed his eyes.  He tried to relax and loosened his grip, allowing the willow to point; an instant later he felt lightheaded and started to rise up into the air.

"Uh, Clark…that's not really part of the procedure."  His dad was staring up at him from about fifty feet below.

"Yeah, Dad, give me a minute."  Now he could really feel the energy in the willow stick.  It was beginning to vibrate with an intensity that surprised him; in fact, he felt as though it was starting to pull him back to earth.  An instant later, the willow wand shot downward, dragging Clark with it and burying them both deep in the ground.  Clark found himself upside down, embedded in rock at the hips, his feet and legs surrounded by dirt and his head and upper body submerged in water.  Apparently, he had been successful.

Clark twisted a bit and looked around.  He could see his dad kneeling by the hole he'd created and hear his muffled cries, about thirty feet above, he guessed.  He sighed and watched as a string of little bubbles floated off into the surrounding water.  Ah, well.  Clark placed his hands down onto the top of the rock that held him and pulled his body out into the water.  He circled, picking up speed as he headed back to the hole he had just vacated, slamming into it at high speed and shooting through the bedrock and soil, past his startled father and up into the air.  He came back down and landed next to his dad who was now soaked to the skin. 

"Welcome back, son.  What exactly happened?"

"I'm not sure.  I could feel the energy through the willow and the next thing I knew it pulled me back to earth.  Well, into the earth, actually.  My head and arms were sticking out of the rock into the water when I stopped.  What an odd sensation.  Sorry I got you all wet."

Jonathan eyed his son, not for the first time, with wonder and pride.  "Well, Clark, I guess the art of water-witching isn't lost yet.  I've just never seen it displayed so…dramatically.  Come on, let's go ahead and put the pipe in; no sense wasting water."

Martha met them at the back door and couldn't help but note their wet and bedraggled condition.  Clark's clothes were practically shredded in places.  "So, looks like you found water.  I didn't think you'd planned on digging today."

"Yeah, well, Clark took the initiative."

Martha raised an eyebrow.  "How far down?"

"About thirty feet, I'd say.  I'll go get the pipe, Dad."  Clark trotted off. 

"Jonathan, how exactly did you get to the water?  You didn't take any tools."

"Clark tried his hand at witching water.  He floated up with the willow wand in his hands and a minute later he dove down all the way to the water table.  He said it felt like the willow pulled him into the earth and right down to where the water was."

"Really."

"He said he could feel the energy through the willow branch.  That is sort of how I'd describe it when you locate water with a wand but…wow!  You should have seen him, Martha!  He just dove into the earth like a human drill!  It was amazing!"

Martha hugged her husband as her son came back carrying a large stack of pipes.  "When you're finished with the pipes, I'll have hot cherry pie waiting." 

***  

After a nice hot shower, Clark sat down at the kitchen counter for some cherry pie and his new favorite, vanilla bean hot fudge chunk ice cream.  He could see his mother's smirk even though her back was to him.

"A growing alien needs fudge, Mom." 

That made her burst out laughing.  "Maybe this fudge kick triggered the flying."

"Or it could be the cherries," Jonathan offered.  He paused and stared at the forkful of cherry pie he was about to put in his mouth.

"Actually, I've been thinking about inertia."  Clark picked up a bite of pie and slowly brought it up to his mouth.  "A piece of cherry pie in motion tends to stay in motion until acted upon by an outside force."  He put the pie into his mouth.  "Yum."  He smiled at his mom.

"And this has what to do with the flying?" 

"I've often wondered how it was that I could run so fast and stop so suddenly and not cause sonic booms and widespread destruction when I do."  At a look from his mom, he added, "Well, usually."  Clark was actually feeling a bit guilty about the pumpkins.  He hoped it didn't show. 

"I think we all remember the gardening shed incident."  Did Clark just look a little…guilty?  Sometimes he was so transparent.  Wonder what happened this time…

"I've…always felt bad about Fred Smith's shed, Mom.  But I learned to control the…inertial…effects soon after.  That shed was kinda close to the path; I did help him rebuild it.  And I listened to him carry on about his square watermelons the entire time I was there and I didn't say a word."

"Clark, they're his pet project."

"I know, I know.  Anyway, I had to learn to control the inertial effects of my superspeed to avoid causing damage and I'm thinking that controlling inertia is also a part of managing the flying; it's just a little more complicated." 

            "Son, I know you'll work this out eventually; just…just be careful, okay?"

"I'll try, Dad," he replied, somewhat sheepishly.  "Thanks for the pie, Mom; it was great!"  Clark got up and headed out the back door, retreating to his loft for a little nap.  As he drifted off he kept hearing his father's earlier words, "feel for the water to find it."  His mind transmuted the words into, "Feel for the wind to find it," as he fell into a fitful sleep.

After he awoke, Clark decided to try another experiment.  Slowly, he walked down the barn stairs and back up to the loft; then he hopped over the stair railing and stood on thin air at the level of the landing.  So far, so good.  He then proceeded to mimic the action of walking down the stairs with nothing underneath him at all.  Clark "walked" up and down several times before he realized he had an audience.  His mom was standing in the doorway quietly watching him.  She smiled when he saw her.

"Mom!  I wanted to see if I could walk as well as fly." 

"Clark, you're…that's incredible.  I don't know what to say…"

He shrugged.  "It's like I'm becoming more aware of natural forces, like gravity and air pressure and how I interact with them.  I'm learning to control the interaction and make them do what I want."  Abruptly, he fell a few feet before catching himself.  "Well, some of the time, I can.  I have to concentrate or it doesn't work."  He walked over to her and settled on the floor of the barn.  "How 'bout a ride?" 

"Oh, Clark, I don't know-" 

He leaned over to her and waggled his eyebrows.  "Come on…let's go see Dad."  He picked her up before she could protest further and lifted off in the direction of the nearest grain silo.  Jonathan was repairing a small hole near the top and Clark flew up on the side away from him, his mother clutching him tightly.

"Clark…" 

"Shhhh…"  Clark flew around to the other side of the silo where his dad was just finishing up and said brightly, "Hi, Dad!" 

Jonathan was so startled he nearly fell off the metal walkway and Clark grabbed his arm to steady him.  "Clark!  Clark… son, someday, you're gonna give me a heart attack.   How'd you get to be such a troublemaker?" 

His mom quirked an eyebrow.  "I wonder."

"Sorry, Dad." 

"Clark was just giving me a ride, Jonathan.  I think it should be your turn next."

***  

Later, Clark stood by the loft window, watching as thunderstorms finally started to roll in from the southwest.  As a child he had always been fascinated by storms; awed by their power and beauty even then.  A truly magnificent thunderhead was building up high over their far field and he wondered exactly how high the very top of the cloud would be.  Clark stepped out of his loft and stood on thin air for a moment gazing upward at the cloud.  How high up can I fly?  A small smile curled the corner of his mouth.  Let's find out.  He rose up slowly at first then faster as he approached the lower boundary.  He was enveloped in cottony wisps of water vapor as he went higher and higher, finally reaching the top at about twenty-five or thirty thousand feet.  He hung there for a while, looking out over the Kansas plains and watching as the more ominous face of a huge wall cloud came roiling up toward him from the Colorado border.

The dark wall cloud was moving rapidly, promising some rather nasty weather for Lowell County in an hour or so.  Vivid forks of lightning were starting to flash close by; he could hear the deep rumbling thunder that accompanied it and there on the backside of the cloud he saw the beginning of a horizontal rotation.  Violent storms were a fact of life here and he winced at the memory of the Spring Formal Tornado of his freshman year; he had always mentally capitalized it.  The only thing worse had been the Chloe Tempest afterward although he had weathered that as well. 

As he continued to watch, the cloud rotation became more definite and the funnel started to drop down toward the ground far below.  An idea started to form and Clark dove down below the bottom of the funnel.  He began to fly in a circle, in opposition to the funnel's direction of rotation.  Clark flew up into the bottom of the funnel; it was turning out to be a rough ride but he was determined to see if he could counteract its destructive force.  The high winds buffeted his body, slowing his forward motion and pushing him back but after several minutes of concentration he began to move forward again, faster and faster until he was, indeed, countering the funnel's spin.  Finally, he watched as it dissipated in front of him.  Clark hung motionless for a time, watching the lightning flashes in the distance and contemplating the enormity of what he had just done. 

Clark turned to head back in the direction of his farm when he was engulfed by a brief but heavy downpour.  Before he could fly out of it, a huge bolt of lightning bolt struck him full in the chest and a fierce windshear slammed him down hard into a soybean field some five thousand feet below.  For a few minutes he just lay there in the shallow depression he'd created in the Mulhaney's field.  He couldn't help but wonder why a precipitous drop of thousands of feet left him lying almost at the surface of the earth when a fall from a mere fifty feet had plunged him deep into bedrock.  Clark sat up, then stood and looked down at the charred remains of his clothing.  Basically, he was down to his boxers and they were a bit iffy, at that.  Clark decided he had best get home but before he could take a step in that direction he heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being cocked.  In the next instant his backside was hit by a double load of buckshot and what little was left of his boxer shorts started to give way.  Clark grabbed onto what was now basically mere shreds of fabric and fled toward home at top speed.

Thirty seconds later, as Jonathan Kent was just walking out the kitchen door, an almost invisible blur shot by him, leaving a scrap of charred fabric in its wake.  "Clark?"  Jonathan bent down and examined the piece of cloth; the head of the Road Runner and the words, "Beep beep," was all he could make out.  Inside he heard the phone ring and he paused to listen as his wife answered.

"Mr. Mulhaney-  slow down, what's wrong?" 

He went back into the kitchen and watched Martha roll her eyes.

"A what?  A naked pervert in your soybean field?  He was smoking?  Why would anybody be-"  Now she looked truly annoyed and kept trying to interrupt, without success.  "Mr. Mulhaney!  Will you let-  Will you-  Mr. Mulhaney!"  She rolled her eyes again.  "Well, well, sometimes a load of buckshot is just not the answer!"  Martha slammed down the phone and looked at her husband with an exasperated expression on her face.  "Mr Mulhaney's been shooting at phantoms again.  He claimed he caught a naked pervert trying to set fire to his soybean field so, of course, he started blasting away at everything in sight!  He wanted to warn us to be on the lookout."  She noticed Jonathan had an odd look on his face.  "What?"

"Well," he started to laugh, "I think the alleged perpetrator of this heinous crime is upstairs."  He held up the remnant of Clark's boxer shorts.  "I believe this was once a part of Clark's wardrobe and I distinctly smell gunpowder.  I'll go see what happened."  Jonathan walked up the stairs, chuckling. 

Martha heard him knock on Clark's door; it opened with its customary squeak.

"Clark," and he couldn't help but snicker, "what happened?  We got a call from Tom Mulhaney…"

***   

Clark sat in the loft, gazing out over the lush fields of the Kent farm and wondered for the umpteenth time how he could possibly manage to defy gravity.    He felt as though this tremendous energy had been bottled up inside him all these years trying to emerge and his dreams had been an avenue of escape.  Now he could no longer contain it and flying was its release. 

It was almost dusk and Clark could hear the coyotes starting up in the nearby woods.  Tonight there would be no moon; a spectacular meteor shower was predicted in the early morning hours and Chloe, Pete and Lana were supposed to come over later to enjoy the show.  That cheered him somewhat; after much discussion, his parents had finally gone to Wichita to help his elderly great aunt with much needed repairs to her barn and while solitude was sometimes welcome, tonight he would be glad for the company.  He moved the telescope aside for the moment and fully opened the loft doors so they could have an unobstructed view of the night sky. 

As he stood watching the beginning of the sunset and wishing Chloe would come early, he began to feel lightheaded and by now, he was becoming all too familiar with what that meant.  He looked down and sure enough, he was floating just above the actual floor.  Clark willed his body to rise up almost to the ceiling, then he forced himself to touch down lightly; at least he hadn't made any new holes in the barn nor had he fallen this time when he came down.  Getting better at the landings.  That feeling of lightness made him almost giddy; it was hard not to give in to the urge to just let go and rise up.  Part of all this was going to be learning to push that feeling back below the surface when he felt it; he had to hold it in until he was able to act on it, like storing energy in a battery until you needed it later.  It reminded him of the way he felt after standing in the sun for a long time.  After spending a long time in bright sunlight, Clark always felt the need to expend his pent-up energy; usually that meant a long hard run. 

Clark sighed and wished again that Chloe would just hurry up and get here; maybe that'll improve my mood.  He stood moping for a few minutes and sighed out loud.  As Clark stared out the loft window, the solar disc began to take on the brilliant reddish hues of sunset and suddenly an old and deeply buried memory burst to the surface.  He gasped at its intensity.  A city skyline of impossibly tall and delicate white towers stretched upward, backlit by a huge red sun.  For an instant it seemed so real his knees buckled and he fell to the loft floor, stunned.  Home…a red sun, not like this one… Something about Earth's yellow sun was a part of all this.  In all his life, here, he reminded himself, Clark had never gotten a sunburn; instead, being in the hot sun for hours meant a rush of energy, of power, like nothing else.  He had just been handed a key to his existence and he knew it. 

Clark stood and took a quick step to the very edge of the loft, spread his arms and leaped into the air.  He sailed off up and out over the fields of his farm, gaining speed and exhilarated by his discovery.  He made a wide arc over the nearby field before heading back in the direction of the house and barn.  Did others of his kind fly like this?  Will I ever know?  Clark didn't want to land; he was truly a creature of the air, now.  I could  stay up here forever-   But when he saw Chloe's car turning onto Hickory Lane, reason returned and he set himself down on the ground behind the barn, skidding only a little bit when he landed. 

He rushed around the corner of the barn and over to her car as she came to a stop.  She pointed out her open window, "Hey, did you see a really big bird flying around a few minutes ago?"  Chloe opened her door but before she could stand up, Clark pulled her out and hugged her.  "Chloe!  I'm so glad to see you!"  He was grinning like an absolute idiot.  He lifted her up, twirled her around in a circle and, though she didn't know it, he rose up off the ground just a bit, taking her with him in his exuberance.

Chloe felt a bit lightheaded as Clark set her back down, like she'd been floating.  She smiled as she watched his face; this was a totally different Clark than the one who'd been spaced out and moping around for days on end.  "What's got you in such a good mood?" 

"I'm just so happy to see you!  Come on, if we hurry, we can catch the last of the sunset from the loft!"  Not waiting for her to follow, he picked her up again and ran up the stairs.  He put her down in front of the window and kept his arm around her as they watched the sunset fade to black.  Clark couldn't seem to wipe the huge grin from his face.  He felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  For a moment, he was saddened that this was something he couldn't share with his friends.  He moved over to the edge of the loft floor and looked out.  To think, he had once been afraid of heights.

"Be careful, Clark; don't fall."  Chloe watched his smiling profile in the twilight.  "Can I talk to you about something serious?"

Clark turned toward her and gave her another hug.  "Sure, Chlo.  What is it?"

She looked up at him.  "Um, well… uh, you've, you've been falling around a lot lately and…I'm a little…I'm worried you might have some kind of…of…" she stopped and started to tear up.  "Some kind of neurological problem," she finished in a rush, and began to cry in earnest. 

He stared at her, stunned.  It hadn't occurred to him how it might look to his friends other than making him seem like a supremely clumsy idiot.  He smiled and hugged her tightly.  "Oh, Chloe, no; it's nothing like that, I swear.  I'm fine, honest." 

"But how can you be sure?  There are tests…" she still looked worried.

"Chloe," he chuckled, Chloe, trust me on this; there is absolutely nothing wrong with me.  In fact, I have never been better in my life!"  Now he began to laugh out loud.  "I have been really clutsy lately and I can see how this must have looked to you but there is nothing wrong with me."  He looked deep into her eyes and smiled.  "Come on, now."  He brushed away her tears with his fingers. 

"But-"

"Chlo.  I have a suggestion.  Pete and Lana won't be here for quite a while.  Wanna go for a little moonlight swim?  I've been thinking it's time you mastered the tire swing."  He pulled her toward the stairs.

"Oh, no, not the swing-"

"Yes, the swing.  In all the time I've known you you've never had the nerve to jump off the tire swing and I've decided it's time.  Come on."

"I don't have my suit."

"Not a problem.  Wear your clothes in.  Or you can skinny dip…"

"Oh, I see; this is just a ploy."

"Nope.  But it's past time you had a personal encounter with that swing."  Clark picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.  "Not that I wouldn't appreciate the view."

"Clark!" she laughed and struggled, though not very hard.

He practically ran all the way to the pond.  When he arrived at the edge he stopped and looked out over what was definitely one of his favorite spots and put her down.  "Well, Chloe, what'll it be?  Jump from the swing or be thrown in from the bank?"

"I have a choice?"

"Actually, no, I don't think you do.  It's gonna be the swing."  Clark picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder once again before she could get away and walked over to the ancient oak tree.  Chloe squealed, shutting her eyes as Clark climbed up the thick trunk until he came to the first big branch.  He let his feet float briefly once or twice, eliciting another squeal from his passenger when he wobbled.  "You can open your eyes now."  He carefully lowered her to the wide spot where the trunk branched off and stepped out onto the branch itself.  Chloe was petrified and froze, leaning back against the tree. 

She looked around nervously; she was feeling a bit lightheaded again.  "Great view, Clark.  Maybe we should just consider this a fact-finding mission and come back in the daylight for the actual jumping part."  She smiled hopefully.

"No, Ms. Sullivan.  Not this time.  Tonight's the night you fly.  Give me your hand; hold onto me, no matter what and I won't let you fall."  He began to walk out onto the large branch that held the infamous tire swing.  Clark pulled her away from the trunk but she shrank back, terrified and closed her eyes. 

"Clark…I'm gonna fall!"

"Chloe.  Look at me."

"Have I ever mentioned that I don't care much for heights?"

"Yes, on more than one occasion.  I used to feel the same way.  Now open your eyes and look at me."  She opened her eyes, at last but she was shaking with fear. 

"How are you gonna keep me from falling off this skinny little limb?" 

Clark laughed, "It's not that skinny."  He pulled her gently away from the trunk and put one arm around her shoulders, holding her close.  "Now, stay right beside me 'til we get out to the swing."  He looked down into her eyes.  "Just relax and I'll guide you."  He waited for a moment until he felt her relax a bit and eased out onto the limb.  "Chloe, just stick close-"

"I am glue."  She began to tip backward but he held her firmly as they maneuvered out to where the legendary swing was anchored. 

Clark stepped out onto the top of the tire, holding onto the rope with one hand and guiding Chloe with the other until she was beside him.  He began to rock the tire swing back and forth, building momentum until they were starting to get higher up.  Chloe held on for dear life. 

"Clark!  I don't like this…"

"Come on, Chlo; be brave!  We have to get high up before we jump!"

"Let's not jump and say we did.  Ulp!"  She grabbed onto him as tightly as she could.  "I'm getting seasick!"

"Chloe, we're not at sea!  It's a pond in the middle of Kansas.  You can do this.  Hold onto me and on the count of three we jump."

"No, no, Clark, I don't think I can do this…"

"Trust me, Chloe."  He pushed the swing even higher and made sure his grip on her was firm.  "One…"

She clutched his neck so tightly she would have strangled him had he been anyone else.  "Oh, Clark…"

They went higher still.  "Two…"

"Oh, God!"

"It'll be okay, Chloe.  Three!"  Clark leaped off into the darkness, holding Chloe tightly in his arms.  At the top of his arc, he hung suspended just long enough for Chloe to gasp in wonder at the view, then slowly floated until they gently splashed down in the water.  He made sure to keep them from plunging deep into the pool and Chloe laughed out loud as they settled on the surface.  "So, was that really so scary?"

She smiled up at him.  "Alright, I admit it; that was actually fun.  It felt like we were in slow motion on the way down, didn't it?"

" Yeah, uh…if you pick the right moment to jump you get a little extra…well, it's like for a moment you're weightless and on the way down; it feels kinda like you're floating."

She kissed him quickly.

"Wanna do it again?" 

"Yes!" 

Clark carried her to the embankment under the big tree and lifted her up.  Once again he climbed up to the swing and this time he held her in his arms all the way out to the swing. 

"You have really good balance for a guy who's always tripping on things."

Clark laughed, "I'm just light on my feet, tonight.  Okay, are you ready?"

She was a little nervous again now that they were back out on the tire.  "Uh, okay, I guess."

"I thought you were gung ho for this a minute ago."  He could feel a shiver run through her.

"I was, when we were back at sea level."

"Trust, Chloe.  It's all about trust."  This time he didn't warn her, he just jumped out into the night sky, quite a bit farther up and out than he had gone before.  Again he stayed motionless for a time until he thought Chloe started to notice they weren't moving and he began another slow descent into the pond.  The landing was even smoother and his passenger seemed even more excited when they fell into the water.

"Wow, Clark, that was incredible.  We hardly splashed at all when we came down; how'd you do that?"

"Sorry, Kent secret.  Maybe I'll tell you someday."  Clark smiled and kissed her again.

Back in the loft, Pete and Lana had just arrived and were wondering where Clark was.  Pete plopped down on the couch and Lana walked over to the open window. 

"I think I hear someone squealing, Pete."  She strained to listen. 

"All I hear are crickets.  Clark said he'd be here."

Lana moved over by the old desk and promptly tripped over Chloe's purse.  "Well, looks like Chloe's here somewhere."

"Hmmm…"  Pete got up and dragged the telescope over to the edge of the loft.  "Let's see what's happening down by the ole swimmin' hole…  Ha!  Looks like Clark and Chloe are taking a little midnight swim and they're…whoa!"

Lana pushed Pete away to look for herself.  "Oh!" 

Pete looked again.  "Well, they may not be back for awhile.  How shall we occupy ourselves?"

Lana took one more peek through the telescope and quickly turned it in another direction, clearing her throat.  "You know, I noticed once that you can see my house really well from here if you know where to look."

Pete raised his eyebrows.  "Can you?"  He leaned over and sighted through the lens.  "So you can.  Hmmm, imagine that."  He stood and stared up into the night sky.  "Can you pick out any constellations?"

"I can find the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, um, Lira, the Swan and…Orion the Hunter.  How about you?"

"I can find those and let's see, Ursa major and minor and Scorpio.  Clark thinks the Scorpion looks more like a frog.  I thought he was nuts at first, but really, I could sort of see it after a while."

"Clark can be very persuasive, at times."

"Yeah, I know."  He chuckled and glanced in the telescope again.  "Just ask Chloe."

"Pete!"  She laughed but turned the scope firmly upwards.  "I think we'd better keep our eyes on the sky."  She was quiet for a long moment then turned to Pete.  "Do you think there are other people out there in the universe?"

"Oh, yeah; it would be incredibly arrogant for us to think we're the only people; it's like believing we're the center of the universe."

"I guess it would be.  Do you think they've ever visited us?"  Lana noticed Pete had an odd look on his face.

"Yeah, I think so."

"I wonder if they'd be at all like us." 

"Maybe..."  Pete looked out across the fields below.  He could still hear faint laughter from the direction of the pond.

She stood quietly beside him for a while, lost in contemplation.  A noise on the stairs made her jump.

"Hi guys!"  Clark's bright smile appeared as he topped the stairs with Chloe beside him.  "You're early.  Any meteors yet?" 

"No.  We were just… picking out constellations.  Uh, you're all wet."

"Clark insisted I jump from the tire swing.  Can I get some dry clothes?"

"Here, Chlo."  Clark draped a blanket around her and hugged her close.  "You'll dry out.  I don't suppose anyone else would like to take an evening swim?"

"I think I'll pass."

"Where's your sense of adventure?  Pete, surely you'd like to jump in?"

"That's okay, Clark.  Let's just watch from here.  Ya know, everyone thought I was crazy to come over here when I have so much to do.  I've really got to study for the calc final.  And I've got a big project in the chem lab to wrap up."

Clark sighed and dragged a couple of hay bales over in front of the loft window.  He guided Chloe to one of them.  "Lana, you're quiet, tonight.  You worried about finals, too?"

"Well, I should be home working on that last minute English paper.  I can't believe Mrs. Anderson would do that to us a week before final exams.  And if that wasn't bad enough, we've been short-handed all week during the after school rush."  She looked over at Clark.  "Sorry.  I'm ranting aren't I?  Actually, we were just contemplating the possibility of life on other planets before you got here.  Pete is certain we are not alone."  She sat down, smiling, next to Pete.

"You were wondering…"

"If they would be like us."

Chloe held up her fist and forearm to mimic the creature that burst from a man's body in "Alien."  "What do you think, Clark?"  She poked him in the stomach and he jumped up. 

 Clark ran over to the old desk and reached down behind it.  When he stood he had a wicked smile on his face and an enormous water pistol in his hand. It was shaped like a classic raygun and emblazoned with the word 'Acme,' on the side.  He spoke in Marvin Martian's strained falsetto, "Earthlings, you have made me very angry," and drenched them all.  Chloe shot down the stairs and Clark followed in hot pursuit, firing repeatedly.

Lana stood dripping and Pete collapsed, laughing, on the hay.  They could hear Chloe's shrieks in the distance.  Apparently, Clark's aim was perfect.  In the southwest, Lana saw the first meteor streak by.  "Pete!  I saw one!"

He sighed.  "The meteors can wait."  Pete walked over to an old trunk in the corner and opened it up.  He pulled out several more squirt guns; one was a huge backpack type which held at least a gallon of water.  He slipped it on; handed two more to Lana, put yet a third in his belt and headed for the stairs.  "Come on, Lana.  I know just where he'll hide.  Martians are so predictable."

"Lead on, Commander Ross," she giggled.  "Let's get him!"  They tracked Clark directly to the old oak and when they arrived, he summarily dumped all three of them into the deep end of their swimming hole.  Together they grabbed his ankle and pulled him in after.

High overhead, the meteors blazed a bright path across the midnight sky while down below four teenagers floated, carefree and lazy, in a pond on a Kansas farm.  It was the kind of warm spring night that would live in their memories forever and life, at that moment, was very, very good.