"Did you call the doctor?" Mr. Kent asked, giving her shoulder a brief squeeze.

"Yeah," Lana answered, pulling her gaze away from her friend. "Dr. Bryce is on her way."

When he spoke she could sense the urgency in his tone. "Did you tell her to come alone?"

"Um, yeah," she replied, still somewhat confused. She had hoped he would explain himself but he only nodded. "Uh…Mr. Kent?" she prodded, struggling for the right words. "If you don't mind my asking, why was it so important she come alone?"

Jonathan Kent's eyes fell and when he looked back up at Lana she saw the strange mixture of longing and sorrow that always crossed Clark's face whenever he "couldn't" tell her something. She'd seen it so many times, that apologetic gaze that screamed both I want to tell you and I can't tell you.

"Lana, I…" he began, but fell short of words. His weather-beaten face offered no clue as to what was going on behind his troubled eyes.

It was like she was looking at Clark in a different body but with the same pleading stare. Now I know where he gets it, she thought bitterly. Finally, he said, "You're just going to have to trust me."

Trust you? Lana stared at him. Trust you? She swallowed, her eyes searching his face for insincerity or sarcasm, finding neither.

She found herself nodding numbly. Jonathan stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "Please understand," he said, looking her dead in the eyes. Naked emotion hung in the air between them, amplified further by Lana's budding frustration and his own urgency.

"I'm already losing my wife," he said softly, "I can't lose my son, too."

Pursing her lips, Lana stared back at him, hoping, pleading for an explanation, but he offered none.

--

Dr. Helen Bryce opened the door to the Kent farm without a knock. She bustled into the living room with a slightly irritated, "What happened?"

Jonathan rose, allowing Dr. Bryce to sit in the chair at Clark's side. He turned to Lana and said, "Uh, Lana, would you…would you excuse us please?"

Lana nodded, composing herself as best she could. "Yeah," she replied. She didn't want to leave, not without knowing Clark was all right, even if Mr. Kent wanted to speak privately with the doctor. But it was getting late and Mr. Sullivan didn't go to bed until he knew both of his girls were home safe. It was nice knowing you had family at home waiting for you, albeit irritating at times.

Pausing at the door, she looked one last time at her friend. He looked so peaceful, like he was merely asleep.

She could only hope he'd be all right.

--

Dr. Bryce immediately opened her briefcase, removing a stethoscope.

The girl, the one whom she'd assumed had made the call, turned to leave but paused at the door, looking one last time at her friend. Then, she quietly left.

When he was sure Lana was safely out of hearing range, Jonathan turned to the female doctor. If she had any hope of helping his son, he had to be straight with her, and with Lana around he couldn't have taken that chance. It was a promise he and Martha had made to each other shortly after Clark had come into their lives, and one that to this day they still tried to instill in their son. Having a child that could lift a tractor at age three was information too dangerous to let out, so rather than risk scientists coming to the farm to take Clark away, it was kept a deeply guarded secret. He could only hope that Dr. Bryce would hold true to her doctor/patient oath.

But where to start?

Except for the time when a lightning strike transferred his gifts to a fellow classmate, Clark's only experience with physical vulnerability had come from his violent response to meteor-rocks. Knowing this, Jonathan had his own assumptions on where this spore had come from that had already claimed his wife.

"Clark was exposed to the same toxin his mother was," he said tightly.

Dr. Bryce tore the stethoscope out of her ears. "You should have called an ambulance!" she replied fiercely. "He needs to be in the hospital. We need to inform the DCA immediately."

Jonathan sighed. It was going to be a long night.

--

Lana tried to close the front door as softly as possible. It was late and the Sullivan house was dark. Obviously Mr. Sullivan was working late, otherwise he would have been in the living room waiting for her to come home. She sighed in relief. She hated to impose on their family, even if he was just staying up to make sure she got home safely.

She tiptoed to her room and switched on the light. The rose-colored walls were comforting; this had been her home since Nell sold their farm and moved on with her life. Lana was grateful to the Sullivans for letting her stay with them but right at that moment, all she wanted was to be back at the old farmhouse, closer to…Clark.

She didn't feel like sleeping. There was too much on her mind. Instead, she sat down at her vanity and buried her face in her hands.

"Lana Lang: night owl," Chloe's voice came from across the hall. She padded her fuzzy night-slippers to Lana's door and poked her head inside. "Whatever happened to going-to-bed-by-10:30-keeps-me-on-my-feet?" she teased.

Lana tried a smile, but when she looked up from her vanity Chloe saw the tears that glistened in her eyes.

"Lana, what's wrong?" she asked, abruptly turning serious.

Lana didn't answer immediately. Chloe could tell her friend was holding her breath, possibly in an effort to keep from losing it completely.

"It's Clark," Lana finally said. "Something happened to him tonight."

"What?" Chloe asked, sitting on the bed next to her.

Lana answered in a tumble of words. "I don't know," she said honestly, trying to regain her composure. It wouldn't do any good to upset Chloe too, not when they knew so little. "He was fine at first but then he started wheezing…" She tried to go on, but couldn't; it was no good. Her throat closed up and a wave of fresh tears surfaced.

Chloe took her friend's hand and gave it a compassionate squeeze. "I should have seen it coming," Lana continued, "He just didn't look like himself. He…uh…lost consciousness while I was talking to him and fell down the stairs. I tried to catch him but I couldn't. When he hit the ground I'd thought maybe he'd just fainted but, Chloe, he wasn't breathing!"

Chloe's face registered the shock before her brain did. In the seconds it took for the two to come together she lost her voice completely. When she found it again, it came out of her in a blur of questions.

"What do you mean he wasn't breathing? Is Clark okay? Is he hurt? Did you call an ambulance?"

"Mr. Kent wouldn't let me."

"Why?" Chloe demanded.

"I don't know," she answered hoarsely. "He wouldn't explain."

"So what happened? What did you do?"

"He told me to call Dr Bryce."

"Dr. Helen Bryce? Lex Luthor's new fling?"

Lana nodded and for one, frightening moment, Chloe realized she hadn't answered the one, really important question.

"Is Clark okay?" Chloe repeated the question.

Lana shrugged, wiping away tears that just wouldn't stop. "I don't know," she said. "Mr. Kent did CPR and got him to start breathing again but he never woke up. He was still unconscious when I left."

"Do you think he was exposed to the same kind of toxin his mom was?"

They both knew that the toxin Martha Kent was exposed to had been pronounced fatal. Chloe had overheard Dr. Bryce telling an orderly that she wouldn't live out the week. If it was true, if Clark had been exposed to the same spores his mother had been, then it could only mean one thing.

Clark Kent could now be dying.

"Oh my god," Chloe breathed. It was too much. She felt tears welling up in her own eyes and when she couldn't hold them back anymore, she responded in the only way she knew how. "I don't believe this!" she spat angrily. "Doesn't his dad realize that Clark's life is in danger? What was he thinking? Why didn't he take him to a hospital?!"

"I don't know." It seemed like that was all she had been saying all night. "Mr. Kent told me that he was already losing his wife, he wasn't going to lose his son, too."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chloe raged.

Lana looked away. She knew Chloe was angry. But she also knew it was just a façade. Inside Chloe was just as confused and hurt and down right worried sick about Clark as she was. But whereas Lana's personality was to bottle it all up and cry to herself, Chloe wasn't capable of keeping such intense emotions inside. They seeped out of her through worry, frustration, and even anger.

Needing motion, any kind of motion, Chloe stood and paced the room. "This is heavy," she said. "I wasn't even sure if it was possible for Clark Kent to get sick."

"I know," Lana agreed, shaking her head. Chloe had meant for it to be a joke, something to lighten the mood, but there was truth in it. Lana had known Clark since grade school and could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen him 'not feeling well'. Those instances almost always passed within a short amount of time, and it was usually nothing more than vertigo or a headache. She'd never seen Clark come down with so much a cold. The thought sparked her memory and her sorrow gave way just a little. "Remember our freshmen year when everyone came down with the flu?"

"Oh, yeah. I was sick for a week. Pete and I had to stay after school every day for almost a month just to catch up."

"I think I was one of the last to get sick, but everybody had it. Even Whitney. He was so mad because the doctor told him he couldn't play football until it cleared up. But Clark somehow managed to avoid it."

"Yeah, we teased him for months that he either had one heck of an immune system or being corn-fed all his life was doing more than just making him a giant."

There was a little twinkle in Lana's tired eyes. "Remember those dorky little Get-Well cards he made us?"

It didn't take long for Chloe to remember them. "Construction paper and crayons, I think."

Lana swallowed. "I think mine was supposed to be a duck that said something about feeling 'out of quack'."

"Mine said, 'don't croak' and it had a frog on it."

Both girls smiled wanly at the shared memory. Clark was always doing little things like that. Little things we tend to take for granted, Chloe thought bitterly. Like bringing her coffee the morning after she had pulled an all-nighter at the Torch and insisting on opening doors for her. Although she absolutely loved it when he brought her coffee, (because that meant he had been thinking about her) the first couple times Clark had opened doors for her had irritated her. "I'm not an old woman, Clark," she insisted, "I'm perfectly capable of opening doors myself."

He smiled, that smile that always made her melt, and said, "Can't help it. It's my upbringing. You're just going to have to live with it." It was amazing what he could do with that Kent charm. Chloe had long since given up that losing battle.

Lana sighed heavily, pulling Chloe out from within herself. For the first time tonight, she got a good look at her friend. Lana's eyes were swollen from crying and she looked tired. Her expression was one of weariness, of sadness, and worst of all, fear. Despite their differences, Chloe's heart went out to her. There had always been a part of Chloe that resented Lana. She had everything. She was popular, beautiful, and she held the heart of the one man Chloe loved in the palm of her hand. She suspected Lana had feelings for Clark too, but for reasons unknown nothing had ever come about.

"Chloe? Lana?" came a voice from downstairs. The sound of the front door shutting rattled the little house.

"Dad's home," Chloe announced, "We should probably get to bed."

Lana nodded in agreement, grateful for the interruption. Chloe meant well, but at the moment, all she wanted was to be alone.

"Well, good night," Chloe said.

"Good night."