And missed.
Years of conditioning left him unprepared for what happened--as Clark swung, putting the full force of his rage and ebbing strength behind his fist, Jonathan ducked to one side, caught Clark's arm in both hands, used his son's momentum to catch him off-balance and bring him around to Jonathan's side, and held the boy in place, growling. Turning the tables on Clark and using his son's surprise against him, Jonathan braced Clark's right arm in front of them with one hand and whipped the other hand out to yank the ring off of his son's hand. Once the ring lost contact with Clark's skin, the muscles in his hand trembled and Jonathan felt Clark jerk slightly and weaken even more; the farmer found himself almost holding his son up, as the boy started to crumple to one knee.
Jonathan might have ended things there and taken his son inside if Clark hadn't chosen that moment to open his mouth. The combination of long-term exposure to the red kryptonite, sudden loss of that drug-like effect, and extreme exhaustion had the teenager acting like a small child throwing a tantrum. Bristling, defensive, indignant, trying desperately to hold onto control of the situation and refusing to admit that his father already had it, Clark half-sneered, half-whined, "Hey, that's mine, give it back! You can't do this! You and Martha are nothing! I'm a god to you, remember? You can't touch me! Besides, you won't try anything--you're not man enough!"
Time seemed to stop for a moment, the air hanging silent and charged with challenge--a son challenging a father's authority and a father challenging his own power. Then the moment ended; Jonathan pivoted to glare down at his son, eyes narrowing, jaw working. With one hand still clutching Clark's upper arm and the other hand moving faster than the eye could follow, he reached out and grabbed a handful of his son's shirt, yanking the boy close enough to hear Jonathan's jaw clicking. "You know, I was ready to end this quietly ten minutes ago, but you just won't quit. So if this is the way it has to be, then fine." Furious but in total control, Jonathan snarled, "Game over. I win. Time to pay the piper."
Years of conditioning left him unprepared for what happened--as Clark swung, putting the full force of his rage and ebbing strength behind his fist, Jonathan ducked to one side, caught Clark's arm in both hands, used his son's momentum to catch him off-balance and bring him around to Jonathan's side, and held the boy in place, growling. Turning the tables on Clark and using his son's surprise against him, Jonathan braced Clark's right arm in front of them with one hand and whipped the other hand out to yank the ring off of his son's hand. Once the ring lost contact with Clark's skin, the muscles in his hand trembled and Jonathan felt Clark jerk slightly and weaken even more; the farmer found himself almost holding his son up, as the boy started to crumple to one knee.
Jonathan might have ended things there and taken his son inside if Clark hadn't chosen that moment to open his mouth. The combination of long-term exposure to the red kryptonite, sudden loss of that drug-like effect, and extreme exhaustion had the teenager acting like a small child throwing a tantrum. Bristling, defensive, indignant, trying desperately to hold onto control of the situation and refusing to admit that his father already had it, Clark half-sneered, half-whined, "Hey, that's mine, give it back! You can't do this! You and Martha are nothing! I'm a god to you, remember? You can't touch me! Besides, you won't try anything--you're not man enough!"
Time seemed to stop for a moment, the air hanging silent and charged with challenge--a son challenging a father's authority and a father challenging his own power. Then the moment ended; Jonathan pivoted to glare down at his son, eyes narrowing, jaw working. With one hand still clutching Clark's upper arm and the other hand moving faster than the eye could follow, he reached out and grabbed a handful of his son's shirt, yanking the boy close enough to hear Jonathan's jaw clicking. "You know, I was ready to end this quietly ten minutes ago, but you just won't quit. So if this is the way it has to be, then fine." Furious but in total control, Jonathan snarled, "Game over. I win. Time to pay the piper."