Blood curdling screams woke Dr. Carr from a deep sleep. He rushed out into his living room to see Clark, a twisted mass, entangled in his blankets, fighting some unseen demon. His unseeing eyes were wide with terror and his entire face was flushed bright red. Clark had fallen asleep on his couch, after a dinner of steak and fries, and a stack of DVDs he'd purchased for him recently. His screams became desperate, like they were being ripped out of him. Dr. Carr hurried to his cabinet to prepare a mild sedative and made his way to Clark's side. He very carefully touched Clark's face, talking to him calmly, trying to coax him out of his nightmare. Clark bolted upright, blinking hard, and his erratic breathing started to calm, as the room slowly came into focus.

The room seemed completely unfamiliar and for a second he started to panic, until it dawned on him that he hadn't fallen asleep in his room. He avoided Dr. Carr's eyes, feeling completely embarrassed. He could only imagine what the doctor thought of him now, thrashing around in his sleep screaming bloody murder. When he finally glanced at Dr. Carr, he was only smiling sympathetically at him. He sat up slowly, still looking embarrassed. Dr. Carr smoothed his hair back. Clark still stiffened a little at any comforting touch, but didn't pull away.

"I had another nightmare didn't I?"

Dr. Carr nodded, and placed the needle he was holding on the coffee table. Clark followed it with his eyes.

"If you think you're ok, we don't need it."

Clark nodded. "I'm fine..besides that stuff makes me sick."

Dr. Carr chuckled softly. "It does not make you sick Clark."

"Whatever you say….I was wondering if maybe my nightmares are memories trying to resurface? I mean..well they couldn't be I suppose...they're so violent, and its always someone torturing me, or holding me down…so it can't be real.."

Dr. Carr looked at him seriously, "I highly doubt they're real Clark."

"But they're just so..vivid.."

"Dreams are often as real as our waking lives Clark.. We're not supposed to take them literally. You're in a very tough position here. We try our best to make you comfortable, but the truth is, this is nothing like a real home, or a real family. Its only natural your anxiety that you suppress during the day in order to survive would be released in your dreams. It simply means you have a very active imagination." Dr. Carr smiled good naturedly and got up.

"Now..since you're up..how about a late night snack?"

Clark just shook his head numbly, his whole body still trembled from the force of his nightmare. His skin was slick with sweat. He pushed the damp curls off his forehead and sank back into the sofa cushions.

Dr Carr squeezed his harm affectionately. "Ok..well why don't you at least go stay in the guest room. If you can't sleep, come and get me."

Clark nodded, never taking his eyes away from the ceiling. The darkness of the room pressed down on him. He could hear every exhale of Dr. Carr's lung, and the methodic rhythm of his heart. The doctors had been trying to help him control his over sensitive hearing, and most of the time he was successful, but he felt too tired and rattled to do much about it now. He turned the television on to mask the noise. A warm comfortable bed beckoned in the next room, but he preferred to stay on the couch, with the whole of the apartment surrounding him.

He'd been having nightmares for weeks, and they were becoming more violent and more frequent lately. Snatches of the dream kept coming back to him in disconnected images, none of it making much sense. He never saw the faces of the people holding him, or cutting into his flesh, but the pain was real, and he felt it even now. He rubbed his stomach gently, a constant habit lately. He concentrated hard, trying to remember something of the nightmare. It was always like that. Once he awakened the dreams slipped away, leaving him with little else now except a glimpse of green fields and red hair glinting in the sun.

Martha Kent stared out over their expansive acres, watching the hired men work along side her husband. It still pained her to see anyone but her family working those fields, but it had been a necessary thing. Clark left them about five men short when he disappeared, and if nothing else, they had to give him a home to come back to. She relaxed in the small shade the deep red barn provided. It was her favorite spot on the farm now, just below Clark's sanctuary. If she closed her eyes she could feel his lumbering, heavy steps plodding down the stairs, or hear his clear voice, caught somewhere between adolescence and adulthood, calling her name.

She missed a new thing about him everyday—today it was his smile. Clark smiled with the greatest of ease as long as she could remember. She always marveled how this tiny toddler, after traveling through space for who knows how long, showed no fear towards them—his smile that day had been reassuring. He fit into their family like he'd simply been waiting all along for someone to take him home.

Martha blinked back tears and fingered a small piece of flannel she kept in her pocket. She'd cut a square of one of Clark's shirts that hadn't yet made it into the wash—but his scent faded a little more each day.

She shook her head, trying to force herself to stay present. She pushed her hair out of her face and prepared to join her husband in the fields, when she spotted a sleek, silver Porsche pulling into their driveway. Lex climbed out of the car in an unusual sense of urgency. Martha hurried her steps over to him, noticing a bright, but pained smile on his face.

"Lex…?"

"Get Mr. Kent….I found Clark."