Chapter Two
November, 1995
"Lex, watch me! I can fly!"
Lex Kent whirled around at the cry in time to see his nine-year-old brother, Clark, launch himself off the low roof over the porch, arms outstretched. Feeling like he was moving in slow motion, Lex ran toward Clark and caught him in midair, taking the brunt of the fall on his back as they toppled to the ground.
"I really can fly," Clark mumbled, into his brother's shoulder, as they lay on the ground.
"I believe you, squirt," Lex told him. "But, let's not test that theory over Mom's begonias, or she'll have both our hides. And how'd you get on the roof, anyway?"
"I climbed up the trellis," Clark said.
"The trellis doesn't go all the way up to the roof," Lex said, dubiously.
"I jumped the rest of the way," Clark said, shrugging off the comment like it was nothing.
"Jumped the rest of the way?" Lex echoed, incredulously. "Show me."
Scrambling to his feet, eagerly, Clark jumped straight up. Lex watched in amazement as his little brother went nearly five feet into the air before coming back down, again.
"Clark?" Lex said, quietly, as his brother waited for a response, "glasses."
Immediately, Clark dug the heavy, dark-rimmed glasses out of his pocket and shoved them onto his face. Jonathon's idea, the glasses served no medical purpose, but were a tangible reminder to Clark not to use his powers. Without the glasses, Clark was extraordinary, but when he wore them, he knew to act as any normal child.
He also knew when he was in trouble, as evidenced by the worried look that crossed his face.
"Lex?" he asked, softly. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Nah, squirt," Lex reassured him, as he ruffled the younger boy's already messy hair. "I just don't want to have a heart attack before I'm twenty."
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"Mom?" Lex called out. "I'm going to play football with some of the guys."
"I wanna come!" Clark piped up, immediately.
"It's a football game, squirt," Lex replied. "You could get hurt."
"No, I couldn't," Clark insisted, stubbornly. "I didn't get hurt this morning."
"What happened this morning?" Martha asked, suspiciously.
"Nothing," Lex said, quickly, shooting his brother a look. "Nothing happened, right, Clark?"
"Right," Clark echoed. "So, can we go, Mom?" he added, when Martha still looked apprehensive.
"Be back before dark," she said, finally. "And, Clark? Keep your glasses on."
"Yes, ma'am," Clark said, as he and Lex dashed out the door before she could change her mind.
"Coats!" Martha hollered after them, and Clark ran back into the house, grabbed his and Lex's jackets, and was outside again before Lex had taken two steps.
"What happened to the rule?" Lex asked, as Clark shoved his coat into his hand.
"I'm not wearing my glasses, yet," Clark said, with an impish grin.
"Put them on," Lex said, and Clark heaved a deep sigh as he dug his glasses out of his pocket and perched them on his nose.
Lex nodded in satisfaction, and he and Clark walked the rest of the way to the field where Lex's friends waited, in silence.
One of the boys groaned, loudly, when he saw Clark walking beside Lex.
"Why'd you have to bring him?" he demanded.
Immediately, cries of "Shut up, Gary," and "Ignore him," went up around the group, and Lex's best friend, Thomas, clapped Clark companionably on the shoulder when they reached the other kids.
"Hey, kid," Thomas greeted him, cheerfully. "Here to watch and cheer us on?"
"I want to play," Clark told him, earnestly.
"You're kind of small," Thomas said, doubtfully, as he looked Clark over. "You could get hurt."
"Not if we only play touch football," Lex spoke up, before Clark could start an argument.
Ten minutes later, Lex was regretting even that much, as he sprinted across the field to where Clark and Gary lay, after Gary had tackled the younger boy to get the ball. Gary was fine; he was picking himself up and brushing dirt off his clothes.
But, Clark, who'd only that morning jumped from the roof with fearless abandon, wasn't moving. He was barely breathing, his chest rising and falling in a terrifyingly slow cadence, and Lex just about felt his heart stop in his chest.
His skin was a sickly, gray pallor, except for his veins, which glowed an unnatural green hue. And when Lex rolled him gently over, his eyes stayed firmly shut.
Lex heard the clamor of his friends as they alternately yelled at Gary and threw anxious questions his way, but he ignored them. His attention was focused solely on one thing: his little brother.
Lex scooped Clark into his arms, noting absently that the rocks that lay beneath him glowed with the same green hue as Clark's veins. Grabbing one of the rocks, he shoved it in his pocket, then he took off at a dead run across the field, back towards home.
His screams as they entered the house brought both his parents running. He explained everything that happened, in halting breaths, and then Jonathon drew him away to the other side of the room.
"You said you found a strange rock near where Clark fell," Jonathon prompted, gently, with none of the anger Lex was subconsciously expecting.
"Here," Lex said, pulling the stone out of his pocket. "It's still glowing."
"Martha, take a look at this," Jonathon called out, softly, and his wife left their youngest son's side to join them.
"That looks like the rocks we found after the meteor shower," she said.
"That's what I thought," Jonathon said. "I guess I didn't get them all."
Clapping a hand to Lex's shoulder, he added, "Let's go, son. Get your coat and a couple of spotlights."
"Where are we going?" Lex asked, utterly perplexed by the sense of calm determination that had replaced his parents' earlier panic.
"Rock collecting," Jonathon told him, and then they were in the truck, driving back to the field.
"What's so special about these rocks?" Lex demanded, as he and his father started digging at the hard, half-frozen ground. "Why do they make Clark so sick?"
"After we found Clark, and then you, in Schuster's Field, we drove you to the hospital," Jonathon began. "And every time we passed by a pile of the meteor rocks, Clark started to get sick: he turned pale, he shook, he couldn't breathe. It took nearly the whole drive, but your mother was the first to figure out that it was the meteor rocks that were causing it.
"After we adopted you both, I went around gathering up as much of the stuff as I could find, but I obviously missed some."
"But, how can a bunch of rocks make Clark sick?" Lex interrupted, frantically.
"Because they're meteor rocks," Jonathon told him. "Because, when we found Clark, we found something else. A spaceship," he added, after a moment of hesitation.
"Aliens aren't real," Lex protested, weakly.
"Your brother is," Jonathon said. "And so is his spaceship. It's hidden down in the storm cellar."
"That doesn't make sense!" Lex exclaimed. "What about that social worker from Metropolis United Charities? She said that we'd been separated from a tour group during the meteor shower."
"She lied," Jonathon said. "I don't know why, and for the moment, I don't particularly care. What I care about is keeping my family safe."
They worked in silence for several more minutes, depositing any rocks they dug up, meteor or otherwise, onto a tarp in the back of the truck. Finally, Lex could no longer stand the silence, and he had to speak up.
"Are you mad at me?" he asked, in a small voice.
"Mad at you?" Jonathon echoed, confusion in his voice. "Why would I be mad at you?"
"Clark got hurt when I was supposed to be watching him," Lex reminded him. "He got sick; he could die!"
"Clark is not going to die," Jonathon reassured him. "We got the meteor rock out of the house, and there are none on the farm. He's going to be fine.
"If anyone's at fault, here," he continued, "it's your mother and me. We should have told both you and Clark about these rocks a long time ago."
"But, but-" Lex stammered.
"Kids get hurt," Jonathon continued, in his same calm, patient tone. "They play hard, they get hurt, and they bounce right back up to keep playing.
"Your mother and I didn't become parents with the expectation that we'd be able to wrap you both in cotton and keep you safe, forever. We took on your bumps and bruises, your runny noses, your broken bones and broken hearts, and we did so willingly, eagerly, lovingly."
He stopped, suddenly, clearing his throat in embarrassment.
"How could I be mad at you?" he repeated, finally. "Why would you even think I'd be mad at you?"
Lex shook his head, helplessly.
"I don't know," he admitted, quietly. "I was just-I was so sure that you were going to be mad. That you were going to hate me because I failed. I don't know why I thought that."
"I do," Jonathon said, pulling his oldest son into a tight hug. "And if I ever get my hands on the people who had you before us-"
"You'd ignore them because they're not worth five minutes of your time, next to your family," Lex finished for him.
"Maybe," Jonathon admitted, grudgingly. "Come on, kid. Let's keep digging."
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After Jonathon and Lex left on their rock hunt, Martha closed the door, gently, and crossed back to Clark's side, quietly, so as not to wake the fitfully-sleeping boy.
Brushing a sweaty lock of hair away from his face, she murmured, "It's going to be all right, sweetheart."
Then, she started at a sudden, sharp knock on the door. She crossed the room, quickly, to open it, and on the other side stood a grim-faced man in fatigues and a military-style buzz cut. He had two young girls with him, one standing behind him and the other cradled in his arms, her head resting listlessly on his shoulder.
"My car broke down a couple of miles from here," the man said, in a surprisingly deep voice. "Could I use your phone?"
"You walked this whole way?" Martha asked, incredulously, standing aside so the man and his daughters could enter.
"It's only a couple of miles," the man said, dismissing her concern with a careless shrug.
Martha bit her tongue to keep from pointing out that her concern wasn't for the man, but for his daughters, especially the one standing behind him, quiet and solemn. She smiled at the girl, but the girl only stared at her.
"Lois, take your sister into the other room, sit down, and be quiet," the man said, and his daughter nodded, obediently.
"Yes, daddy," she said, taking her sister as the man handed the younger girl down.
"The phone is in here," Martha told the man, watching the girls disappear into the living room where Clark slept.
"Thank you," the man said, picking up the phone. "Do you mind?" he added, a moment later. "Some of this is a little sensitive."
"Of course," Martha acknowledged, moving into the living room to give him privacy.
She found the girls curled up on an armchair, the older with her arms wrapped protectively around the younger. The younger girl appeared to have drifted off to sleep, but Lois was looking curiously around the room, her gaze finally landing on Clark.
"He's sick," she said, softly, and Martha nodded. "Lucy's sick, too," the girl continued.
"I'm sorry," Martha said.
"She's going to get better," Lois told her. "It's just the flu."
"Still, it must be scary to see your sister so sick," Martha prompted.
"I can't be scared," Lois said. "If I'm scared, then Lucy will be scared."
"That's very brave of you," Martha said, and Lois shrugged in an unconscious imitation of her father.
Clark woke up, then, and blinked slowly, looking around the room in confusion. Lois, who hadn't taken her eyes off the younger boy, reached out, curiously, and touched his cheek. Clark looked at her and smiled.
"Hi," he whispered.
"Hi," Lois echoed.
"He woke up," she added, to Martha, as though she felt the older woman needed to be made aware of that fact, and Martha hid a small smile behind her hand.
The girls' father entered, then, having finished his phone call, and at his gesture, Lois jumped off the chair and picked Lucy's sleeping form up, walking over to join her father.
"Thank you for the use of your phone," the man said, and Martha nodded.
"It was no problem," she reassured him. "Is someone coming to pick you up?"
"Back at the car," the man said.
"I can drive you," Martha said, hurriedly, thinking about the long walk faced by the girls, or rather, Lois, since Lucy was still asleep and being carried by her father.
"Your boy is sick," the man said. "We can walk, can't we, Lo?"
"Yes, daddy," Lois said, firmly. Turning to Martha, she added, "He should have orange juice. It's what makes Lucy feel better."
"I'll remember that," Martha told her, seeing them to the door.
Lois's father went outside as Martha held the door open, but Lois turned around long enough to smile brightly at Clark.
"Feel better!" she called out, before dashing outside her join her family.
'What an odd little girl,' Martha thought, closing the door behind them. 'I almost thought she didn't know how to smile.'
"Mom?" Clark called out, breaking into her thoughts. "I'm thirsty. Do we have any orange juice?"