"You turned down my father's offer of a career with Luthor-Corp. Why would you do that?" Lex sat across from Clark in the cafeteria. The bald genius had been somewhat distant and standoffish all morning, and finally, Clark knew why.

"I told him why; I plan to go into journalism."

Lex scrunched his nose. "Why would you want to do that? Your intellect will be wasted. And a career path at Luthor-Corp—with your mind, you could do amazing things with me! We could revolutionize the tech industry! I'll inherit the company one day, you know. Between me and my father, you'd have friends in very high places."

Clark nodded. "It's a tempting offer, Lex, it really is, but in the words of the Bard, to thine own self be true."

"I can respect that, Clark; my father said you were very polite and thankful—he really liked you. But why journalism?"

Clark shrugged. "It's what I've always wanted to do. The truth is important, and people deserve to hear it."

"You can say that again," Chloe said as she joined them and sat next to Clark, placing her lunch on the table.

"Chloe." Clark nodded to her, and then continued with Lex. "I can help people, Lex. As a journalist—as a reporter—I can bring attention to the plight of the downtrodden, and raise public awareness about …."

"Clark, the downtrodden and the public are just cattle to you and me," Lex insisted. "They're fickle, and stupid. They idolize fools like Brad and Lana for their looks and entertainment value, and scoff at geniuses like us."

Chloe laughed. "Lex, Clark is better looking and a far better athlete than Brad can ever hope to be …." She smiled and touched Clark's rough cheek. "And the round-the-clock five o'clock shadow? Don't know how you do it Clark, but boy, does it work!"

"True," Luthor conceded. "But Clark is above looks and athletics—it's not his fault he's gifted in both."

Chloe regarded Lex thoughtfully. "You know, Lex, you're not a bad looking fella yourself."

The young genius's cheeks reddened at the remark. "Thanks, but you do know that I'm bald, right?"

She shrugged. "Doesn't change your facial features.

Lex actually smiled at Chloe's compliment, and offered her no rebuttal. But he was far from done talking to Clark. "I'm sorry, Clark, but I just don't get it."

"I want to help people, Lex," Clark replied. "Yes, some of them are jerks. Can't be helped. Besides, the Good Book says that anyone can help people they like—Brad and his ilk are a good example of that. The challenge is helping people we don't like, or don't even know."

Lex chuckled. "Ah, that fine Christian upbringing of yours. At least you do it honor. But think about what I said, Clark—you could really make it at Luthor-Corp. You and I could be on top of the world!"

"Or … flying over it in your case, Clark," Chloe said, looking intently at him.

"You know, I'd be happy to cover your discoveries and advancements, Lex." Clark paused and took a bite of his sandwich, noticing—but not reacting to—Chloe's remark. "So many people are ignorant, and only need to be informed. Science and technology are remarkable, and people should see that. More should be going into the field."

"Says the guy with the genius intellect who just wants to be a journalist," Lex chided.

"Touché," Clark replied with a grin.

"When you make it big as a reporter, Clark," Lex said with seriousness, "I will expect you to make good on that promise. Come and see what Luthor-Corp is doing, and I guarantee you, you'll have a story that will amaze your readers!"

Kent reached across the table and shook Luthor's hand. "Deal."

Pete and Lana joined them next; Pete sitting to Lex's left, and Lana on Clark's right across from Pete.

"I'm sorry for my behavior, Lex," Lana offered. "It wasn't right."

Lex regarded her for a few moments, emotions ranging from anger to vindication crossing his visage. Finally, he nodded. "Apology accepted, Miss Lang. It takes maturation to admit when you're wrong—I respect that."

Lana nodded. "Thank you. I talked with Clark yesterday, and … he gave me a better perspective on life. I see things differently."

Lana never looked Clark in the eye for the rest of their afternoon meal. When they were done, everyone said their good bye's and stood to go their separate ways. Chloe caught Clark and Lana's sleeves. "I need to talk to you—both of you. Meet me in the school newspaper after school. It's important."

-S-

Clark walked with Lana to the school newspaper, observing her unusual quiet. Finally, he stopped and took her hands.

"Lana, you sobbed after … we talked last night. I thought you'd be happy, or at least amazed. You're still subdued today. What's wrong?"

She looked down, formulating the words, then looked up at him with tearful eyes. "It's because I know I can't have you. You're gonna belong to the world, Clark, an' you're gonna go off to college and then to the big city to do great things! I can't leave Smallville, Clark. I can't be the girl … the woman you need."

Clark regarded her for a few moments before responding. Ever since high school, the once inseparable duo had become distant, and only in the two days had Lana regained some semblance of her former self. Now, she was talking to him as though they had been in a very serious romantic long-term relationship.

"Lana, I … I don't know what to say. I had no idea you felt that way about me. I thought you and Brad …."

"I was a fool to ever date him, Clark … I just got tired of waitin' for you to ask me out."

"I didn't think I had to—I thought our feelings for each other were understood—we went everywhere together, did everything together, and even kissed. Then freshman year, you were all googly over Brad."

Lana's eyes teared up at his words, and she nodded silently. He hated hurting her—on some level, he loved her—but her behavior had hurt him deeply, and he refused to pretend that it had not.

Then she turned to him, tears rolling down her cheeks, and sobbed, "I was your girl! Why didn't you fight for me?"

"I shouldn't have had to," he replied. "If you really were my girl, no guy could have taken you away." He paused to let her absorb that, and then continued. "Now, you're talking about not being able to be with me because of my abilities—not exactly the words of someone who wants to try to be my girl."

Lana's mouth dropped open and her eyes widened as Clark's words sunk in, and Clark suddenly realized what had happened.

"You never liked him in the first place, did you?"

"No, not really."

"You just wanted to make me jealous of him—is that it?"

Lana just nodded.

Clark's eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms across his broad chest. "Never play games with people you care about Lana—those are the games you lose."

Before she had an opportunity to respond, Clark resumed the trek to the office of the school newspaper where Chloe awaited them. Lana followed wordlessly, and before long, they were standing in the headquarters of the Torch.

"Close the door behind you," Chloe said as they walked in. "In fact, I suggest locking it."

Clark did as she asked, and Chloe motioned for them to come to her desk, where she gestured to an eight and a half by eleven photograph which depicted Clark in full flight, carrying Lana Lang.

"How did you …." Lana looked at Chloe, then at Clark.

"I have a telescope that I use to watch the skies for U.F.O.s. Never thought I'd see you two flying though." Chloe looked intently at Clark. "Care to explain?"

"No, but since you've forced the issue, I suppose I have to," he conceded. "You're my friend, Chloe, so I expect you to keep this knowledge to yourself—I'm not human. I'm from … somewhere. My ship crashed here in 1966. I was an infant. The Kents found me and raised me as their own. I have no idea where I came from or who sent me; only that I was sent as an infant to Earth from … somewhere."

Chloe nodded, and removed a piece of greenish metal from her desk drawer. It was twisted and jagged, and Clark knew its source immediately. Chloe elaborated. "Remember when I said that strange rocks were found? This was one of them."

Clark took the chunk, and accidentally grabbed it by one of its jagged edges, and pain shot through his finger, causing him to drop the metal. The cut on his finger welled up with blood, and he quickly put the wounded digit into his mouth as Chloe handed him a band-aid.

"Damn thing cut me several times," the reporter confessed.

"Nothing's ever cut me," Clark observed as he put the band-aid on. "Nothing's ever hurt me—physically at least—until now. I recognize the metal, though. It's the same material my ship was made from. It must have become dislodged on entry into Earth's atmosphere." He regarded the object thoughtfully. "A substance hard enough that its edge could penetrate my invulnerable skin."

Lana looked at him incredulously. "Your skin's tough, but invulnerable?"

"I assure you, it is," Clark insisted. "Remember when my pa took us on that hunting trip, and another hunter almost shot him by mistake?"

"Yeah," Lana said warily.

"I caught the bullet."

Chloe made a whistling sound. "Faster than a speeding bullet!"

"Chloe," Clark said, "you must not tell anyone about this. If this get out …."

The reporter shook her head. "I promise, Clark, if it gets out, it won't be from me. I swear I won't tell a soul."

Then he turned to Lana. "That goes for you, too. Nobody can know about this, Lana. Nobody. Not even your father."

"But he might be able to help you," Lana protested.

"Help me what?" Clark shook his head. "He works for Luthor-Corp. Anything he found out about or for me would become Luthor-Corp's knowledge."

"You don't trust Luthor-Corp?" Chloe only half asked the question, but Clark shook his head.

"No, I trust the Luthors—Lex is my friend, and his father has given me no reason not to trust him. But Luthor-Corp is a corporation. If they have the knowledge, then on some level, it's out there. The Luthors might not do anything malicious with it, but industrial espionage is rampant. If the knowledge fell into the wrong hands, my family would be in danger. Heck, the Luthors could be in danger." Then he looked intently at Chloe. "You could be in danger."

"Well, I don't trust the Luthors," Lana said. "I know you think it's because of Brad, Clark, but it's not—Lex gives me the creeps, and I don't know why you hang out with him."

"Doesn't your father work for Luthor-Corp?" Chloe asked.

"Yes, and it terrifies me. The things I hear my father say about work … it's worrisome. I know my behavior was bad, but … Lionel made threats to my father over it. I've met him more than once on Take Your Daughter to Work Day, and something about him is … scary."

"Lex has given me no reason not to trust him, Lana, and unless he does, he's my friend. But let's not change the topic—you two need to keep my secret. Tell no one."

"What about Pete?"

"No, Lana; not even Pete. Nobody."

"I promise, Clark; your secret's safe with me."

"Me too," Chloe assured. "But if I come across any information that might help you, I'll share it."

-S-

Clark returned home after school and went immediately to the barn, and into the cellar where the rocket was hidden. He ran his hand across the cool surface of its green tinged hull, amazed still by the truth of his origins. This tiny ship came from another planet, possibly another galaxy. Who am I, he thought.

He opened the canopy and looked inside at the place where he had spent his earliest months. The ship had no controls—why would it? An infant could not pilot the craft—but it had writing. Strange glyphs were inscribed all over the interior of the ship. Clark touched one of them, and suddenly, they all lit up.

He pulled his hand back, but it seemed that only his brief touch was needed. A holographic image of a woman's head appeared over the craft. The woman had long auburn hair, and comely features, features which resembled his own. She regarded him thoughtfully, smiling as it seemed to see him. Then a beam emitted from its eyes and struck him in the forehead. The sensation was like an intense pressure, and he thought his head would explode. Then the pain was gone as quickly as it had come on.

"Kal El," her image said. "I have unlocked your knowledge of the Kryptonian language so that you might understand me. I am Lara Lor-Van, and I am your mother. Your father is Jor-El, Krypton's leading scientist—or at least we were. Krypton was doomed, and my husband adapted this experimental star-drive to accommodate your voyage to Earth, and thus save you from our planet's destruction." Lara's image teared up and she began sobbing. "Kal, I have only been able to hold you but briefly. I will never know if you arrived safely or know what kind of man you have grown into. I can only tell you that your father and I love you more than life itself. To send you away is my final gift to you, little Kal El. I give you life, even as your father and I perish. Good bye, my son. May Rao protect and guide you."

With that, the recording ended. Clark touched the woman's face before it winked out, but all he felt was air. Because of relativity, it was entirely likely that Krypton had been destroyed for thousands, perhaps millions of years by the time he arrived on Earth. Lara Lor-Von's answers only raised more questions, but at least one answer was unambiguous: he was loved by his Kryptonian parents.

"Thank you, Mother," he said aloud as the tears rolled down his cheeks.