HOLY MOTHER OH MY GOD. So, yeah. I'm not even gonna try.

This one's kinda a moster. Hope y'all like it.


"Samantha Hoffman. I was wondering when your face would show up around here again."
Martha Kent yanked the small woman into her arms, causing Sam to awkwardly stumble forward and trip across the threshold, desperately attempting to balance the bottle of wine she had dug out of her cabinet to bring in her hand. Laughing in a way only she could, Martha gave Sam a squeeze before pulling back to cup her face.

"It feels like I haven't seen you in ages." Her eyes scanned Sam's short frame. "But every time you look so much older. Have you been sleepin' enough?"

Sam looked at the floor, memorizing the geometric pattern as pink tinted her cheeks. "Yes, ma'am." Not really. "It just get's a little uncomfortable trying to sleep on those hospital chairs."

"Oh, honey. You know, I could grab you a couple pillows if you'd like," Martha said, pointing into the living room. "Before you leave remind me. Speaking of, how is your mother? I visited her a few days ago and she said they're gonna start some new treatment program on her in the next coming –

"Mom. How about you let Sam get past the door before you ambush her?"

She didn't understand how she could have missed the mass of muscle that formed Clark, but somehow she did (she really needs to get better at spotting him), and he was now casually leaning against a kitchen chair, as if he had been present the whole time. He was wearing dark jeans and a worn out blue t-shirt, making his eyes light up even further as he smiled at her. Realizing that she had been pointlessly staring at him for a few seconds more than she should have, her cheeks turned a shade darker as she found a new design on the floor.

"Oh, hush, Clark. She's been away almost as long as you have, I think I'm allowed to ask a few questions," Martha said back to her son, rolling her eyes and winking at Sam.

Swallowing the frog in her throat, she half-heatedly raised the wine in her right hand and announced, "I brought this over, thought maybe you'd make better use of it than I would."

"Thank you, Sam, you didn't have to do that," Martha told her as she took the bottle. "I'll just take this out back and leave you two alone before Clark pushes me out himself."

She took the risk at glancing at Clark again. He was copying her earlier actions, looking at the floor as some color rushed to his cheeks. It made her happy to see that she wasn't the only one who seemed flustered.

Martha quietly slipped through the living room and out the back, leaving the two adults alone. Except they were acting more like teenagers on their first date rather than 25 year olds. They should both be over the awkward glances and rosy cheeks by now, but they also were never given the chance to experience the life of a normal teenager. They were both pushed into the adult world when they should have been trying new things, testing the waters of unknowns, and taking risks for no reason at all.

But that didn't happen, and so now they were both caught in an awkward silence. More like Sam was, because as she nervously shifted from foot to foot, she quickly lifted her lashes to look at Clark again. He was softly smiling at the floor, the pink now faded from his cheeks and body seemingly more relaxed now that they were alone.

Well, that made one of them.

He broke the silence first. "You hungry?"

Sam shook her head as she inwardly told herself to man up and look up from the ground. "I ate a bit before coming. Thanks, though."

He nodded in recognition, turning his head to peer into the small living room. When he faced back around to her, he said, "Let's sit down, I've got a lot to explain."

Clark let her sit first, taking the time to grab two beers from the fridge, lightly tossing it to her with a smile. "You look a bit tense. Loosen up. I'm not gonna tell you some horror story from the great beyond."

Cracking open the can, Sam shook her head with a grin. "Do you remember that movie watched during senior year? The one about the guy with knives as fingers? What was that called..."

"A Nightmare on Elm Street?" he guessed with a grin matching her own.

"Yes!" Sam cried. "And how I wouldn't come over to your house for a week because I was so scared? God, Clark, that movie scarred me for life."

"You seem fine," he responded skeptically.

She shrugged. "Yeah, well, let's hope what you have isn't as bad."

Relaxing into the couch, she took a sip of beer as Clark began his story.

He took a breath before starting."I'll spare you the details of how I got to the information, that's a long and boring story." Something in her brain told her that it was a far from boring story. "But, what matters is that I got myself into a military base in Canada. They had found an – object, a ship, buried in the ice and were drilling to get to it. I made my way down to the ship, and there was this stand right in front of like, a gate..."

He used his hands to illustrate his story, depicting of how his necklace worked as a key to open the gate, but not before the stand flew into the air and attacked him. No matter how he explained it, the scene couldn't play out in her mind. She nodded in understanding despite the fact.

"And then there was this man," he began to speak slower, choosing his words more carefully. "I followed him into the ship, and then...it started to just, take off. I don't know how and I don't know why, but we somehow ended up in the Arctic some where."

Sam's eyes bulged just the slightest at what he said, but kept her mouth shut. He continued, "That man's name is Jor-El, and he's my father."

She looked at Clark with awestruck features. "He's alive?"

He licked his lips, as if he was nervous to respond. "No. The metal that unlocked the gate made him appear. It's almost as if he planned for me to find the ship and programmed himself into it...I don't know. But he guided me through the history of my planet and showed me the –

"Wait, stop," Sam interrupted. "Planet?"

Clark nodded. "It was called Krypton, that's where I'm from."

Closing her eyes, Sam took a breath through her nose, trying to stay calm as the information sunk in. She was talking to some one from another planet. Alright, that's cool. Alien. Good.

"Are you okay?" the man across from her asked. Through her eyes were closed, she could almost see his worried face, his poise prepared to push him off of the chair and in front of her if needed.

But she was fine. At least that was what she told herself. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good. It's just...a lot to take in, you know?"

Nodding in understanding, Clark sunk back into the cushions on the chair. "My birth name is Kal-El, meaning the son of Jor. When I was born, the planet was doomed. There was this war, fight, battle, something destroying it, he didn't explain. But I was sent off in a ship in order to save my life and save the race of our people. I landed in Kansas, right outside of this house."

"And then your parents found you," Sam finished, knowing the rest of the story.

Clark nodded as he took a swig of his beer. He looked so human, so normal, other than the fact that he was a giant compared to most. He lived in the heart of America and fit the part so well, but inside he was completely different. She couldn't even relate to him on that level. To be the only one left of your kind, that's something only he feels.

Things still didn't sink into her brain, it was as if they were floating up in her mind, taunting her with not being able to comprehend them. "So," she began slowly, "what now? I mean, do you go off and search for something more? Do you stay here? Do you..." she trailed off with the upturning of her hand.

He smiled at the fumbling of her words. "I'm content, Sam. I found what I was looking for. I don't think there's anything else to do, you know? And if there is, I'm sure it can wait. I don't – can't – keep running away from home. This is where I should be."

She doesn't think she's heard something that good and precious to her in the longest time. Not bothering to hide her smile, she happily asked, "Is your mom trying to fix the place up a little?"

Clark nodded. "Yeah, she's out in the tool shed now trying to organize some things. I only come in when there's heavy lifting involved."

They both laughed at the fact, any awkwardness or hesitance remaining now gone as they talked. The deep stuff was gone, over with, finished. Clark had found what he was looking for and now he could move on with his life. It could be simple now.

And then the power went out.

Both of them froze, the laughter seeming to echo in the room as an eerie silence overtook the house. Sam's heart picked up as she set the beer down, worried that her hand might start to shake. Stealing a glance over at Clark, she saw him at the edge of his seat, back straight and eyes alert.

Lifting himself up, he started, "I'm gonna go check –

"Clark, no –

With a loud shriek, the TV from the kitchen started up, the static being heard from where they were in the living room. Startled from the noise, she withdrew into her chair, hands going up to her head to protect herself from the bombing that she thought could happen at any moment. Eyes wide and heart now like a helicopter, she looked up at Clark, who was already beginning to move toward the kitchen. He didn't spare her a glance as he told her, "C'mere, Sam."

Scrambling off of the chair, she quickly followed suit behind Clark, coming to rest beside him in front of the television. She lifted a hand to her face, ready to bite a nail out of nervousness, but realized that it couldn't happened because of the shaking. Letting out a sigh, she instead ran it through her hair.

It didn't go unnoticed by Clark, who now seemed worried. "Hey," he started, placing a large hand on her back, "it's alright, it'll be fine."

Sam tensed at his foreign touch, but stayed still as the television flashed words of all different languages across the screen. Breath labored, she watched the screen in terrified interest. But when a voice began to speak, she couldn't help but let out a whimper as she shifted closer to Clark, now able to lay her head on his chest if she wanted to. A shaking hand to grab onto something, which turned out to be one of his belt loops on his hip, as his arm shifted to wrap around her shoulder.

"Shh," he murmured, but it wasn't enough to drown out the mechanic voice.

"You are not alone. You are not alone. You are not alone. You are not alone."

"Clark..." she started, not ripping her eyes away from the screen.

"Shh," he told her again, not looking down at her. "Nothing's gonna happen, I'm here."

Something in the back of her mind told her that the reason this was happening was because he was here.

There was another piercing noise that ripped across the room and she brought Clark closer. The pixels and blocks on the screen slowly halfway manifested into the face of a man with something similar to a breathing mask, only much more frightening. In and out the image went, becoming increasingly confusing as time went on. Shortly after, it began to speak in the same voice as earlier.

"My name is General Zod, I come from a world far from yours. I have journeyed across an ocean of stars to reach you. For some time your world has sheltered one of my citizens. I request that you return this individual to my custody. For reasons unknown, he has chosen to keep his existence a secret from you. He will have made efforts to blend in; he will look like you, but he is not one of you. To those of you who may know of his current location, the fate of your planet rests in your hands. To Kal-El, I say this: surrender within 24 hours, or watch this world suffer the consequences."

Throughout the encounter, if you could call it that, Sam randomly clenched, partially due to the shaking and partially because she had to reassure herself that he was beside her in the way that she knew him. As the being – General Zod – explained, Clark should have looked like a freak, purposely hiding his face behind hoodies in order to keep his identity a secret. He should have three eyes, tinted skin, terrifying features, and seven fingers on each hand, trying to blend in. He should be a physical outcast.

But he looked so human, so normal. Everything extraordinary about him, that she knew of, was inside him. How would anyone know if he belonged to a different world?

They were consumed in darkness after the screen went blank again. She halfway turned to look at him, but in the next moment the lights came back on, shattering one of the bulbs above them. She let out a pathetic shriek at the unexpected noise, stumbling and crashing into Clark's chest.

He didn't respond for a moment, almost as if she didn't just headbutt him, lost in his thoughts as he continued to stare at the screen. Then, almost as if he was resurfacing from underwater, his face snapped down to hers, both his hands moving to her shoulders as he pushed her.

"Are you okay?" She didn't answer, still in shock from the man and from Clark's sudden movement. "Sam, are you alright?"

She slowly came back to him, nodding continuously even after he got the point. "Clark," she whispered, "what are you gonna do? I mean...he just – threatened you a-and..."

"Hey," he stopped her rambling, knowing that she was close to crying. "It'll be alright, I promise. I'm going to figure it out." He reassured her with a squeeze of her shoulders.

"Clark, no. This can't be magically fixed with a wave of a hand. He wants you, probably dead. And you can't just l-leave. You have your mother, and this, and everyone and..." she hiccuped off.

"Shh, Sam, I promise, it'll all be fine. You have to trust me, please." He slowly lifted a hand from her shoulder and smoothed her hair down. She stayed glued on the spot, not breathing as the hand swept down her back and to her hip. Where the hell did this Clark come from? How was he so confident, so sure of himself when this thing just threatened the entire world?

Still, Sam shook her head. "Clark, please, just listen –

"Hey, kids?" Martha's questioning voice rang out through the house as she entered the back door. Both Sam and Clark took an automatic step away from each other, almost like they were caught doing something they shouldn't. "Everything alright?"

They looked at each other, Clark taking no time to shake his head and mouth Don't. Though she didn't want to, she shook her head, finding no reason to try an argue. What would she say, anyways? Hey, Mrs. Kent. Some guy from another planet just threatened your son, and the entire world. Want some beer?

"Yeah, Mom," Clark called back, "A light just busted, I'll clean in up."

Martha appeared in the doorway, hand on her hip as she gazed at the two of them. The smile on her face faltered as she took in Sam's appearance and stance. "You alright, honey?"

Clark wasted no time in answering for her. "She's a little on edge, the bust kinda freaked her out a bit."

Sam nodded, trying to play off the startled act, but failing miserably. She couldn't even smile at the older woman, knowing that she might burst into tears if she thought too hard. But Martha barely glanced at her, deciding to playfully laugh at the situation instead as she headed back towards the door.

"Don't you worry, Sam. You'll get used to those bulbs eventually, they like to explode on you at the worst times..." her voice drifted off as the door slammed shut.

Clark didn't take his eyes off her even after his mother left. As she stared blankly at the ground, she heard him sigh. He slowly walked towards her, and when she was level headed with his chest, she was pulled back into his arms. When he had her limp form in his hold, he breathed out of his nose and rested his head on top of hers.

"Why don't you stay here," he started slowly. "You shouldn't be alone tonight, not after..."

She'd been alone for seven years. She'd been through a lot on her own, never really needing some one else's comfort, even if it was offered to her. But there was something about his voice that kept her from refusing. Almost as if she was saying it to herself, she breathed, "Yes."

She knew he'd hear.


Please don't hate me from disappearing. Tell me what you think!