- - - - -

The clacking of dishes was the only sound in the whole house. Martha stood by the sink, watching, almost mesmerized, as warm water poured down the lunch plates. Her thoughts were on Clark; on the news she and Jonathan had received from Luthor Corp that he'd disappeared, and they expected his parents' cooperation in returning him, should they see him. After a long night of worry, Bart Allan, of all people, had sped back through the Kent's door with hasty news.

She could remember Clark's whereabouts spilling from Bart in one, quick breath. She could still hear her heart pounding in her chest with inexpressible relief as he spoke. Finally, he'd asked for some of Clark's old clothes, promised he and his "mates" would take good care of their son, and just like that, he was gone again.

Martha sighed deeply, removing the more-than-clean plate from the sink, and reaching for a cup instead. Her hand hesitated. Had she forgotten something? She took a step back from the sink, eyes bouncing around the kitchen. Something was…wrong. She had often felt this way; as though Clark was supposed to be in the kitchen with her. But she supposed she was just so used to his presence and her mind refused to let her forget that.

She turned and walked back to the sink, reaching for the dishes once more. Her hand froze. Two cups…two plates. Her and Clark. No, me and Jonathan. What was wrong with her? A chill went down her spine as something occurred to her like a slap in the face. She dried her hands hastily on a dishtowel, and ran from the kitchen.

"Lara? Sweetheart?" Martha checked the living room, but found only an abandoned tower of wooden blocks. She went to Lara's bedroom (or rather the corner of Clark's room they'd cleared for Lara's crib) but she wasn't there either. By the time she had scoured every other room in the house, as well as the front porch and back yard, Martha was beginning to panic. Heart hammering in her chest, she ran to the barn, from whence the sound of Jonathan's circle-saw was coming.

"Jonathan!" she shouted over the screeching of the saw, and he quickly turned it off, alarmed at Martha's flushed face and anxious eyes. "Where's Lara, do you know where she is?"

He slipped his goggles off. "Isn't she in the house?"

"No, I can't find her anywhere!"

"Okay, calm down." He crossed the straw-covered floor and took her by the elbows. "Where did you see her last?"

"In the living room, she was- she was playing with her blocks, but I looked there and-"

"Okay, okay. I'll help you look."

She took a shuddering breath, stamping her foot lightly. "I wasn't watching her; I forgot she was in there."

"I know- it happens. Remember when Clark was five and he-"

"Clark wasn't vulnerable," Martha insisted despairingly.

Jonathan raised an amused eyebrow. "Did that stop us from treating him like he was?" She shrugged half-heartedly, and he smiled, giving her a gentle nudge towards the door. "Alright now, where all did you check?"

It took them all of ten minutes to locate their daughter. She was found just outside the west cow field, prodding a cantankerous toad with a gnarled stick. "Fly!" she instead, nudging him. "Fly, foggy, fly!"

"Oh Lara," Jonathan sighed, calling over his shoulder, "Over here, Martha!"

Lara looked up. "Daddy a foggy fly!" she complained, jabbing the toad yet again.

"Baby, froggies don't fly, they hop." She looked back at the toad, uncertain. Jonathan scooped her up in his arms. "Aw Lara, you got mud all over your pretty socks."

Lara picked at her mud-soaked ruffle socks. "Eww, a mud on an a sock."

Martha ran up then, taking her from Jonathan after a relieved thanks, then went inside to give her a bath. Jonathan finished with his morning work, and then came in for a break an hour later. Martha was sitting at the kitchen counter, eyes unfocussed, and thoughts elsewhere. She looked up when he shut the door behind him and smiled vaguely. "Lara's upstairs playing with Clark's toy cars; I thought it'd be okay."

"I don't think Clark will mind," Jonathan said, sitting down next to her. "Something on your mind?"

Martha folded her hands on the countertop and swallowed hard. "I…forgot about my daughter."

"Martha," Jonathan said almost sternly. "You lost track of time. This isn't your fault, it happens."

"Jonathan- you don't understand," she insisted. "I was standing in the kitchen and for this brief moment, I was positive I didn't have a daughter. That it was just Clark. I found myself wondering why he wasn't home yet." She kneaded her forehead. "I must be losing my mind."

"Hey." Jonathan redirected her attention to him. "You're tired, I know that. But Clark's safe now. He's miles from Lex Luthor's reach, away from the meteor rocks…he's going to be okay." And his enthusiasm was enough to make Martha nod and, after a moment, smile.

- - - - -

"Presto-chango!" Chloe cried as Clark came striding up the hallway, in full red-and-blue attire.

Bart hooted loudly. "Now there's the handsome devil I remember."

Clark just grinned, holding up the ball of white clothes he'd worn at Luthor Corp. "Oliver, what should I do with these?"

"Oh-" Chloe got up, taking the laundry from him. "I'll take care of that." Cheerfully, she trooped outside, and dumped the clothes into a fire pit located a little ways to the left of the front porch. "Bart!" She called over her shoulder, "Light?"

Bart whipped through the kitchen and out the door, lighter outstretched. Chloe doused the clothes with a small bottle of alcohol she pulled from her jacket pocket (probably for this very occasion, Clark thought), and without any further ceremony, she touched the lighter to the edge of the sodden clothes, and her and Bart stepped back and let them burn. Clark looked on through the living room window as the flames instantly rose several feet, then began to settle down. Chloe and Bart returned, looking proud of themselves.

"Track that set of rags, Lex," Chloe said triumphantly.

Clark smiled and turned his attention to Oliver who'd been pouring over a pile of boring-looking documents all this time. "What's this?" Clark asked, lifting the corner of the page Oliver was currently reading.

"Progress reports," he replied. "Luthor Corp's." Clark, suddenly intrigued, took one of the pages and began reading.

March 18th 2007

The finality of the latest Destination test reports are currently disputed, regarding minute and technical details, and have therefore been delayed momentarily till firm, constructive evidence can be filed. Until that time, Luthor Corp and associates are pleased to announce that the attempts to produce and utilize a separate element of the DMD36 minerals have been a complete success. Our skilled scientists have discovered that it is not only diverse in shade (transformed upon the induction of light and sound, as well as exposure to hydrochloric and sulfuric acids to a dim sangria) but in affect on the Destination Project. (For full geological survey, please see section E page 14 of this report.)

Clark, mind buzzing angrily, slapped the page back on the desk causing Oliver to glance up at him. He clenched his jaw. "In English, that says they created red K and blindly tested it on me."

"And," Oliver added as though he hadn't noticed Clark's righteous indignation, "it's one of twelve progress reports so far that begin with an excuse as to why they can't release your status yet."

Clark re-read the first line and realized that the "Destination test reports" simply meant "Clark's health". So Lex really was hiding everything from the public. Brutal tests weren't good for the corporation's rep.

"I have to stop this," Clark said firmly. "People need to know the truth about what Lex has been doing with me and the meteor rocks."

Chloe looked like she was about to speak, but Oliver spared her from having to say what he knew she was thinking. "Clark, you need to understand something. Yes, there are people who would be enraged if they knew what Lex was really doing, but there are also people…" he paused here, leaning forward, eyes fixing on Clark's in a way that made him feel uneasy. "There are people who are afraid."

"Of Luthor Corp?"

"Of you." Despite Oliver's candor, Clark could tell he hated to be saying this. "There are magazine articles, celebrities, newspapers, websites, millions and millions of people following the popular opinion of Lex Luthor; that Clark Kent may have been raised by kind, Kansas farmers, but…you are an alien. We can learn from you, improve technology and medical research through you, and something Lex has quietly planted into the back of everyone's minds, we must be protected from you."

Clark shook his head. "But now that I've broken out of Luthor Corp, that sends a different message, doesn't it? That I had to get away."

"Not the message you were hoping to send," Bart broke in and handed Clark a rolled-up copy of the Daily Planet, wincing a little. "Sorry man."

LUTHOR CORPS' ALIEN (C.L.A.R.K.) DISAPEARS

The article was about how Clark had sustained a minor injury earlier that day during a physical exam and wasn't feeling well afterwards. When visited by his physician later that evening, in an inexplicable fit of rage, Clark had rushed the doctor and used his powers to escape Luthor Corp's facility. They went on to quote Lex as saying that Clark is of course, "known to be a fine young man, but he isn't himself just now." Lex urged anyone who knew of his whereabouts to report it to Luthor Corp so they might get him the treatments he required before any "accidents that both Luthor Corp and Clark will sorely regret" occurred.

Clark's stomach churned. He felt like he had when he'd first read that brochure. Like the air around him was swimming, encroaching on him, siphoning off his options. The whole world was on alert right now, peeking between blinds, afraid the alien might come after them. The poor, "fine young man" who had somehow lost his marbles while in Luthor Corp's "care". It made him sick.

He couldn't think of a way to verbalize all this, so instead he pointed to the headline again. "Why does it put my name down like an acronym?"

Chloe wrinkled her nose, taking the paper from him. "Just one of Lex's many ways to discredit you as an actual being. Certainty for Life and Relief for Kansas. It doesn't even roll off the tongue," she scoffed, tossing the paper disgustedly back onto the table.

"So the world thinks I'm a monster," Clark said after a long pause.

Chloe slid into the chair next to him, eyebrows knit in concern. "Clark…if the world could only see you as you are, they could never think that." And seeing no way to improve upon this conversation, no words that would really make him feel better, Chloe chose to segue. "What we need to do right now is figure out how you got this whopping dose of amnesia, and reverse it."

"Yeah," Clark replied half-heartedly. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to wake up from this "reality" and return to his real life. He didn't want those fake memories back.

"Maybe we should start by gathering data on that radiation treatment," Oliver suggested, setting his pen down beside the stack of documents. "I've already started on the-"

"Dude!" Bart exclaimed, shooting like a cannon out of his chair. "Why is it every time we need to get things done the first plan of 'action' you think of is to study?"

"Groundwork first, Impulse, action comes after we have a map."

"That's bogus man, you know it," Bart insisted, and Clark realized he wasn't being flippant. His eyes were locked determinedly on Oliver's. "Are you not hearing this? Man Clark's memory's been replaced with phony info, he's working blind."

"How do you expect us to return him to normal without knowing what caused this."

"We get in there, we look around, we take what we need to fix him."

"No. No, we don't just get in, we go at it intelligently."

"If you want to spin your wheels reading about what Lex has been up to, fine!" Bart smacked the stack of documents in front of Oliver, sending a bunch flying. "But you've been pouring over this stuff for weeks, nothing! When are you going to stop playing businessman and act like a real hero?"

Oliver stood up, livid, aiming a finger at Bart's chest. "You shut your mouth about things you understand."

"Oh I understand." Bart laughed humorously. "I get it, kay, you're still sore. But quit moping and see that there's still people out here who need you taking action again. You can't afford to keep playing love's labor lost!"

"Bart." Chloe stood up, looking anxiously at Oliver and grabbed Bart's elbow but he jerked it out of her grip, ignoring her imploring tone.

"You don't think Chloe misses her too?" he snapped. "Yeah, course she does. But she's still got her head in the game, Oliver, she's got her priorities straight. Clark's probably Metropolis' last chance and you're screwing it up! Quit acting like you're the only one who's lost something!"

Bart's reflexes were better than anyone's, but his mind was on his own rage. Oliver struck him soundly across the face, sending him staggering a few feet to the side where he slipped to his hands and knees, clutching the side of his face.

"Oliver!" Chloe shouted as Clark ran to check on Bart.

"I'm fine- I'm okay!" Bart told him angrily, still on the floor, pulling himself together. Clark turned around and saw horror on Oliver's face. He looked like he was about to help Bart up, but turned around instead and headed for the door, slamming it behind him.

Clark, despite the boy's protests, helped Bart to his feet. silence hung between the three of them like a velvet curtain. At last Clark could not hold back his gnawing curiosity any longer. "Who does Oliver miss, Bart?"

Bart still seemed to be trying to hold himself together, staring firmly at the front door as though daring Oliver to walk back inside. Chloe could see at a glance that he wasn't going to explain. "Oliver had uh…a girlfriend. Serious. I think he would have probably married her." She smiled a little, but he could tell she only did it to fight her own emotions. "She uh, she got caught up in helping me with an investigation of a European guy called Lyon. He owned a club, and we had a hunch he was into some shady stuff with a few of the dancers. Turns out we were right." Chloe took a deep breath. "She disappeared and I panicked and called Oliver. He tried to go after her, but rushed in without checking some of his facts and ended up in the wrong building." She shrugged, now unable to hold back the tears. "It's been over a year, but Ollie's still not over it, you know?"

Clark was trying to process all this and fight the growing dread that the situation sounded familiar. "Wait…this guy Lyon's club. The Windgate?"

"You remember that? Do you- do you remember Lois?"

It felt like someone had tipped a bucket of cold water down his back. Clark stumbled into a chair and sat down. "Lois is…no. No, wait-"

Chloe knelt beside his chair. "I'm sorry, Clark."

"No, Chloe, we saved her, you and me," Clark insisted, grabbing her shoulder. "Don't you remember that? We got to her before Lyon could get away."

"Clark, no," Chloe whispered. "Lois disappeared and her body turned up in Europe days later." He began to shake his head as she spoke. "I told you about this-" Clark jumped out of his chair and went to the window. Chloe stared helplessly at his back. "I don't know what you remember, but Lois died over a year ago."

"This isn't right, Chloe."

"Clark!" She stood up, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. Bart watched her uneasily. "Lois is dead. Okay? I don't know what Lex did to you, but she's gone, don't you remember? I came to Luthor Corp and told you, you had that same look; you couldn't believe it. I had to show you the photos! Why can't you- what happened in there that you can't-" her voice cut off and she sank into the chair he'd just vacated, looking miserable.

Clark turned, saw her tears and could no longer wrap himself up in disbelief. Maybe this wasn't real, but Chloe certainly thought it was. He got down next to her chair and gave her a hug. "I'm sorry," he murmured as she pulled back, pressing her fingertips to her tear-stained cheeks. "I don't…I don't remember. But I'm willing to go on the belief that this is real until I know otherwise, okay? Maybe you're right, Chloe," he added, glancing at Bart. "Maybe you're all right and it's the radiation treatment that gave me all these fake memories, but I have to know for sure. This is my life."

"I know," Chloe said, barely audible. "What do you want us to do?"

"I don't want you or Bart or anyone going any deeper in this than you have to."

"Not flying solo on this one Kent," Bart broke in, "no way."

"Where are you even going to start?"

Clark sighed, staring down at the floor. "I don't know. Everything's different."

"Not everything."

"Mostly everything. I don't even have a little sister in my memories."

Chloe's eyes widened just a little. "You don't…remember Lara?" Again, Clark just shook his head, feeling the weight of impossibility becoming heavier.

"I keep thinking something will jump out at me as being completely different from what I remember; give me a clue for where to start looking for answers."

"Well not remembering a little sister is pretty big."

"No, Oliver's right. I can't get my parents involved."

"Well who else knew your secret?" Chloe pressed. "In the memories you have?"

"Uh…you, my parents, Bart, Oliver, AC and Vincent-"

"AC?" Bart interjected. "What's that?"

"Arthur Curry, you know-" one glance at Bart's face told Clark that he didn't know. "So- wait, you and Oliver are on your own?"

"Yeah man, the only reason I met Oliver is cause I heard the Green Arrow was on the prowl to bust my buddy Clark out of Luthor Corp penitentiary."

Clark went on, voice rising to an impatient, high-pitch tone. "Did I grow up in Smallville? Go to Smallville High?"

"Yes to both," Chloe replied.

"Play football?"

"Yeah, some."

"Did I save Lex's life?"

"On Loeb Bridge."

His mind went to Lara again. "So I have a sister…did I take red K and run away to Metropolis four years ago?"

"Okay, Clark what's with this red K?"

"I told you, Kryptonite."

"Right, right that's what you call meteor rocks." Chloe took a deep breath, trying to keep her thoughts clear.

Clark suddenly lost the desire to hassle her with all his questions. "Lana knows," he said then, the thought only just occurring to him, and filling him with a strange mixture of relief and fear. "I wonder what she thought; hearing on TV that Clark Kent was an alien." He looked at Chloe, and saw only that familiar confusion. "She does know, doesn't she?"

Chloe shook her head slowly. "I don't know. Who's Lana?"

Clark stared at her. "Lana Lang, Chloe." The words landed on dead air. He set his jaw. "That's where I'll start then."

"What do you mean?"

"Lana's one of your best friends, Chloe, I have to know why you don't even know her name." Clark stood out of his chair. "Can I borrow your laptop?"

"The internet's not very good out here," Chloe told him, still anxious. "But listen, Clark, I can go down to the library-"

"Or I could go to the library," Bart broke in suddenly. "I'll be there and back in no time. No seriously, man, no time."

"I'm the only one who knows what I'm looking for," Clark replied, shaking his head. "I have to go."

"Clark you can't-"

"I feel fine, Chloe."

"Yes but half of Metropolis is looking for you! What if you end up back at Luthor Corp?"

"I have a huge advantage, now that I don't have to keep my powers hidden." Clark smiled a little, giving her shoulder a squeeze. She couldn't seem to return the smile, but looked up at him all the same. "First sign of trouble, I bolt faster than a speeding bullet. Promise."

"You be careful," she said, almost grudgingly. And before Clark realized what she was doing, she rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him.

Clark blinked. "What was that for?"

"That's for not calling it quits at Luthor Corp. Clark I don't know what I'd do without you." Did Chloe think he was going to die? He wasn't used to her being so candid with him, not when it came to her feelings.

But rather than try to figure out this newest anomaly, Clark let go of her shoulder, nodded to Bart and disappeared in a gust of wind.

- - - - -