Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or its characters.


Clark had a great day. After eating his dinner, the toddler splashed around in the bathtub while Daadaa scrubbed him clean, and happily ate all of the cookies that Maamaa served him for dessert. Finally, he obediently sat still while Daadaa brushed his teeth, and settled into bed after going potty.

"Maamaa loves you, Clark," Martha cooed, squeezing Clark's teddy bear.

"Daadaa loves you too, Clark." Jonathan added, running a hand through his son's hair.

"Clark love Maamaa Daadaa," Clark gurgled.

Martha squeezed Jonathan's hand. Hearing her son tell her that he loved her was the favorite part of Martha's day, bar none.

After tucking Clark in and cleaning up the kitchen, Martha went upstairs, took her appendicitis medicine, and changed into her nightgown. Jonathan, already in his plaid pajamas, was settling in bed.

"I'm nervous, Jonathan," Martha said, snuggling in bed beside her husband. "I mean, first we find out that Clark is allergic to those meteor rocks—which was abnormal from the start—and then we find out that his strength is spectacular-"

"Which isn't that abnormal, considering everything we're reading about in the paper these days," Jonathan muttered. It was true; the newspapers and tabloids were all writing incredible stories about people who had developed strange abilities ever since the meteor shower.

"—and now he has outstanding speed?" Martha asked, confused. "I'm really scared, Jonathan!"

"He's just a special kid, Martha. He's not from around here. He could be from a different country, or even a whole other planet. That… package down in the storm cellar tells us that!" A large metal object that looked like a spaceship was currently sitting down in the Kents' storm cellar. It had been found near Clark shortly after the meteor shower. "But he's just a kid. He needs his parents. No matter what his abilities, he's our little boy," Jonathan continued. "We just need to raise him right and teach him to only use his abilities in certain situations. That's all."

Martha nodded. "Do you think he has any more abilities that we don't know of yet?"

"I don't know, but let's just take this one step at a time," her husband said gently. "He may have tantrums once in a while—like the time he banged his fists on the kitchen table demanding more cookies, and ended up destroying the table, remember?—but overall, Clark's a good son."

"MAAMAA!"

Clark ran into his parents' bedroom, looking spooked, and climbed up onto his parents' bed. He squeezed his mother.

"What's wrong, son?" Jonathan asked his little boy quietly.

"Clark…Clark scared Maamaa been took," Clark sobbed. Tears were running down his little cheeks.

Martha laughed and hugged her son. "Honey, Maamaa's not going anywhere. Maamaa was sick when those men took her away. She had tummy problems, and couldn't get to the hospital by herself. Those nice men were just helping her out!"

"Maamaa's not leaving us unless she's sick or hurt," Jonathan told his son, scratching Clark's hair. "Speaking of health, Maamaa and Daadaa need our sleep, Clark. Back to bed."

Clark sniffled. "But…but Clark need Maamaa. Clark need sure Maamaa here."

"I'll be right here when you wake up tomorrow, Clark. I promise."


The next day was very windy. Clark listened to the wind howl as he ate the oatmeal his mother had made him for breakfast. He wanted to eat breakfast with Maamaa and Daadaa, but they were too busy arguing over near the stove.

"Jonathan, you are not getting up on that ladder to repair the barn roof today. Listen to that wind out there!"

"I can have Clark hold the ladder for me. He's a strong kid."

"Jonathan, I refuse to subject Clark to this. You're not going to get on that ladder. You're just going to have to repair the barn roof tomorrow."

"Martha, the barn roof cannot wait another day. It's going to rain this afternoon, and another rainstorm will make the leaking even worse!"

"At least no one has a chance of getting hurt!"

"What if the roof shall cave in? What will we do then?"

Martha sighed. Jonathan was being stubborn as usual. "Fine," she said, throwing up her arms and going back to pouring herself a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast. "But I'm coming out there too. I'm going to watch."

"Fine!"