Part 2 Chapter 4

Jonathan knelt on the barn floor, working on the plow attachment for the tractor, carefully sliding each blade into place and making sure it was secure before moving on to the next.

"Need a hand, Dad?"

Jonathan glanced up towards the Loft and tossed his son a grin, "Best idea I've heard all night."

Clark grinned back and made his way towards the stairs when he heard something—a sound reminiscent of insect wings and crickets chirping. Very faint, but easily loud enough for Clark's enhanced hearing to catch.

He stopped and turned, seeking the source of the strange sound. There—something dropped out of the rafters and he had the brief impression of a familiar face before he was knocked flat on his back. Instinctively, Clark flung his arms upwards, but whatever it was jumped into the rafters before he could make contact.

"Clark?" Jonathan called to his son, having only seen a shadow of motion out of the corner of his eye as he heard the thud of his son's body hitting the loft floor. He dropped the plow-blade he'd been holding and ran up the stairs, only to arrive as the teen pulled himself back to his feet, looking puzzled.

"Clark, what happened? Are you all right?"

"There's someone in the rafters," Clark explained briefly, already turning his gaze upwards, scanning for a dark form.

Jonathan grabbed a flashlight and aimed it upwards and indicated that Clark should do the same and the two headed out it opposite directions, looking for whoever or whatever it might be.

Jonathan heard a strange clicking sound and turned to look, shining the flashlight beam into the corner, but there was nothing there. He turned back—and the light landed on a face. There was a blur of motion, a sense of impact—and he was smashing through the railing, falling—

"Dad!" Clark saw—his father was going to land on the plow blades after falling nearly a story.

Everything slowed.

Clark ran, vaulting over the railing and dropping to the barn floor far faster than gravity could account for, moved to break his dad's fall with his own body, allowing himself to fall backwards onto the blades to keep from hurting his father with his unnatural strength.

Time sped up.

Jonathan looked around from his position on his son's chest, then forced himself upright with a wince, turning to give Clark a hand up.

Clark took it and the two looked back at the plow—blades bent from the impact. If Jonathan had hit it from that height…

"What the hell just happened?"

xxxx

"I never saw anybody move like that," Jonathan told Martha, still unsettled by the whole thing.

"Did you get a look at his face?"

Jonathan shook his head, "He came right off the ceiling at me. It was almost as if he…"

"… Wasn't entirely human?" Clark half-asked, eyes on the ceiling. "I saw his face; I think it was Greg Arkin."

"That's a name I haven't heard in a long time—you and Pete used to hang out with him in grade school."

"Why would he want to hurt you?" Jonathan asked.

Clark shook his head, "I don't know."

"Are you… still friends?"

Clark glanced at his mother, "I pass him in the halls, but people change."

"I remember his mother used to keep him on a short leash, but I can't believe he'd hurt a fly," Martha was at a loss.

Jonathan paced away, looking up towards the Loft.

"Maybe that's because he was too busy collecting them and any other bug he could get his hands on."

Jonathan turned back, "Come on, Clark, kids don't just leap off the ceiling and attack people."

Clark flicked on the flashlight he was still holding and pointed it upwards, "How do you explain that?"

Jonathan and Martha looked to where Clark's flashlight beam pointed… to a set of slimy-looking greenish footprints across the inside of the barn roof.

Jonathan shook his head, still staring at the trail. "I don't know. It seems kinda out there."

Martha gave him an incredulous look, "Oh, this coming from the man who's been hiding a spaceship in his storm cellar for the last twelve years."

Jonathan stood there for a few seconds as Martha headed back towards the house before giving a half-shrug. She had a point.

He turned his attention back to his son, "It's not that I don't want to believe you, Clark, it's just… I'm having trouble getting my head around this one."

"Dad, do you ever wonder why all these weird things happen in Smallville?"

Jonathan shook his head, "Every town has its share of tall tales."

"Except here they're all true," Clark pointed out, clicking off the flashlight.

Something in the tone made Jonathan turn to look at Clark.

"Chloe showed me this wall," Clark began to explain, turning to go sit on the stairs, "It's covered with all these articles she collected about all the weird stuff that's happened in Smallville since the meteor shower." Clark looked down, finally voicing to his father the feeling he'd had since he'd found out he'd come down with the meteors. "It's all my fault."

Jonathan turned to lean against the stairs, giving a slight sigh, "Look, Clark, if you're talking about fifty-pound tomatoes and two-headed calves, then I've got a better explanation for you—Luthorcorp!" He shook his head, "I mean, God only knows what that fertilizer plant has been pumping out over the last twelve years."

Clark looked down, "Luthorcorp didn't kill Lana's parents."

Jonathan didn't quite know how to react to that little declaration, he rubbed his forehead before looking at Clark, "Neither did you, son. You can't blame yourself for something you had no control over!"

"I know!" Clark shifted, "… But I still feel responsible."

Jonathan straightened away from the corner of the steps and approached his son, running a hand through Clark's hair and moving to sit beside him with a sigh. "What happened to Lana's parents was a terrible tragedy, but no matter how many extraordinary gifts you have, you will never be able to change that."

Clark tilted his head to look at his Dad, "How do I make this feeling go away?"

"You can't," Jonathan admitted, "but that's what makes you human."

xxxx

The next morning at school, Clark sought out a certain friend.

"Chloe," he greeted.

"Hey," she tossed a brief smile in Clark's direction.

"Is Greg Arkin still the science reporter for the Torch?"

"Well, if your definition of a 'reporter' is someone who actually turns in articles… then no. Greg hasn't shown his face in the office for like, a week."

"I gotta find him," Clark muttered to himself.

"What's the sudden interest in Greg?" Chloe laughed, having heard the mutter. "Are you coming out of the Entomology closet?"

Clark shook his head, "It's nothing," he certainly wasn't going to say the boy had nearly killed his father the night before, "I'll catch up with you later."

Chloe's smile vanished, "I hate it when you do that," she called after Clark's retreating form.

Clark paused, started back, "Do what?"

"Just… shut me out. It's like one minute you're here and the next you're gone," she ignored another student brushing against her shoulder on the way to class, "Clark, you're not… outgrowing me as a friend, are you?"

Clark grinned and planted himself right in front of his rather intrepid reporter friend, "Chloe, I could never outgrow you," he paused, looking down at her face, "Other than vertically."

Chloe couldn't stop her answering smile, "It's amazing how far that Kent charm will get you."

"Ah… now, what's up with Greg?"

xxxx

Lex had a bad feeling—similar to how he always seemed to know how the market would turn and which people would buy what he offered or sell what he needed, or how he felt just before some kind of disaster would hit one of the plants under his supervision.

Only this was different… a face came with the feeling, a desire to protect and warn.

A quick call got him the information he needed and Lex Luthor did something he hadn't really been expecting to do again.

He went to school.

xxxx

I know that it never actually states what the meteors did to Lex, aside from cure his asthma and make him go bald, that is, but he's a rather successful businessman even when he's still a nice guy in the series.

How does he pull it off so easily? He has more time to himself than most who head that much, not to mention has his father out to ruin him—the man who taught him, by the way. So I'm making a slightly AU leap and extending his 'sixth sense' to anything he has a particular interest and investment in—such as business and Clark.