The images and words from Chloe's bizarre wall ran through his head as Clark blurred into the farm. He came to an abrupt stop at the back porch as if his legs couldn't carry him any further. They felt leaden and tired, and climbing the hand-full of steps leading to the porch seemed impossible. He shook his head knowing his pain was not physical and started up the steps, then collapsed heavily on them, letting his head fall forward. He was tired of feeling like this—feeling like he was incomplete. For weeks he felt like he was just holding his breathe, waiting, though he had no idea what he was waiting for, but he felt part of it lay with whatever he thought the Kents could tell him. Even though the idea of the truth of what connected him to those articles on the wall terrified him, at least if he knew, maybe he'd stop feeling like half a person.

He forced himself to stand and stood on the top step and watched the cattle move slowly across the fields in the distance, thinking the sight should move him somehow, knowing that sometime in the past it had. He felt no real connection with this place, and the only place he had felt a part of was all a lie. He slowly uncurled his fingers that gripped the railing post so hard they left indents in the softening wood, and walked to the door.

He slammed the door loudly behind him as he swept into the kitchen, shocking both him and his mother who stood at the sink rinsing a glass. More shocking was the anger he felt the moment he stepped into the idyllic house. Everything was in polite order around him and inside he'd never felt more chaotic.

One look at his face and Martha knew something was very wrong. She set the glass down and walked over to him, taking him by the shoulders. Clark took a step back and looked at her with glassy eyes.

"Clark, what is it?"

His blue-green eyes were almost gray. "I …I need to ask you something."

Jonathan walked into room, his steps slowed when he saw the scene in front of him. Clark was standing by the door, like he was afraid to enter the kitchen—not afraid of them, but afraid of himself. Every muscle in his body was tensed and he trembled slightly. Jonathan rushed into the room, but Martha held her hand up to stop him.

"What is it honey?, sit down."

Clark glanced at the chair, but remained standing. "Was I born like this?"

Jonathan's heart sank deep into his stomach. He cursed inwardly at their stupidity at letting fear govern their decisions. He glanced at his wife, at the face he knew so well. He saw her features cracking beneath the mask of calm she wore for their son, but he knew inside she was breaking. They'd talked about this moment countless times, each of them afraid to be the one to say, "today we tell him." And now he'd found out and it should have come from them.

There had always been this silent agreement between them that this of this magnitude were handled by Jonathan, but when he saw the pain and intensity on his wife's face he knew to step back.

"Why do you ask that?" Martha knew she was just vying for time until her heart stopped thumping in her chest and she figured out how to answer him.

Clark felt like he was standing on the edge of a precipice about to plunge.

"Dr. Carr always told me I was found in a field after an explosion and there were all these strange radiated rocks, and that he thinks that caused me to be…like this." He paused briefly and took a deep breath, remembering the dozens of headlines and articles about freaks of nature doing extraordinary things and hurting people.

Martha glanced quickly at her husband and she knew they both shared the same thought. not like this. Jonathan moved towards Clark against his better judgment—seeing the struggle he was waging etched plainly in his face, but Clark stepped back and continued.

"But, I saw all these stories and pictures of people like me—people who can do things no one should be able to, and at first I thought at least I'm not the only one, but then Chloe said she knew about me before, before I disappeared….and how is that possible? How could she know what I can do, if I was normal before?"

"Clark please, sit down, we all need to talk about this." She tried hard to keep the panic out of her voice.

Clark ignored her, his voice beginning to rise. "It can only mean that Dr. Carr lied—that you let me believe his lies. What really happened to me? Why was I in his care? What about the accident?"

Jonathan knew Clark was teetering precariously in the edge, and he never thought he'd have to tell his son the devastating and amazing truth about himself twice in the span of a year. It wasn't easy the first time, and it'd be even harder now, but he had to get Clark to really hear him.

He walked over and firmly took his arm, not caring if he tried to pull away.

"Son, I know you're upset, but you need to sit down and listen very carefully to us. Your mother and I need to tell you something—something we should have found a way to tell you from the beginning, but you have to understand Clark, we had no idea how you'd react, and we didn't want to risk putting you through anymore. I realize now that was a mistake, because all along you've been strong, and we should have trusted you."

Clark allowed his father to lead him over to the table. He felt like there was a war raging inside of him, and he knew his mind was fighting to recall something long buried. A dull ache in the back of his head started to spread rapidly until it settled behind his eyes.

His mother sat down across from him and reached across the table and took his hand. His father sat next to him and kept his hand on his shoulder.

"I know a lot of things don't make sense to you now, and what we need to tell you is going to sound like the most impossible thing in the world, but I only ask that you hear us out."

Clark squeezed his eyes tightly as the pain in his head increased.

"I don't know what happened exactly with Dr. Carr. You were working with me out in the back field, and then you were just gone. Dr. Carr claims you were taken by some of his colleagues and he didn't know the circumstances of how you came to be at that place—we don't really believe him, but at the time, we just wanted you home. The answer is yes, you were born this way, as far as we can tell. We found you as a toddler, and you could already lift our bed over your head."

"What do you mean you found me? I'm not your real son?"

He watched his mother glance quickly at his father before she turned his face to hers and squeezed his hand tighter.

"You're our son, our real son, the only son we've ever had. I didn't give birth to you, but the day we found you was like a miracle, I felt like you'd been sent here just for me."

She watched Clark closely; she knew all of this at once must be too much for him. Even the first time his father told him about his origins he'd always known he was adopted, now they had to assault him with everything at once, and she wasn't sure he could handle it.

He jerked his hand away from her, growing more confused and angry. "So where are my real parents? You just found me and thought it'd be ok to just keep me?!"

"Listen son you have to understand, we found something else that day too, and we knew it belonged to you. And we knew your parents were gone, and we know now they're dead."

Clark was on his feet, pacing roughly across the floor making the old pine groan and creek in his wake.

"Clark, please, calm down."

"Dr. Carr told me he found me in a field and that my parents were dead too, but he was lying, how do I know you aren't lying now?"

Jonathan got up and grabbed Clark, holding on as hard as he could. "We are not lying, we have no reason to lie to you! Clark, please listen, I can't imagine what must be going through your head right now…."

"No, you can't! You don't have a clue do you? For all the concern and patience and goddam sympathetic looks, you have no idea do you?! Now tell me, WHAT THE HELL AM I!?"

"You're not human."

His mother said it so quietly he almost didn't hear her. His outburst shook her to the core and for the first time in her life she feared her son, but she never ached for him more in that moment.

Clark turned to look at her, his eyes wild and his face flushed a deep red. "What?"

"You're not from this earth, the day we found you, we also found your spaceship."

Clark stood there staring at her, the expression on his face one she'd never seen before, and for a moment she knew she'd much rather have him screaming at them again. She watched all the color drain from his face, and with it any bit of hope he had left. His face was completely naked, each emotion fighting for space in his eyes.

"I'm not an alien."

Martha looked at him squarely, her own voice devoid of emotion. "I'm afraid you are Clark. You found out you were from a planet called Krypton, and it was destroyed, you're the sole survivor of the race. That's why you have your abilities, its not from the meteor rocks. I can't expect you to believe us, but if you look deep inside yourself, you'll know it's the truth."

Martha walked away from both of them and went back to the dishes in the sink, but her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold a glass.

The room so thunderous with Clark's voice just moments before, was now deadly still, and the only sound was a rooster crowing softly in the distance. Jonathan waited, still reeling from his wife's simple declaration that had the power to change all of their lives irrevocably.

Finally Clark looked up, avoiding his father's eyes, his own eyes blazing with anger.

"You're both insane…." His head was pounding and his stomach throbbed, he started backing up towards the door.

"Clark wait! Don't run son."

A piercing pain shot through his skull and he could feel the room closing in around him, he turned quickly and ran, stumbling across the field as he went. His feet knew where he was headed before his brain did, and the earth was a blur around him as he faltered every few feet, but he kept running, knowing the mansion was just beyond the next clearing of trees.

When he saw the high stone turrets of the mansion he slowed his pace. As he walked towards the last group of trees, the pain in his head magnified and the sky opened up above him, a black mass of swirling clouds, and fire rained from the sky. He scrambled quickly to get away from it, but more and more balls of fire exploded around him, blocking every path he chose. His head burst and he dropped to his knees— he couldn't tell if he was sobbing or screaming, but he knew what he saw wasn't real. It was the same thing that happened when he destroyed Lex's chair, and he just wanted it to stop.

He chanted to himself over and over in a fierce whisper "its not happening, its not happening" until the skies finally returned to the bright blue of a late summer afternoon. He was shocked to find himself crouched down on his knees, inches away from the contents of his stomach. He jerked away from the offensive mess, and tried to stand. He knees shook badly, but he kept towards the mansion, not even sure why he was there. As he looked up toward the balcony just outside of Lex's rooms, a realization hit him so hard it paralyzed him. He knew suddenly with absolute certainty that the Kents weren't lying. He was worse than anything he could imagine, not just a mutant, or a freak, but not even human. He sat on the cool grass that was still moist from a recent shower. He let the smell of the damp moss fill his nostrils, and laid his head down on his knees and sobbed. He was still sobbing when Lex found him a few minutes later.


Lex looked at Clark, now sitting in the library ignoring the pile of books laid out for him. The drink of peach iced tea, his favorite, sat untouched next him on the side table. A plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies were also being ignored and Lex watched with morbid fascination as the chocolate began to melt from the heat of the fireplace. He knew it was too warm for a fire, but the ancient stone walls kept the mansion just cold enough to indulge in the spectacle, and he liked watching the flames flicker in Clark's unblinking eyes.

His face was moist from rubbed away tears, and his skin was pale and blotched with bright patches of red. His long dark lashes were still dewy with the remnants of his tears. His hair stood in a disarray of dark curls, mangled by Clark repetitively raking his fingers through it. He hadn't spoken a word since he stopped crying.

Lex had been working tirelessly for hours, overseeing the final construction of the facilities below the mansion, when his head of security, against his strict orders entered to inform him that he'd spotted Clark acting strangely on the lawn. He hated being interrupted, but he'd never turn Clark away, not when everything was so close to being ready.

He walked out on the lawn, not knowing what to expect, and there sat Clark; his large frame huddled on the ground. Clark, even since he returned, kept his emotions well guarded, and to see him so obviously desolate was shocking. He didn't look up as Lex approached, and he could hear his muffled cries as he got closer.

"Clark?"

Clark lifted his head, but turned away from him, obviously embarrassed. Lex bent down to try and get him to look his way, but Clark kept his head turned resolutely towards the trees, wiping at his flowing tears angrily. Finally, after getting no response from him, Lex stood, and held out his hand.

"Come inside. You can talk or not talk, its up to you, but I can't have you sitting out here like this, you're worrying the staff."

He nodded against his knee and allowed Lex to help him to his feet. Lex was a little taken aback when he saw Clark's face. It was flushed and soaked with tears that still spilled from his now bright green eyes. His lips were red and swollen, and Lex thought he looked the perfect picture of despair, the perfect picture of anything—too perfect to be human. It excited him and for a moment he forgot there was something very wrong with Clark and he obviously needed him. He recovered quickly, and ushered Clark into the mansion.

Now he watched as Clark grappled with whatever was troubling him, that so far he'd been unable to voice. But Clark didn't know how to voice it. How do you tell someone your parents think you're an alien, and for reasons you can't explain, you believe them? It explained everything, but more importantly it felt right, like he'd always known. But now he didn't know who to trust. If he really was some alien, then maybe the Kents only kept him hoping to gain something from him, and it was very obvious what Dr. Carr's intentions had been. The whole thing left him feeling empty and completely confused.

He looked over at Lex suddenly realizing what a horrible guest he was being.

"I'm sorry." It was almost a whisper.

"What happened Clark? Another fight with your parents?"

His only response was to wince as a fresh set of tears sprang to his eyes. He just nodded.

"Would you like me to call them? I need to step out to make a phone call anyway."

Clark looked at him, debating whether he should tell Lex what his parents told him, he wanted so much to share the burden, but the fear of what Lex would think of him held him back. He needed to have at least one person he could trust.

"Yeah….just tell them I'm here, and I'll be home when I'm ready." He raked his hand through his hair again and turned his attention back to the fire.

Lex nodded and excused himself to the other room. He immediately picked up a separate line and called his lab outside of Metropolis. He didn't know why he felt a sense of urgency, but something about Clark's behavior made him think time was running out for what he had planned.

"….I need a progress report on the serum. Obviously the one based on Dr. Carr's notes isn't working. The few drops I've managed to slip into his drinks are having no effect…I'm pretty sure he's starting to regain his memories, and I can't let that happen."