Clark sat on the lake shore, doing nothing, watching the twilight. He really had no desire to do anything; the emotional shocks of the day left him with an enervating lassitude. Idly, he focused his vision in the forest, trying to find where he'd hung up the bear meat. As he'd expected, it had been eaten by now.
Next he scanned the lake, trying to decide if he wanted to bother catching and cooking a fish. Clark sat back uncomfortably as he found the downed plane again. Then responsibility nagged at him. I should try and bury the pilot or something. He regretted not doing something earlier; at first, he'd been worried about what the shock of seeing the dead pilot would do to Lana in her late pregnancy; after that, with all the excitement and then the daily chores of travel, he'd forgotten.
Clark welcomed the duty; anything to take his mind from its brooding. He walked to the lake, waded in, swam to the plane. The lake was cool, but it was the sight of the pilot's skeleton that gave Clark a momentary shiver. By now, the fish had eaten the entire unexpected windfall; the pilot was down to clean bones, wrapped in clothing. The shirt and pants had held up well in the cool water.
He wondered if the pilot had really died of a heart attack, as Lana thought, or if this was part of some bizarre plot aimed at Lex Luthor via Lana and the baby. The lack of the transponder signal, and how Lana was so far off the filed flight plan…It was too late to autopsy the pilot, that was for sure. No way of telling now.
Clark could give directions to bring people back to the site to examine the plane – but that might bring on curiosity about how he and Lana had traveled so far in such a short time. Clark considered telling Lionel, then shook his head. Lionel couldn't examine this alone, and no matter whoever he sent, there would be talk. Thanks to the tabloids, the whole world knew that Clark had rescued Lana from the wilderness. Besides, he knew Lex and Lionel, knew their paranoid ways. They'd probably already considered this possibility and were investigating it. And if Lex isn't investigating it out of paranoia, then he's investigating it because I'm involved in it, Clark thought bitterly.
Clark surfaced to take a breath, then dove back down. Opening the plane door, he gently scooped up the pilot's remains and carefully took them back to shore. Once on shore, he laid them down, and checked the pockets. The trousers contained a small billfold; the lake water hadn't done any favors to its contents, but the driver's license was still readable. Examination of other pockets revealed only a pocketknife, some loose change, a waterlogged small notebook, and what looked like a house key and a car key.
A flash of light reflecting off the pilot's neck caught Clark's attention; he picked up the dog tags that glinted in the evening sun. Gently, he removed them from the corpse.
He gave the remains one last X-ray to be sure he wasn't missing anything. It was odd seeing the skeleton through X-ray vision without going through the flesh around it, Clark realized. He'd gotten used to adjusting the depth of his probing vision to the live human form, going through fat, muscle, and connective tissue. This was different. The force of his vision actually burned through the bones, making them look oddly misty to his sight, before he dialed it back a notch.
He debated cremating the remains, decided against it. He wanted to work, to forget his cares in physical labor. Clark went to the forest and dug a grave, the regulation six feet long and six feet deep. He didn't speed, offering up the time and labor as a gift to the soul of the dead pilot. Reverently, he went back to the lakeshore and picked up the bones. He laid them in earth, then quickly filled the grave. He stood over the mound of disturbed soil and quietly said as much as he could remember of the service for the dead. The piney scent filled his nostrils as the sun slipped under the horizon.
He looked again at the lake, thought about the remaining oil and gas in the plane. Maybe it's a little late, he thought, but I can still help this lake. Clark went in the lake, dragged out the plane. There wasn't enough room on the shore, so he broke the plane up into small pieces, piling them near the forest. At least this way they wouldn't pollute the water.
Clark spent that night at the lake, not sleeping, just thinking. The next morning he got up, washed, and bitterly regretted his lack of a toothbrush. He made do with a chewed-up twig. He pulled out the pilot's driver's license again, looked around at the lake one last time, sighed, then sped away.
He met Chloe back in his barn. Tiny straw particles floated, visible in the golden sunbeam coming through the open door. The heat wave had broken, and it was a beautiful summer day in Kansas.
"Clark!" Chloe ran to greet him, hugged him. "What took you so long? I heard that Lana miraculously survived a plane crash and a wilderness trek." She gave him a significant glance. "And I know that Lex made an urgent trip to a small Canadian hospital two days ago!"
Clark sighed. Trust Chloe to keep up on all that. "I made a side trip to deliver some items."
Chloe gave him a questioning look.
"Lana's plane crashed because the pilot died", Clark explained. "I went up to where he was, collected his personal effects, and took them to his family. I had to go to Saskatoon."
"But that wouldn't take you all that long, would it?" Chloe said.
"When I brought them the items, his wife insisted I stay for the afternoon and have some coffee. I could tell she wanted to talk. The family came in, and they fed me coffee and muffins. Mrs. Smith told me about her husband, and how he became a pilot, and the flights that he made, and what kind of a man he was."
Clark sighed as he remembered that awkward afternoon. It brought back too many painful memories of his own loss, but, knowing the widow's situation, he couldn't bring himself to stop her from telling everything she needed to say about the man she'd lost. It helped to tell someone; he knew that.
"She was glad to hear about her husband. She was really worried because he'd been missing for so long. She said that she knew something bad had happened; they were married for thirty-eight years and she could just feel that something was wrong." Clark swallowed, wondering what his mother had felt at his father's passing. "It was hard to hear that he was gone, but at least this way she knew."
"Luthorcorp hadn't told her?" Chloe asked, incredulous.
"No. I was the first one to tell her."
"Typical Luthorcorp", Chloe growled. "I bet they try and scam the widow out of workman's comp, or whatever, too." Then she looked at Clark. "Did you talk at this meeting at all?"
"I told them the story of how Lana and I got out." He grimaced. "Suitably edited, of course."
Chloe's eyes narrowed. "What really happened, Clark?" she asked quietly. She knew something was off. She hadn't seen him this depressed since the stopping-the-nuclear-missile incident where he'd been shot, died, and lost his chance to be human.
Clark didn't say anything. Touching him lightly on the arm, Chloe asked again, "Can you tell me?"
Clark motioned for her to go up to the loft. He followed her, and they sat down on his comfortable old couch. Shelby came up too, and Clark petted him absently as he took a deep breath.
"Lana found out my secret, Chloe", he said.
Chloe goggled. "What?"
"What a coincidence. It was downright weird", Clark said bitterly. "Appropriate for Smallville, of course. But this wasn't Smallville. It was only that the pilot had been to Smallville. Once."
"And?"
"And he liked to fish, and he made a sinker out of kryptonite. And Lana pulled it out of the tackle box, and I got sick, and she figured it out."
"Oh, Clark…" Chloe said softly. A pause, then she said, "Not that I haven't urged you to tell her in the past, but now that she's married to the spawn of Satan, it seems like a really bad time."
"Yeah." Clark stared at the floor. He took another deep breath, turned to look at Chloe.
"She was pretty scared for about a day." Clark gave Chloe a rueful smile. "You took it much better."
"I had a few months to get over it before you admitted it to me", Chloe said. "Right after I saw you catch that car, I was pretty scared too."
She was sorry she'd said that when she saw a look of pain cross Clark's face. She knew that Clark didn't want people afraid of him; that was one of the big reasons he hid his abilities. Frightening people by just being who he was, frightening them with his abilities, just made him feel more inhuman, more of an outsider, alien. Chloe thought back to the time when he'd admitted his heritage to her; she'd been flabbergasted, and, she had to admit, a little frightened. Clark had looked at her, looked away, and said with a sad expression, "I'm still the same person." Remembering his lonely voice at that time almost made her cry.
Chloe tried to smooth over her faux pas; changing the subject, she said, "About a day?"
"Yes. Then we were able to talk. We had a long talk, and she decided she could accept it. We were going to go out the next morning, but then she had the baby." Clark closed his eyes as he thought about Laura.
Chloe thought about saying something, closed her mouth with a snap.
"That delayed us some. But I was still able to make pretty good time carrying her and the baby through the woods. We really got to know each other well, Chloe…" the sad longing in his voice sent chills down her spine.
Clark straightened up, squared his shoulders. "Then, we were almost safe – almost home – and we got hit by lightning."
Chloe paled. "God, Clark – are you OK?"
Clark gave a bitter laugh. "I'm fine, Chloe. It's Lana that was hurt. Well, maybe me too. Because the lightning strike erased the last two weeks of her memory. She doesn't remember getting to know about me. She doesn't remember all the time we spent together after she found out." Clark thought about that. Was it true? Or was the hypnotic suggestion holding strong? He didn't know. Lana had been conscious in his presence only when Lex was there. Clark wondered when he would be able to speak with Lana alone.
Chloe sat in silence for a moment, thinking about what would have happened if she hadn't had that long talk with Clark after he'd disclosed his secret to her. Just knowing he had powers was scary – who knew what he'd do? But talking with him, getting the history, even though Clark habitually downplayed his role – that's what let you know what a good guy he was. That's what made you confident that he wouldn't misuse his powers, that he wouldn't hurt anyone, only help. To lose all that…
"At least the baby's OK. Lana named her Laura after her mother." Clark avoided Chloe's eyes as he reached down and petted Shelby again. He debated telling Chloe about his suspicions. Could he be Laura's father? It was a big thing to tell, that was for sure. Clark thought about it some more. Would Chloe be able to help him get information about what to do for a custody battle? She certainly knew his concerns about DNA testing. Lost in thought, Clark remained silent.
"Um, Clark?" Chloe's voice was tentative.
"Yes?"
"You haven't read the papers today, have you?"
"No." He looked up at Chloe's face, uneasy at the tone in her voice. "Why?"
"The baby's dead." Chloe said it flatly.
"Dead?" Clark couldn't believe she'd said that. Laura, dead? How could that be? Was this some sort of sick joke?
"The Daily Planet said it was delayed injury from a lightning strike. They said she was fine for awhile, and then fifteen minutes later she had pulmonary edema and heart failure, and she died right away. They couldn't save her."
Clark's hand froze on Shelby's head. A roaring filled his head. He could barely hear Chloe say, "Actually, usually the Luthors are better at covering up stuff like this, but since it happened in that remote hospital far away from Metropolis and their usual haunts, they didn't have as tight control over the media as usual." She went on to say something about sources, but Clark couldn't understand.
Dead? How could Laura be dead? How could her dark eyes be closed? He wouldn't see her scrunch up her nose again, or screw her fists into her eyes as she screamed for a diaper change. He wouldn't hear that high-pitched shriek, at first dreaded for its sleep-disrupting properties, then endured, its volume increasing as Laura grew older and stronger.
Clark grabbed a steel ball bearing sitting on the table next to the couch, part of the tractor-fixing job he had yet to finish. Angrily, he threw it with all his might at the barn wall. A smoking hole in the wall and a small crater in the farmyard were the only evidence of its flight. Chloe stopped babbling on about Luthor media control and gasped.
Clark's anger transmuted into grief. I shouldn't have left her…I left her alone to die…He put his head in his hands.
"Clark?" Chloe asked softly.
"I knew her. I knew her. Now I'm the only one", Clark said wretchedly. "Lex wasn't there, Lana doesn't remember. I'm the only one that can remember her life." He looked up at Chloe. "She was so perfect…"
He sat in the barn, staring at nothing, for hours after Chloe left.
The funeral was well-attended, although Clark would be willing to bet that not one of the so-called mourners present was actually Lex's friend. They were just business associates, or contacts of some sort. Lana might actually have some friends attending, but in her time with Lex she'd gradually fallen out of touch with many of her previous acquaintances.
Clark walked past the Luthorcorp Security guards holding the paparazzi at bay, nodding to the friends on the security staff he'd made back when he still saw Lex on a regular basis, ignoring the camera flashes and shouted requests for comment.
He looked for William, the security man who had accompanied Lex to the hospital, the one who wore the meteor rock tiepin. William was not in sight. Clark had wondered…if the man was near Laura, did that kryptonite tiepin contribute to her death? Meteor rock exposure was hardly the best thing in the world, even for healthy adults.
In the quiet dark hours of three a.m., it was another thing that Clark wondered about. Clark had thought about it, over and over - should he have removed the tie, gotten the tiepin out of Laura's vicinity? But, at the time, overwhelmed with Lana's condition and Lex's barely-disguised hatred, he'd never thought of that. Not until it was too late. He remembered a few lines of a poem, murmured it bitterly to himself. "Of all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these – It Might Have Been."
He took a deep breath, straightening his tie as he walked into St. Swithin's Episcopal Church. His eye was immediately drawn to a small white casket in front of the altar, heaped with white orchids. Clark slipped into a rear pew, bowing his head as the white-haired clergyman began the service.
Through the solemn, spare service, Clark remained silent, drawn inexorably back to his father's interment. Losing someone never got any easier. It was worse when a whole life ahead was gone. He stood at the final words before the casket was wheeled out.
"Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord."
With the others attending, Clark murmured, "And let perpetual light shine upon her."
Later, at the quiet post-funeral luncheon, Clark made his way to Lex and Lana. Based on Lana's wobbly posture and unfocused eyes, she was on some powerful anti-depressants – or something. Clark, not knowing what to say, took refuge in platitudes.
He clasped her hand and said, "Lana, I'm so sorry."
"Thank you, Clark", she replied dully. It was obvious she'd be a long time recovering from this.
He moved on to Lex. They'd had their differences, but Clark would never wish this on anyone.
"I'm sorry, Lex", Clark said, shaking Lex's hand.
Bitterness flashed in Lex's eyes. He kept hold of Clark's hand, refusing to let Clark move on. In a low, intense voice, Lex said, "Are you really, Clark?"
Clark's eyes widened in surprise. "Of course I am, Lex. I never wanted this to happen."
"But it happened anyway", Lex said sharply. "Once again, you have what I wanted and I'm left with nothing. Being there at the birth, being with my daughter…" His words trailed off as he squeezed Clark's hand with enough force that it would have hurt anyone else. "I was left with the dregs again. You had the loving family, everything else – and now you've taken my daughter."
Clark flexed his hand to break Lex's grip. He stood back a step, ignoring the curious looks of the next people in the condolence line. He tried to maintain a calming tone.
"Lex, you're overcome with grief. I did everything I could for Laura ---"
"Including taking her into a lightning storm!" Lex said in a audible hiss. "It's all your fault." His voice grew louder. "I'll never forgive you for this."
Clark stood, aghast at the imputation of malign intent into his well-meaning actions. He gathered himself. There was no reasoning with Lex in this mood.
"I'm sorry, Lex." That was all Clark said. He moved on. Behind him, Lex Luthor looked at him with one last expression of hate. Then Lex smoothed his face into its usual non-communicative mask.
Clark headed toward the exit. He couldn't get out fast enough. Unfortunately, a voice called his name.
"Clark!"
Clark sighed as he saw Lionel Luthor approaching him. As ever, the older Luthor was impeccably dressed. In deference to the occasion, the hand-tailored Italian suit was an unrelieved black.
"Clark, I'd like to talk with you a bit", Lionel said. There was a tentative tone in his voice, unlike his usual commanding style. Clark looked at the nearby bodyguard; Lionel said, "Give us some space, Cyrus." The bodyguard backed away; Lionel indicated a secluded corner and he and Clark headed there. Cyrus by a combination of aggressive posture and menacing body motion ensured their privacy from the crowd.
Lionel stared at Clark for a moment. As usual, Clark felt off-balance when confronted by the enigmatic tycoon. Avoiding social small talk, Lionel probed with his usual gift of cutting to the heart of the matter, "Lex's comments aside, Clark, I'm guessing that's not the entire story?" he said.
Clark debated how much to say. Lionel waited patiently, having learned over the years that silence called for something to fill it. Clark opened his mouth, looked away, shut it again. He stood awkwardly, not sure what to do.
In a weird way, Lionel was one of the only people in whom Clark could confide. As much as Clark hated Lionel knowing his secret, and distrusted Lionel, there was still a shared bond between them, a twisted copy of the relationship between Clark and Jonathan Kent.
Clark sighed. It's only human—only natural, he thought ironically. When you're accused of something, you want to refute it. And who else can I tell?
"Lana's plane crashed. I found her up at a lake. She had the baby. I was taking them home", he said tersely. Lionel raised one eyebrow at the admission that Clark still considered Lana under his protection. "We were hiking out –" Lionel's expression of disbelief prompted Clark to say, "Well, I was carrying her out. We couldn't go very fast through the forest. That's why she was missing so long."
Lionel said nothing, but made a "go-on" motion.
Clark continued, sounding faintly desperate. "We got out of the forest. We were almost safe. I was carrying them and we were out in the middle of the open. Three more seconds, I swear, we would have been safe. But the lightning hit."
His voice roughened. "I thought the baby was OK. Lana was in cardiac arrest and I did CPR. We got to the hospital and she made it. But I keep on wondering, if I'd done something different, would Laura have made it too? Did I forget to do something? I thought she was OK! What did I do wrong?" Clark made himself stop, having said more than he intended, revealed more of his private doubts than he wanted to.
Clark looked up at Lionel, saw him staring into space, an unfamiliar expression on his countenance. Could it be compassion? Clark had never seen that in Lionel before. It surprised him.
"Clark, I'm sure you did everything you could." Lionel's voice was hushed, avoiding notice from the crowd of onlookers, but emphatic. Clark couldn't stop himself from giving a tiny nod.
Bitterness tinged Lionel's voice as he continued, "Sometimes bad things just happen. Sometimes there's nothing anyone can do", Lionel said, lowering his voice, "even if they have special abilities." He stood silent for a moment as remembered pain twisted his face. He said, "Lex won't, but I'd like to thank you for doing what you could for my granddaughter."
Clark looked warily at Lionel. He was used to examining everything Lionel said for ulterior motives. But this time the older man actually sounded grateful.
"Thank you, Clark." Lionel motioned to his bodyguard, who neared them.
"Please give my regards to your mother."
Clark nodded.
Lionel sighed. His face fell into tired lines. Suddenly he looked much older. He took a step towards the condolence line. "Now I've got to go and talk to Lex. I doubt he'll listen to me, though." Lionel walked away. Under his breath, so softly that only super-hearing could have caught the words, Clark heard Lionel say, "He's not the first Luthor to lose his child."
Martha Kent sat at the kitchen table with Clark. She reached out and took his hand. Golden sunlight streamed past the window curtains, illuminating the fruit bowl on the table, making tiny rainbows as it passed through the multiple prisms of the crystal window hanging. A small breeze tinkled the prisms against each other.
"I know this is tough on you, honey." She said it quietly, as she'd said a hundred sensitive things in a hundred sensitive conversations over the years.
"You know the tough part, Mom?" Clark asked quietly. "I felt like I was her real father." Carefully, he didn't say, I wonder if I was her real father. Some things just hurt too much to say. "Being there, alone with Lana and her…"
Martha said, "Losing your child. It's so hard…." She swallowed. "The time when we thought we'd lost you…it was the worst day of my life." His mother took his fingers in hers, driven to deny the bad times; driven to touch, to feel the warmth of living flesh. "We were so lucky to get you back. It was a miracle."
"There were no miracles for Laura", Clark said bitterly.
"Oh, Clark." Martha squeezed his hand. They didn't say anything for a moment. She sat quietly, sympathizing, ready to listen.
Clark thought about telling his mother how Lana had found out his secret. Martha probably knew that Lana had to have figured out something during this whole episode – his mother was no fool. But she seemed content to let Clark tell what he felt ready to tell, when he felt ready. Then Clark decided against telling the whole story right now. That sorrow was still too close, too tender. He wasn't ready yet to examine his feelings about Lana. And in the end, nothing had changed, anyway.
Almost telepathically, his mother asked, "How is Lana doing?"
"She looked kind of dazed", Clark said, remembering Lana's glassy eyes and disjointed conversation during the funeral. "I think she's on some sort of drugs."
"They have their place, I guess, but eventually you have to get off them and face your grief." Martha spoke with the assurance of one who knows from personal experience. "What about Lex?"
"Well, he's convinced that I deliberately arranged this to spite him." Clark couldn't keep an incredulous note out of his voice.
An expression of disbelief crossed Martha's face. Then she said in a soothing tone, "Lex is hurting, Clark, he's lashing out."
She always looks for the best in everyone, Clark thought. "I can't believe he'd think I'd do something like that." Clark laid his hand flat on the table, feeling the smoothness of the wood, wishing for the hundredth time that his father was still here to talk to. "I would never hurt anyone, you know that."
Martha's hair ruffled in the breeze as an introspective look crossed her face. "You know, Clark, people often accuse others of doing the things they're thinking about themselves."
Clark turned that over in his mind, not liking the taste of it. "You don't think Lex --?"
"Who knows what he's capable of?" his mother asked, turning somber. "I don't like to think it of him, Clark, but even I know he's hurt people before. It's not so much a stretch to guess he'd do it again. And now he feels he has a personal motive."
Clark leaned back and sighed. "I won't be able to change his mind. He's obsessed." He got up from the chair, paced around the kitchen. "He'll hate me even more now." Clark took hold of the rim of the chair. Gripping it firmly, he loosened his hold when the wood creaked under his grasp.
He said, "I can take care of myself. But other people…" The breeze through the window molded his blue T-shirt to his torso. "I was thinking about this all the way home."
"What, Clark?" his mother asked.
"I know there's a lot of helpless people out there – not just kids. I couldn't save Laura." He stood facing Martha, the sunbeam behind him giving him a golden aura.
"From now on, I'm going to do what I can to save the people who need it. Maybe they just need a little help. Maybe they need a lot. But I'm going to do what I can." Clark stood up, straight and tall, green eyes resolute, his red jacket billowing out in the small breeze, determination on his face. "I'm going to do what I can."
The End