Might be some missed typos here. Sorry.
***
Father's call from Japan woke him up from another dream. He rolled over to his nightstand to reach for the phone and mumbled a sleepily incoherent hello. His father's monotone voice nearly lulled him back to sleep, but he threw is feet on the floor to prevent that from happening. Father was asking if Lex was packed yet, and Clark told him yes. Father asked if Lex was still unhappy about the whole thing and Clark told him yes. Father asked to speak to Lex and Clark listened intently to the sounds of house. Hearing nothing he said Lex was gone. That he probably left for Smallville already. Father said "excellent" in a way Clark never wanted to hear spoken about himself. Father then said he had a lot more business to attend to before he came back to the states, and that he would probably check up on Lex before coming home.
Clark told him that it was fine and he would see him when he got home. Father hung up and Clark listened to the empty hiss on the other end of the phone. He was pretty sure that it's was something he'd have to get used to.
As soon as he hung up the phone it rang. He was about to yell at his father for calling so much, but the bland automated voice that came through the receiver wouldn't have been much to argue with. It was a call to remind him of his appointment with Dr. Wilson today at 3:30. He hung up the phone and made his way toward the bathroom to shower.
It would probably be another week before father came home. It didn't bother him. He was always good at fending for himself. It was something you had to be good at in this family.
***
The halls of Winchester Preparatory School were a blur of blue and khaki as the student body milled back and forth between them. Clark hated the uniform and usually kept his jacket off for as long as he could. It barely fit him, and he really didn't think blue was his color. No one even looked up as he passed them. He thought it was kind of funny how easily ignored he could be despite the fact that he was taller than most of his classmates. He couldn't really keep his eyes on his feet because other people's heads kept getting in the way. Hastily, he made his way through the crowd and onto world history.
Taking his seat in the back nearest the door he pulled out his book and notepad and waited for the teacher to begin her lesson. He kept his eyes focused on the board, took notes when he thought he needed to, and half-paid attention to the teacher. He never bothered to remember teacher's names. It almost seemed too personal. All they really knew about him was that he was Lionel Luthor's son. That's all they needed to know. He knew that he probably would have gotten good grades even if he didn't fully deserve them. That's how Lex got through some classes when he was in school. Clark made sure to do well enough in school so he wouldn't feel like anyone was giving him a handout.
The period was over quicker than he thought it would be, and he got up silently from his desk, turned in the class assignment, and filed out the door. Second period was Geometry. He still couldn't remember if he finished the homework. His side was still sore from the fall. He didn't want to think about last night anymore. He shut off his thoughts like he had a switch in the back of his head and robotically moved toward class.
During lunch he usually sat outside behind the cafeteria. He didn't like the noise of the countless students talking about absolutely nothing inside. Sometimes he couldn't fully control his hearing and it made his head ache in a way migraines couldn't compare. He wasn't that hungry today. Just absent-mindedly picked at his deli sandwich and drank his soda.
Sometimes he wised he had friends. Someone he could confide in. Someone besides a woman with a PHD. He knew that wouldn't happen anytime soon. In order to get a friend you'd have to speak to them. He wasn't good at speaking to kids his own age. Every time he went to open his mouth he found that he couldn't think of anything good to say. Dr. Wilson told him that he had problems relating to people. She had to go to college for seven years just to come to a conclusion that was fairly obvious to anyone whose seen him try to start a conversation. He thought that was funny.
No one really wanted to be his friend because of who his father was. He knew that. Lex had friends because he bought them. Not with money per say, but with his manipulative ways, charisma, false promises and even falser loyalty. Lex had the kind of currency Clark knew he would never possess. He was glad about that.
He was about to throw his soda away when he heard the screams. The pleading and begging for whoever it was, not to jump. He rolled his eyes and sped off toward the gym. He looked up to the rooftop when he slowed down to approached the crowd built up. He couldn't see who it was exactly, but knew that he'd have to run up there and keep them from jumping. He was almost tired of saving the lives of discontent, spoiled rich kids. Once or twice a month someone wandered up there and threatened to jump. The school had taken precaution and locked the door that led to the roof access stairs, but it never seemed to work. They always found a way to get up there.
Sighing, he moved away from the crowd and to the back of the building. He briefly wondered what reasons this kid had, but thought it better not to know. All that really mattered was that he or she didn't end up another bloodstain. He walked calmly through the maintenance door, and through the damp, pipelined hallway. Once he got the roof access door he saw that the lock was busted again. He ran up the stairs and half a second later was staring at the back of a girl still teetering on the edge. He'd have to hurry, someone was bound to run up here to try and stop her.
Grabbing her by the waist, he tore her away from the ledge and flew back down the stairs. The girl screamed, most likely because she thought she was falling, and her hands flailed wildly, smacking Clark in the head a few times. He left her sitting on the empty bleachers inside the gym and ran back outside. Part of him wanted to talk to the girl. To see why she was driven to throw herself off of a building. But another part, a bigger more influential part of him, knew that a good deed was done. And that's all that needed to be done. He could talk about falling off of buildings all he wanted; he had the most experience. But it wasn't something he'd want to rehash with a suicidal schoolmate. She couldn't possibly understand the floating. The walking on air hundreds of feet above the ground. No one could.
Clark Luthor the floating wonder.
Sounded like something you'd see in a circus sideshow.
He knew that the whole school would be buzzing about the latest attempt of gym diving, and the questions that would be asked how she got into the gym so quickly. He knew he moved fast enough so that she couldn't see him. But there was still the 'what if' factor gnawing at him. He shook his head hoping the thoughts would magically disappear with the motion, and made his way to third period.
***
There was only one other kid in the waiting room at Dr. Wilson's office. He was pretty sure he'd never seem him here before, but then, the doctor was always getting new clients. If the other kid even knew Clark was there he made no sign of showing it. Just kept his nose buried in his magazine. Clark checked his watch and it read 3:27. This new client was cutting it close. Dr. Wilson always liked to give herself a few minutes after a session, but that didn't seem like it was going to happen today. He focused his eyes and the bleak white walls faded away in a blur. He saw a woman still sitting in the chair directly in front of the doctor's desk. She seemed to be hunched over slightly, like she was crying. He could hear the muffled sobs when he concentrated, but immediately pushed them away. He didn't want to be that nosy.
He thought about how he had come to be here. How a simple psychiatric evaluation at school turned into numerous counselor appointments. How those turned into group sessions. How those turned into doctor referrals. How the mere fact that he was who he was, and so anti-social automatically meant that he had problems. He was pretty sure that if his father weren't a Luthor, he'd be sitting in a nice mental hospital somewhere. Drugged up on Thorazine and staring at the walls. He wondered if that would have been so bad. It would have been more structured that his home life ever was. His father didn't have time for the details when the school had finally gotten a hold of him on the phone. He just asked for the number of the best psychiatrist in Metropolis and sent Clark to her.
It was another ten minutes before the woman composed herself and finally came out into the waiting area. The kid finally looked away from his magazine and stood up. It seemed like he didn't care at all that his mother, or whoever she was to him, was crying just a few minutes before. He only walked out the door and waited for the woman to follow.
Dr. Wilson smiled when she saw Clark in his chair and motioned for him to come into the office. He knew better than to ask her what the woman was crying about. He took a seat in the chair and watched as the doctor finished up some paperwork. The clock ticking was the only sound in the room.
"I see here that you need another refill on your prescription soon," she said looking over a piece of paper. "How many pills do you have left?"
He didn't know how many pills were left in the bottle. He never took them.
Ten, he lied.
Lying always felt strange. Like the words were heavy on his tongue and didn't want to come out correctly. Dr. Wilson was the only person he ever lied to. The pills were the only thing he lied about. Everything else about him, he merely didn't tell anyone. He knew the doctor didn't believe him, and knew showing her the truth would only scare her.
"Okay, that will last you another week," she said. "You'll have to come to the pharmacy next Wednesday to refill it."
Okay.
"So how was school today?"
Fine.
"Talk to anyone?"
His response was only a small chuckle.
"Anything interesting happen?"
A girl tried to kill herself.
"Oh my, that's terrible."
Yeah.
"Were there any warning signs? Any reason why she would do such a horrible thing?"
I don't know. The whole incident was kind of weird.
"Weird?" She replied, her eyebrows quirking in curiosity. "Weird how?"
Well they say she was up on the roof one minute and inside the gym the next. No one knows how she got there.
"Who are 'they' exactly?"
Teachers, janitors, other kids.
"What do you think happened?"
I think she was rescued.
"Rescued how exactly?"
He looked up at the doctor, his eyes conveying all the knowledge beyond them. He had told her all about his 'powers.' He felt funny calling them that. To him they were more a curse than a blessing. To her they were a delusion more than a reality.
"Oh," the doctor replied. "You had something to do with it?"
He nodded.
"How exactly were you involved?"
I had that dream again, he said changing the subject.
The doctor glared at him impatiently but let it slide.
"The one where you're flying," she stated, finally taking out her notepad. She scribbled a few lines before looking at him again.
Yeah. But this time it was different.
"Different how?"
There was a girl there.
"A girl?" She said genuinely surprised. She scribbled a few more notes. "What did she look like?"
Dark hair just slightly past her shoulders, dark eyes, a businesswoman looking suit.
"Do you have any idea who she could be?"
Not really.
"Did she have a name?"
Lois, he said. Lois Lane.
"Does that name mean anything to you?"
Not that I know of. I don't anyone named Lois.
"What were you two doing in your dream?"
Flying.
"Only flying?"
Yes.
"Did this woman make you feel anything?"
Kind of.
"What did you feel?"
Safe.
"Safe how?"
Safe like... like I could talk to her. Like I could tell her everything.
"What do you mean by everything?"
He looked up at her; eyes clear in his meaning.
Everything.
"I see," said the doctor as she made some more notes. "Does your father still not believe you about your abilities?"
No.
"Why haven't you ever tried to show him?"
I have, but he was too busy to even look.
"Why don't you show me?"
Because I don't want to.
"You can trust me Clark you know that."
I know.
"Why don't you?"
Because it's better for you to believe I'm crazy.
"Why do you think that?"
Because once you see it's all true you'll tell someone. And they'll tell someone else. And next thing I know I've got the authorities knocking down my door and hauling me away.
"If all you told me is true, do you really think they could take you?"
No.
"They why are you afraid of it?"
Because I'd have to hurt someone to get away.
"How do you know that? Why couldn't you just use your speed?"
Someone always gets hurt in those situations.
"How do you know that for sure?"
I just do.
"I see." More notes.
I don't want to hurt anyone.
More notes.
"Do you believe you can fly Clark?"
No.
"Why is that?"
Because I've tried.
"And what became of that?"
Nothing. I just floated for a little bit.
"Oh yes, the floating. You can do this for brief periods of time correct?"
Yes.
More notes.
"But you can't fly."
No.
"You dream about it constantly."
I know.
"What would you do if you could fly Clark?"
Escape.
"Escape from what exactly?"
Everything.
"And where would you go?"
Clark looked at her for second, his mind focusing on the destination he'd been thinking of every night before he went to sleep. Where his brother had been shipped off to. Where he knows he was found and his family never told him.
Smallville, he said.
"Really," the doctor replied surprised. "Why..."
Times up, Clark said.
***
Father's call from Japan woke him up from another dream. He rolled over to his nightstand to reach for the phone and mumbled a sleepily incoherent hello. His father's monotone voice nearly lulled him back to sleep, but he threw is feet on the floor to prevent that from happening. Father was asking if Lex was packed yet, and Clark told him yes. Father asked if Lex was still unhappy about the whole thing and Clark told him yes. Father asked to speak to Lex and Clark listened intently to the sounds of house. Hearing nothing he said Lex was gone. That he probably left for Smallville already. Father said "excellent" in a way Clark never wanted to hear spoken about himself. Father then said he had a lot more business to attend to before he came back to the states, and that he would probably check up on Lex before coming home.
Clark told him that it was fine and he would see him when he got home. Father hung up and Clark listened to the empty hiss on the other end of the phone. He was pretty sure that it's was something he'd have to get used to.
As soon as he hung up the phone it rang. He was about to yell at his father for calling so much, but the bland automated voice that came through the receiver wouldn't have been much to argue with. It was a call to remind him of his appointment with Dr. Wilson today at 3:30. He hung up the phone and made his way toward the bathroom to shower.
It would probably be another week before father came home. It didn't bother him. He was always good at fending for himself. It was something you had to be good at in this family.
***
The halls of Winchester Preparatory School were a blur of blue and khaki as the student body milled back and forth between them. Clark hated the uniform and usually kept his jacket off for as long as he could. It barely fit him, and he really didn't think blue was his color. No one even looked up as he passed them. He thought it was kind of funny how easily ignored he could be despite the fact that he was taller than most of his classmates. He couldn't really keep his eyes on his feet because other people's heads kept getting in the way. Hastily, he made his way through the crowd and onto world history.
Taking his seat in the back nearest the door he pulled out his book and notepad and waited for the teacher to begin her lesson. He kept his eyes focused on the board, took notes when he thought he needed to, and half-paid attention to the teacher. He never bothered to remember teacher's names. It almost seemed too personal. All they really knew about him was that he was Lionel Luthor's son. That's all they needed to know. He knew that he probably would have gotten good grades even if he didn't fully deserve them. That's how Lex got through some classes when he was in school. Clark made sure to do well enough in school so he wouldn't feel like anyone was giving him a handout.
The period was over quicker than he thought it would be, and he got up silently from his desk, turned in the class assignment, and filed out the door. Second period was Geometry. He still couldn't remember if he finished the homework. His side was still sore from the fall. He didn't want to think about last night anymore. He shut off his thoughts like he had a switch in the back of his head and robotically moved toward class.
During lunch he usually sat outside behind the cafeteria. He didn't like the noise of the countless students talking about absolutely nothing inside. Sometimes he couldn't fully control his hearing and it made his head ache in a way migraines couldn't compare. He wasn't that hungry today. Just absent-mindedly picked at his deli sandwich and drank his soda.
Sometimes he wised he had friends. Someone he could confide in. Someone besides a woman with a PHD. He knew that wouldn't happen anytime soon. In order to get a friend you'd have to speak to them. He wasn't good at speaking to kids his own age. Every time he went to open his mouth he found that he couldn't think of anything good to say. Dr. Wilson told him that he had problems relating to people. She had to go to college for seven years just to come to a conclusion that was fairly obvious to anyone whose seen him try to start a conversation. He thought that was funny.
No one really wanted to be his friend because of who his father was. He knew that. Lex had friends because he bought them. Not with money per say, but with his manipulative ways, charisma, false promises and even falser loyalty. Lex had the kind of currency Clark knew he would never possess. He was glad about that.
He was about to throw his soda away when he heard the screams. The pleading and begging for whoever it was, not to jump. He rolled his eyes and sped off toward the gym. He looked up to the rooftop when he slowed down to approached the crowd built up. He couldn't see who it was exactly, but knew that he'd have to run up there and keep them from jumping. He was almost tired of saving the lives of discontent, spoiled rich kids. Once or twice a month someone wandered up there and threatened to jump. The school had taken precaution and locked the door that led to the roof access stairs, but it never seemed to work. They always found a way to get up there.
Sighing, he moved away from the crowd and to the back of the building. He briefly wondered what reasons this kid had, but thought it better not to know. All that really mattered was that he or she didn't end up another bloodstain. He walked calmly through the maintenance door, and through the damp, pipelined hallway. Once he got the roof access door he saw that the lock was busted again. He ran up the stairs and half a second later was staring at the back of a girl still teetering on the edge. He'd have to hurry, someone was bound to run up here to try and stop her.
Grabbing her by the waist, he tore her away from the ledge and flew back down the stairs. The girl screamed, most likely because she thought she was falling, and her hands flailed wildly, smacking Clark in the head a few times. He left her sitting on the empty bleachers inside the gym and ran back outside. Part of him wanted to talk to the girl. To see why she was driven to throw herself off of a building. But another part, a bigger more influential part of him, knew that a good deed was done. And that's all that needed to be done. He could talk about falling off of buildings all he wanted; he had the most experience. But it wasn't something he'd want to rehash with a suicidal schoolmate. She couldn't possibly understand the floating. The walking on air hundreds of feet above the ground. No one could.
Clark Luthor the floating wonder.
Sounded like something you'd see in a circus sideshow.
He knew that the whole school would be buzzing about the latest attempt of gym diving, and the questions that would be asked how she got into the gym so quickly. He knew he moved fast enough so that she couldn't see him. But there was still the 'what if' factor gnawing at him. He shook his head hoping the thoughts would magically disappear with the motion, and made his way to third period.
***
There was only one other kid in the waiting room at Dr. Wilson's office. He was pretty sure he'd never seem him here before, but then, the doctor was always getting new clients. If the other kid even knew Clark was there he made no sign of showing it. Just kept his nose buried in his magazine. Clark checked his watch and it read 3:27. This new client was cutting it close. Dr. Wilson always liked to give herself a few minutes after a session, but that didn't seem like it was going to happen today. He focused his eyes and the bleak white walls faded away in a blur. He saw a woman still sitting in the chair directly in front of the doctor's desk. She seemed to be hunched over slightly, like she was crying. He could hear the muffled sobs when he concentrated, but immediately pushed them away. He didn't want to be that nosy.
He thought about how he had come to be here. How a simple psychiatric evaluation at school turned into numerous counselor appointments. How those turned into group sessions. How those turned into doctor referrals. How the mere fact that he was who he was, and so anti-social automatically meant that he had problems. He was pretty sure that if his father weren't a Luthor, he'd be sitting in a nice mental hospital somewhere. Drugged up on Thorazine and staring at the walls. He wondered if that would have been so bad. It would have been more structured that his home life ever was. His father didn't have time for the details when the school had finally gotten a hold of him on the phone. He just asked for the number of the best psychiatrist in Metropolis and sent Clark to her.
It was another ten minutes before the woman composed herself and finally came out into the waiting area. The kid finally looked away from his magazine and stood up. It seemed like he didn't care at all that his mother, or whoever she was to him, was crying just a few minutes before. He only walked out the door and waited for the woman to follow.
Dr. Wilson smiled when she saw Clark in his chair and motioned for him to come into the office. He knew better than to ask her what the woman was crying about. He took a seat in the chair and watched as the doctor finished up some paperwork. The clock ticking was the only sound in the room.
"I see here that you need another refill on your prescription soon," she said looking over a piece of paper. "How many pills do you have left?"
He didn't know how many pills were left in the bottle. He never took them.
Ten, he lied.
Lying always felt strange. Like the words were heavy on his tongue and didn't want to come out correctly. Dr. Wilson was the only person he ever lied to. The pills were the only thing he lied about. Everything else about him, he merely didn't tell anyone. He knew the doctor didn't believe him, and knew showing her the truth would only scare her.
"Okay, that will last you another week," she said. "You'll have to come to the pharmacy next Wednesday to refill it."
Okay.
"So how was school today?"
Fine.
"Talk to anyone?"
His response was only a small chuckle.
"Anything interesting happen?"
A girl tried to kill herself.
"Oh my, that's terrible."
Yeah.
"Were there any warning signs? Any reason why she would do such a horrible thing?"
I don't know. The whole incident was kind of weird.
"Weird?" She replied, her eyebrows quirking in curiosity. "Weird how?"
Well they say she was up on the roof one minute and inside the gym the next. No one knows how she got there.
"Who are 'they' exactly?"
Teachers, janitors, other kids.
"What do you think happened?"
I think she was rescued.
"Rescued how exactly?"
He looked up at the doctor, his eyes conveying all the knowledge beyond them. He had told her all about his 'powers.' He felt funny calling them that. To him they were more a curse than a blessing. To her they were a delusion more than a reality.
"Oh," the doctor replied. "You had something to do with it?"
He nodded.
"How exactly were you involved?"
I had that dream again, he said changing the subject.
The doctor glared at him impatiently but let it slide.
"The one where you're flying," she stated, finally taking out her notepad. She scribbled a few lines before looking at him again.
Yeah. But this time it was different.
"Different how?"
There was a girl there.
"A girl?" She said genuinely surprised. She scribbled a few more notes. "What did she look like?"
Dark hair just slightly past her shoulders, dark eyes, a businesswoman looking suit.
"Do you have any idea who she could be?"
Not really.
"Did she have a name?"
Lois, he said. Lois Lane.
"Does that name mean anything to you?"
Not that I know of. I don't anyone named Lois.
"What were you two doing in your dream?"
Flying.
"Only flying?"
Yes.
"Did this woman make you feel anything?"
Kind of.
"What did you feel?"
Safe.
"Safe how?"
Safe like... like I could talk to her. Like I could tell her everything.
"What do you mean by everything?"
He looked up at her; eyes clear in his meaning.
Everything.
"I see," said the doctor as she made some more notes. "Does your father still not believe you about your abilities?"
No.
"Why haven't you ever tried to show him?"
I have, but he was too busy to even look.
"Why don't you show me?"
Because I don't want to.
"You can trust me Clark you know that."
I know.
"Why don't you?"
Because it's better for you to believe I'm crazy.
"Why do you think that?"
Because once you see it's all true you'll tell someone. And they'll tell someone else. And next thing I know I've got the authorities knocking down my door and hauling me away.
"If all you told me is true, do you really think they could take you?"
No.
"They why are you afraid of it?"
Because I'd have to hurt someone to get away.
"How do you know that? Why couldn't you just use your speed?"
Someone always gets hurt in those situations.
"How do you know that for sure?"
I just do.
"I see." More notes.
I don't want to hurt anyone.
More notes.
"Do you believe you can fly Clark?"
No.
"Why is that?"
Because I've tried.
"And what became of that?"
Nothing. I just floated for a little bit.
"Oh yes, the floating. You can do this for brief periods of time correct?"
Yes.
More notes.
"But you can't fly."
No.
"You dream about it constantly."
I know.
"What would you do if you could fly Clark?"
Escape.
"Escape from what exactly?"
Everything.
"And where would you go?"
Clark looked at her for second, his mind focusing on the destination he'd been thinking of every night before he went to sleep. Where his brother had been shipped off to. Where he knows he was found and his family never told him.
Smallville, he said.
"Really," the doctor replied surprised. "Why..."
Times up, Clark said.