Author's Note: This story also contains elements of the New Cinema Paradiso written and directed by Giuseppe Tornatore and distributed by Miramax Films
Spoilers: One reference to Nicodemus
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Clark Kent stood on the balcony of his forty-second floor apartment and enjoyed the cool night breeze as he looked out at the Metropolis skyline. He knew he should have been working on his story for the Daily Planet but something about the night compelled him to stand on his balcony and take in the sights and sounds of the city - the honking car horns, the loud music, the thousands of people milling around - laughing, talking, living. Below him he heard a dog bark, in the distance, an ambulance.
In an odd way, all this activity relaxed him, lulled him into a state of acceptance that things were as they should be. Then the phone rang.
He picked up the cordless from the table and pressed the "talk" button. As he put the phone to his ear, he said "Hello?"
"Clark."
"Mom."
"Clark," Martha began then started to cry.
"Mom, what is it?"
"It's your father. . . . " It was something in the way she said it - the catch in her throat, the hollowness of her voice. Without her having to say it, he knew.
"He's . . . ."
"Dead," Martha said. Clark could feel as well as hear her desperation. "He collapsed while working in the south field. The doctors say it was a heart attack."
"Oh God," Clark said suddenly feeling weak and nauseous.
"Honey, I know you never planned on returning to Smallville but would you just this once . . . ," Martha's voice trailed off.
"Of course mom," Clark said squaring his shoulders. "I'll be there tomorrow."
"Do you promise?"
"Yes, I promise. I'll see you tomorrow."
After saying goodbye to Martha, Clark walked slowly back into the apartment and sat down on the brown leather couch in the living room. Then he put his head in his hands and began to cry.
***
Though he hadn't set foot in Smallville for twenty-two years, Clark still knew his way around. As he drove up to the front of the house, he saw Martha standing on the porch, her eyes wet and bloodshot, her nose red and running.
"Clark," Martha called out once she realized it was him.
"I'm here," he said as he walked up to her and put his arms around her. He continued holding her close as they walked into the house.
"Do you need me to do anything?"
"No, no. Paul and Gloria Robinson helped me make the arrangements."
As Martha sat down at the kitchen table, Clark went to the stove and put on the teakettle. The house basically looked the same as it did the last time he'd been home all those years ago. It was like time had stood still in Smallville. But obviously it hadn't, that's why he'd left.
Looking out the kitchen window, he could see Lana's house.
Lana.
Not a day went by that he didn't think of her, of the life they might have had together.
As the teakettle whistled, Clark shook his head. Nothing could be gained from living in the past. He sighed as he opened the cupboard and took out two mugs then placed them on the counter. Next he reached into the tea caddy and pulled out two peppermint flavored tea bags and placed one of each in the two mugs. Finally he poured hot water over them and took them over to the table and sat down across from Martha.
"So how are things at work?" Martha asked then blew on her steaming tea.
"Fine."
"Only fine," Martha said with a small smile. She knew that at forty years old, Clark was one of the most widely respected and read investigative reporters in the country. In the newspaper industry, everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before he won a Pulitzer.
"Ok. Ok. More than fine. I just turned in a story on organized crime in Metropolis."
"Isn't that dangerous?"
"Don't worry mom. I'm Superman. Bullets have been known to actually bounce off my chest," he said with a smile.
"I'm your mother. I can't help worrying," Martha said as she patted his hands.
"Well don't. I should be worrying about you. I should have been here to take care of you and dad," he said softly.
"Clark you definitely weren't born to be a farmer," Martha said with a laugh.
"I know. But all those times I insisted you and dad visit me in Metropolis; I should have come here to visit you instead."
"You had your reasons and your father and I understood that. Smallville holds too many bad memories for you."
"It does but. . . ."
"But what?" Martha asked gently.
"I should have been stronger. I have superhuman strength. I can fly for God's sake. I should have been stronger!"
"Chloe was one of your best friends. It's understandable that you would take her death hard. Besides, your father and I always knew you blamed yourself for her death. Clark, it wasn't your fault."
"With my powers, I could have saved her."