Part 10 - Revisiting the past…
Walking into the Kent Homestead was almost eerie, Clark knew that Lex had bought out the mortgage
before his parents had died and looking at the neat fields and gathered crops it was almost as if nothing
had changed. Yet as he walked around he noticed subtle differences that to the trained eye told him
that things were out of place. The tractor was not the old one that his father had sworn at or that Clark
had learned to bench press, it was not even a familiar red, instead it was a gleaming piece of machinery
that looked out of place in the memories Clark had of his former home.
As he left the yard and stepped inside he saw the unnatural stillness of the house and took a breathe,
expecting to be met with a stack of unpleasant smells or feelings, the anticlimax of walking into the
house and seeing nothing was a shock.
It was the emptiness that hit Clark hardest, the floors were clean, polished as they would have been
when his mother was alive and the furniture, although covered in plastic, was clean as ever, but there
was no familial noises, no laughter or groaning about waking up early and no smells of cookies baking
or pies for the Talon. The building was still the same place he had grown up in but it was as if this had
ceased being his home.
As Clark explored he found that the house had not really been disturbed and while he assumed that Lex
had a cleaning company or security company looking after the place there was no real sign of any
inhabitants. In fact it was as if the house had been in a vacuum, no dust or dirt to indicate a passing of
time, no real signs of the outside world, and a definite touch that nothing had changed within the void
that this house seemed to represent.
In his parents bedroom there was still hair in his mother's hairbrush, a mousy colour that told him it had
to be hers instead of his father's dirty blonde. There was a bottle of the expensive Metropolis scent that
his father had ordered his mother one Christmas that she told him was too nice to use and the shaving
equipment that his father used was still out in the bathroom, something that his mother had always
shouted at her husband for.
Clark's room too was unchanged. Posters of his childhood heroes and idols were on the walls, albeit a
little more faded than he remembered and his clothes, now too small for his larger frame, hung in his
wardrobe. There was the pictures of he and Chloe together, his collection of Lana pictures, and a few
of he and Pete. The whole room spoke of his childhood innocence, crisp and clean as he had once
been. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed, no one cared that his family had died, they had assumed
that the creditors would collect up the personal belongings and pass them on. Clark thought that
everything was the same, until he visited his last place on the list of haunts, the place that had once
been his fortress of solitude.
Sitting on the table where he had studied for many hours sat a vase of flowers, dead now from years of
age but they had been there when he had left. There were also a few candles around it and a book that
Clark did not recognise.
Not being nosy but rather inquisitive Clark looked down and saw that there was a pile of messages,
things that his friends had wanted to say to their dear departed friend. The football team who he had
thought hated him had signed one page and another was left over to all of the girls that he had known
as friends. On the third page was a message from a fellow pupil at the school that had shared his fate.
Clark,
I don't know why but I feel cheated that amongst the amount of weirdness in Smallville we lost you to
a simple car crash. It seems almost too normal for all of the unexplainable occurrences we have
figured out together. I can't really bring myself to believe you're gone, that you won't be there to cheer
me on at graduation, or to take me to the final prom like you always promised you would. I'm not sure
which religion is right, but it's as if I still feel you with me so I know that you're out there somewhere.
Wherever you are, whatever you are doing I hope that you never forget that we loved you, that you
were a gift in the lives of more than just your parents and that you touched us all.
Love Always,
Chloe.
Clark felt the tears well at the voice from beyond the grave, Chloe who had loved him so much that she
had given her life trying to find him, even in her grief being the mother hen that he had always chided
her for being and worrying about him in whatever after life he was supposed to be in. As Clark closed
the book he realised that it was his graduating yearbook, Smallville, class of 2004.
Clark sat back in his chair as he had done so many times in his teenage years and began to wonder what
his life meant now. He was in his childhood home but it was clear that there was nothing left for him
here.
His parents were gone, buried in a small patch outside in what had once been his mother's garden. A
memorial stone (he supposed paid for by Lex) announced "Martha and Jonathan Kent. Loving Parents
and friends. A love that will survive eternity."
Chloe was dead, Pete and Lex had both moved into the city and moved on and the only other person
that he had cared about in high school was Lana. After seeing her he was sure that he would not have
to remain in Smallville for much longer. He decided to get that visit out of the way before he
contemplated his future any further, after all, he had to deal with the past in it's entirety, even the most
painful elements, before he could plan for the future.
--------------------------------
Clark had taken a detour via the high street and was surprised to see that the Talon was now a smart
internet Café, with no signs of Lana inside. Lana Lang, a kid in town told him, lived in the same house
that she had shared with Nell. At least the address that the high school boy gave him was the same.
Clark arrived at the house and was surprised by what he saw, the garden was not overgrown but looked
unkempt as if little attention was paid to it, and children's toys covered the front lawn. Broken cars and
plastic soldiers lay strewn about the place as if they were the victims of some childish war, or a game to
the same effect. It was clear that Lana had children, a thought that made Clark smile as he thought of
the two babies that Pete and Kirsty were bringing up, one with his name. As he walked up the stairs
and past the porch swing, Clark saw a small child come barrelling around the side of the house,
whooping and calling as he chased a smaller girl.
"Mummy, Mummy…" The girl shrieked, loud enough to make the screen door bang as she took the
first step. A tired looking woman opened the door and Clark let out an audible breathe as he realised
that this worn-out woman, with bags under her eyes, no make up and choppy hair that looked as if she
had cut it herself was the once very well kept Lana Lang.
"Ricky, stop tormenting your sister." Lana said, a quiet voice of resignation as if she knew that the boy
would not listen to a single word she said. This was not the Lana that he remembered at all.
"Lana?" Clark asked, she turned at her name, slowly until she saw him and then he saw her eyes brim
with tears. A haunted look appeared in them, as she checked over her shoulder and then she indicated
for him to take the porch swing and then sat next to him.
"So, Chloe was right." Lana said. No real hint of surprise in her voice as she did so. "She never really
believed that you were dead and was always looking for some way to determine another explanation
for your death."
"She found one." Clark said with a smile, Lana did not return it.
"Yeah." Lana said, although there was no sign that she was happy about Clark's return. "It's a shame
she wasted her life trying to find the truth about yours." There was a hint of sarcasm as she spoke and
Clark was surprised that she was being so callous. He wondered if it was because she was friends with
Chloe after his death, perhaps with him out of the way the pair had bonded in a way that he had
stopped them from doing while he was still around or perhaps they had been united in their grief.
"LANA!" A voice called from inside. Clark watched as she flinched slightly, and stood to go back
inside.
"That's Whitney. He's awake. He'll be wanting a beer or something." Lana said, explaining it as if she
was expected to wait on him hand or foot.
Clark wanted to ask her what had happened, why it was she had ended up like this but he knew that it
was no longer his place. His father had once told him that he couldn't save everyone and now he
realised that it was true. Even if he had the means to support Lana and her children, to help her get
away from this life, she had made it clear that she did not want help, at least not from him.
"Please Clark, just go." Lana said, a tone of desperation in his voice. She knew that if he stayed then
Whitney would get mad and when he got made things got broken, sometimes furniture and sometimes
bones.
"If he hurts you…" Clark began, but Lana's face turned from fearing to unyielding.
"He's my husband Clark, and the father of my children. We're a family." Lana said and Clark realised
that this was what she had always wanted, even if it was not as perfect as the world of the fairy princess
she had once been, maybe it hadn't been that way since her parents died. "We have something that
you'll never understand."
And Clark supposed that he wouldn't ever get it. He knew what it was like to lose his parents, not at
such a young age as Lana had but he had always had a loving family life and now he had a second
chance with what Lex was offering. He would never be as badly off as Lana had been and would never
stay with someone out of fear of rejection or worse the fear of being alone. Clark had spent three years
on his own and while he did not want to relive that experience any time soon he knew that if he had to
he would survive it. That was an awareness that Lana would never have. He also knew that while Lex
was in the world he would never be alone again.
With one last glance back at the picture of the dysfunctional family he turned his gaze back to the road
and began to walk at normal pace back to the farm that had once been a much happier family home.
When he got there he bypassed the house in favour of his fortress, he still had a little thinking to do but
he was almost sure that he knew what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, no matter how much of
it he had left. He would try to make up for some of his past, because even though he knew it was not
his fault he wanted to do something to help.
As he headed back to the house a smile formed on his lips. When he had been young his mother had
told him that he would always be her hero. Maybe he could fulfil the role for others. He remembered
the outfit that his mother had made him for one Halloween and with a smile wondered if with some
alterations if it would still work. It was a little bright but he was sure that given a few extra touches he
could rebuild at least one dream.
Her little man, her super, speedy little man, that is what his mother had called him. Of course he wasn't
little anymore, and speedy, well he could do more than run fast now, he could fly.
"Superman?" Clark ran the word off his tongue to see if it fitted, he shrugged, maybe it would grow on
him. Now there was only one other person whose memory he wanted to commemorate and he thought
that he had just the way to do it.
----------------------
TBC
Walking into the Kent Homestead was almost eerie, Clark knew that Lex had bought out the mortgage
before his parents had died and looking at the neat fields and gathered crops it was almost as if nothing
had changed. Yet as he walked around he noticed subtle differences that to the trained eye told him
that things were out of place. The tractor was not the old one that his father had sworn at or that Clark
had learned to bench press, it was not even a familiar red, instead it was a gleaming piece of machinery
that looked out of place in the memories Clark had of his former home.
As he left the yard and stepped inside he saw the unnatural stillness of the house and took a breathe,
expecting to be met with a stack of unpleasant smells or feelings, the anticlimax of walking into the
house and seeing nothing was a shock.
It was the emptiness that hit Clark hardest, the floors were clean, polished as they would have been
when his mother was alive and the furniture, although covered in plastic, was clean as ever, but there
was no familial noises, no laughter or groaning about waking up early and no smells of cookies baking
or pies for the Talon. The building was still the same place he had grown up in but it was as if this had
ceased being his home.
As Clark explored he found that the house had not really been disturbed and while he assumed that Lex
had a cleaning company or security company looking after the place there was no real sign of any
inhabitants. In fact it was as if the house had been in a vacuum, no dust or dirt to indicate a passing of
time, no real signs of the outside world, and a definite touch that nothing had changed within the void
that this house seemed to represent.
In his parents bedroom there was still hair in his mother's hairbrush, a mousy colour that told him it had
to be hers instead of his father's dirty blonde. There was a bottle of the expensive Metropolis scent that
his father had ordered his mother one Christmas that she told him was too nice to use and the shaving
equipment that his father used was still out in the bathroom, something that his mother had always
shouted at her husband for.
Clark's room too was unchanged. Posters of his childhood heroes and idols were on the walls, albeit a
little more faded than he remembered and his clothes, now too small for his larger frame, hung in his
wardrobe. There was the pictures of he and Chloe together, his collection of Lana pictures, and a few
of he and Pete. The whole room spoke of his childhood innocence, crisp and clean as he had once
been. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed, no one cared that his family had died, they had assumed
that the creditors would collect up the personal belongings and pass them on. Clark thought that
everything was the same, until he visited his last place on the list of haunts, the place that had once
been his fortress of solitude.
Sitting on the table where he had studied for many hours sat a vase of flowers, dead now from years of
age but they had been there when he had left. There were also a few candles around it and a book that
Clark did not recognise.
Not being nosy but rather inquisitive Clark looked down and saw that there was a pile of messages,
things that his friends had wanted to say to their dear departed friend. The football team who he had
thought hated him had signed one page and another was left over to all of the girls that he had known
as friends. On the third page was a message from a fellow pupil at the school that had shared his fate.
Clark,
I don't know why but I feel cheated that amongst the amount of weirdness in Smallville we lost you to
a simple car crash. It seems almost too normal for all of the unexplainable occurrences we have
figured out together. I can't really bring myself to believe you're gone, that you won't be there to cheer
me on at graduation, or to take me to the final prom like you always promised you would. I'm not sure
which religion is right, but it's as if I still feel you with me so I know that you're out there somewhere.
Wherever you are, whatever you are doing I hope that you never forget that we loved you, that you
were a gift in the lives of more than just your parents and that you touched us all.
Love Always,
Chloe.
Clark felt the tears well at the voice from beyond the grave, Chloe who had loved him so much that she
had given her life trying to find him, even in her grief being the mother hen that he had always chided
her for being and worrying about him in whatever after life he was supposed to be in. As Clark closed
the book he realised that it was his graduating yearbook, Smallville, class of 2004.
Clark sat back in his chair as he had done so many times in his teenage years and began to wonder what
his life meant now. He was in his childhood home but it was clear that there was nothing left for him
here.
His parents were gone, buried in a small patch outside in what had once been his mother's garden. A
memorial stone (he supposed paid for by Lex) announced "Martha and Jonathan Kent. Loving Parents
and friends. A love that will survive eternity."
Chloe was dead, Pete and Lex had both moved into the city and moved on and the only other person
that he had cared about in high school was Lana. After seeing her he was sure that he would not have
to remain in Smallville for much longer. He decided to get that visit out of the way before he
contemplated his future any further, after all, he had to deal with the past in it's entirety, even the most
painful elements, before he could plan for the future.
--------------------------------
Clark had taken a detour via the high street and was surprised to see that the Talon was now a smart
internet Café, with no signs of Lana inside. Lana Lang, a kid in town told him, lived in the same house
that she had shared with Nell. At least the address that the high school boy gave him was the same.
Clark arrived at the house and was surprised by what he saw, the garden was not overgrown but looked
unkempt as if little attention was paid to it, and children's toys covered the front lawn. Broken cars and
plastic soldiers lay strewn about the place as if they were the victims of some childish war, or a game to
the same effect. It was clear that Lana had children, a thought that made Clark smile as he thought of
the two babies that Pete and Kirsty were bringing up, one with his name. As he walked up the stairs
and past the porch swing, Clark saw a small child come barrelling around the side of the house,
whooping and calling as he chased a smaller girl.
"Mummy, Mummy…" The girl shrieked, loud enough to make the screen door bang as she took the
first step. A tired looking woman opened the door and Clark let out an audible breathe as he realised
that this worn-out woman, with bags under her eyes, no make up and choppy hair that looked as if she
had cut it herself was the once very well kept Lana Lang.
"Ricky, stop tormenting your sister." Lana said, a quiet voice of resignation as if she knew that the boy
would not listen to a single word she said. This was not the Lana that he remembered at all.
"Lana?" Clark asked, she turned at her name, slowly until she saw him and then he saw her eyes brim
with tears. A haunted look appeared in them, as she checked over her shoulder and then she indicated
for him to take the porch swing and then sat next to him.
"So, Chloe was right." Lana said. No real hint of surprise in her voice as she did so. "She never really
believed that you were dead and was always looking for some way to determine another explanation
for your death."
"She found one." Clark said with a smile, Lana did not return it.
"Yeah." Lana said, although there was no sign that she was happy about Clark's return. "It's a shame
she wasted her life trying to find the truth about yours." There was a hint of sarcasm as she spoke and
Clark was surprised that she was being so callous. He wondered if it was because she was friends with
Chloe after his death, perhaps with him out of the way the pair had bonded in a way that he had
stopped them from doing while he was still around or perhaps they had been united in their grief.
"LANA!" A voice called from inside. Clark watched as she flinched slightly, and stood to go back
inside.
"That's Whitney. He's awake. He'll be wanting a beer or something." Lana said, explaining it as if she
was expected to wait on him hand or foot.
Clark wanted to ask her what had happened, why it was she had ended up like this but he knew that it
was no longer his place. His father had once told him that he couldn't save everyone and now he
realised that it was true. Even if he had the means to support Lana and her children, to help her get
away from this life, she had made it clear that she did not want help, at least not from him.
"Please Clark, just go." Lana said, a tone of desperation in his voice. She knew that if he stayed then
Whitney would get mad and when he got made things got broken, sometimes furniture and sometimes
bones.
"If he hurts you…" Clark began, but Lana's face turned from fearing to unyielding.
"He's my husband Clark, and the father of my children. We're a family." Lana said and Clark realised
that this was what she had always wanted, even if it was not as perfect as the world of the fairy princess
she had once been, maybe it hadn't been that way since her parents died. "We have something that
you'll never understand."
And Clark supposed that he wouldn't ever get it. He knew what it was like to lose his parents, not at
such a young age as Lana had but he had always had a loving family life and now he had a second
chance with what Lex was offering. He would never be as badly off as Lana had been and would never
stay with someone out of fear of rejection or worse the fear of being alone. Clark had spent three years
on his own and while he did not want to relive that experience any time soon he knew that if he had to
he would survive it. That was an awareness that Lana would never have. He also knew that while Lex
was in the world he would never be alone again.
With one last glance back at the picture of the dysfunctional family he turned his gaze back to the road
and began to walk at normal pace back to the farm that had once been a much happier family home.
When he got there he bypassed the house in favour of his fortress, he still had a little thinking to do but
he was almost sure that he knew what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, no matter how much of
it he had left. He would try to make up for some of his past, because even though he knew it was not
his fault he wanted to do something to help.
As he headed back to the house a smile formed on his lips. When he had been young his mother had
told him that he would always be her hero. Maybe he could fulfil the role for others. He remembered
the outfit that his mother had made him for one Halloween and with a smile wondered if with some
alterations if it would still work. It was a little bright but he was sure that given a few extra touches he
could rebuild at least one dream.
Her little man, her super, speedy little man, that is what his mother had called him. Of course he wasn't
little anymore, and speedy, well he could do more than run fast now, he could fly.
"Superman?" Clark ran the word off his tongue to see if it fitted, he shrugged, maybe it would grow on
him. Now there was only one other person whose memory he wanted to commemorate and he thought
that he had just the way to do it.
----------------------
TBC