Notes: Thanks to Peepers, Lydy and Margroks for the feedback! As for the happy ending? Um, we'll see. ;o)

Ruby Truth - Valentine Michel Smith

Inside, Martha Kent felt her breath catch.

Outside, Clark nodded to Gwen.

Inside, Martha leveled the gun.

Outside, Clark ran as the thunder struck, blasting through the door -

projectiles shredding screen, shearing wood .

Clark snatched Gwen from the path of the shells -

spinning -

fist up -

hitting the door -

loosing Gwen as -

the door ripped from hinges -

forcing oak from outside in -

Martha Kent fell, off-balance, landing hard and under the door.

Gwen climbed from the toppled barrier. "Kewl."

Martha Kent moaned. Gwen extended a hand, but instead of helping Martha to her feet, reached into her pockets. "Really, it won't be so bad." Gwen pitched the revealed meteor rock across the room. "You've raised quite an extraordinary boy."

Unnoticed, Pete came at Gwen, arm raised as if to swing.

In an instant, Clark was standing between the woman and his best friend.

"No rock Pete?" Clark leaned close. "Some people never learn. By the way - strike two." A fraction of a second later, Pete saw the world blur abound him as he sailed through the kitchen window, courtesy Clark's effortless shirt-grab/backhand toss.

Martha struggled, reaching for the shotgun. Clark tossed the door aside, stepped on his mother's hand. "Sorry, Mom, can't let you do that. I like her. Oh, but you haven't met. Gwen, Mom, Mom, Gwen."

"Mrs. Kent."

Clark curled his toes up, allowing Martha to remove her hand. He then lowered his foot and twisted it, pancaking the gun barrel.

Clark smiled politely, tapped Martha obligingly on the forehead with the palm of his hand and rendered her unconscious.

Clark tossed the inert Martha over his shoulder and headed outside. The Ferrari trunk would be tight if not impossible fit.

Clark planned to make it work. He and Gwen headed for the sports car, bypassing Pete who writhed in the flowerbed. "Clark," managed Pete finally, "Why are you doing this?"

Clark whirled to answer. Gwen stopped and stepped back to stand dangerously near Pete. "Because," she offered, "he can."

Gwen bounced back to Clark. "Mmmmmmm, good answer." Clark rewarded her appropriately. The kiss seemed impossibly long. "Such a perfect minion." Clark turned back to the prone form. "Oh, and Pete, if you tell anybody anything - or try to come after me - Martha Kent is dead."

"Clark, man, that's your mother."

"Uh, Pete, we both know I'm adopted. Would love to debate nature/nature with you, but the schedule's a little full."

Clark secured the trunk (Martha Kent would not be comfortable, but being unconscious, she wouldn't know the difference) and hopped behind the steering wheel.

Clark kissed Gwen again with a fervor that creeped Pete out completely, started the car, put it in gear, and sped off.

As waves of pain rushed through him, Pete knew this time, he would have to go to the hospital. If he could just figure out how he was going to get there.