Martha Kent knocked lightly on her son's bedroom door. It was early
but she wanted desperately to ask him how the dance had gone. She had
wanted to wait for him to get home, but had gotten tired and gone to bed
early. When no one answered she knocked again. Finally she sighed, opened
the door, and peered in. What she saw made her gasp. Her son was in bed,
his arms wrapped around a sleeping Lana Lang. They looked peaceful; Martha
almost didn't want to wake them. Almost.
"Clark!" She yelled.
His eyes shot open and he sat up in bed. He looked guilty for a moment, and as the memories of the previous night flooded back, a troubled look came over Clark's face. Martha stood in the middle of the room shocked and waiting for an explanation.
"Clark, what's going on? What is she doing here? You know what?" She stopped herself. "I don't want to know. I can only imagine." She looked at Clark, upset, with a disapproving stare.
"Wait! No! You don't understand!"
"I'll bet. Jonathan!" She called for her husband, who at the sound of his wife's voice bounded upstairs and into Clark's room.
He was equally surprised. But he yelled louder. "Clark!" He shouted. "How could you bring her here? Nell called a few minutes ago. She's panicked. She's calling the police! She hasn't seen Lana since last night; she had no idea that she was here. And neither did we! Why is she here? What were you thinking?"
"Well, I'm trying to explain all that, if you'd just let me."
They looked intently at him. "Well?" his mother prompted.
Clark got out of bed and revealed he was still wearing his tuxedo. His parents collectively sighed in relief. Clark stood before them.
"Look, nothing happened. Okay, actually, a lot happened. But not between Lana and I." Clark took a deep breath and told them. "Lana got drunk…she hit her head." He walked over to the bed and positioned Lana's head so that his parents could see the bandage, covering the stitches. "I didn't know what to do. I called Lex."
Jonathan shook his head in disapproval.
Clark continued. "Lex called his doctor. He came over and treated Lana."
Martha examined Lana's wound. "Why didn't you just call us?"
"I didn't want you to get angry. And…I didn't want you to see Lana like this. Or Nell. That's why I didn't take her home. Nell would've asked questions. Questions I can't answer. Like…how she got drunk in the first place. I don't know what happened. One minute she was fine and the next…"
"Clark, we've got to get her out of these clothes." She motioned to the dress Lana was still wearing, soaked in dried blood. He nodded.
"Why don't you two go downstairs? Call Nell; tell her Lana's safe. I'll find something for her to wear."
"Great, I can't wait to explain to Nell why her niece spent the night drunk over at our house, without our knowledge." Jonathan said sarcastically.
Clark looked down at his feet, guiltily.
"Clark, when this is all over with, you're in big trouble."
He hung his head.
Martha pointed to the door and Clark got the message.
He followed his father downstairs. Jonathan picked up the phone and dialed Nell's number.
"Hello? Nell?"
"Yes," she answered anxiously. "Jonathan, have you heard from Lana?"
"Lana's still here. She…uh, spent the night."
"What?"
"It's a long story. One that I'm sure Clark will be happy to explain when it you arrive."
"I'm on my way," she replied briskly and hung up the phone.
Jonathan turned back to Clark, who was sitting at the table, his head in his hands.
"Clark, you have no idea how she got drunk?"
"No." He was quiet, upset. "She was with me almost the whole time. At first I thought, maybe someone slipped something in her drink, but…there was no one around that could have done it. Just Pete and Chloe, and well…obviously, it wasn't either of them."
"So, you think Lana must have had something."
"I guess," he mumbled, not wanting to believe it or admit it.
"It's not your fault Clark."
He nodded, but said nothing.
Someone knocked on the door behind them.
"That was fast," Clark commented.
"Yes well, I was speeding," Nell said from behind the screen door.
Jonathan opened the door.
"Come on in."
"Where's Lana?"
"Still upstairs," said Clark.
"Would you get her please?" Nell said tersely.
"I'll get her. She can't exactly walk down by herself."
"What? Why not?" Nell said alarmed.
"Uh…you'll see."
Clark ran upstairs, almost bumping into his mother, who was on her way down.
He went back into his room. Lana was laying on his bed in one of his red, flannel shirts. It was long, reaching almost down to her knees. Clark reached out to touch her, regretting it instantly. Her skin was still cold, she felt dead. He swallowed hard. She kept reminding him what had happened. It was as if a video was playing constantly in his mind, over and over again. Lana, hearing her name called. Going onstage, grabbing Whitney. Her hands all over his body, her mouth on his. Clark felt sick, and shook off the feeling. He shut his eyes momentarily, trying to force the bad memories out of his head. He hated the feeling he got when he thought about it. He hated her, and he didn't want to. He just couldn't make that feeling go away.
Clark picked Lana up roughly and carried her downstairs. When Nell saw her she put her hand to her mouth and stared ahead, glancing at Clark and giving him a cold stare. For a while he stood holding Lana uncomfortably. Finally, Clark opened the door and took Lana outside and placed her in the front seat of Nell's car. She had been passed out for hours and has still not woken up. He shut the door, leaving her there and went back inside. Nell had gathered up Lana's belongings.
"Well, you'll probably want an explanation now?"
Nell nodded.
"Um…I don't have one. I mean I sort of know what happened but…not really. Okay, Lana and I were at the dance, and we were having a great time. And then she just starts acting weird. Out of it, you know? And then she starts stumbling around, and slurring when she talks. And she acted crazy too."
"Like how?" His father inquired.
"Well…she won Winter Formal queen."
Nell's eyes brightened. "That's nice."
Clark winced, but smiled politely. "Yeah um…her speech was not very…Lana- like. And then she uh…kissed Whitney." He clenched his jaw, visibly upset.
His mother smiled sympathetically at him.
"And then she left and a few minutes later Chloe came and got me. She thought Lana was…dead. She was just passed out in the bathroom. I called Lex and brought her back to the mansion. His doctor gave her ten stitches in her forehead and gave me these." He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a bottle of prescription pills. They're for the mild concussion. He also gave her a shot for the hangover."
He set the pills on the table.
"How did she get drunk in the first place?" Nell inquired.
"I don't know. I should have been watching her more closely. She was my responsibility, I'm sorry."
"I agree. She was your responsibility. Clark, I trusted you to keep my niece safe, not get her drunk. I was worried sick. I thought something horrible happened. I was about to call the police when your father phoned back."
"I didn't mean to worry you. I wasn't thinking clearly. But I swear I didn't touch her drink. And I certainly didn't get her drunk." Clark protested.
"Really, well then who did?"
"I don't know, she was only away from us for a few minutes, it could have been anyone!"
"Don't you think it's more likely that Lana's boyfriend, who wasn't getting any action, decided to slip something in her drink to "loosen her up?"
"Hey, wait a minute Nell--." Jonathan interrupted.
"That's not what happened!" Clark yelled.
"Calm down everyone!" Martha who had been a silent observer for most of the exchange decided enough was enough.
"I didn't do anything to her, I would never hurt her. Clark's voice wavered.
"Who got her drunk?" Nell fumed. "If it wasn't you, who was it?"
"Lana." He said simply.
"How dare you? My niece would never--."
"She's the only one we haven't mentioned. No one's even considered it."
"Because she would never do it."
"Well, what if we don't know her as well as we think we do?"
"I resent the accusation that Lana would do this to herself."
"Yeah well, I resent that accusation that I would do it to her." Clark replied.
Nell stared at him stonily. "Listen very carefully. Clark, you are not my son, therefore it is not my responsibility to punish you. However, I will see to it that you never see my niece again. Lana is off limits. If I catch you at the house again, I won't think twice about calling the police and having you arrested for trespassing. Is that clear?"
"Nell, don't you think that's a little bit drastic?" Martha said.
"Not at all. My niece is passed out in the front seat of my car. I don't think it's drastic at all." And with that she grabbed the pills off the table and stormed out of the Kent house, leaving the three of them standing around wondering what had just taken place. Finally, Clark left for his Fortress of Solitude. He needed to think.
TBC…Lana's hangover, and Clark refuses to talk to her. She goes to his friends to try and get them to talk some sense into Clark. Cool stuff.
"Clark!" She yelled.
His eyes shot open and he sat up in bed. He looked guilty for a moment, and as the memories of the previous night flooded back, a troubled look came over Clark's face. Martha stood in the middle of the room shocked and waiting for an explanation.
"Clark, what's going on? What is she doing here? You know what?" She stopped herself. "I don't want to know. I can only imagine." She looked at Clark, upset, with a disapproving stare.
"Wait! No! You don't understand!"
"I'll bet. Jonathan!" She called for her husband, who at the sound of his wife's voice bounded upstairs and into Clark's room.
He was equally surprised. But he yelled louder. "Clark!" He shouted. "How could you bring her here? Nell called a few minutes ago. She's panicked. She's calling the police! She hasn't seen Lana since last night; she had no idea that she was here. And neither did we! Why is she here? What were you thinking?"
"Well, I'm trying to explain all that, if you'd just let me."
They looked intently at him. "Well?" his mother prompted.
Clark got out of bed and revealed he was still wearing his tuxedo. His parents collectively sighed in relief. Clark stood before them.
"Look, nothing happened. Okay, actually, a lot happened. But not between Lana and I." Clark took a deep breath and told them. "Lana got drunk…she hit her head." He walked over to the bed and positioned Lana's head so that his parents could see the bandage, covering the stitches. "I didn't know what to do. I called Lex."
Jonathan shook his head in disapproval.
Clark continued. "Lex called his doctor. He came over and treated Lana."
Martha examined Lana's wound. "Why didn't you just call us?"
"I didn't want you to get angry. And…I didn't want you to see Lana like this. Or Nell. That's why I didn't take her home. Nell would've asked questions. Questions I can't answer. Like…how she got drunk in the first place. I don't know what happened. One minute she was fine and the next…"
"Clark, we've got to get her out of these clothes." She motioned to the dress Lana was still wearing, soaked in dried blood. He nodded.
"Why don't you two go downstairs? Call Nell; tell her Lana's safe. I'll find something for her to wear."
"Great, I can't wait to explain to Nell why her niece spent the night drunk over at our house, without our knowledge." Jonathan said sarcastically.
Clark looked down at his feet, guiltily.
"Clark, when this is all over with, you're in big trouble."
He hung his head.
Martha pointed to the door and Clark got the message.
He followed his father downstairs. Jonathan picked up the phone and dialed Nell's number.
"Hello? Nell?"
"Yes," she answered anxiously. "Jonathan, have you heard from Lana?"
"Lana's still here. She…uh, spent the night."
"What?"
"It's a long story. One that I'm sure Clark will be happy to explain when it you arrive."
"I'm on my way," she replied briskly and hung up the phone.
Jonathan turned back to Clark, who was sitting at the table, his head in his hands.
"Clark, you have no idea how she got drunk?"
"No." He was quiet, upset. "She was with me almost the whole time. At first I thought, maybe someone slipped something in her drink, but…there was no one around that could have done it. Just Pete and Chloe, and well…obviously, it wasn't either of them."
"So, you think Lana must have had something."
"I guess," he mumbled, not wanting to believe it or admit it.
"It's not your fault Clark."
He nodded, but said nothing.
Someone knocked on the door behind them.
"That was fast," Clark commented.
"Yes well, I was speeding," Nell said from behind the screen door.
Jonathan opened the door.
"Come on in."
"Where's Lana?"
"Still upstairs," said Clark.
"Would you get her please?" Nell said tersely.
"I'll get her. She can't exactly walk down by herself."
"What? Why not?" Nell said alarmed.
"Uh…you'll see."
Clark ran upstairs, almost bumping into his mother, who was on her way down.
He went back into his room. Lana was laying on his bed in one of his red, flannel shirts. It was long, reaching almost down to her knees. Clark reached out to touch her, regretting it instantly. Her skin was still cold, she felt dead. He swallowed hard. She kept reminding him what had happened. It was as if a video was playing constantly in his mind, over and over again. Lana, hearing her name called. Going onstage, grabbing Whitney. Her hands all over his body, her mouth on his. Clark felt sick, and shook off the feeling. He shut his eyes momentarily, trying to force the bad memories out of his head. He hated the feeling he got when he thought about it. He hated her, and he didn't want to. He just couldn't make that feeling go away.
Clark picked Lana up roughly and carried her downstairs. When Nell saw her she put her hand to her mouth and stared ahead, glancing at Clark and giving him a cold stare. For a while he stood holding Lana uncomfortably. Finally, Clark opened the door and took Lana outside and placed her in the front seat of Nell's car. She had been passed out for hours and has still not woken up. He shut the door, leaving her there and went back inside. Nell had gathered up Lana's belongings.
"Well, you'll probably want an explanation now?"
Nell nodded.
"Um…I don't have one. I mean I sort of know what happened but…not really. Okay, Lana and I were at the dance, and we were having a great time. And then she just starts acting weird. Out of it, you know? And then she starts stumbling around, and slurring when she talks. And she acted crazy too."
"Like how?" His father inquired.
"Well…she won Winter Formal queen."
Nell's eyes brightened. "That's nice."
Clark winced, but smiled politely. "Yeah um…her speech was not very…Lana- like. And then she uh…kissed Whitney." He clenched his jaw, visibly upset.
His mother smiled sympathetically at him.
"And then she left and a few minutes later Chloe came and got me. She thought Lana was…dead. She was just passed out in the bathroom. I called Lex and brought her back to the mansion. His doctor gave her ten stitches in her forehead and gave me these." He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a bottle of prescription pills. They're for the mild concussion. He also gave her a shot for the hangover."
He set the pills on the table.
"How did she get drunk in the first place?" Nell inquired.
"I don't know. I should have been watching her more closely. She was my responsibility, I'm sorry."
"I agree. She was your responsibility. Clark, I trusted you to keep my niece safe, not get her drunk. I was worried sick. I thought something horrible happened. I was about to call the police when your father phoned back."
"I didn't mean to worry you. I wasn't thinking clearly. But I swear I didn't touch her drink. And I certainly didn't get her drunk." Clark protested.
"Really, well then who did?"
"I don't know, she was only away from us for a few minutes, it could have been anyone!"
"Don't you think it's more likely that Lana's boyfriend, who wasn't getting any action, decided to slip something in her drink to "loosen her up?"
"Hey, wait a minute Nell--." Jonathan interrupted.
"That's not what happened!" Clark yelled.
"Calm down everyone!" Martha who had been a silent observer for most of the exchange decided enough was enough.
"I didn't do anything to her, I would never hurt her. Clark's voice wavered.
"Who got her drunk?" Nell fumed. "If it wasn't you, who was it?"
"Lana." He said simply.
"How dare you? My niece would never--."
"She's the only one we haven't mentioned. No one's even considered it."
"Because she would never do it."
"Well, what if we don't know her as well as we think we do?"
"I resent the accusation that Lana would do this to herself."
"Yeah well, I resent that accusation that I would do it to her." Clark replied.
Nell stared at him stonily. "Listen very carefully. Clark, you are not my son, therefore it is not my responsibility to punish you. However, I will see to it that you never see my niece again. Lana is off limits. If I catch you at the house again, I won't think twice about calling the police and having you arrested for trespassing. Is that clear?"
"Nell, don't you think that's a little bit drastic?" Martha said.
"Not at all. My niece is passed out in the front seat of my car. I don't think it's drastic at all." And with that she grabbed the pills off the table and stormed out of the Kent house, leaving the three of them standing around wondering what had just taken place. Finally, Clark left for his Fortress of Solitude. He needed to think.
TBC…Lana's hangover, and Clark refuses to talk to her. She goes to his friends to try and get them to talk some sense into Clark. Cool stuff.