6:30 AM
Clark roused to the smell of coffee early that morning. As he reached to push himself off the floor, he realized that he was not on the floor, but on the living room couch. Surprised and stiff, Clark finally forced his tired body off the couch and approached the kitchen.
As he past the entry way he heard two familiar voices, and in an instant he realized they did not sound the way they normally did this time of morning. Their tone was different. They were not discussing the usual--bills, or how to hide Clark's ability. They sounded so happy. Clark decided to bend his rule about spying on people; after all, they were his mom and dad, right?
Clark stepped back and focused on the wall. He soon saw the image of his parents, Jonathan and Martha Kent. Jonathan was a hard-working man, whose only hope had been to have a wonderful family to love and support; Martha, a wonderful soon-to-be mother of two.
Clark's head came up as he suddenly heard his dad interrupt the peaceful dialogue with, "This morning when I woke up, I stepped into the hall and found Clark--he was sleeping on the floor just outside our door."
Martha's brow wrinkled. "I wonder why?"
Jonathan ventured, "I got to thinking that Clark might have been stressing about Jor-El. He said he had been hearing voices and he....."
Martha filled in, "Walked on the highway in the middle of the night and nearly got hit by Lex again. Yeah, I know. I wonder myself sometimes just what he goes through. I mean it must be rough to be..." As Martha spoke her words seemed to fade off into the atmosphere in which her son was momentarily frozen.
Thawing, Clark went into panic mode. "What do I tell them if they ask why?"
Then he heard his father say, "Well I'll talk to him and ask if anything is going on."
Realizing that his time was up, Clark sped up to his room, got dressed, and prepared to put his lying skills to work. As he got ready to rush into the kitchen he thought, "I can do this, its no biggie!" Clark dashed from his loft into the kitchen, and with his adorable little-boy smile he said, "Good morning", rushing to his mother's side to plant a kiss on her cheek.
"Good morning Clark," his mother said while handing him his usual breakfast.
"Hmm, this smell so good, Mom." Clark noticed his mother giving his dad a "talk to your kid" look. As soon as his dad opened his mouth, Clark headed him off. "Wow, look at the time--I'm gonna be late for school!"
Jonathan gave him a stern knowing look. "Clark, it's barely 6:45; whatever's got you so eager to get to school before even the janitors, I think you can manage to be there at 7:00."
Clark put on an innocent look, but his eyes were almost defiant. "Dad, is there something on your mind?"
Jonathan bristled, keeping a rein on the urge to snap back. "Yes, there is. I have a question for you, and I expect you to answer honestly."
Clark grinned challengingly. "Shoot."
Jonathan unexpectedly softened, tilting his head to look at his son with concern. "This morning I woke up and found you asleep on the floor, near our bedroom. What were you doing there? Is everything ok?"
"So what, I can't be near your room at night? Afraid I'll hear something? Oh, wait, you two are too old for that," Clark sneered, being as short and disrespectful as possible. He was losing his grip on his temper, and he hoped his tone would deflect any further conversation.
He was wrong. Jonathan's eyes took on a hard glint of anger. Martha knew she had to interject now or there would be no peace between father and son this morning. "Clark, that's not what he meant. We just wanted to know if you were ok; we're just worried about you, with all that you've been through in the past couple of weeks."
Clark slanted them a world-wise look. "Well, you don't have to worry about me--just watch out for yourselves."
Jonathan stood furiously, the look in his eyes stating as clearly as any words that he would not be threatened. Clark knew not to go where he was intending to; he'd have to find a way to convince his father that he hadn't meant it as a threat but as a warning. He didn't have much of a chance to do that, though, before Jonathan spoke up. "Clark! I do not appreciate your tone or your attitude; you may think you're ready to take on the world, but you are still a boy and this is still my house. You're our son and we want to protect you, but we can't do that if you won't be straight with us! Now what's going on?"
Not trusting himself to speak, Clark sped outside and Jonathan followed. After a couple of seconds, for reasons he couldn't pinpoint, Clark slowed down to give his father a fair shot at catching up.
"Clark, wait up--I want to talk to you!"
Hoping to forestall any more questions, Clark turned and jogged backward for a moment, adopting a solicitous tone. "Dad, trust me--you don't want to know. There's nothing you can do about it; I don't want to burden you with this, it would be unfair to you." He spun around and wondered why something in his mind wouldn't let him accelerate.
Now even more worried and determined, Jonathan caught up to his boy and grabbed him possessively like only a father could. As he turned Clark to face him, he noticed that there were tears in his son's eyes. Putting aside his anger for a better time, Jonathan drew Clark to him, held him tightly, and said into his ear, "Whatever it is, you can tell me. No matter what, you are my son, and that will never change!"
Clark winced and tried not to enjoy the moment in his father's arms before he pulled away reluctantly. The only emotion left in his eyes and voice was profound sadness. "Its not that easy, Dad. You're good, you've always been real good at solving all my problems, but this time you can't fix it; you can't wave your magic hammer and make it all better. You've fought so hard all these years to do the best you could with a kid you got stuck with; you're so strong, but you can't protect the one thing you deserve."
Clark roused to the smell of coffee early that morning. As he reached to push himself off the floor, he realized that he was not on the floor, but on the living room couch. Surprised and stiff, Clark finally forced his tired body off the couch and approached the kitchen.
As he past the entry way he heard two familiar voices, and in an instant he realized they did not sound the way they normally did this time of morning. Their tone was different. They were not discussing the usual--bills, or how to hide Clark's ability. They sounded so happy. Clark decided to bend his rule about spying on people; after all, they were his mom and dad, right?
Clark stepped back and focused on the wall. He soon saw the image of his parents, Jonathan and Martha Kent. Jonathan was a hard-working man, whose only hope had been to have a wonderful family to love and support; Martha, a wonderful soon-to-be mother of two.
Clark's head came up as he suddenly heard his dad interrupt the peaceful dialogue with, "This morning when I woke up, I stepped into the hall and found Clark--he was sleeping on the floor just outside our door."
Martha's brow wrinkled. "I wonder why?"
Jonathan ventured, "I got to thinking that Clark might have been stressing about Jor-El. He said he had been hearing voices and he....."
Martha filled in, "Walked on the highway in the middle of the night and nearly got hit by Lex again. Yeah, I know. I wonder myself sometimes just what he goes through. I mean it must be rough to be..." As Martha spoke her words seemed to fade off into the atmosphere in which her son was momentarily frozen.
Thawing, Clark went into panic mode. "What do I tell them if they ask why?"
Then he heard his father say, "Well I'll talk to him and ask if anything is going on."
Realizing that his time was up, Clark sped up to his room, got dressed, and prepared to put his lying skills to work. As he got ready to rush into the kitchen he thought, "I can do this, its no biggie!" Clark dashed from his loft into the kitchen, and with his adorable little-boy smile he said, "Good morning", rushing to his mother's side to plant a kiss on her cheek.
"Good morning Clark," his mother said while handing him his usual breakfast.
"Hmm, this smell so good, Mom." Clark noticed his mother giving his dad a "talk to your kid" look. As soon as his dad opened his mouth, Clark headed him off. "Wow, look at the time--I'm gonna be late for school!"
Jonathan gave him a stern knowing look. "Clark, it's barely 6:45; whatever's got you so eager to get to school before even the janitors, I think you can manage to be there at 7:00."
Clark put on an innocent look, but his eyes were almost defiant. "Dad, is there something on your mind?"
Jonathan bristled, keeping a rein on the urge to snap back. "Yes, there is. I have a question for you, and I expect you to answer honestly."
Clark grinned challengingly. "Shoot."
Jonathan unexpectedly softened, tilting his head to look at his son with concern. "This morning I woke up and found you asleep on the floor, near our bedroom. What were you doing there? Is everything ok?"
"So what, I can't be near your room at night? Afraid I'll hear something? Oh, wait, you two are too old for that," Clark sneered, being as short and disrespectful as possible. He was losing his grip on his temper, and he hoped his tone would deflect any further conversation.
He was wrong. Jonathan's eyes took on a hard glint of anger. Martha knew she had to interject now or there would be no peace between father and son this morning. "Clark, that's not what he meant. We just wanted to know if you were ok; we're just worried about you, with all that you've been through in the past couple of weeks."
Clark slanted them a world-wise look. "Well, you don't have to worry about me--just watch out for yourselves."
Jonathan stood furiously, the look in his eyes stating as clearly as any words that he would not be threatened. Clark knew not to go where he was intending to; he'd have to find a way to convince his father that he hadn't meant it as a threat but as a warning. He didn't have much of a chance to do that, though, before Jonathan spoke up. "Clark! I do not appreciate your tone or your attitude; you may think you're ready to take on the world, but you are still a boy and this is still my house. You're our son and we want to protect you, but we can't do that if you won't be straight with us! Now what's going on?"
Not trusting himself to speak, Clark sped outside and Jonathan followed. After a couple of seconds, for reasons he couldn't pinpoint, Clark slowed down to give his father a fair shot at catching up.
"Clark, wait up--I want to talk to you!"
Hoping to forestall any more questions, Clark turned and jogged backward for a moment, adopting a solicitous tone. "Dad, trust me--you don't want to know. There's nothing you can do about it; I don't want to burden you with this, it would be unfair to you." He spun around and wondered why something in his mind wouldn't let him accelerate.
Now even more worried and determined, Jonathan caught up to his boy and grabbed him possessively like only a father could. As he turned Clark to face him, he noticed that there were tears in his son's eyes. Putting aside his anger for a better time, Jonathan drew Clark to him, held him tightly, and said into his ear, "Whatever it is, you can tell me. No matter what, you are my son, and that will never change!"
Clark winced and tried not to enjoy the moment in his father's arms before he pulled away reluctantly. The only emotion left in his eyes and voice was profound sadness. "Its not that easy, Dad. You're good, you've always been real good at solving all my problems, but this time you can't fix it; you can't wave your magic hammer and make it all better. You've fought so hard all these years to do the best you could with a kid you got stuck with; you're so strong, but you can't protect the one thing you deserve."